#(if not ofc feel free to send another and ask for something else!~)

[waterfallofspace]

Hey, I saw you were doing the fridaysnzchallange and I was wondering if u could do this prompt: “my sneeze has been stuck all day, please make me sneeze”

Sorry if it’s too vague🙏

not too vague! thanks for the request, hope this is what you're looking for! ^^

[amethystarachnid]

Hey rose! I hope you're doing alright! I absolutely adore your Tony stark fics!! I hope you'd write one for Steve Rogers or loki. Can you write something with any one of them where their partner (reader) is very emotional, like cries at tv shows and books, can never NOT tear up when any of them say anything romantic or meaningful. And as much as they don't want their partner to cry, they feel really appreciated. Just loads of fluff! Thank you!<3🩵

P.s. ofc feel free to change or add anything you fell like. Appreciate it!

HAPPY TEARS

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You have always been the sensitive type, crying over movies and every sweet thing Steve did for you, and that's one of the reasons he loves you so much but, at the same it, it gets him worried for your possible reaction to the question that has been in his mind for sometime now.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8K

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing just pure fluff and just like a few words about a passionate night

ᯓ★ As always, since reader's gender isn't specified in the ask I'll write it as fem!reader because I'm a girl and it's what I'm more used to write, but if you want it to be with another gender are sure to specify it in your ask and I'll write it! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, warm and inviting. It greets you before you even open your eyes, a little luxury of the life you’ve built together. Your sleepy mind pieces together the familiar sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen—the soft clink of the coffee pot returning to its base, the gentle scrape of a plate across the counter.

He’s making breakfast.

The thought alone tugs at your heart. After seven years together, Steve Rogers still finds a way to make every morning feel special, no matter how ordinary. You pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of his hums blend with the noise of the city beyond the window. It’s moments like these, the quiet ones, that remind you just how deeply you’re loved.

By the time you shuffle into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, he’s plating up pancakes. He’s not wearing a shirt, just his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, and his blond hair is damp and tousled like he’s already gone for a run. It’s infuriating how good he looks, even at this hour.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, flashing you that boyish smile, the one that makes your stomach flip even now.

You give him a sleepy grin in return, padding toward him on bare feet. His hand automatically finds the small of your back as you lean into him, your cheek pressing against his chest. For a moment, there’s no one else in the world but the two of you.

“You didn’t have to get up so early,” you mumble against his skin, your voice still thick with sleep.

“You were out like a light,” he says, his hand running gently up and down your spine. “Figured I’d let you sleep in a little.” His voice is low, affectionate, and entirely too effective at making your heart melt.

When you pull back, he tips your chin up with one finger, his blue eyes scanning your face like it’s the first time he’s seen you. “Coffee?” he asks, already stepping away to grab your favorite mug from the counter.

You watch him pour the coffee, a soft smile playing on your lips. He’s careful, deliberate, like he’s handling something precious. And you suppose, in his eyes, he is.

As he hands you the mug, his fingers brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. The gesture is small but thoughtful, the way so many of his gestures are. Seven years, and he still makes you feel like you’re worth all the time and effort in the world.

The first sip of coffee is heavenly, and you sigh contentedly as you sink into one of the kitchen chairs. Steve sits across from you, his long legs stretching out under the table, and slides a plate of pancakes in your direction. “Banana chocolate chip,” he says. “Thought you might want something sweet today.”

Your eyes go wide. “You made these just for me?”

His laugh is soft and teasing. “Who else would I make them for?”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, and before you can stop it, tears start to blur your vision.

Steve freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering in the air. “Hey,” he says gently, already moving his chair closer to yours. “What’s wrong?” His hand lands lightly on your knee, his thumb stroking small circles there.

You shake your head, letting out a watery laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You glance down at the pancakes, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotions. “You made me pancakes.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, clearly not understanding why that’s enough to turn you into a mess. “And?”

“And you made them the way I like them,” you sniff, wiping at your eyes. “With the chocolate chips on top, not mixed in, because you know I like the crunch.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you look up at him, feeling ridiculous for crying over pancakes. “You’re too good to me.”

His expression softens instantly, a mix of affection and bemusement. He moves his chair even closer, until his knees bump yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs catching the stray tears. “It’s just pancakes.”

“No, it’s not,” you insist, your voice a little shaky. “It’s… it’s that you always think of these little things. You always go out of your way to make me happy.” You gesture toward the plate, then to him. “Even after all this time, you still do stuff like this.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, leaning in to press his lips softly against your forehead. “I hope you know I don’t do any of this because I feel like I have to,” he murmurs. “I do it because I want to. Because seeing you happy is worth it. Every single time.”

His words are a balm, soothing the tight ache in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, congratulations,” you say, trying for levity. “You made me cry before breakfast again.”

“Again?” he echoes, chuckling softly. “I’m starting to think it’s my superpower.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, even as you swipe at your damp cheeks. “You’d give Tony a run for his money.”

“I’ll let him know,” Steve says with a wink, sliding the plate closer to you. “Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing warmth in his tone makes you reach for your fork. The first bite is everything you expected—soft, sweet, and rich with the perfect balance of flavors. You moan appreciatively, and Steve grins at the sound, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Good?” he asks, resting his chin on one hand as he watches you.

“Good,” you say around a mouthful of pancake, the tension in your chest easing with every bite.

For a while, the two of you eat in companionable silence, the kind that only comes from years of knowing and loving each other. Steve tells you about his run—how Sam gave him grief for being late to their meeting spot, how the park was unusually crowded this morning—and you listen with a soft smile, chiming in occasionally with little jokes or questions.

But even as the conversation flows, you can see the way Steve keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, like he’s still trying to puzzle you out. He’s always been like this, endlessly patient, endlessly curious about the way your mind works.

Finally, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair, studying you. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how sensitive you are.”

You pause mid-bite, your fork hovering just shy of your lips. “Is that a bad thing?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all,” he says quickly, his expression earnest. “I mean it in the best way. You feel everything so deeply, and… I don’t know. It amazes me, I guess. How you can look at something as simple as pancakes and see all the love behind it.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you glance down at your plate. “I don’t mean to make a big deal out of things,” you mumble. “I just… I can’t help it. When you do something sweet, it gets to me.”

He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. “I don’t want you to help it,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love that about you. I love that you cry over movies and surprise gifts and little things like pancakes. It reminds me to slow down and appreciate those things too.”

You blink at him, your throat tightening all over again. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, if you feel like crying over pancakes or anything else, go ahead. I’ll be here to catch the tears.”

It’s too much—his words, his presence, the unshakable love in his eyes. Before you can stop yourself, you’re crying again, this time out of sheer gratitude. Steve just laughs softly and moves to your side, pulling you into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you,” you whisper against his chest, your voice trembling.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “More than anything.”

Friday nights at the Tower are sacred—a time to unwind, laugh, and for Tony Stark to force his eclectic taste in movies on the rest of the Avengers. Tonight, the team has assembled in the massive home theater, complete with a state-of-the-art sound system, plush recliners, and enough snacks to sustain a small army.

You’re curled up next to Steve on one of the oversized couches, your legs tucked beneath you and your head leaning on his shoulder. His arm is draped casually around you, and he’s absently playing with the ends of your hair as Tony prowls the front of the room, remote in hand, his enthusiasm palpable.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tony announces, dramatically pointing the remote like it’s a scepter, “tonight’s feature presentation is the cinematic masterpiece, Titanic.”

Groans ripple through the group.

“Tony, again?” Natasha asks, leaning back in her seat with a smirk. “You have a billion-dollar movie collection, and you keep picking this one.”

“It’s called having taste, Romanoff,” Tony retorts, tossing her a packet of Red Vines. “Some of us recognize greatness when we see it. This movie has it all: romance, drama, social commentary, and the single greatest piece of floating debris in cinematic history.”

“It’s a door,” Clint says flatly.

“It’s art,” Tony snaps back, dramatically clutching his chest like he’s been wounded.

Steve chuckles under his breath, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You okay with this one?” he asks, his voice low and warm. “We can always sneak out and watch something else.”

You shake your head, giving him a small, teary smile. “No, it’s fine. I just… I’m probably going to cry.”

“I know,” he says softly, brushing a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay.”

The others are still bickering as the lights dim and the iconic opening notes of James Horner’s score fill the room. You take a deep breath, already bracing yourself. You’ve seen Titanic before—enough times to know that you’re in for an emotional ride—but somehow, the anticipation makes it worse.

It doesn’t take long. By the time Rose boards the ship and gazes out at the ocean, your eyes are already brimming with tears. The sheer scale of the doomed ship, the haunting foreshadowing—it all hits you at once.

“Uh, are you okay?” Bruce whispers from the seat next to you, looking genuinely concerned.

“Yeah,” you manage, your voice thick. “I just… I know what’s going to happen.”

Steve, unfazed, reaches into the bowl of popcorn and pops a kernel into his mouth. “This is normal,” he explains casually to Bruce, his tone as calm as if he were describing the weather. “She gets emotional during movies. It’s just how she is.”

Bruce nods slowly, his brow furrowing like he’s trying to understand. “But… it’s barely started.”

“She’s a big feeler,” Steve says with a shrug, pulling you a little closer as your sniffles grow louder.

“Is someone crying already?” Tony hisses from the front row, twisting around to squint into the dim light. When his eyes land on you, he raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t even hit the iceberg. You know that, right?”

“She knows,” Steve replies evenly, not even looking up from the screen. He grabs a tissue from the box he always keeps nearby during movie nights—specifically for you—and hands it to you without missing a beat.

Tony’s jaw drops. “You brought tissues specifically for this?”

“Of course,” Steve says, as though it’s obvious. “It happens every time.”

The group exchanges looks, equal parts bewildered and amused, but Steve just leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “Just let it out.”

