#{ oh! happy halfway point! }

[daily-xisuma]

hope you're enjoying TSOA! I've read it myself, and it's truly a great book.

[127] FINISHED IT MAYBE AN HOUR AGO <3 </3

[nostalgia-tblr]

i can defend the choice but i do wonder what it means that i default to making AU Sylvies 'very goal-oriented'/ruthless. i have not read that many AUs (of the not-canon-divergence type) but i feel like i'd remember if that was what most people focussed on with her in the ones i've read.

also sometimes the goals i make her so set upon have some obvious flaw that she just ignores, but i think i could defend that too if i had to.

i suppose the difference is some people set out to write AUs in which she is happier and thus softer and less stabby, while other people (inc me) don't. the fear she inspires is part of what makes her so hot i mean compelling as a fictional character.

[rinzydings]

girl help Astral Orbit's finale is so intimidating lmao

[ncthandrake]

love how my reaction to getting the end of attack on titan spoiled was pretty much just “….oops lol”

[pseudowho]

Men With Big Noses

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

You accidentally let on to Hiromi Higuruma that you find his big nose sexy-- so he shows you exactly what he can do with it.

Warnings: 18+ as always, Higuruma is nearly face-sat to death and would absolutely die a happy man.

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"Why have you poured me another glass of wine?"

"Why not? You've had a long week. I've had a long week. And I don't want to finish the bottle alone, so..." Hiromi pressed the glass into your hand, planting a deliberately sloppy kiss on your cheek as you laughed, slapping him away, "Drink up."

Feigning disgruntlement, you mumbled into your wine as you shot Hiromi a side-eye.

He loped, slim and wiry, to the windows, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully, one hand in his pocket as he stared out over the Tokyo skyline. Your relationship was new, only just into the early stages of physical intimacy, but you caught yourself looking him up and down over the rim of your wineglass.

It was his brain that had attracted you at first. Fiercely intelligent, Hiromi appeared to see straight through you, and adore you anyway. His passion certainly wasn't limited only to his career. He was dry and sharp, but conversely so mellow at points. He kept you guessing, but never about how he felt about you. You had never found a partner so unusually thrilling as him.

But you couldn't deny...there was a certain something about how he looked that made the gears deep in your belly whir, puzzled and magnetic in your attraction towards him. But you couldn't work out what that something was.

You approached him slowly, breathing in the heady fumes of your wine as you appraised him; his eyes, and the way they turned into pools of pitch black when he looked at you? No. His fine-boned hands, so articulate and clever, that you wondered what else they could be clever with? No, not that either. His body, lithe and slim but deceptively strong? You sighed, unable to puzzle it out. You were halfway through your third glass of wine now, feeling loose, warm, intimate--

"I can't work out what it is that you find attractive about me."

You jumped, your remaining wine sloshing as he turned to you, his sloped eyes sparkling with curiosity, inquisitive and dark. You gaped for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you swore he had read your thoughts, and said the first thing that came to your head--

"Your nose." Hiromi snorted into his wineglass, hand over his eyes now as he shook with mirth. His hand lowered, fingering his big, hooked nose, and he laughed again.

"Be serious," he chastised. Your inhibition had abandoned you, emboldened by the alcohol.

"No, I...I mean it. There's something sort of...sexy about it. Men with big noses."

"Oh?" He approached you slowly, hand still in his pocket, a slow, sloping walk, "All men with big noses? Is that a kink?" Oh, those eyes. Dark and glowing, like little coals in the dark, and looking at you like that, you felt heat rush through you, so scrutinised--

"Or-- or maybe-- just yours I think. A you-specific kink. I wonder what you could do with that nose, other than-- other than--" You flushed, downing the rest of your wine. He was close now, and your skin felt electric. Not breaking eye-contact as he stared into you, he slowly reached out to take your empty glass, draining his own now and placing them both on the table.

Pulling you in with one hand on the small of your back, and the other creeping up the side of your face, he leaned over you. Still teasing you, his big eyes hooded, he ghosted the tip of his nose over the side of your neck, tracing shapes against your pulse point.

You pressed one hand against his chest, the other into his hair as you shivered.

"--other than?" he prompted. He laughed again, rich and bold, "My nose," he scoffed, "Where would you like my nose?" You blushed, mortified, and tried to shove him away for teasing you, but he held on tight, rubbing his nose gently against yours now. He kissed you, leaning you backwards, deep and convicted in his hold on you.

Your head wasn't swooping just with the wine now. Plaiting your fingers behind his neck, you suddenly didn't feel embarrassed to tell him what you wanted. You pulled away from his kiss, and he leaned his forehead against yours, nose to nose, as he stared into your eyes, your gaze shy and averted.

"Between...between my legs, maybe." You regretted it the moment you said it, hands up to slap over your eyes, cupping your red-hot cheeks, and Hiromi still didn't let go of you, his nose and lips pressing soft, tipsy kisses to your decolletage. He whispered to you, only deepening your regret.

"You could sit on my nose, if you like. Undressed, obviously." You felt his hips pressed against you, and felt his cock against you, now half-hard and growing--

You nearly imploded, stammering, "Oh please, no man actually likes that. Face-sitting is just one of those stupid things you joke about. Men don't actually like giving women oral," you scoffed, cynical and embarrassed. Hiromi raised his eyebrows, releasing you now, looking mildly offended.

"Oh dear. Another sceptic. Were your other boyfriends that bad?" You swatted him with a cloth.

"Pretend I never said anything!" You shouted in from the kitchen, "Forget about it! I'm going for a shower. There's more wine on the side if you want it."

You honestly considered drowning yourself in the shower. You'd barely even got past heavy make-out sessions, and you'd just told him you wanted his nose between your legs, you could just die of shame--

Stepping out from the shower and into your bedroom, you squeaked to find Hiromi lying on his back on your bed, the top of his shirt unbuttoned, and as he saw you, he smiled loosely and rubbed one of your pillows over his face.

"What are...what are you doing?"

"Polishing your seat, of course."

You melted against the wall, mortified, gripping your towel in one hand and covering your eyes with the other. You heard slow footsteps creep up behind you, long-fingered hands pulling you against a hard torso, feeling Hiromi's nose rub behind your ear. Despite yourself, your eyes fluttered closed, wanting him.

"I think you'd like it," Hiromi insisted, voice low and convincing, "and I like it when you tell me what you want. It's...bold. Honest. Sexy." You moaned softly as he pressed into you from behind, his cock hard and insistent against your body, and he loosened the front of your towel to snake his clever fingers to your breast, fingers brushing it softly at first before cupping and giving an appreciative squeeze.

"So please sit on my nose. And the rest of my face." You bit your lip...and slowly nodded. You felt warm air huff out of Hiromi's nose behind your ear, "Good girl."

Spinning you round, Hiromi pulled you in for a deep kiss, the wine heavy on both of your tongues as he slipped his against yours, probing, curious. You accepted warmly, your hands tracing down to untuck his shirt from his trousers, your hand slipping flat against his abdomen and trail of dark, wiry hair, and Hiromi shivered, tongue trembling against yours.

He fell back onto the bed, pulling your legs up to straddle his lap, panting and kissing the sides of your throat as you unbuttoned his shirt, your fingers gliding over the taut muscles of his shoulders in appreciation. He nuzzled you, hooked nose rubbing over the shell of your ear, unintentionally bucking his cock up against your unclothed  sex as your fingers grazed his nipples in their exploration of his torso.

"I can't wait...I want to taste you," he insisted, breathless, his eyes dipped and flinty as he fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him, but holding you upright by the hips. Suddenly shy, so aware of your body with those smouldering eyes looking up at you, Hiromi sensed your hesitation and grabbed your knees, scooting you up his body so you were straddling his upper chest.

With your legs parted, you felt his breath roll over your folds, now so wet with your arousal, and Hiromi stared up at you, seeming grave in his devoted assessment of your face as he traced his hands up your thighs, two fingers slipping idly between your legs to rub a long stroke from entrance to clit and back again. He sighed, thrilled to feel you plant a hand on his abdomen, grounding yourself as he started to rub smooth circles over your clit.