“Wow,” Clint says, his tone dripping with mock admiration. “You’re a braver man than I am, Rogers.”

The movie marches on, each scene tugging at your heartstrings with surgical precision. Jack and Rose meet. They fall in love. They dance in third class and spit off the back of the ship. By the time they’re standing on the prow, their arms spread wide as the wind rushes around them, you’re openly sobbing into Steve’s chest.

“Am I supposed to do something?” Bruce whispers, looking helplessly at Steve.

“Nope,” Steve replies, rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just let her cry. She’ll feel better afterward.”

“I’m not sure that’s how crying works,” Bruce mutters, but he stays quiet, occasionally passing you another tissue.

Tony, meanwhile, is watching you with thinly veiled amusement. “I’ve gotta ask,” he says during a quieter moment, “do you cry at every movie, or is this one just special?”

“Not every movie,” Steve says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But most of them. Especially the ones with tragic endings.”

“That’s an understatement,” Natasha says dryly. “Remember Finding Nemo?”

Clint snorts. “Oh, that was legendary. We weren’t even five minutes in, and she was already bawling over the mom dying.”

Tony looks scandalized. “Finding Nemo? That’s a kids’ movie!”

“And yet…” Clint gestures toward you, now hiccupping softly as Jack and Rose sneak into the cargo hold for their iconic steamy scene.

“She just feels things deeply,” Steve says, his voice laced with affection. “It’s one of the things I love about her.”

Tony groans dramatically, throwing a handful of popcorn in Steve’s direction. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, Rogers. Stop being so disgustingly wholesome.”

“Not my fault you guys don’t bring tissues for your girlfriends,” Steve shoots back, his smirk widening.

By the time the ship hits the iceberg, the mood in the room has shifted. Even Tony has gone quiet, though he’s clearly trying to maintain his composure. You, on the other hand, are a wreck. The sight of the passengers scrambling for lifeboats, the haunting wails of the violinists playing “Nearer My God to Thee”—it’s too much.

Your sobs reach a crescendo as Jack and Rose cling to each other in the freezing water, their breaths ragged and visible in the frigid air. Steve adjusts his hold on you, tucking your head under his chin and murmuring soft reassurances.

“I’ll never let go, Jack!” Rose cries, her voice breaking.

You lose it completely, clutching at Steve’s shirt as though your own heart is breaking. Steve strokes your hair, his voice calm and steady. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”

Tony, meanwhile, is blinking rapidly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What?” he says defensively when Clint raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s allergies. Big-screen projectors always make my eyes water.”

Natasha snickers. “Sure they do.”

As the credits roll, you’re still hiccupping softly, your face buried in Steve’s chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, his hand moving in a soothing rhythm along your back.

“Okay, that was… intense,” Bruce says, looking around the room like he’s not sure what just happened.

“I’m pretty sure I lost three pounds in tears,” Clint adds, tossing an empty box of tissues onto the table. “Do we have a hydration station somewhere?”

Tony sniffs loudly and stands, stretching his arms overhead. “Well, folks, that’s how you do cinema. Epic. Heartbreaking. Unforgettable.”

“Admit it, you cried,” Natasha says, smirking at him.

“I did no such thing,” Tony replies, looking deeply offended. “Unlike some people…” He gestures dramatically toward you, still snuggled against Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says with a shrug, his tone as casual as ever. “She’s passionate. It’s one of the reasons I love her.”

“You’re an actual saint,” Clint mutters, shaking his head.

You finally lift your head, your cheeks streaked with tears but your eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks for letting me cry all over you,” you say softly to Steve, your voice still wobbly.

“Anytime,” he replies, his smile warm and unwavering. “You know I’ve got you.”

Tony groans loudly, throwing his hands in the air. “And this,” he says, gesturing wildly at the two of you, “is why I’m never inviting you to movie night again. You two are too cute, and it’s ruining the vibe.”

“Tony, you’re just mad because you cried,” Natasha quips.

“I did not cry!” Tony protests, his voice rising an octave.

Bruce chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “Whatever you say, Tony.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, Steve leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You okay now?” he asks, his voice just for you.

You nod, your heart swelling with love for the man who always makes space for your emotions, no matter how messy they are. “I am,” you whisper. “Thanks to you.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Because we’re definitely sneaking out before Tony picks another three-hour tearjerker.”

You laugh through the last of your sniffles, feeling safe and loved in his arms. As far as you’re concerned, there’s no better way to end a movie night.

After the emotional rollercoaster of Titanic, the Avengers agree on one thing: no more movies that could make you cry. Steve, ever the supportive boyfriend, gently suggests a comedy for the next round, earning nods from everyone in the room. Even Tony, slightly miffed from being accused (rightfully) of shedding a tear during Rose’s tearful farewell to Jack, throws in his agreement.

“Alright, team,” Tony announces, striding to the movie library with a flourish. “Since apparently, I’ve been overly ambitious in my cinematic choices, I’ll keep it light. Comedy. Laughs. Penguins falling over or something. Nobody cries at penguins, right?”

“Right,” you say with an encouraging smile, though your earlier sob session has left your voice hoarse.

Steve wraps an arm around your shoulder, his lips brushing your temple. “You sure you’re up for another movie?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I’m good. Something funny sounds perfect.”

The new movie is a slapstick comedy involving ridiculous pratfalls, a few over-the-top explosions (Tony’s insistence), and a hilarious subplot about a cat that keeps stealing its owner’s Wi-Fi password. It’s everything you need to decompress from the earlier emotional onslaught, and soon the room is filled with the sound of laughter.

Even Steve, who isn’t always in sync with modern humor, is chuckling at the absurd antics on screen. You’re curled up next to him, giggling into his shoulder as a character accidentally sets his kitchen on fire trying to make toast. Across the room, Tony and Clint are reenacting a particularly ridiculous dance scene, complete with exaggerated hip thrusts.

“See?” Tony says triumphantly, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. “This is how you do a movie night. Fun! Light! No tears.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics. “Give it time, Stark. We’re not done yet.”

Hours later, after the comedy has ended and a few rounds of drinks have been poured, Tony somehow stumbles upon a nature documentary titled The Journey of Life. The cover features an adorable penguin waddling across a snowy landscape, and Tony declares it “perfect background noise.”

“This,” he slurs slightly, pointing at the screen, “is what we need. Penguins. Cute, waddling, ice-sliding penguins. No emotions. Just vibes.”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Bruce asks cautiously, but Tony is already pressing play, plopping down on the couch with a fresh drink in hand.

Steve looks at you, his eyebrow raised in question. “You okay with this?”

“It’s just penguins,” you reply with a shrug, snuggling into his side. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

At first, it’s exactly what Tony promised. The documentary opens with breathtaking shots of snowy mountains and vast, icy plains. The narrator’s soothing British accent describes the challenges of survival in the harsh Antarctic environment as a colony of emperor penguins waddles across the frozen landscape.

“Oh my god, look at them!” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re ridiculous,” Tony says with a chuckle. “Like tiny, overdressed toddlers. I love them.”

Everyone relaxes, lulled by the majestic scenery and the gentle cadence of the narrator’s voice. Even Steve seems to be enjoying himself, his hand absentmindedly stroking your back as you watch the penguins slide on their bellies and huddle together for warmth.

It starts with a single penguin chick—fluffy, wide-eyed, and impossibly adorable. It stumbles away from the group, its tiny feet slipping on the ice as it struggles to keep up with its parents. The narrator explains, in heartbreakingly calm tones, that not every chick survives the journey to the feeding grounds.

“No,” you whisper, your hand flying to your mouth as the camera zooms in on the chick’s desperate waddling. “No, no, no. Someone help him!”

“It’s nature,” Clint says uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. “It happens.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to watch it!” Tony snaps, his earlier bravado evaporating. His face is red, and he’s gripping his whiskey glass a little too tightly.

Steve sighs, pulling you closer as your sniffles begin. “It’s just a documentary, sweetheart. It’s the circle of life.”

“Circle of life my ass,” Tony grumbles, his voice thick. “That chick deserves better.”

As the chick stumbles farther away, your tears begin in earnest. “He’s lost! He’s so little! Steve, he’s not going to make it, is he?”

Steve pats your back, his voice soft but resigned. “Probably not, sweetheart.”

“Why are we watching this?” Tony demands, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce. “You should’ve stopped me! You’re the smart one!”

“I didn’t know it was going to get sad!” Bruce protests, throwing up his hands. “It’s a documentary about penguins!”

By the time the chick’s fate is sealed (you can’t even bring yourself to look as the narrator solemnly declares that it’s “a tragic but essential part of the ecosystem”), you and Tony are both a mess. You’re clutching Steve’s shirt, sobbing into his chest, while Tony sniffles loudly into his empty glass.

“It’s not fair,” you cry, your voice muffled. “He was just a baby!”

“I know,” Tony says, his voice cracking. “He didn’t even get a chance! He deserved a chance!” He gestures wildly at the screen. “Why didn’t they save him? Someone could’ve—”

“It’s a documentary,” Natasha interrupts dryly, though even she looks mildly uncomfortable. “No one’s interfering.”

“That’s barbaric,” Tony declares, wiping at his eyes. “I’m calling PETA.”

Steve kisses the top of your head, his hand running soothingly along your back. “You want to stop watching?” he offers quietly.

“No,” you hiccup, though you’re clearly still devastated. “I need to see if the others are okay.”

The documentary continues, alternating between moments of lighthearted penguin antics and devastating tragedies. Each time something sad happens, you and Tony are reduced to tears, much to the bemusement of the rest of the team.

By the end of the film, when the surviving penguins finally reach their feeding grounds and triumphantly slide into the water, you and Tony are clinging to each other like war survivors.

“That was horrific,” Tony declares, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. “Whoever made that documentary is a monster. I need a drink.”