"You're perfect, and those other guys didn't  deserve you," he insisted, slipping his fingers teasingly close to your entrance as you let out a breathy moan, and Hiromi stared at his fingers, scientific in his appreciation of how your arousal was glazed over them.

Raising his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean, Hiromi stopped, considering. He placed his wet fingers over your towel instead, gripping your hips.

"No," he puzzled, "I want to taste you straight from the source." You squeaked as he dragged your knees and hips upwards again, your pussy now hovering directly over his face. Hiromi lifted his face, looking at you with a glint in his eyes, "Sit."

You hesitated, and Hiromi pressed his nose up, nuzzling it between your folds and pressing it firmly against your clit, holding your hips tightly as you jolted and gasped, never realising that nose could feel so good on your aching core. Thighs trembling, you lowered your weight until you sat directly on Hiromi's nose, mouth and chin.

Hiromi got to work like a starving man, groaning with desire as he nuzzled his nose and mouth between your puffy folds, his nose rubbing firmly over your clit as his tongue sank as far as it could into your hole, and you cried out, gripping his hair tightly with one fist, and grasping his hand on your hip with another.

As the firm tip of his nose rubbed insistently on your clit, making you burn with pleasure, you involuntarily ground your pussy down onto his face, and mewled when his shaky moan vibrated through you. Hiromi began to move your hips above him, encouraging you to hump his mouth and nose while his tongue alternated between dipping into you, and flicking against your clit as Hiromi sucked it into his mouth.

Your pleasure building, your cries and the hand grasping his hair becoming more and more urgent, Hiromi squeezed his rigid cock through his trousers, determined not to embarrass himself by cumming untouched while you humped his face. But as precum leaked through his trousers, wet on his thigh, Hiromi was drunk with the taste of you, sweet and natural, and he felt his cock throbbing as he neared his release.

Hiromi rocked your hips urgently against his face, his nose creating a constant alternating pressure on your clit, and you felt your belly tighten, pressing yourself down on his nose in a desperate need to cum, babbling his name in sweet praise.

With one last determined nuzzle against your clit, you shook, waves of pressure breaking through your whole lower body and Hiromi moaned, hips bucking against the air as he tasted and smelled you, overwhelmed by the authentic intimacy of the moment, feeling streams of cum soaking his boxers as he came completely untouched.

You moaned, short little mewls as you came down from your high. Gathering yourself, you shifted yourself down onto Hiromi's chest, looking down at him, blushing and concerned. You had never seen a man look so delighted with so much cum on his face. You were baffled, and of a mind to marry this man.

"Any man that actually likes women, sweetheart," Hiromi panted, dazed, "Would happily die like that."

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Love you Hiromi Higuruma, MWAH! 😌☕

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ what I know to be true ⋆｡˚ ೀ⋆｡˚ ༘

Childe wasn't a big fan of the Tsaritsa's demand for him to find a wife, until he'd come upon the perfect girl for the job. You—a lady he knew in his childhood to be a horrible nuisance and demon on Earth. Not only would this marriage fulfill his duty, but would let him settle a long-time grudge as well. Little did he know, he stood more to gain from this partnership than he thought.

Childe x fem!reader II arranged marriage, angst? to fluff, childhood enemies to lovers, romance!

Childe was never one for romance, and especially not for commitment.

He just had so much else on his plate, much bigger dreams than that of settling down in a household and abandoning his place on the battlefield.

He was always looking ahead to a future of bloodshed, of power, of someday ruling the world.

That wasn't going to happen if a distraction stood in his way.

He would sometimes muse about having kids, loving the idea of continuing his lineage and watching a bunch of mini-me's run around, but ultimately, he decided his duty to the Tsaritsa would stand in the way of him being a good father. So he'd just have to settle for being an amazing uncle to the children his siblings would eventually have, spoiling them with presents at Christmas time and teaching them how to protect themselves out in the wild.

So when he was called into the Tsaritsa's throne room and received the news that a harbinger of his status was to be married, in order to keep up with regal airs the nobles of Snezhanaya, he was, respectfully, very unhappy.

"You'll be seen at balls and lead battalions. Your role must be carried with honor. Nobody will respect an old lonely man.", she claimed, then drew out a long, thin arm to hold his chin with a bony hand—long pointed nails pressing divots into his skin. Though her touch was frigid, she looked down at him with a certain fondness in her eyes, though the sincerity of it was undistinguishable. "You need a pretty thing by your side to elevate your status. You know I only want what's best for you.", she cooed, like she was addressing a child.

He new better than to disobey her commands, and something about the smoothness of her voice assured him that this was the right choice. He only nodded, though his fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

Childe read over the listed names of eligible young ladies for him to marry with contempt; scrolling through the meaningless last names and accompanying statures, ordered from top to bottom by how highly they stood in the totem pole of nobility. Like he cared where the girl would come from.

He felt guilt for the miserable thing that would have to marry him; though he could care less about who these women were, he believed that they deserved a partner that loved them, or at least a good man that could stand to take care of them. All they would be to him is a nuisance, a label which they had done nothing to earn.

Though, when he neared the end of the list, a section devoted to common folk who had certain merits like striking beauty or some sort of fame, that he found a name he recognized.

Your name.

Oh, how he remembered you.

You were the daughter of good friends of his parents. Your families would often gather for holidays or dinner parties, sharing what little they had in the name of kinship. The gatherings were lively, full of happiness and cheer...

But you had a certain countenance that stood out to him and branded your name into a special part of his brain to be remembered for the rest of his life.

You were a little brat was what you were.

Though you were only a toddler when he met you, having only just taken your first steps while he was already halfway through being eight, he found you to be the most insufferable little human he'd ever met.

Your parents would always gab and brag about what a good little girl you were; how you never cried or screamed, how you were sweet and patient and loving—a wonderful surprise for parents preparing for the "terrible two's.".

They had to be lying, because every time Ajax would come into view you'd immediately throw a fit, wailing and swiping at his face with a kind of rage an entire army of men could not match.

He had no idea why; he never touched you, or spoke to you, all he did upon your first meeting was draw back in repulse.

You weren't a pleasure to look at; with your beady little eyes and thick eyelashes that lined them, your thin eyebrows and piercing gaze. You looked like some haunted porcelain doll. And there was a certain consciousness behind your eyes that children your age were not supposed to have.

His little siblings were much cuter.

And he did not hesitate to say that.

"Tonia was a prettier baby. What's wrong with her?", he piped up, humiliating his mother and father who immediately scolded him for his rudeness. Your mother only laughed.

"Trust me, she'll be a beauty when she grows up. I won't be surprised when you come around here in sixteen years asking to marry her."

This started a little musing session between your mothers, giggling about the possibility of their children being wed and how wonderful that would be for their friendship and their families.

Meanwhile, Ajax was dwelling on how that would absolutely never happen—if the look on your face was any indicator.

You were red as a tomato, nose scrunched in distain as your eyes pierced his. Like you'd understood him.

How was he supposed to know babies could take offense?

Whether or not your infant brain could comprehend his words, your hatred was clear, and before he could react, your soft little hand went flying towards his face and landed with a resounding THWAP!

Even though you struck him, you immediately burst into tears, bawling crocodile tears that ran down your face and dripped off of your chin.

All of the adults in the room immediately ran to your aid, hushing and petting you while scorning Ajax for "tormenting the poor girl."

Never before had he felt so cheated.

That begun his feud with a two year old.

Your detest for one another ran deep. So much so that every gathering between your families ended in you receiving plenty of sneaky pinches to your fat baby skin and him risking a bald spot with the amount of hair you'd rip out of his head.

It was a nightmare you could walk too, since you'd often seek him out just to babble in annoyance and tug at the knee of his trousers.

"See? Look at how much she likes you!", his mother would coo, but he knew better. Your grappling with his pants was your pea-brained strategy to get him to bend down and remove you so you could bop him one on the nose.

He swore you were such a strong baby. He'd rather take a hit from a club than suffer the force that your tiny fists could bring down on his head.

That's why you were the perfect girl to be his wife

If he were to marry any other woman, the guilt of leaving her alone at home for long stretches of time, depriving her of having the good husband she deserves rather than a man who could never love her, would be overwhelming.

Sure, he was a monster, but he wasn't about to let some innocent bystander be collateral damage.

But you? The evil, horrible little wench you are? You more than deserved it.

In his mind, he'd actually be doing his fellow man a favor by saving an unsuspecting bachelor from accidentally marrying a grisly thing like you.

So, although his retainers were already in the process of scheduling meetings with his potential brides, he plucked your name from the list without hesitation.

"Set the wedding date. I'll have that one."

The organizers looked between themselves warily, deciding whether or not they should challenge him on this monumental decision.

"And nothing too grand—it'll just be family.", he cooly added, leaning back in his chair to rest his feet upon his desk and crushing the list of names under his dirty boots.

In the end, the harbinger always gets what he wants, so his retainers retreated with quiet nods and quick steps.

Though Childe acted aloof towards the decision to have you as his bride, when the day of the wedding actually arrived and he found himself standing at the altar of a small church in Mosepok—his home town, his palms were sweating and eyes darting around nervously. He shifted his weight on his feet as the congregation waited for you to enter; this was supposed to be a small ceremony, but leave it to his mother and father's proud announcements to their friends and neighbors to draw a crowd. As his eyes scanned the faces of those who'd known him in his youth, he realized near all of the small port town was packed into the pews. He wracked his brain for the answer as to why these people would want to watch their old town troublemaker's union, but he supposed it would be the most interesting thing to happen in the town since his era of delinquency.

It was a miracle that the budget the Fatui gave Childe for this wedding greatly superseded the amount he'd needed for the original plan of a small gathering; it was more than enough to feed the whole town for a night, which actually brought a flicker of joy to Childe's chest.

He was pleased that he could give back to the community that handled him like a family in his childhood.

But that flicker was immediately quenched when the creaking sound of the heavy oak doors that led into the chapel reverberated through the room—revealing the silhouette cast in white of his bride.

His stomach turned with anxiety. Childe had led battalions into what could be considered suicide missions if not for their miraculous victorious outcome, and yet, somehow, the fear he felt standing in front of a girl that, though she may not be small by definition, definitely looked so standing next to him, significantly surpassed that of which he's ever felt.

His cold body shook like he stood inches from death.

Suddenly, he remembered the fury your little body had when you were only a baby, and it dawned on him that you've only gotten bigger, smarter, stronger. A little arbiter of the apocalypse couldn't have grown into the meek woman he imagined, if anything, her bloodlust grew with age.

What did he get himself into? Was he an idiot? Did he, blinded by his scheming for revenge, land himself in a lion's den?

With a light tap on the shoulder from the priest, he jolted out of his stupor and found you standing in front of him already, suddenly remembering that he was now to lift your veil.

His hands shook as he reached out, bracing himself for the hideous face he'd been forced to associate with at every friendly gathering between your parents in childhood, and now, due to his own brashness, would have to associate with every time he returned home or attended public events.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as he took the fabric between his white-knuckled fingers and threw the thing up and over your head. The procession hummed with awe and approval—some more boisterous men from the docks whistling, to which their wives jabbed an elbow into their ribs.

The sounds of adoration resounding from the audience perplexed Childe, drawing his interest and encouraging him to open one wary eye and peek at you.

But his cautious peek grew into an owlish gawking and dropped jaw when the woman before him shined like an angel.

This couldn't have been the girl he knew in her infancy; her once-beady eyes now twinkled like stars, her red puffy face was now sculpted and the only remnants of her discoloration resided in dusted pink pigments on her cheeks. They were so perfectly placed that they could be mistaken for a painting by an artist with a keen eye. He pried his gaze from your enrapturing eyes to ogle your lips—plushy and inviting. He'd give anything to kiss a gorgeous woman like you.

And he remembered with an unexpected delight that he would by the end of this ceremony.

Before he knew it, the soft ring of your voice settled upon his ears. Having been caught in a trance, he hadn't realized the procession already arrived at your vows.

He only tuned in after the opening sentences of your declaration had passed, your words blurred by his reverie.

"I promise to wait for you when you go and embrace you when you return; to make a warm, solace of a home for you that you can always come back to, whether there be a roof over our heads or not. I promise to follow you through this life and meet you in the next, to be by your side when you need me, no matter how far apart we may be forced to exist. I promise to love you and only you, to be true as long as your ring encloses my finger, and promise to keep it there forever. I will take your family into my arms just as you will me, care for them—as they are an extension of you, to love them just as I do you. I'll hold you ever close to my heart, speak to you with nothing but kindness, recognize your face as that of my partner in life, my one and only, and..."

Childe jumped when he felt your warm hand sneak up on his and gingerly intertwine your fingers, to which he did not resist, nor want to.

"I promise to love you as you are; no matter how much the years we spend together may change us."

To his puzzlement, Childe felt a certain wetness roll down his cheek, causing him to look up at the skylight above the both of you to check if it was raining. When another droplet ran down the other side of his face, he realized he was crying.

Childe never cried, he couldn't even remember the last time it had happened; maybe it was sometime when he was a boy, but the memory simply did not exist. These were not tears shed in misery, they were spurred by your words of devotion, words he'd never been blessed with before. He truly wondered now if you may be divine, but all he beheld of you told him you were, in fact, human, and not a vision of absolution sent from the heavens above.

You tilted your head to the side and blinked your dollish eyelashes at him, obviously waiting for something, to which he remembered that is was now his turn.

He had neglected to write vows beforehand or memorize the traditional vows spoken by couples bound by marriage as an arrangement. He had, in fact, planned on skipping the process altogether, but your profession of love caught him off guard and incentivized him to speak his own.

So, with a blank mind, he resorted to letting the few truths he knew spill from his mouth.

"I'd only known you during our childhoods, but how you've blossomed and changed has..."

He had never been one for words, so making something up on the spot in front of quite literally a hundred people was daunting. His voice seized with trepidation, but he took a breath and moved forward.

"Has...left me speechless. My mind is empty, and all I can think of now is...that I am blessed."

He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued, struck by your endearing gaze on him—it made his voice quiver as it resounded from his chest.

"I'd assumed I knew you, but it's clear to me now that I have so much more to learn."

He unconsciously squeezed your hand for comfort, and, with a gentle smile on your face, you reassuringly squeezed back; making him sigh and yearn to feel more of you—imagining that you felt like warm cotton, soft and homey, something he could bury himself in and happily stay there for eternity.

"And I want to learn it. I...want to spend my whole life in awe of you, discovering as much as I can, knowing you like I know myself."

He could not hesitate before he blurted his next statement, his voice getting carried away from him and spilling his most personal beliefs.

"And loving you as you love me."

Your cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink, and your eyes glimmered as your perfect lips stretched into an even more enticing smile. He could hear your soft, happy sigh, a sound that not even the priest beside the two of you could catch, almost like a secret meant just for him.

Your sweetness enthralled him like nothing he'd ever experienced— slowly convincing him that you very well may be the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"I'll take care of you.", he promised, and meant it. "I'll spend the rest of my life ensuring your safety and happiness. Despite what you promised before, I will always put a roof over your head. You'll be forever warm and safe. I will fight for you, die for you, do anything you ask. You will want for nothing as long as you're mine."

His vow had come upon its conclusion with one final promise he all but growled, like it was somehow in danger of being broken—that he would go to any length to protect.

"And you will forever be mine."

His pause at the end indicated to the priest that the his vow had ended, and the way your lips parted in wonder and your wide eyes remained locked on his made him want to lean in and kiss you like every inch of his body burned to do. But he had to, begrudgingly, wait; hoping the ceremony would end as soon as possible so he could finally have you to himself and ask you all the questions he was dying for the answers to.

Did you really mean what you said? He sure did, and he didn't even know he had the capacity to not only promise, but want, desperately so, the fulfill the oaths he had declared to you.

Soon enough, the priest announced it was now time for the bestowing of the rings—a symbol of the bond you will share for eternity.