“You’ve had several drinks,” Natasha points out, rolling her eyes.

“Not enough to erase that from my memory,” Tony replies dramatically. He glances at you, his expression softening slightly. “You okay, cry queen?”

You manage a shaky smile. “I think so. That was just… a lot.”

Steve, ever your rock, kisses your temple and pulls you close. “I don’t think we’ll be watching documentaries again anytime soon,” he murmurs.

“Seconded,” Tony says, raising his glass. “To no more emotional devastation disguised as education. Who’s with me?”

“Agreed,” Clint says, shaking his head. “No more penguins. Ever.”

As the team dissolves into laughter and lighthearted teasing, you snuggle deeper into Steve’s arms, feeling safe despite the emotional rollercoaster. No matter how many tears you shed — or how often Tony joins you — you know you’ll always have the world’s most patient boyfriend by your side.

The tower is unusually quiet after the emotional whirlwind of the movie night. The penguins have long since waddled off the screen, the room cleaned up from the chaos of snack wrappers and spilled drinks. You’re asleep now, curled up on the couch with your head resting in Steve’s lap, the faint remnants of tears drying on your cheeks.

The others linger, nursing drinks or settling into the comfortable post-movie quiet. Steve’s hand moves gently over your hair, his touch instinctive and protective as he listens to the idle conversation around him.

“Poor thing,” Natasha says softly, nodding toward you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone cry so much over a documentary.”

“Speak for yourself,” Clint retorts, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He went through an entire roll of tissues.”

Tony, leaning back in his chair with his drink in hand, glares. “It’s called empathy, Barton. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Empathy,” Natasha repeats dryly, raising an eyebrow. “Or maybe whiskey?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Tony mutters, waving her off. His gaze flicks toward you, then back to Steve. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, Rogers. How do you do it?”

Steve chuckles softly, looking down at you with a fondness so deep it’s almost tangible. “I love her,” he says simply, his voice quiet but steady. “She feels everything so deeply, and yeah, that means a lot of tears, but it’s also what makes her so special. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Aww,” Clint says, his tone mocking but not unkind. “Cap’s going all gooey on us.”

Steve shakes his head with a smile, but there’s something thoughtful in his expression, something weighing on him. He glances at the team, then back at you, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, after a moment’s hesitation, he clears his throat.

“There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about,” he begins, his voice low. “I want to ask her to marry me.”

The room goes still. Natasha blinks, her eyebrows lifting slightly. Bruce, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, looks up with a small, surprised smile. Tony leans forward, suddenly all ears.

“Well, that’s not shocking,” Clint says, breaking the silence. “You’ve been together, what, seven years? We were wondering when you were going to pop the question.”

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s been a while. I’ve known for a long time that she’s the one. But…” He hesitates, his eyes dropping to your sleeping form. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch featherlight. “I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Bruce asks gently.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his brow furrowing. “Her reaction. She’s so sensitive, and she gets overwhelmed easily. What if I ask and she has a panic attack? Or starts crying so much she can’t even answer me? I just… I don’t want to put her through that.”

Tony snorts. “You’re worried she’s going to cry? Newsflash, Rogers: she cries when you bring her coffee in bed. This is a proposal, man. Of course she’s going to cry.”

“Tony,” Natasha says, shooting him a warning look. “He’s being serious.”

“I am serious,” Tony retorts. “Look, she’s emotional, yeah, but she’s not fragile. She loves you, Rogers. That’s the whole point. She’s not going to freak out because you ask her to marry her—well, not in a bad way, at least.”

Steve looks unconvinced. “I know she loves me,” he says quietly. “But I also know how overwhelming things can be for her. I don’t want to put her in a position where she feels pressured or out of control.”

Natasha tilts her head, studying him with that sharp, analytical gaze of hers. “So don’t make it overwhelming,” she says simply. “You don’t have to plan some elaborate proposal. Just talk to her. Make it quiet, intimate. Something that feels safe.”

“Yeah,” Bruce adds, his tone thoughtful. “She’s not the kind of person who needs a big show, is she? She’d probably appreciate something small, just the two of you.”

Steve nods slowly, his mind working through their words. “You’re right. She doesn’t like big gestures. She always says the little things matter more to her.”

“Exactly,” Natasha says. “So make it one of those little things. Something simple but meaningful.”

Tony, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet for the past minute, suddenly speaks up. “And if she does cry,” he says, his voice unusually soft, “it’s not because she’s scared or upset. It’s because she loves you so much she doesn’t know how else to show it.”

The room falls silent at that, the weight of Tony’s words settling over them. Steve looks around at his teammates—his family—and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Natasha replies, a rare smile tugging at her lips.

The apartment is quiet, the kind of warm, serene quiet that feels like a cocoon against the bustling world outside. It’s just the two of you tonight, the city’s hum dimmed by the thick curtains and the steady rhythm of the life you’ve built together. Dinner was simple but perfect—Steve made your favorite meal, and you couldn’t stop laughing when he got flour on his nose halfway through baking the dessert. Now, the dishes are done, the candles still flicker softly on the dining table, and the scent of warm vanilla lingers in the air.

Steve’s been acting a little off all evening. Not in a bad way, but in that telltale way that you’ve come to recognize over the years. He’s quieter than usual, thoughtful, his blue eyes darting to you and away as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle in his head. You’ve asked him twice if everything’s okay, and both times he’s smiled at you and said, “Of course,” before steering the conversation somewhere else.

You’re curled up on the couch now, a blanket draped over your lap as you sip the last of your wine. Steve sits beside you, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder. His gaze lingers on you, soft and reverent, like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“Steve,” you say, turning to him with a playful smile. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?” he replies, though he doesn’t look away. His lips curve into that small, lopsided grin you adore, and your heart does its familiar flip-flop in your chest.

“Yes, you are,” you tease, nudging his leg with your foot. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and deliberate, as though he’s memorizing the shape of you. Then he leans back slightly, his hand slipping into his pocket.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” he says, his voice calm but carrying a weight that makes your stomach flutter.

Your brows knit together as you sit up straighter. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” he says softly, and there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes now, a vulnerability that catches you off guard. He shifts, moving from the couch to kneel in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees.

Your heart skips. “Steve—”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, velvet box. The sight of it steals the breath from your lungs, and you clasp a hand over your mouth as tears instantly pool in your eyes.

“I know how you’re feeling right now,” Steve says gently, his voice steady despite the faint blush creeping up his neck. “And I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try—really, you do—but the tears are already spilling over, and a choked laugh escapes you as you press your fingers to your lips. Steve smiles, his thumb brushing over your knee.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection. He opens the box, revealing a stunningly simple yet beautiful ring—a delicate gold band with a single, glittering diamond. It’s understated and timeless, just like him, and it’s so perfect you can barely breathe.

“Y/N,” he begins, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve loved you for seven years. From the first moment we met, I knew there was something about you, something I couldn’t let go of. You’ve taught me what it means to live in the present, to love with my whole heart, and to find joy in the little things.”

Your tears are flowing freely now, and you’re shaking your head as though you can’t believe what’s happening. Steve chuckles softly, his own eyes glistening.

“You’ve stood by me through everything,” he continues. “Through battles, through doubts, through all the times I’ve struggled to figure out where I fit in this world. You’ve always been my home, my safe place. And I can’t imagine spending another day without you by my side.”

He pauses, his voice catching slightly, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. “I know how deeply you feel things, and I know this might be overwhelming for you. But I promise, sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything right away. I just need you to know how much I love you.”

He takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “So, Y/N,” he says, his voice trembling just the tiniest bit. “Will you marry me?”

The question lands like a thunderclap in your chest. You’re crying so hard now that you can barely see him through the blur of your tears. You try to speak, to form words, but they come out in a jumble of half-sobs and gasps.

“Steve—oh my god—I—” You press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions coursing through you. “I—I don’t—”

Steve waits patiently, his hands still steady on your knees, his expression soft and understanding. “Take your time, sweetheart,” he says quietly.

“I love you,” you finally manage to choke out, your voice trembling. “So much. You don’t even know—I just—”

Steve smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I think I have an idea,” he says softly.

You laugh through your tears, shaking your head as you try to pull yourself together. “Yes,” you finally gasp, your voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Steve. Of course, yes.”

His breath leaves him in a rush, and his smile widens into something radiant as he slips the ring from the box and gently slides it onto your finger. It fits perfectly, and you stare at it through your tears, your heart bursting with so much love you think you might actually explode.

“I love you,” Steve says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you into his arms. You cling to him, your face buried in his shoulder as you sob into his shirt. He holds you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped securely around your waist.

“I love you too,” you whisper against his neck, your voice muffled and shaky. “So much. I can’t believe this is real.”

“It’s real,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Always.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your tears still streaming but your smile brighter than the stars. “You’re too good to me,” you say, your voice trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”

Steve shakes his head, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world, Y/N,” he says simply. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to give it to you.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathless sound, and Steve leans in to kiss you, his lips gentle but full of promise. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the kind of love that feels eternal.

When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his, your hands cupping his face as you whisper, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s smile is soft, his eyes shining with unspoken emotion. “Me neither,” he says quietly. “Me neither.”

The morning sun streams through the windows, bathing the room in a golden light that feels impossibly warm and perfect. You stir under the rumpled sheets, the fabric soft against your bare skin, and the memories of the night before come rushing back. It had started tender, Steve’s hands moving over you with a reverence that left you breathless. But the sweetness had given way to something deeper, more passionate—an expression of love so consuming that it had left you both utterly undone.

Beside you, Steve shifts, his arm tightening around your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Good morning, my beautiful bride-to-be,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep and full of affection.

Your heart clenches immediately, and before you can stop yourself, tears well up in your eyes. You press your hands to your face, a choked laugh escaping as you try—and fail—to keep it together.

“Oh no,” Steve says with a chuckle, propping himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t even say anything that emotional this time.”

“You called me your bride-to-be,” you manage to say through your tears, your voice trembling with joy. “How am I supposed to handle that, Steve?”

He laughs softly, his hand brushing over your hair as he pulls you closer. “Sweetheart, if this is how you’re going to react every time I call you that, I’m in trouble. Because I plan on saying it a lot.”

You let out a watery laugh, burying your face in his chest. His skin is warm and familiar, and his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek feels like home. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I don’t mean to cry so much. I’m just… so happy.”

“I know,” he says gently, his fingers trailing soothingly down your back. “And I love you for it.”

After a while, your tears subside, and you lift your head to meet his gaze. His blue eyes are soft and full of love, and the way he’s looking at you makes your breath catch. “Good morning,” you say softly, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “My handsome fiancé.”

His grin widens at your words, and he leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet. “I like the sound of that,” he says against your lips. “Fiancé. And soon, husband.”

You feel your cheeks heat, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I can’t believe this is real,” you say quietly, tracing a finger along his jaw. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll all be a dream.”

“It’s real,” Steve assures you, his tone steady and full of certainty. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The moment stretches between you, filled with a quiet, glowing warmth that feels too perfect to be real. But it is real, and as you lie there in his arms, you can’t imagine anything more perfect.

Eventually, Steve glances at the clock and sighs. “We should probably get up,” he says reluctantly. “The others are going to want to know.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “Do we have to tell them today? Can’t we just stay here a little longer?”

Steve laughs, pulling the blanket off of you just enough to expose your shoulder. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, they’re going to find out eventually. Might as well tell them now before Tony starts making bets.”

You sigh dramatically but can’t help smiling as you roll over to look at him. “Fine,” you say, your tone mock-annoyed. “But if I start crying again, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take full responsibility,” he promises, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

An hour later, you’re dressed and ready, though your face is still a little puffy from all the happy tears. Steve holds your hand as you step into the elevator, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your skin. You feel nervous for some reason, though you know the team will be thrilled. It’s just that sharing something so personal, so precious, feels a little daunting.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, squeezing your hand. “It’s going to be fine. They love you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as the elevator doors slide open to reveal the common room. The Avengers are scattered around the space, Tony sprawled on the couch with a cup of coffee, Natasha and Clint engaged in what looks like a very serious game of chess, and Bruce flipping through a book at the kitchen counter. Thor is munching on a Pop-Tart, his expression as cheerful as ever, while Sam lounges in a nearby chair, scrolling through his phone.

Tony is the first to notice you. “Well, well,” he says, setting his coffee down and smirking. “If it isn’t our golden couple. What’s with the glowing faces? Did Rogers finally tell you about his collection of antique baseball cards?”

“Tony,” Natasha says without looking up from the chessboard, her tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Let them talk.”

Steve clears his throat, his hand still firmly holding yours. “Actually,” he begins, glancing at you with a small, encouraging smile. “We have some news.”

At that, everyone looks up, their interest piqued. Clint leans back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “This should be good.”

You feel your cheeks heat under their collective gaze, but Steve’s presence beside you keeps you grounded. “We’re engaged,” you blurt out, unable to keep the words in any longer. “Steve proposed last night.”

The room erupts. Natasha and Bruce smile warmly, their congratulations genuine and heartfelt. Thor lets out a booming laugh and claps Steve on the back so hard he nearly stumbles. Sam grins, shaking his head as he mutters, “About time.” Clint whistles, looking impressed, while Tony raises his coffee mug in a mock toast.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tony says, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Congrats, lovebirds. I guess this means I need to start planning the bachelor party.”

Steve groans, and you laugh despite yourself, leaning into his side as the team continues to shower you with affection and teasing remarks. It’s chaotic and overwhelming, but it’s also full of love, and as you look around the room, you realize just how lucky you are to have this family.

Later, when things have settled down, Steve pulls you aside, his hand resting lightly on your waist. “See?” he says softly, his blue eyes twinkling. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You smile up at him, your heart full to bursting. “No,” you admit. “It wasn’t bad at all.”

He leans down to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes your knees weak. “I love you, future Mrs. Rogers,” he murmurs, and once again, you find yourself wiping away happy tears.

The day has arrived. Months of planning, fittings, tastings, and a thousand little decisions have all led to this moment, and yet, standing in the bridal suite of the church, you feel like you might burst into tears before you even set foot down the aisle.

You’re wearing the dress you spent weeks obsessing over. It fits like a dream, a shimmering vision of white and lace that flows around you like a fairytale. Natasha, your bridesmaid—and perhaps the most patient person you’ve ever met—stands beside you, hands on your shoulders, trying to keep you from falling apart.

“Y/N,” she says firmly, her green eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “You’ve got to hold it together. You’re going to ruin your makeup if you start crying now.”

“I know, I know,” you say, fanning your face with trembling hands as you try to will away the tears. “It’s just… everything’s so perfect, and I’m so happy, and—oh my god, Nat, what if I trip?”

“You’re not going to trip,” she says, her voice calm but decisive. “You’ve practiced this. You’re wearing sensible heels. You’ve got Tony holding onto you like a lifeline. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of Tony, you glance toward the door, where he’s pacing just outside. Your “man of honor” had insisted on walking you down the aisle, and though he’d tried to play it cool, you could see the emotion brimming behind his bravado. He’d barely been able to get through the rehearsal without tearing up, and now you’re both in danger of becoming sobbing messes before the ceremony even begins.

“I saw him wiping his eyes earlier,” you say with a sniffle, a hint of a laugh breaking through. “If he cries, I’m done for. I’ll start sobbing right there in the aisle.”

“Then don’t look at him,” Natasha advises, picking up a tissue and dabbing at the corners of your eyes. “Keep your eyes on Steve. That’s the goal, remember? Just make it to him without crying.”

At the mention of Steve, your chest tightens with a rush of love so overwhelming it’s almost too much to bear. You picture him standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his blue eyes soft and full of adoration. The thought is enough to make you inhale sharply, and Natasha quickly steps in, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

“Focus,” she says sternly. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

You nod, taking a deep, shaky breath as you try to calm yourself. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

Natasha gives you a small, approving smile. “That’s my girl.”

The door opens slightly, and Tony pokes his head in, his face immediately softening when he sees you. “Wow,” he says, his voice unusually quiet. “You look… wow.”

“Thanks, Tony,” you say, your voice wavering. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha warns, pointing a finger at him. “I just got her under control.”

Tony steps into the room, straightening his tie as he tries to compose himself. “Okay, okay, no crying. But seriously, Y/N, you look… breathtaking. Steve’s going to lose it when he sees you.”

The lump in your throat grows, and you press a hand to your mouth, willing yourself not to cry. Tony steps closer, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re going to be amazing. And if you cry, who cares? It’s your wedding day. You get a free pass.”

You laugh through the tears threatening to spill, nodding as you squeeze his hand back. “Thanks, Tony.”

He grins, his usual bravado creeping back in. “Besides, if anyone’s going to cry, it’s me. I’m already a wreck. You’ll have to carry me down the aisle at this rate.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond. “You two are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “Come on, it’s time.”

Tony offers his arm, and you take it, your fingers trembling slightly as you hold on. The doors to the bridal suite swing open, and you catch a glimpse of the decorated aisle, lined with flowers and softly glowing candles. The music starts, and your heart pounds in your chest as you take your first step forward.

The church is full of familiar faces, but you barely register them. Your eyes are fixed on the man standing at the end of the aisle, his gaze locked onto yours. Steve looks devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, his expression a mixture of awe and love that makes your knees weak.

As you and Tony make your way down the aisle, you hear him sniffle beside you. “Damn it,” he mutters, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “I said I wasn’t going to cry.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, your own tears threatening to spill again. But Natasha’s words echo in your mind, and you keep your focus on Steve, drawing strength from the love shining in his eyes.

Finally, you reach the altar, and Tony steps back, giving your hand to Steve with a small, emotional smile. Steve’s hands are warm as they take yours, and his voice is steady as he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

And that’s it. The tears spill over, and you laugh through them, shaking your head as Steve gently brushes them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

“I don’t mind,” he says softly, his voice full of affection. “I love that you feel so much. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The ceremony begins, and though the tears continue to flow, they’re tears of joy, shared by more than just you and Tony. By the time you say “I do,” the entire room feels wrapped in the warmth of the love you and Steve share, a love that shines brighter than any tears.

we need more soft fics in this sea of smut! (I like smut fics too but like...sometimes I just want something fluffy)

[changbinsboiledegg]

haiiiii

i was wonder if you could do a skz reaction when they tell their other members that you and him have sex?

like Han being so confused on how you and Changbin have seen each other naked.

(sorry if this is weird or not explained enough haha)

Heyyyyyy thank you for your request! Also, no need to apologized! I understood what you meant :) I also don't think it's weird. I wasn't sure if they had an established relationship or were just FWB type situation, so I made it FWB. I hope that's okay? I didn't necessarily mention this though, so you could also imagine you and skz are already dating? Up to you! Anyways, ily and thank you again! 🫶🫶🫶 Also !!! feel free to lmk if you meant something else!

GN! Reader X SKZ.

(Didn't specify a gender or body parts. I mentioned reader having a chest they didn't want to expose- honeys, everyone has a chest.)

MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI!!!!!!!

Warnings: Smut(?), Suggestive if not smutty, swearing, nude mention, implied sexting, alcohol/ drinking mentions, hickey (giving/ receiving.), maybe implied aftercare???, some of the members are unrealistically bold. lmao.

Note: probably the longest reactions I've written so far lolololol. I hope y'all enjoy! Ofc another one for the road, MDNI!!!!! And also I would love feedback 🫶🥹 No pressure, and if no one told y'all today, ilyyyyyyy :) Take care. I also used your example for Changbin's hehe.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

The sounds of your loud moans spilled out into the rest of the dorm. You were only being loud because you and Chan both thought the dorms were empty.