As the ring bearer, Childe's dear brother, Teucer, brought the rings resting on a white silk pillow over to the altar and held it over his head while he balanced on his tippy toes so the two of you could reach the rings with ease. Childe immediately felt awash in shame. All he'd purchased for you was a simple silver band—no precious gems, no original detailing, just a band. He didn't expect to want to take pride in the symbol of his loyalty you'd wear for him on your finger. He'd get you a new one, a better one—one he could admire as he kissed your hand, held it with adoration and smoothed his fingers over it.

But although the ring fell below expectations, there was no disappointment on your face. You barely glanced at it, your eyes trained on his face with a fondness he'd never received before. Your gaze had his heart spilling over with exaltation.

You took his hand in yours and slipped the perfectly fitted ring around his finger, giving it a small squeeze when you were done—as if to brand your affection deep into his hand.

He returned the gesture, taking your other hand in his and, carefully, securing the ring around your finger as well; he breathed a sigh of relief and felt a weight he hadn't known was resting on his shoulders alleviate. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to leap out in a desperate attempt to be ever closer to yours.

The priest spoke, but his voice was drowned out by Childe's inner voice, wailing for you.

All he could register was the sound of your silver bell-like voice, piercing through the fog in his head like a star's light in the void of the night sky above.

"I do.", you said.

He couldn't tell if he'd rushed ahead of the priest's announcement of his turn or not, but he followed your statement blindly.

"I do.", he whispered ardently, brushing the backs of those precious hands of yours softly with his thumbs.

After the final blurb recited by the priest, a sentiment he couldn't bring himself to listen to in his anticipation, he finally heard the words he'd been waiting for.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Without a moment of delay, he brought both of his hands up to cup your cheeks, a look of ache in his face as it felt like you had reached an invisible hand into his chest and gripped his heart, and kissed you.

Fervently, passionately kissed you.

It took your breath away, left you panting when he finally pulled away after remembering he was, in fact, in front of his parents and broader community.

But cheers sang from the crowd for your union as he led you back down the steps of the altar and out of the church, eyes trained on your feet with your hand secured in his—watching carefully as you descended to make sure you wouldn't fall. He treated you as if you were sculpted from crystal glass.

After the two of you crossed the threshold out of the church as one, Childe gently tugged your hand to draw you closer so that he could whisper in your ear.

"Could we take a walk in the garden?"

While the guests made their way to the reception hall for their lavish dinner, you and Childe strolled through the church's garden together, hands still intertwined as the two of you gazed at the various winter shrubs and evergreen trees sprinkled with snow. It was beautiful in its own kind of way; the way life persevered through otherwise uninhabitable conditions, how even the bear oak trees existed as intricate silhouettes against the grey sky—providing cover as the sun sank down and gave way to a grim dusk, it was wonderful, and in this moment, it was yours to share.

The two of you came to a halt at a marble bench next to a large, frozen fountain, adorned with swirling details and moulding from an older, more fanciful era. He swiped off the snow that had built on top of the bench, then removed his large, fur-lined cloak to rest on the surface. He led you down to sit on it, having fashioned a dry, warm seat for you as he stood.

"Won't you be cold?"

"I'll be fine.", he assured you. He'd grown used to the frigid air of his home country, having entered various conflicts with nothing but thin linen to cover him for the sake of his movements not being burdened by thick, heavy fabric.

"Thank you.", you spoke, softly, and the words warmed his chest more than any coat could.

He stood there for a long moment, just taking in the sight of you. He just couldn't believe you were real, and couldn't believe you were his at so little a cost—he'd done nothing but bellyache and pluck your name off of a paper, and somehow the situation ended up being the best decision of his life. He'd found someone that claimed to truly, deeply love him by sheer chance.

And that thought brought him to the question that had been weighing on his mind since your vows.

"Did you really mean what you said?", he asked, quietly, hesitantly. After the words left his mouth, he wished he'd never said them. He didn't want to know the answer; if he could live in a fantasy where a miracle like you truly adored him, he'd seize the opportunity and hold it close to his heart for the rest of his life. He felt like such a fool.

"Of course I did.", you chuckled, like the question was ridiculous.

"I thought you hated me.", he confessed, his curiosity for your change of heart getting the best of him when he knew better than to ask too many questions. You only quirked your head and blinked at him, indicating that he needed to clarify. "When we were younger, you acted like you wanted my head on a stick."

To that admission, you laughed heartily. It was a lovely sound, one his mind would no doubt play on repeat in his darkest of times, sending sparks to his heart that would keep him moving forward—back to you so he could hear it again and again. "I was a toddler, dear. I didn't understand my feelings! And you were pretty nasty to me, too.", you said with a playful, pointed look.

The term of endearment made his heart bubble, craving to hear you say it again, but his mind was desperate for more answers. "But...how did you...", he coughed awkwardly, "fall for me?".

His carefully spoken question only made you giggle once again, but you could understand his confusion.

"Oh, Ajax. You were the most entertaining person I've ever met. I know we fought, but I remembered your presence in my life so fondly. And I'd look at pictures of us from our old gatherings, where our parents would force you to hold me on your lap and smile, or take candid shots of us chasing each other around, and I'd wish for you to come back so we could fight again.", you laughed at the memory. "I thought of you all the time, you know. And, as I grew older and life passed by, I'd keep looking back on those photos and...", your cheeks turned even redder than the chilly air had already done, flushing your cheeks and nose. After this conversation, Childe would make sure to rush you inside so you could warm up by a hearth. "Well, my heart would beat for you. And I wished you would come back for different reasons...so I could see you again and fall in love with the man you've become."

Childe gulped in shame. He knew the man he'd become was...cruel. Wicked. He'd never thought so little of himself than when he stood before you, your glorious, pure eyes assessing him like Celestia would upon the day of his death.

But how you looked on at him was not in judgement, but affection. "And when I met you at the altar, I did. I truly did."

He was so swayed by your words, so caught up in your devotion, that though he knew he was undeserving, he leaned down and connected your lips with his once again; his large hands warmed you where they caressed your cheek and the side of your neck, his lips thawing your frozen ones. The flavor of you was intoxicating, but as much as he wanted to prolong this moment, your icy skin pushed him to get you inside immediately.

So he drew back, drawing the most angelic whine of protest from your lips. It made him grin in pride.

"Let's warm you up, huh?"

Though you wanted to stay in the privacy of this isolated garden, continue to live in this moment that only existed for the two of you, you couldn't deny how you shivered and your stomach growled. It was time for your reception, and you couldn't keep your guests waiting.

So you, albeit reluctantly, let Ajax pull you up into his arms and throw his cloak around the both of you before taking you back to the church where he married you, now entering sharing one heart, one life, one love. Forever.

[cbrownjc]

After being a fan of shows that have very much ship-baited (Smallville and other CW shows come to mind) I just feel very relaxed to be dealing with a show -- and network! -- that aren't into doing that. And, IMO, it's quite an adult thing really.

Hell, I hated (loathe) Season 8 of GOT but one thing I will give HBO credit for is not ship-baiting when it came to the promotion of that season. After Season 7, I and other Jon/Dany fans kept waiting and waiting for interviews and other things with Kit and Emilia in the run-up to Season 8 that would talk about Jon and Dany's relationship going forward, and were confused (and angry) when we didn't get anything during the Season 8 promo tour.

However, by the end of Episode 4, I was thanking Kit, Emilia, and even HBO for not promoting that ship. And the choice they made why not to do so was very clear by the time the final episode of Season 8 finished airing.

As it was, many Jon/Dany fans were pissed off that the Japanese GOT Twitter account had been promoting the ship, and then . . . ugh, the hate-tweeting that started aimed at that account when it became clear . . .

So yeah, I think Jacob, Sam, and the rest of the cast, as well as Rolin Jones, have been very deliberately careful when talking about other ships outside of the ones that have been designated the main endgame ones -- that they have already said will be -- very much because they are not trying to ship-bait anyone about all of this. They don't want fans to think they are being promised something that is not going to happen or remain true long term.

But that very much does not mean that people and fans shouldn't ship what they want. Because yeah, promos and stuff is not what shipping is about anyway, agreed.

I wish Sam was a multishipper lol I wish he gave us more excitement for Lestmand for example lol but he is a Loustat truther😭

Also,have you seen the Lestat+Amel regarding ep5? That could be the twist Sam is talking about

I don't think I have (aside from the fact that I also speculate about that? Was there some new info?).

As per Sam... I think that both show and actors have been very clear re the "endgame pairings" (as Jacob called it).

There is no ship baiting, no promotion outside those couples... BUT, obviously, shipping is not about that :) Ship what you want.^^

Personally I find it refreshing to have promotion and cast so clear on these matters though.

Because relationship messes are all good and fine and fun, but ultimately the big stories won't be about that.

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[droaxa]

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader, angst, yandere, nsfw content

✧ warnings: obsessive yandere behavior, stalking, nsfw content, cheating, angst, creep behavior, jealousy, grabbing, sexual acts

✧ a/n: you guys wanted both the yan royalty and yan cheater so imma do both ‼️ i’ll post the royalty one later cause you guys are in for a treat

not proofread but enjoy! (ty for the love on the last post as well <3)

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

cheater bf who sleeps with your friends behind your back. it’s not like you were anything special anyway, he just tolerated you so he could get closer to some real women

cheater bf who makes you beg for the bare minimum: giving you his jacket, holding your hand during a scary movie, etc etc but does all those things for your friends with a charming smile

cheater bf who says you’re overreacting after he holds your friends hand during a scary movie instead of yours

“hey don’t be selfish, poor girl looked like she was gonna cry. what kinda friend are you?”

you miss the way his fingers trailed up her thighs halfway through the movie when you squeeze your eyes shut. terrified of the unfolding movie scene as your bf comforts another girl

cheater bf who has fucked your roommate in your dorm room bed. oh you’re asking why they look sweaty and tired? they were trying to move your bed cause she dropped something behind it ofc.

cheater bf who finally gets caught a year into your relationship after you walk in on him mid-thrust into your ‘friend’ after they both excused themselves to the bathroom during your hangout.

cheater bf who zips up his pants and runs after a sobbing you to explain but stops half way, what was there to explain anyway? you would be heartbroken yes, but he had got what he wanted didn’t he? ignoring the dull tug on his heart he returns to his dorm

ex bf who throws himself on his bed while thinking about you. finally he picks up the lingering sent of you on his bed and various items that belong to your littered across the room. little gifts to him and cards wishing him happiness. maybe you’d become more intertwined in his life than he thought

ex bf that drops your stuff at your new dorm in a cardboard box, unluckily for you, you open it at the same time and are left staring at each other. like a cat you quickly dart out, grab the box, and retreat after locking the door can’t you just look at him once?

ex bf who feels empty after your breakup, he misses your cooking, your nagging for him to take care of himself, your smiles. fuck. what was the point of being free to fuck whoever he wanted if all he could imagine was you?

ex bf who stalks your socials, irritated that you removed him from your posts and blocked him on everything. and one day when he’s on his burner stalking you, a new story pops up. it’s innocent enough, a picture of you at dinner with a small caption “dinner out”, but then he notices the masculine hand on the table across from you wearing a watch not quite made for a woman.

his blood is boiling. you’re his. his girl.

yandere cheater who scours his room for anything that reminds him of you, finally finding a shirt in the back of his closet that he didn’t find earlier. suffocating his face with the soft fabric, moaning as he sniffed the garment

yandere cheater who hurriedly ruts into his hand as he hold the fabric up to his nose, cock leaking as he fucks his hand to your scent. he cums hard, harder than he had with any of your bimbo ‘friends’

yandere cheater who finally realized what he was missing: you. he caves in and incessantly messages and calls you, showing up at your door to win back your love.

yandere cheater who grows tired, he’s always been impatient. he knows what he did was wrong, especially to an angel like you but everyone deserves a second chance right? after all you were his soulmate

yandere cheater who shows up at a cafe you’re at and sits across from you like nothing is wrong. when you get up to leave, he forces you back into the seat. whispering in your ear to not make a scene. pulling out his phone he reveals intimate pictures of you from your relationship.

“it would be a darn shame if anyone saw these hm? your poor mom would be so disappointed that her dear daughter was just passing these around”

your eyes widen and you beg him to delete them, you’ll do anything!

“just come back to me and all these will be gone”

he grins, to wide to be kind. he wouldn’t send them out anyway. your body was his alone to see. but fuck did it have a effect on you, your big eyes fill with caution.

“please there must be-“ he cuts you off.

“there’s no other way than back to me sweets”

once you shakily get up, he throws his arm over your shoulder, keeping you pinned to his side as you both leave the coffee shop. your hot coffee long forgotten on the table as the chilly air hits your faces. your body further fills with despair as you pass the ally next to the shop, spotting the date you were going to meet. face bloodied and body limp against the red brick.

your ex was always far stronger than you, far stronger than anyone else you had met too. his dedication to martial arts was one of the things that had drawn you to him. but now, his vice grip on you as he guides you to his car isn’t to prove his strength to protect you. it’s to intimidate you into giving in to him

and if you didn’t, there would be consequences.

[recreationalfanfics]

"What A Beautiful Family!"

In which you get confused for being a family

Rengoku:

- It happens during a trip to the store in town with his little brother. Maybe it was to restock groceries or maybe it was buying supplies for his next demon conquest, either way: all three of you went down to visit.

- Rengoku smiled softly at you as he watched you with his little brother, holding his hand and laughing with Senjuro and occasionally lifting him up and spinning around.

- At some point during the walk, Senjuro pointed at some birds flying in the tree and begged Kyojuro for a closer look, which Kyojuro happily allowed him to do and put him on his shoulders with a big smile. You helped Senjuro steady himself and laughed at how precious the two looked.

- As Senjuro and Kyojuro debated about what kind of birds they were, you couldn't help but look at Kyojuro with nothing less than love in your eyes and a fond smile.

- "Aw, how precious!" a woman walking past with a basket filled with baked goods cooed at you three, "I'm glad even with demons terrorizing us, people can still have moments like this. Here, have some!"

- At first you tried to decline out of embarrassment but Kyojuro humbly took them and gave one to Kyojuro and handed a pastry to you. You were hesitant but then you took it and graciously thanked the lady, "but also, I feel bad for not paying for these, ma'am. Please, let me-"

- "Don't you worry about it. A beautiful family like you should enjoy a good snack on such a lovely day, especially since your husband's a hashira."

- Rengoku opened his mouth to let out a hearty "TASTY!" but stopped himself halfway when he heard that. You just stared at the lady in flustered shock as she bowed her head and walked away.

- You and Kyojuro shared a look with each other, Kyojuro giving you a nervous yet wide grin and you returned it. Both of your faces felt warm and you were barely able to hold eye contact with each other.

- "Haha, that lady thought you were (Y/n)'s husband! Isn't that funny, big brother?" and Rengoku's gaze softens as you become timid and look down at your feet, "Yes...I suppose it is, Kyojuro."

Tengen:

- You were walking with Tengen and his wives, happy to see him a bit more after his retirement, when you stumbled upon three neighboring children, who played too roughly and were crying their eyes out about it.

- You and Hinatsuru helped them while Suma tried not to cry with the two boys but offered to help and Makio awkwardly tried to calm them down. Tengen just squatted down and told them that it wasn't very flashy to cry, which made you and Hina elbow him.

- Instead of getting more upset, however, all three boys became excited and seemed to recgonize Tengen, asking him if he was the sound Hashira, which seemed to greatly inflate his ego as he said: "Yes but I am also the God of Festivals!"/ "WOW! REALLY!?"

- You and his wives exchanged glances knowing he wouldn't shut up. When they asked if he could tell him a story of the demons he fought, he tried to be all: "Oh, it might be too scary for you kids...BUT WHAT THE HECK- So I was in the Entertainment District which is filled with prost-"/ "UZUI."/ "IT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY."

- Anyways, after some censoring, each boy found a home in your lap, Suma's lap, and another sat on Hinatsuru's but leaned their head on Makio's arm. All of you entranced by Tengen's storytelling and prescence.