That was until Felix came back early to retrieve something he had forgotten. When you screamed— from the pleasure, he stood there, wondering which of the other members were with you. That was when he heard Chan’s voice.

Later, Felix saw you and Chan talking casually and acting as if you two didn’t just have sex in the dorm.

“So, I came back earlier.” Felix spoke up, catching both of your attentions. Chan glanced from you to Felix. “Yeah?”

“I heard you two.” Felix continued. You felt your cheeks heat up, knowing what he was talking about. Chan tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

“We’ve been… you know… having sex. No big deal.” Chan explained, his cheeks red from confessing that. Felix scrunched his face, cringing.

“I know that now! I’m just bringing it up because why did you choose the dorm? Did you think we’d be gone for that long?” Felix started to ask questions but then walked away, deciding he didn’t want to know this much information regarding you and Chan.

Lee Know

Minho was in the bathroom— somewhere he could really find privacy. He had his phone angled and snapped a photo of his erection, having gotten hard from sexting with you.

He sent the picture and waited for a response when suddenly, his heart dropped, reading the contact name.

“Shit!” Minho cursed, immediately texting Jeongin to not open the chat. It was too late, and Jeongin found him in the bathroom, knocking on the locked door.

“Who was this meant for?!” Jeongin asked. Shock was evident in his tone and Minho felt his heart racing from the panic this caused.

“Uh—“ Minho was cut off by another knock.

“Get out so I can bleach my eyes!” Jeongin groaned. Minho rolled his eyes, pulling up his pants. When he opened the door, he was met with Jeongin, who held his phone opened on the chat.

“Don’t ever send me anything like this again! Double check the contact names next time—“

“It’s for y/n anyway.” Minho mumbled, walking quickly to his room. Jeongin watched, “what? Don’t send y/n that either—“

“We’ve already slept together.” Minho scoffed, still embarrassed. “And you need to forget what you saw.”

Jeongin started to turn red in embarrassment now, hesitantly entering the bathroom.

Changbin

You, Changbin, and Jisung were playing a game together to pass time until the others got back.

“Why is it so hot in here?” You briefly paused the game, taking off your hoodie as a piece of your shirt rode up with it. You felt your shirt leave your skin and quickly pulled down your shirt before it exposed your chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to almost flash you both!” You apologized, setting your hoodie down. Changbin chuckled, smirking.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen.” Changbin commented, not thinking first. You pinched the bridge of your nose and avoided Jisung’s confused expression.

“Excuse me?” Jisung asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know this bit of information.

After a moment of silence of exchanged glances between you and Changbin, Jisung spoke up again. “Because that’s not typical flirting.”

“We’ve been… you know.” You confessed. Jisung was still in a state of confusion but slowly came to the realization.

“I know you’ve heard us before because someone, gets pretty loud.” Changbin teased you through the awkwardness of such a confession.

You reached over the small table and nudged his shoulder, almost knocking the pieces of the game over. “Seriously?!”

Jisung didn’t say anything and stood up, leaving the room.

Hyunjin

You put on one of Hyunjin’s robes to cover your naked body as you were preparing to go to the dorms kitchen to get water for you and Hyunjin.

Hyunjin put on a robe as well but only to walk to the bathroom. “Remember, the others are asleep so please tip toe if you have to. I really don’t want to hear anything from them right now.”

You grinned at Hyunjin, giving him a thumbs up, still glowing from the orgasm you’d just experienced.

You left his room and shut the door as quietly as you could before turning and immediately jumping out of your skin. When you saw Seungmin giving you an amused but confused look, your first instinct was to attempt to cover yourself, forgetting you were wearing Hyunjin’s robe.

“I knew it.” Seungmin smugly chuckled, shaking his head. You just stood there, debating on getting Hyunjin or explaining to Seungmin to not say a word.

“The others owe me money now.” Seungmin turned, seemingly headed for the kitchen also. You were about to head back into Hyunjin’s room but found yourself confused at his statement.

“Wait you made on a bet on whether or not we were having—“

Hyunjin heard your voice and entered the hallway with you. “Woah! What’s going on?” Hyunjin cut you off, not understanding the situation.

He saw Seungmin, who shrugged.

“Your group made a bet on whether or not we were having sex.” You whispered. Hyunjin widened his eyes, his face turning a deep shade of red as Seungmin held back a laugh, entering the kitchen.

Han

“Alright! Water only for the rest of the night.” Changbin handed a clearly drunk Jisung a cup of water. Jisung accepted it, taking a sip as he tried to wash the taste of the alcohol down.

“Fuck, I’m going to regret this in the morning…” Jisung groaned, already feeling the migraine coming on. The room spun and his words were slurred.

They were at an after party and the other members had gone off to enjoy what else the party had to offer. Changbin stayed near Jisung,

“Hell yeah, you’re gonna regret this.” Changbin laughed. “Better enjoy it while you can.”

Jisung rubbed his eyes, drinking more of the water. “Where’s y/n?”

Changbin tilted his head, shrugging. “Probably home or with friends. Why?”

Jisung felt his pockets for his phone, forgetting he left it in the car to charge. “Do you think y/n will still want to have sex tonight?”

Jisung wasn’t sober enough to realize what he just asked Changbin, who was taken aback. He looked around the room and then moved closer to Jisung.

“Not if you’re drunk.” Changbin spoke slowly. Jisung frowned, “tomorrow then.”

“Um…”

Changbin had gotten a bit more information than he needed to know. Jisung’s eyes bulged, immediately shaking his head.

“Ah! I shouldn’t have said that! Please forget this in the morning!” Jisung immediately tried to make up for telling him your private business together.

But Changbin was sober enough to forget.

Felix

Felix smiled as he thought back to your encounter last night. The sounds you made, how you felt, tasted, everything.

He was too satisfied the next day to realize the others were giving him strange looks. That was until Chan pulled him aside with a concerned look.

“Did you burn yourself?” Chan asked, glancing down at his neck. Felix was confused now, wondering what he meant.

“No? Do I have a burn?” Felix asked, gently feeling around his neck. His fingers touched one of the hickeys you left on his neck, the lingering soreness reminding him of how good you kissed, sucked, and nibbled on his neck.

He fought back a smirk, reminding himself of Chan’s concern.

“Oh— yeah. I was trying to straighten my hair.” Felix lied, obviously. He wasn’t going to tell him the truth. Chan seemed to buy it, sighing.

“Please ask me for help. I don’t think the makeup artists will like having to use the makeup to cover up the burn.” Chan chuckled, patting Felix’ shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Felix smiled, nodding. They glanced towards the front door, hearing a knock. Chan went to answer it as Felix watched to see if it were you or someone else.

You entered the dorms and almost immediately, Felix— and Chan noticed the hickeys that littered your neck.

Felix felt his stomach drop as Chan had a look of realization, glancing at Felix with a knowing glare.

“So you both burned yourselves on the same iron?” Chan crossed his arms. Felix sighed and you noticed the hickey on Felix’ neck before moving your hand to try and hide yours with the collar of your hoodie.

“Fine… We, uh, did it last night.” Felix spoke quietly and tried to be discreet, not wanting to say ‘sex’.

“Just say sex.” You sighed, moving to stand beside Felix. Chan raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

“Wait—“

You then dragged Felix into the bathroom and worked on covering the hickeys with makeup before the others saw.

Seungmin

Every time you were hanging around the guys or even mentioned, Seungmin would get shy and nervous, displaying signs that one would when having a crush on someone.

Other times when you were around, he’d be more open and mainly focused on you and anything you said or did, regardless of who was speaking.

Because of this, the other members caught on and began to tease him of his ‘little’ crush.

Seungmin knew this wasn’t the case. You knew that wasn’t the case.

Yeah, he was attracted to you. But it was more than just a crush and it began to annoy Seungmin with their relentless teasing.

“I just wish they’d, I don’t know, stop.” Seungmin vented to you. You took his hand in yours, hatching a plan.

“I have an idea, but only if you’re up for it.”

“At this point? Anything.” Seungmin’s eyes lit up. You nervously chuckled, “we tell them.”

Seungmin’s hopeful smile dropped, “and get teased more?”

“They tease you because they think you have a crush on me. Would they still tease you for having sex with me?” You asked, thinking the plan through with him. Seungmin groaned.

Hyunjin walked in, instantly smiling. “Aw, found the lovebirds.”

You looked at Seungmin, not wanting to go through with the plan without his consent. Seungmin stood up and pulled you up with him.

“Don’t come in my room for the next hour.”

“Hour?” You whispered, widening your eyes. Hyunjin was taken aback, realizing what Seungmin meant by this.

“If you hear anything, don’t interrupt.” Seungmin looked back at Hyunjin, matching his smile from before this info bomb was dropped on him.

Hyunjin didn’t know what to do or say, surprised to say the least.

I.N

“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?” Jeongin asked, knowing it was your first time having sex. You smiled at how attentive and caring he was being even after you’ve reassured him multiple times.

“Jeongin,” you kept your tone soft. “I’m sure it didn’t hurt.”

Jeongin smiled in relief, “do you want to do it again?” He asked, meeting your eyes. You chuckled, “now?”

“No, later or some other time.” Jeongin clarified. Despite how worried he was about hurting you accidentally, he enjoyed it and being with you and he knows you did too.

“Sure. Yes.” You smiled. Jeongin felt more relief hearing that you wanted to have sex again.

You both turned to see Minho in the doorway after he had knocked on the door.

“You both are gross.” Minho joked, although he wished he hadn’t heard your conversation. Jeongin blinked, pointing towards the door.

“Out!” You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation. Minho even let out a small laugh.

“You’re… you’re just jealous because we were doing it.” Jeongin emphasized the word ‘it’, feeling too awkward in that moment to say ‘sex’.

“I don’t care that you’re having sex with each other, just make sure to use protection,” Minho took a step out of the room and put his hand on the door knob.

“And lock the door, lower the noise, and wait until no one is in the dorms.” Minho grinned. You could tell it was forced because Minho’s grin dropped a second later as he shut the door.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Note 2: Seungmin in his villain era in Hyunjin's lololol & also, hickeys don't look like burns, I know this but a hot iron burn is a common excuse people use when someone else sees them. Also, I know I wrote these but some of the members need to mind their own *inhale* MOTHER FUCKING *exhale* business.

Note 3: I'm joking lmaoooooo. I need to sleep. Goodnight lovelies.

[quackity1999]

# — THE MAILBOX is open for business. god do i need a fucking megaphone or something. HELLO?

this is a c!quackity ask blog :]

SEND ASKS! feel free to pester c!quackity thru asks— general questions, LN reports, dsmp lore refs, tomfoolery and such are encouraged.

i HEAVILY support spamming the inbox.

happy to answer both anons + characters (dsmp, ocs, multiverse: film, musicals, videogames, etc). if ur a reoccurring anon then grab an emoji !

#quackitychirps indicates quackity replies. #charlieposting indicates slime replies.

↓ IMPORTANT INFO UNDER CUT. ↓

[ hiii. i'm prophet! he/it/rez prns. biggest cquackity kin known to mankind. yes i am australian 😎😎 ]

rules: literally fucking none. go ham!!!!!!! just please no godmodding. i'll delete anything that goes too far. 18+ mentions are fine — i'll tag accordingly, but it won't be the main focus. sooo have fun go crazy ( admin is 21. keep that in mind thanks )

this blog functions on dialogue instead of written out paragraphs of literature.

IMPORTANT: i don't write any literate rp ( eg; *character sits down and does a thingy* etc etc ) unless it's preplanned in dms for an event. if i am sent starters or asks with literate rp they'll most likely be deleted.

sometimes i throw in a bit of action in brackets, but this is an ask blog first and foremost so i focus on dialogue to communicate action / location / etc.

and in order to keep my blog tidy i don't respond to reblog replies. threads tend to get real lengthy + clutter up things. so— please send another ask instead of reblogging with a reply :) thank you for understanding!

there will be occasional nsfw topics. anything indirect or at the very least suggestive goes into #vaguely 18+. anything explicit will be tagged with 18+ mention. proceed with discretion.

[ TAG SYSTEM: HERE ! pls check it out. ]

details about quackity :

+ las nevadas era, mainly. if there's specific asks that require a response from vice pres quackity or manburg era q, i can adjust to that: #viceqchirps !

+ he's an avian hybrid! he nests often (usually within an amethyst geode). quackity has a history of being mocked for his instincts and avian attributes, much thanks to a certain ex-husband :/

+ this bitch loves a good debate. motherfucker is a lawyer (sorta) so hit him up with a challenge every now and then. give him fun facts. Threaten him. ask whats going on in his life! throw in curveballs.

[ his chat / asks often show up as pop-up ads. ]

+ my portrayal is canon aligned! las nevadas is important as hell to him, so here's a post that explains in-character how quackity runs LN: HERE. so. yeah, we do business around here. and also torture dream for the revival book but that's not important /silly

+ on that note, i would prefer to avoid interaction with positive/good depictions of c!schlatt for this blog. no disrespect to those who do prefer that, i just personally want to uphold the importance of how schlatt's abuse informed a Lot of character development for quackity. same goes for dream— he's a villain, not a kicked puppy. thank you!

+ i violently swerve between serious interactions and utter hysteria in my replies to asks. its like a fucking lucky dip here 😎 also soz for all the links but it Does make it easier

+ shipping isn't a goal here, so attempts to woo quackity will not end in a romance plot. ofc there'll be some flirting, especially w / canon characters he's had past relations with (schlatt, wilbur, eret, karl, sapnap). i hc he's had a fling with technoblade at least once LMAO.

+ during las nevadas he has fortnightly gatherings with foolish. he wouldn't fuck a citizen, but he'd fuck a coworker! morals, what're those again?

overall i'm not looking to write romance plots due to c!quackity's view of love during the LN era. (he despises it.)

all anons welcome!!! ADMIN IS 21.

for art references:

my dude's got big big wings such as the first two. no other wings anywhere else though! white / blind in the eye that’s scarred. he got gold fangs to replace his upper canines; to replace the actual missing tooth from techno’s axe but also for congruence. it's also a mockery: piglins love gold.

PLENTY of gold jewelry. quackity focuses so much on his appearance, so— earrings! a brass knuckle made from the rings of schlatt, karl & sapnap. he will never use his own feathers for decoration, though. he's got some necklaces, ofc, no piercings. maaybe an eyebrow piercing but idk . debatable

usually wears a white silk shirt, regular suspenders, black pinstriped pants / slacks, deep red tie with gold intricate detailing & a gold clasp to keep it together in the middle. a fancy pocketwatch with the las nevadas star engraved on the front. his blue or puma beanie obvs! shoes are either dark red (near black) snakeskin or italian leather. steel toed for dropkicking drea—

[ PAST EVENTS: AVIAN PINNED. ]

[psychesalcove]

„ i think we're one of the same, i don't think we could help it (no i don't think we could help it) ”

𝜗𝜚 headcanons with percy with a child of amphitrite and their dynamic!!

requested: yes, by anon !!

⚠️: not proofread AT ALL, percy being sassy as usual, nothing else i believe!!

💬: thank you so much for the request anon!! I decided to do some headcanons with this, which I hope is okay with you—if not, feel free to send in another ask and I'll get to writing it!! ALSO i thought i had uploaded it but i just saved it to my drafts, so im so sorry for not seeing my mistake sooner!!

𖹭 some background info on this, amphitritea is the wife of poseidon—so this dynamic would be like step siblings in my mind, so that's what I'm going on!!

𖹭 when you first got to camp, percy emideantaly felt like he should get to know you–he didn't know why, but something about you seemed familiar in a way he couldn't place

𖹭 so ofc, like the social butterfly he is, he goes up to you and introduces himself to you,

𖹭 you already know of him bc of the whole savior of olympus and forbidden child thing going on, but you introduce yourself to him

𖹭 he invites you to sit with him so you don't have to be dangling off the hermes table bc of all his kids, and you happily agree

𖹭 the next few days, you are off doing your own things, but you and percy still say hi and stuff when you see eachother

𖹭 about a week has passed since you arrived, and still no sign from your godly parent

𖹭 and, literally no one could figure out who's kid you might be (even my girl annabeth was struggling with you)

𖹭 it was canoe race day, and you got paired up with percy (he def didn't beg Mr. D to have you in his group)

𖹭 you and percy were doing well in it (obv since he's a literal child of the sea), and you two ended up winning

𖹭 and, as percy moved to high-five you, a familiar blue glow appeared above you,

𖹭 you look up, and see a symbol of twin dolphins, the sign of Amphitrite, the wife of poseidon

𖹭 both you and percy were both shocked (probably him more than you)

𖹭 but, he quickly got over his shock and high fived you super hard

𖹭 "you're my sibling oh my gods oh my gods!!"

𖹭 he's like actually so happy when you got claimed

𖹭 but, he knows it can be hard getting used to being in a cabin alone after being with the hermes kids, so he helps you all he can

𖹭 this includes him helping you decorate your space, either with Polaroids of you and your mortal parents and friends, getting fairy lights hung up, and getting some stuffed animals on your bed, and a lot more things

𖹭 he wants you to know that you can always come to him for anything at all!! Even if it is a crush (even tho he knows you would go to piper for that)

𖹭 he would have so much fun introducing you to Tyson,

𖹭 like the three of you would be besties omg

𖹭 you and percy would also do that trend where you make bracelets with eachothers eye color (tyson would have one 2 don't worry 🙏)

𖹭 and both of you would religiously wear them and almost never take them off unless it's deemed unsafe to be wearing)

𖹭 percy would also make you practice with him, mainly bc he wants to be sure that you are prepared if any monster invasion happens or you get sent on a quest

𖹭 on the topic of a quest, he would be like a dad with a teenager going to their first dance or party

𖹭 he's actually so worried for you and what could happen; he's constantly asking if you have everything packed, if you brought enough ambrosia, etc.

𖹭 he'll def talk to chiron and Mr D abou the quest saying that he should also be able to go on it

𖹭 and then he gets all pissy when he can't come

𖹭 he's like: "wdym I can't go with them ☹️🙄😠"

𖹭 ALSO sally absolutely adores you

𖹭 he brought you over to his apartment for the first time and introduced Sally to you and BAM

𖹭 sally now has three kids, along with paul

𖹭 she's also worried whenever you have to go on quests, she makes you food and gets everything you need ready like omg I need sm like her

𖹭 you and percy have also definitely gone to some type of water park and just like,

𖹭 bullied all of the kids there with your water powers

𖹭 but then u guys get kicked out for being too loud and in the lifeguards words, "loitering"

𖹭 you both had to look that word up on Google afterwards

𖹭 percy and you also have sleepovers sooo often

𖹭 mr D at first tried to get you 2 to stop having them

𖹭 but you guys were like "we're siblings we share the same cabin wdym we have to be in different cabins 🤨🤨"

𖹭 percy and you also have beds set up in eachothers cabin that's just, yours or his bed

𖹭 and when you have the sleepovers, the two of you make the best pillow fort known to kind (you probably got the idea from annabeth)

𖹭 on the topic of annabeth, you two would emideantaly become besties

𖹭 percy will never tell either of you but he got a bit jealous of you guys when you first met

𖹭 you'll probably become friends with all of the 7 bc of your relationship with percy (I say that the 7 are all friends no one could make me think otherwise)

𖹭 percy and you have little hangouts where you chill at the bottom of the lake and just chat ab anything — even with the animals down there

𖹭 the two of you also have def went to an aquarium and made everyone think your psychos bc you talked to all of the animals there

𖹭 overall, percy thinks of you as his sibling, and loves knowing that you'll always have eachothers side <3

[feralcoffeebug]

i saw in the tags of ur new fic that hua cheng has BPD in ur hcs…. if ur willing to talk abt it id love to hear abt it 🙏

Hi!!! Ofc I’d love to talk about it.