- "Haha, such an energetic father. Those boys are definetly gonna grow up strong!"/ "I wonder which of those women are his wife?"/ "From the way they're looking at him, all four, probably."

- Tengen's voice suddenly stopped, most likely because he heard what they said, but instead of correcting him, his eyes landed on you. You could feel Hina's, Suma's, and Makio's gaze on you as well and you felt timid...but not uncomfortable. His lips upturned into a smirk and you felt yourself trying to look at ANYWHERE but the attractive faces that were staring at you.

- "Well, what happened next!?" One of the boys demanded, impatient from the cliff hanger.

- "Huh- Oh, right! Anyways, this demon CAME OUT and he was UGLY. Absolutely hideous, like a monster that crawled from under your bed-"

- When the boys finally were called home, you all waved goodbye and parted ways. Leaving you alone with the retired Hashira and his wives, you didn't say anything but the energy felt different as Suma clung to your arm and Tengen walked closer to you, Makio's eyes would stray towards you but timidly look away when you caught her gaze as Hina wished this walk would last forever. Just the five of you.

[moonstruckme]

Hello hello!! Was wondering if you’d be interested in writing a fic where r loves to cuddle and play around w Sirius in his animagus form, but perhaps he gets a bit too excited and scratches or shoves her too hard? Thought this could turn out super cute 🤭 thank you!

This was so fun, thanks for requesting lovely! I did it with whimsical reader, hope that's okay <3

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.2k words

When you get home, your dog is waiting for you on the porch. 

“Hi, puppy!” Your delight is obvious in your voice, and he grins at you (can dogs grin? You’re not sure, but this one does) as he bounds down the couple of steps to meet you halfway. 

Your fingers find the spot between his shoulders automatically. His tail starts wagging, snout resting against your forearm almost affectionately. For the past few days, you’ve come home to find this strange dog by your house, seemingly awaiting your arrival, with no collar or caretakers in sight. You’d be worried for him if he didn’t seem so well cared for. His black coat is always shiny and clean, and he doesn’t look underfed like you might expect a stray to be. For only having known each other a few days, you’ve become fast friends. 

“Puppy puppy puppy,” you murmur contentedly, using both hands to scratch behind his ears and all down his back. The dog reacts with a pleased sort of complacence, as though this is the sort of treatment he knows he deserves. It reminds you of something you can’t place. “How was your day? Are you hungry at all?”

Hungry must be a word he knows, because the dog perks up, licking your hand eagerly. 

You beam at him. “Yeah? I have some chicken in the fridge, would you like that?” 

This time, he gives a short bark. 

“Okay, let’s go.” You walk towards the door, patting your thigh for him to follow. “Gosh, you’re just the handsomest boy I’ve ever met. Don’t tell my boyfriend I said that, though. Maybe don’t tell him I’m letting you inside either.” Sirius is a bit odd about having animals in your home; that one time you brought in a snake you found in your garden, his face had gone so white you worried he was going to fall over and hurt himself. 

Your new friend follows you inside and into the kitchen without so much as glancing around, like in your home is somewhere he’s supposed to be. If you get any more attached to him, that might be a case you have to make to Sirius at some point. A dog this lovely just should not be forced to stay outdoors when he’s so comfortable in here. He’s clearly a kindred spirit. 

“All right.” You fish out a skinny piece of chicken from last night’s leftovers, holding it out to him. You plan to lower it close to his mouth, but the dog jumps up, snatching it from your fingers with a click of his teeth. “Oh!” you startle. “Um, good boy.” 

He gives you another one of his signature canine grins, wagging his tail for more. You give him a few more pieces before you cut him off, but the dog seems just as happy being pet, soaking up your praises and rolling over to encourage you to rub his belly. 

“Oh, you’re so sweet, you’re my handsomest boy, aren’t you?” you coo as his back leg kicks excitedly. “Are you the best boy in the whole world, my sweet baby? Okay, fine, one more bite of chicken.” 

You stand up to retrieve it, and the dog rolls over, jumping up to meet you. You squeal as he licks your face, but then his paw slips, short claw marking a harsh line down your collar and chest. He whimpers softly when you flinch, dropping back to the ground remorsefully. 

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for, but you extend the piece of chicken as a peace offering. 

The dog tucks his tail between his legs. 

“It’s okay.” You crouch in front of him, still holding out the chicken. “It was an accident. It didn’t even hurt.” 

You could swear that was apology in the dog’s big black eyes as he takes a step toward you. He takes the chicken gently between his teeth, munching on that before licking your hand. 

You smile at him, but when you reach for his head to scratch his ears, he turns and trots out of the room. 

“Hey!” You stand up, watching as he goes right out the open front door, disappearing from sight. You give a weak whistle. “Come here, puppy, it’s okay!” 

The dog doesn’t come back. You sigh, confused and a tad hurt, but put the chicken away and close the fridge. You get the front door, too, but no sooner do you shut it that than you hear a key in the lock, and then your boyfriend is pushing it back open. 

“Hi!” Your mood is immediately righted, a light sort of contentedness inflating in your chest. 

“Hey, sweetness.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair, oddly ruffled from a wind you must not have noticed outside. He starts for you, but then his eyes drop to your chest. “What happened there?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You wave a hand, but Sirius’ eyes are sad as he comes closer. The scratch is shallow, not even really bleeding, but from the delicate way he touches your shoulder you’d think you’d been stabbed through with a broadsword. “I was playing with a dog—outside, playing with him—and he jumped on me.” 

Your boyfriend’s eyes flicker up to yours at the fib, something that could be amusement or knowing or both in them, but you tell yourself it couldn’t be either. Then it passes, and his mouth purses sorrily. “Oh, no,” he says, thumb sweeping over your shoulder sympathetically. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really. It just stings, a little.” 

He pouts. “We should probably clean it so it doesn’t get infected. That dog really got you, huh?” 

“I think he felt bad afterward,” you say, letting him pull you towards the bathroom. “It was an accident, he just got excited.” 

Sirius nods ardently. “Can hardly blame him for that. Who wouldn’t get a little overexcited, with the world’s prettiest girl paying them attention?” 

You smile at him, and he slides a hand along your jaw, kissing you. “Still can’t believe the fucker hurt you, though.” 

“Oh, don’t be mean. He’s really a very good dog.” 

“I’m not doubting that, babe. Even good dogs can slip up sometimes.” 

“Yeah?” You tilt your head at him as he smears ointment on your scratch. “I didn’t think you were a dog person.” 

Sirius gives a sharp bark of laughter that turns into a cough. “No?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“Well, I am.” 

“Hm.” You think on this, pondering how you might convince him to let your new friend stay with you (if that happens, you’ll have to actually give the dog a name) while he stretches a thin bandage over your scratch. In your experience, if you ask really very nicely, Sirius tends to be amenable to most things you want. 

“There.” He presses a gentle kiss over the top edge of the bandage. “Like it never happened.” 

You smile and reach for him, letting a piece of silken hair run through your fingers. “Thanks for patching me up, Siri.” 

He grins. “Course, lovely girl. Anything else you’d like to call me?” 

You tilt your head, feeling your brows furrow bemusedly. “Honey?” 

Sirius frowns. He turns and goes from the room, muttering something that sounds like, “...called me nicer things when I was a dog.” 

“What?” you call after him. 

“Nothing, sweetness!”

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Dentist + Leech Creature Reader

-

"Darling!! Your loving spouse has returned home! And I brought a friend!!"

The wheels of a stationary chair perched by the window side creak beneath the momentum of weight hurled against its backing- Wet footsteps slap against the wooden floor, bent legs staggering to a rise as a ring of keys fall placidly in their assigned bowl. Gurgles rumble deeply in the silhouette's chest, synchronizing with the doctor's hum.

"Oh? Greeting me of your own volition today, are we?" The human shrugs off their coat, tactfully tossing the article of clothing over their right arm as curiosity lures focus to the fuzzy lump swaddled in their grasp.

"You even got out of your chair for me. I'm always happy to see you on your feet, but please- Don't overexert yourself for my sake."

Bending at the knee, the doctor's cheek fits snuggly to their beloved's hip - vacant hand pawing at the trained muscles of their legs.

"These legs... If they were built for this earth, I fear I'd never see you again, my dear. I still remember that first evening we met. You were halfway across the pond by the time I had my socks off."

Lost in the streets of memory lane, quiet hisses snag the dentist from their rose-tinted recollections of that fateful day.

"Moving on." The human adjusts the particularly shaped object on their arm; a black, bead eye peaking out from the hood of their coat.

"We received this little angel this morning. They were meant to teach the children how to brush their teeth, but upon discovering their... unusual brand of beauty, I'm afraid they wouldn't be the best playmate for human children."

The dentist pulls back their coat - fluffy brown ears springing to life as the cloth drifts to the floor. A minature face mask sat beneath the bear's chin, rows of white mounds poking from under its snout.

"Do they remind you of anyone, Dear?"

Puzzled, you inspect at the stuffed toy from another angle - head tilted to one shoulder. It was difficult to point any differences from similar gifts your human had thrust upon you in the past.

"How about now?" The dentist pries the bear's jaws apart using their index and middle fingers. Parted wide, it was easier to see the molded plastics uncentered axis in the poor creature's mouth - plausibly due to the additional growths sprinkled sporadically across the surface of its tongue.

Tooth after tooth jutted from the floor and roof of the bear's mouth, leaving barely any space resembling the fleshy walls underneath. Gazing into the gaping hole in the animal's face, your tongue against one of the many collections of teeth filling your own as you point.

"Mmm...e...?"

"That's right, Love! It reminded me of you! Can you believe they wanted to send them back? Now when I'm at the office, I'll have a little version of you to-"

Snatching the bear from their arms, you creep over to the couch - collapsing by its arm as you curl your larger body around the plush animal, stroking your cheek against its fur affectionately.

"Or- You can have it..."

Where is a camera when you need one?

[world-of-aus]

This One's For You

Pairing: hockey player!bucky x NHL Photographer! Reader

Warning: Bucky barnes being a heartthrob

Authors Note: another snippet of Bucky and hotshot 🤭

The arena is a buzz of excitement; gold and black line one side, red and blue line the other, the two colors meeting and molding in the middle of each side. You’re at ice-level behind the protective barrier of Plexi-glass as you wait like the many fans for the game to start. Your equipment sits on your chair – a lone stool that has unfortunately seen better days. As you go to get your camera set up you feel your phone vibrate in the confines of your jean pocket.

Plucking your phone from your jeans you see an unread message from Natasha waiting to be opened. A picture of your jacketed back stares back at you, the message below reading,

‘You’d look so much better with your jacket off, a certain right defenseman would agree with me.’

‘It’s cold!’ you shoot back.

‘I left the apartment with you this morning, you have a long sleeve under, black one, remember?”

You curse your roommate under your breath, another message popping up below that one.

‘Take it Off or I’ll personally go take it off!’

‘Shouldn’t you be taking pre-game photos?’

A moment later a photo of Bucky walking in through the backstage of the arena is taking up your screen, he’s wearing a tailored suit, his hair lazily slicked back as he winks at the camera, his all too pink lips curled in a wicked smile. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, your teeth capturing the smile that threatens to break through.

‘Now take it off.’

‘So bossy’ you mutter under your breath as you take off your jacket, your jersey that she gifted you for your birthday now on full display.

‘Happy now?’

Her text takes a while to come in and only then do you realize why when her text comes in with Bucky’s contact attached. A picture of you adorning his jersey pops up a message appearing shortly after.

‘See now that looks so much better! Woops wrong chat..’

You whip your head around trying but failing miserably to find the blonde in question. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘Looking Good Hot Shot! Drinks on me after the win..”

‘At least take her to dinner first Barnes.. 😉’

Your cheeks are warm despite the cool air of the arena nipping at your skin as you read the messages transpiring between the two.

‘He didn’t mean it like that Tasha! Besides he’d need to secure a win against the Rangers first.’ is your odd lame of an attempt to dust away any feelings between the two of you your friend is trying to make appear out of thin air.

‘The win was in the bag the second you stepped foot into the arena Hot shot, you wearing my name was just an added bonus, oh I totally meant it like that but can the drinks be on you instead?’ 😉'

‘With all those puck bunnies sporting your last name throwing themselves at you I doubt you’ll remember, but given the chance you remember drinks can be on me.’

“Stop sabotaging yourself.” You jump slightly, hand on your racing chest as you look over your shoulder finding Natasha, her gear tossed over her shoulder, lanyard laid against her chest. She gives you a pointed stare, “you and Barnes have been doing this same old dance for some time now and it’s getting tiring y/n.” She shakes her head at you, “Not like that, this whole will they won’t they, we’re rooting for the two of you y/n. He’s not Brock,” she murmurs her hand reaching out for yours. “He’s reaching, barring his hand to you – you just need to meet him halfway and trust that he’ll catch you, we all know he will, we’re all just waiting for you – he’s waiting for you.”

You suck in a breath at her words, she knew where your uncertainty came from when allowing yourself to feel anything for the bruin's player, “but what if he doesn’t, you saw how -” you shake your head not willing yourself to go back there.

Both your phones vibrate in your hands but you only see yours,

‘Not letting you back out now hotshot because the only bunny I’ll be chasing is you tonight, hopefully the drinks taste as sweet as you.’

Natasha’s grin is evident as she closes in on you one arm going around you as she hooks he chin on your shoulder. “You see!” she points at the screen you still look at. “You’re not wrong about all the puck bunnies sporting his name wanting an inkling of his time, but he only has eyes for you, let him know you see him right back y/n.”

She’s grinning squeezing your arm as she reads your reply,

‘Hope you run just as good as you skate Barnes.’

Natasha throws her head back on a laugh as you pocket your phone reaching for your camera as you get into position the announcements popping up on the screen. “This game just got so much better!”

Red and blue lights flood the arena, the sea of Rangers fans standing tall, getting loud as their teams players flash across the screen. The players glide onto the ice from their opening, circling the arena as they hype their crowd. You’re quick to take notice of a few of the players lingering on your side egging the opposing teams' fans on. It’s short-lived as the screen changes, shades of black and gold flashing, the Bruins players coming onto the screen. The crowd behind you roars in excitement Natasha joining in as you lift your lens, they come in fast and hot as they circle the arena in the same manner. You’re quick to get shots in rapid succession, focusing in on a few personal shots at the player’s that are closest to you.

You spot Sam, the camera finding him easily as he does what he does best. He always gets a kick out of warming up the crowd, getting them riled up for the game. It puts him in the headspace he needs to ensure his team a win. Your camera spots Steve next, he’s gliding closer to where you and Natasha are, a grin pulls at your lips, heartwarming for your friend who gets herself closer to the glass. You capture the moment he comes to a stop in front of the Plexi-glass his gloved hand pressing against where her’s already rests waiting. You lean back a bit to get both of them in the shot you know Natasha would be requesting that photo by the end of the night.

“Kick some ass out there Rogers, give me something to celebrate tonight.”

The dirty blonde taps the glass throwing a wink her way, “Good luck out there Stevie!” you call out, as he turns to skate to where Sam is. A tap on the glass has you turning your head in the other direction, the crowd seemingly getting louder as Bucky approaches you from the opposite side of the glass. You bring your camera up to capture him, a breathtaking smile cutting his lips as he stares at you through the lens of your camera. You notice he doesn’t get as close as Steve does, but he only has eyes for you as he glides across, “this one's for you hotshot!”

“Good luck out there B!” You hide your smile behind the lens of your camera capturing the grin that splits his lips before he’s turning to the call of his name.

The referee's whistle kicks off the game, and its as good of a game as Natasha said it would be.

You don’t set your camera down for a single second of the game as you focus on the players on the ice and capturing ‘the shot’. You’ve managed to dodge a few pucks and players that have flown your way into the glass. It’s fast paced, brutal even as both teams fight to secure that win.