So Hua Cheng is one of the characters that I hold super dear to my heart, in that fic he wasn’t quite old enough for the actual symptoms to start showing in ways that would be super obvious hence the whole “it’s not really shown/explored here” that I mentioned. But! Let’s get into it!

There are 3 suspected subtypes for BPD, not really “officially” used in the dsm5 but! Hua Cheng fits Really Well for quiet BPD, which is often where the symptoms are more internalized rather than outward. As a child and teen when he was the little boy and little soldier the BPD symptoms are more outward, as is extremely common for people with quiet BPD that they do not start with this presentation of symptoms.

Since I love researching especially for my headcannons this will have me pulling from the DSM and using that lol. Sorry if this isn’t quite what you wanted! Feel free to send another ask in that case! I love answering questions haha.

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE NOVELS

The diagnostic criteria means you need 5 of the main 9 symptoms of BPD to be diagnosed with it. A lot of these behaviors start around 13, HOWEVER it is very difficult to diagnose in children and teens due to regular hormonal changes and a developing mind can often mimic the same instability that comes along with BPD. Please do not use this as something to diagnose yourself.

Hua Cheng, as he is, meets a few of the symptoms. I’ll go symptom by symptom to explain them a bit more

1. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment (not including sh or sui behaviors as it is covered in a different criteria).

Throughout TGCF Hua Cheng often spends a lot of him time attempting to be useful or good enough for Xie Lian, He gets very anxious and fearful around areas that might make Xie Lian leave him or be disgusted by him.

As Hong’er, he often changes entire things about himself with just a small off-hand comment from Xie Lian. He picked up the saber and focused on it because Xie Lian told him that he would suit it well. He panicked every single time someone tried to remove the bandages covering his red eye because he knew that it was something a lot of people hated or treated him badly for and was disgusted by, and he didn’t want Xie Lian to see it. When Xie Lian found out about the fact that he was born under the star of solitude and that meant he was cursed he had a breakdown about it, only calming down when Xie Lian assured him that he was believed that he wasn’t cursed. He showed anger at anyone else where for Xie Lian he would do anything (except talk haha)

I can’t say much about Wu Ming or him as a ghost fire; mostly due to not having gotten to his chapters yet. But my brain wants to use the part with the 33 heavenly officials and his anger at Feng Xin and Mu Qing as proof as well. Along with his devotion to Xie Lian.

As Hua Cheng, he often looks to Xie Lian when he’s not sure what he will think of things, often changing his likes and dislikes when it comes to him. He changed his form to be one that Xie Lian might have liked more, being extremely insecure about his true form while trying to play it off that he was ugly, which obviously Xie Lian didn’t agree with. And once he saw that Xie Lian wasn’t as disgusted by his actual form he uses it more often along with (At least in the manghua) he incorporates some parts of it in his San Lang form.

All in all, usually he sees things that could displease Xie Lian as being bad, and I believe this comes from a place of fearing abandonment by Xie Lian.

2. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation

This symptom is a hallmark of the disorder, and most of the other symptoms are what leads to this symptom to showing up. For Hua Cheng, his relationship with Xie Lian is pretty constant and in this context he would be his Favorite Person (FP) (will be discussed later) but his relationship with others are far more unstable. He goes between not caring for those he barely knows to being extremely angry and vindictive if they even so much seem as if they are insulting or disrespecting XL. He also seems to not have very steady relations with those he is simi closer to than strangers (such as yin yu and black water, the only two that, outside of XL, he has around him decently often enough, which honestly probably shows more so that he is attached to Xie Lian like a person with Bpd is to their FP). His opinion of those people seems to be very dependent on how they’re effecting his current situations as they happen, at least from what I’ve seen myself. He also holds very little regard for people outside of Xie Lian, which honestly might point to something like ASPD or something but in my opinion HC fits BPD more so than the other one but I could see the argument for it.

His unstable relationship mostly goes in relation of himself and his self image, which are very dependent on Xie Lian.

3. Identity disturbance: marked and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self.

For this criteria, this mostly means changes in personality, likes, dislikes, goals, and role. Often the only sense of self people with BPD have is that they are bad or evil, which we see a lot in Hua Cheng, his view of himself is very negative. He often does not feel as if he deserves to be treated nicely by Xie Lian.

4. Impulsivity in at least two areas that are potentionally self-damaging (e.g. spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating. Not including sh or sui behaviors.

Idk why for this one specifically but in my heart I feel like he is very impulsive even outside life or death situations. I cannot for the life of me recall why right now

One of them is him betting his ashes in the fight with the 33 gods, while that could be seen as him being confident in his ability to win it is still very dangerous. I’m unsure if this would count as impulsive or just sui behavior lmao.

5. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or threats, or self-mutilating behavior.

As Hong’er, He was going up the wall to die. Not only that but when he was in the army he often put his life on the line specifically trying to protect Xie Lian, to the point that Feng Xin mentioned offhand that it seemed like he had a death wish and that he had no concern for his own life. All of Hua Cheng’s deaths actively involve dying for Xie Lian, as he decided to live for the man as well.

6. Affective instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (e.g. intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days).

Hua Cheng’s mood often shifts very quickly from extremes, there seems to be very little grey area for his moods. Often times, he is happy and content only for a small thing to bring his ire and anger, especially when it comes to his time with Xie Lian. This is often set inwards, anger at himself for not being able to protect him. But this also is directed at others as well as seen by his reactions when Feng Xin and Mu Qing show up.

7.Chronic feelings of emptiness.

In my headcannons this is very true. He is often bored, he often acts very bored in the donghua when something doesn’t have to do with Xie Lian.

8. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger.

I don’t know about you, but I think a lot of Hua Cheng’s emotions include anger. He hits He Xuan because of a situation that endangers Xie Lian. He is known for getting into fights over small things. He killed 33 gods for simply disrespecting Xie Lian. He often has outbursts in anger at Mu Qing and Feng Xin, using a lot of sarcasm. These outbursts often happen when Xie Lian isn’t giving him attention or when they are disrespecting/looking down at Xie Lian in some way, shape, or form.

9. Transient, stress-related paranoid idealtion or severe dissociative symptoms

This symptoms often comes up when in response to something that may be relating to possible abandonment. Hua Cheng tends to get more quiet and withdrawn when situations have to do with himself or when something comes up that Xie Lian might hate him over. The topic of E’Ming makes him start to try and move the topic off of it’s emotional responses, when he hurt Xie Lian he gets quiet and stares where Xie Lian left for a long while, getting quiet when Xie Lian apologizes for the situation before nearly crying over it and apologizing over it.

Now, a lot of the reasons behind why I say a character has a mental illness usually does not come from what criteria they meet, but I felt that explaining what could possibly meet what criteria is a fun way to get the conversation started. A lot of BPD is the mental process that gets the reactions, or what causes the reactions. I’m going to get into the like, less official practical and professional view of BPD and go more into it as someone who shows a lot of BPD esc symptoms and the research I’ve done from other people with the disorder.

In BPD, there is a thing called a Favorite Person, also shorthanded to FP. I mentioned earlier that Xie Lian would be his FP, and I stand by this. Often to a person with BPD their FP is everything to them. Their emotional wellbeing and sense of self is often based on the person. It is often very intense and their FP is often what is the root cause of their symptoms showing up. Often FPs are caregivers, friends, crushes, and other things. It can be a very unhealthy relationship for both parties due to the fact that a person with BPD rely heavily on their FP for regulation.

This is something we often see with Hua Cheng and Xie Lian. Hua Cheng relies on Xie Lian for reassurance, taking every grain of it. He does everything in his power to appeal to Xie Lian but also doesn’t mind if Xie Lian doesn’t know about him or hates him as long as he can be useful to him. He also does all he can to get Xie Lian’s attention and praise. He bases a lot of himself and his environment around Xie Lian. I think that the opinion that some of the fandom has of him that “everything revolves around Xie Lian for his character” is a very good example of this. I do not agree with this sentiment, obviously, but it is very common for people with BPD to base almost everything around this FP.

Hua Cheng also wants to spend all of his time around Xie Lian, which is often seen with people with Bpd and their fps.

A lot of this headcannon also has a lot to do with seeing myself in Hua Cheng, seeing behaviors I’ve done for past FPs and even my current FP. I see my relationship with my current FP (which is my boyfriend before anyone asks) in Xie Lian and Hua Cheng. I am a lot more unstable in my relationship with my FP than Hua Cheng is to Xie Lian, but I also feel like Hua Cheng often would turn his anger inward a lot more than I do and fall heavily into self blame for any issues. Along with that, I feel as if Hua Cheng is also pretty inclined to feel as if he overstepped and to internally berate himself for thinking he could have or do or feel whatever unstable emotions and feelings and devaluation towards Xie Lian.

Anyways here’s a small, very tired and sleepy explanation. I’m sorry if none of this makes sense. I just woke up to write this and I’m probably heading to bed.

[kvthgok]

Art Project | Miguel O’Hara x Child Spider Reader (Platonic Ofc)

Warnings- none

Summary- You needed help with your art project and  asked Miguel for help !