It’s down to the wire now, the crowd is tense as they watch their teams leave it all on the ice. Your cameras resting against your chest, Natasha gripping your hand in hers as your eyes follow the players. “C’mon c’mon, bring it home!” she pleads. You catch the moment Steve begins his move for the winning shot, your camera coming up to follow the game behind the lens of your camera. Bucky and Sam stay in Steve’s line of sight as he passes the puck to Sam, Sam then glides forward Bucky just a few feet off to his side to get the puck from the left defenseman. Capturing the moment Sam makes the pass, you hold your breath as Bucky swings, the buzzer sounds a split second after, the roar of the crowd loud behind you as Natasha jumps into your side her own yells of victory loud in your ear.

“He did it! Y/n he fucking did it!!” She screams shaking you.

You can’t find your voice as your camera shutters away, but the way your heart races, the smile parting your lips gives way to the emotion filling your chest.

“C’mon let’s go!” Natasha urges pulling you along to get the two of you out onto the ice.

You thought the excitement was palpable behind the glass, but it’s electric out on the ice with the celebrating team. You’re capturing as many images of the teams victory as you can before Natasha spots the guys urging you on. You let her go capturing the moment Steve gets her in his arms, the kiss the two share between them. You find Wilson next he’s all smiles at you and your camera as he glides towards you. You lower the lens momentarily to let him pull you in for a bone crushing hug, “you guys did it, I’m so proud of you Sammy!”

His lips press to your head, “it was all for you hotshot, I’ve got to say when your boys determined, he’s determined,” he grins as he pulls away to look down at you.

“It wasn’t just for me, it was for the fans, for the team.” You lamely argue.

His grin only grows, “yeah? Tell him that then.” And then he’s gliding off to the side towards where Natasha and Steve wait. Bucky stands feet away from you grin on his lips, his hair a sweaty mess, your camera comes up. Each shutter brings him closer to you till you have no other choice but to lower the device and take all of him in. He’s barely got his arms open enough before you’re eating up at the last foot between the two of you your arms going around him.

“You did it B, you won!”

His arms wrap tighter around you, his nose buried in your hair, “I told you hotshot, this one was for you and I meant it.”

You lean back taking in the right defenseman, there’s that smile, the one you always find directed at you. “You did, didn’t you,” you breathe unable to look away. “Guess the drinks really are on me tonight.”

He chuckles grin splitting his lips further, “don’t think that’ll be the only thing on you tonight,” he murmurs pulling you closer, his head lowering to yours, he stops just before his lips brush yours. “you gonna let me catch you hotshot?”

“Yeah B. I think I am.”

[annievrse]

the special t-shirt

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb a/n: just a little stupid thing i wrote to get away from the angst of labyrinth

“Dude, c’mon.”

You blink, your chopsticks full of rice pausing halfway to your mouth. The crew continues chattering around you. “What?”

“What?” Zoro gives you a deadpan look, food pushed into the side of his cheek. "This is serious."

Robin watches you two across the table, a smirk playing on her lips. She watches Zoro furrow his eyebrows at you as you ignore him.

"I said I was sorry," You say. "What else do you want me to say, bro?"

"Bro?" Zoro scoffs, turning his body toward you. He props his elbow on the table and leans to the side to glance at your face. "Call me that again... see what happens."

You shake your head, your laugh is humourless. "You're unbelievable."

Zoro makes a sound of indignation. "Me? You called me bro. I'm not your bro."

"Yeah, and you called me dude! What's the difference?"

You barely notice the chatter slowing down and coming to an abrupt halt as you and Zoro glare at each other.

"Hey," Franky says, nervous laughter following. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing."

The crew eyes you wearily, Nami jabbing her thumb over her shoulder. Luffy tilts his head in confusion, and the rest get up quickly, their plates forgotten.

"Oh!" Luffy giggles. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

"You idiot!" Nami whispers harshly, pulling him to stand by the collar of his shirt. "Hurry up."

You watch her drag Luffy out of the galley, Chopper and Brook sulking as they follow everyone else out. Sanji hovers in the doorway, eyes on Zoro.

"Don't fuck this up, mosshead."

Zoro scrunches his face, opening his mouth to retort, but Sanji's gone before he can. "Dick."

You sigh deeply, rubbing your forehead with your palm. "Zo'."

"Hate that guy—"

"Can you please tell me what's wrong?'

Zoro's eyebrows raise, and he shrugs one shoulder. "Yeah."

You wait for him to speak, but when he says nothing, you poke him.

Zoro swats your hand away, face set in a deep scowl. "You used my favourite shirt to wipe the ink off your hand."

You blink, sighing as the guilt rises again. "I know, I'm sorry. The ink pot spilled, and it was so close to the logbook; your shirt was the first thing I saw, and I panicked. I—I'll buy you a new one—"

"No," he mumbles, eye cast down to his lap.

You purse your lips, your throat thick with emotion. "Sorry..."

"Besides, you have no money."

You gape at him. "Do, too! Who do you think buys all your alcohol?"

Zoro's eyes soften, and he tilts his head like he's trying to get a better look at you. But before he can get too sappy, he rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, the point is that you can't buy me a new one."

"Why not?" You reach over to pick a piece of fluff off his shoulder. He lets you, his gaze on you. "It's a plain white shirt. They have those everywhere."

"Because you can't," Zoro shrugs, his fingers fidgeting in his lap.

Chewing your bottom lip, you know there's more to this than he's letting on.

"Zoro," You say, resting your palm on his cheek. "What's this about?"

"I—uh, the shirt... it was. No," he shakes his head. "It's nothing."

You've rarely seen him this nervous, especially around you, in all the years you've been together. It scares you.

"Please," You whisper, sliding down the bench. "If it's bothering you this much, it's more than nothing."

Zoro huffs and looks to the ceiling before closing his eye. His hand circles around your waist, pulling you near. Your shoulder is under his armpit when he's done getting comfortable—as comfortable as you can get on a wooden bench.

"It's my favourite shirt."

You nod, urging him to go on. "Mmhm."

"And it happens to be the same shirt I was wearing when... when we... you know."

A smile spreads across your cheeks. "Say it."

Zoro scoffs lightly, a blush dusting his cheeks. "When we first met."

You make a sound of pure happiness. "You little sap!"

"Shut up," he mumbles, though his words have no bite. A sheepish grin pulls at the corners of his mouth.

But your joy is short-lived when you realise the problem. "And I ruined it."

Zoro shakes his head. "Don't be stupid... it's not like it still fits me. You know, since I've gotten bigger muscles and chest and all that..."

"Yeah, your tits are huge."

"They're pecs."

You laugh, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"You already said that," Zoro mutters, face warming when your lips meet his skin.

"I can wash it," You say. "I'm sure I can find some super, powerful soap that'll wash the ink right out."

Zoro shrugs. "If you want."

You tilt your head as you consider him. What he really means is, yes, please.

"Wanna come with me? You can sit pretty on the sink while I wash it."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

You stand from the bench with an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I don't sit pretty. That's your job."

You ignore the comment and step out, holding your hand out. "C'mon."

But before Zoro can clasp his fingers around yours, the galley door swings open, the crew comically crowding the doorway.

"We good?" Franky asks, voice tight. Chopper, Brook, and Usopp hold their breath, and Nami and Robin smile. Sanji rolls his eyes and Luffy bursts through everyone to get back to the food.

Zoro's soft expression morphs into a scowl at the sight of them. "Yeah, not that it's any of your business..."

"Good! I'm starving," Luffy exclaims, plopping himself down at the table and scoffing down food from the remaining plates.

"Hey! That's mine!" Usopp yells, rushing over to Luffy before pulling him into a loose headlock.

You wrap your hand around Zoro's bicep and tug him toward the laundry room below deck.

After scrubbing at the t-shirt for an hour, the water murky and the soap almost empty, Zoro holds the too-small shirt against his torso. He gives you a gleaming smile, one reserved for you, and despite the sparse grey splotches visible, he's more than content with the effort. Zoro leans down to press his lips to your forehead, mumbling about his gratitude.

Safe to say, the following morning, Zoro stretches the shirt onto his body, the seams cracking and the hems cutting off the circulation in his arms. The crew laughs at him, but he smiles proudly when he sees your giggles.

You didn't ruin his shirt but added a new memory that he will treasure until the end of time.

[fallow-hollow]

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

‘I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.