Side note- not proofread cuz I’m literally so lazy rn. But please feel free to send over some Ideas cuz I can’t think of any .Ik some of y’all got awesome Ideas that ur gate keeping🙁</3! I would gladly write them.😭🙏

“Didn’t I tell you to do it yesterday?” Miguel questioned.

Before I even did anything he said, “And don’t give me that look. I’ve got better things to do than babysit you and help you with your art project.”

“C’mon it’s due tomorrow and I really need help!” I begged .

“Why should I help you when you've been slacking off like this? I told you to do it yesterday, and you did nothing!”

“But like I was doing something with Gwen sand Hobie sooo..” I trailed off

“Excuses, excuses. I don’t care if you were doing something else. I gave you plenty of time to work on it, right? So you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Please” I said dragging out the “e” in please.

“Oh, no. Not even if you beg.” Miguel crossed his arms and frowned. “I'm not helping you. You're on your own. And you better get it done on time this time.” I brought out the puppy dog eyes. Miguel rolled his eyes. “Don’t try that puppy dog look with me. My answer is still no.” “C’mon!” I whined

“Did I stutter? I'm not helping you. End of discussion.”

��� It’s a art project about who you look up to!” I begged him again.

Miguel chuckled. “Oh, that’s a sweet, sentimental thing to choose for an art project. Still not helping you, though.”

“Just c’mon” I rolled my eyes

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Miguel shook his head. “Why should I help you? I already tried to warn you before. The deadline has passed. I'm not giving you special treatment. You can get help from someone else.” 

“But everyone else is busy!” I whined

“Not my problem.” Miguel shrugged. “You should have planned better.” 

"Please Miggy” I said using his nickname while giving my puppy dog eyes. That had to work.

Miguel sighed. “You’re really giving me a hard time here. Fine, fine. I’ll help you but you have to owe me a favor, okay?”

I nodded, “Deal!” extending my pinky, “Pinky promise!” I smiled

He sighed again. “Okay. Pinky promise.” Miguel smiled and extended his pinky finger as well, wrapping it around mine.

Then we got started with the Art Project.

Miguel and I were now sitting together at a desk, working on the art project. I was relieved that he had agreed to help me after all "So, who is the person you look up to for this project?" Miguel asked. 

“You!” I looked up at him and smiled sweetly. 

"Me?" Miguel chuckled. "I appreciate the compliment, but are you sure you don't want to choose someone important like your mom, or your dad?"

“Nope”

"Alright, I guess I'm flattered, then." Miguel chuckled. "I'm curious, why do you look up to me?" I had started to tell him why.

“…and your always pushing me to make good decisions that I won’t regret in the future. Almost like another father figure” I added.

Miguel looked pleasantly surprised by my answer. "That's a very mature and kind thing to say, kiddo. I'm glad you view me that way." 

I paused for a moment and smiled. 

"It does touch me to know you think that way of me."

 I slowly nodded happily. 

Miguel and I worked on the project for a while longer. I was grateful to Miguel for helping me finish the project in time.

As I looked at the completed drawing we had created, I smiled and looked up at Miguel. "I'm so glad you helped me with this. I couldn't have done this without you."

Miguel smiled back.

“Your welcome kiddo”

[fire-lizard-ro]

Helloo hehehe im the one that asked for a columbina s/o~ it was really good :D

Can u maybe make some head cannon about them being in a relationship? Hehhe it you dont mind :) thats all ty <33

Hehehe ofc!!! I'd like to make the disclaimer again that I don't really know the character Columbina all that well, but I will try my best!!! So sorry for any mischaracterization. Thank you for sending in your ask~

Reader gender: gender neutral

Like we talked about before, you and Sunday would be partners in crime. The manipulative duo.

I think that the two of you would probably enjoy dates like going to the opera. When the singer is good it wasn't uncommon to find the two of you with eyes closed, you leaning against him, enjoying the sweet melodies of the songs. When it wasn't so great, the two of you would be whispering your criticism in each other's ears with giggles.

Sunday would like hearing you sing more, though. Even if it is just a sweet little humming under your breath as you two are settled down together to read together or perhaps do other things within each other's presence. He is, however, more than aware of the abilities you have. They impress him every time and to know that you could always control him but don't makes his heart swell with affection. A chaste, but no less full of passion than any other kiss, would be pressed to your lips. "Thank you, dove." (I've started to use "dove" as his nickname for the reader recently- It just makes sense to me.) Whether he's thanking you for the song or for not trying to put him under your control with you voice, you'll never know. He just gives you that smile of his.

It was always a treat to hear his voice as well. He's not nearly as inclined to it as you or even his sister. You and her get along quite well, I'd think. Especially since she doesn't really know about the manipulative tendencies you and your lover have. Some things are better not knowing, hm? In any case- If you asked, he would sing something for you. The songs are always gentle and slow. If it was upon your request that he is singing, he's likely to sing a love song of some sort- It's funny. Almost like a pretty bird courting his love with a song despite them already being his.

And like I'd forgotten to write last time:

When the two of you kiss, your wings often bump into each other so cute oml-

The first time it happens, it startled a chuckle out of the normally composed man. He'd lean in again to kiss you once more, this time pursposefully caressing your wings with his while he holds you close.

When he'd managed to figure out that you and he were one in the same, he slowly brought you in on his schemes and work. After asking you outright about it once he was certain of it, he'd have you help him with his... persuations. You would subtly be humming to yourself whilst he spoke with people, influencing them to sway to his side. His ideas and thoughts suddenly sound perfect to them. On a larger scale- When he'd host dinner parties as a leader of Penacony with the elite, you would act as the entertainment for the night. You would sing for them as they mingled, slowly beginning to take control of them. But once the main act was upon you, you singing your final song of the night, it was then that you would use your power the most that night (not fully, but more than before). And just like that. They were again ensnared and ready for his use. He'd plant ideas and thoughts in their minds while under your control.

And as everyone would leave for the night, h'd wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple. "You did amazing tonight, my love. Let's celebrate, hm?" He'd say this in a low voice before leading you back into the house for a glass of wine or whatever else tickled your fancy.

Sorry there isn't more... OTL

It's a bit hard to write for me, haha. Hope you liked it! Feel free to send in another request if you'd like~

[impala-dreamer]

Yes, it’s that time again. As an oversized turkey thaws in your fridge and Mariah Carey starts doing her vocal warm ups, it’s time to think about gifting something special to those you love.

Why not give the fanfic lover in your life a custom written fanfiction designed and starring Them?!

Imagine the joy on your bestie’s face as they read about riding in the Impala with Dean and singing along to their favorite song! The magical feeling they’ll get when Bucky rescues them and his prickly exterior softens at their touch… Or hell- get one for yourself and read the story you’ve always dreamed about but couldn’t find ;)

So many possibilities and stories to tell!

Read on for more info and please, reblog to spread the word. 💖

How does it work?

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[amnesique]

hi sweetheart, i have a request. so nick and reader are enemies, but there are some moments when they flirt. jenna invites them to a party and they play spin the bottle, and ofc reader and nick have to kiss which kinda turns into a make out session. after all they confess their feelings to each other and everyone is happy.

it’s totally okay if you don’t want to do it, sending you love!! 💗

hate it and love it at the same time — nick leister

warnings: there is a lgbt part, not very important or long, but i warn you guys that i do not want to read any homophobic remarks.🩷 enjoy!

i don't know if it's exactly what you imagined, but i still hope you like it and that it's not too far from what you wanted

"¡idiota!" you snarled at the brunette young man who hurried past you, causing the drink in your hand to stain your shirt, and his only reaction was to laugh at you.

jenna looked at you with a surprised look in her eyes, raising her eyebrow slightly at you, thinking to herself how dare you challenge him because that young man was not only nick leister, the son of the well-known william leister, but he was also the head of the gang you both belonged to. but you were aware that even though you both couldn't stand each other, the idiot still had a bit of a soft spot for you, loving to make fun of you when you got mad or to make you get angry. and yet, he never got mad at the need to remind you that he was your superior.

at another party, you kept on begging jenna to get her boyfriend, lion, to get nick to let you drive at least one time in one of the races, exactly when nick came out of nowhere beside you. "i'd rather die than let you drive my car," he said, taking a sip of his drink, with a devilish grin on his face, challenging you.

"then i can't wait to come to your funeral, caro," you gave him the answer with a sweet smile, nudging him in the chest with the finger of the hand you were holding your drink in, and his grin quickly disappeared, as he clenched his jaw.

challenge accepted, nicholas.

at the next race, you sneaked past him and lied to the one in charge of the race that nick had given you permission and that you were also going to participate, adding that you were like his secret weapon and that not everyone needed to know, in order to avoid the information reaching the ears of the head of the red gang until you can even get your foot in the car.

that night was the night nick admitted to you and everyone else that he couldn't stand you, even if you won. you had won behind his back, after totally ignoring the fact that the gang's fate was in his hands only. since then he had sworn that he would never let you have any idea what peace meant.

"what?" you asked your friend in annoyance, raising your voice as you tried to clean yourself up in vain.

jenna gave a short chuckle, gesturing that it was nothing and you rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to your sides and suddenly she became serious, compassionate even. "do you want me to get something from my closet for you to wear?" she looked at the stain on your shirt, thinking that there was no way it would come out, at least, without being properly washed.

"no need," you murmured and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving it on a chair next to you, and remaining in your bra.

jenna looked you up and down, admiring you like only a true friend would, and gave you a slightly worried smile. "are you sure you want to stay like this?"

"yeah, i'm sure," you rolled your eyes again, being amused this time, wrapping your arms around your friend's neck and confidently walking like that past the drunk people. "where did you say that game was going to be played?" you asked her, taking your arms off of her, but she took your hand.

"follow me,” she said and she led you to a more quiet area where people had already sat down on the floor in a circle, lion keeping free spots for his girlfriend and you.

when you saw nick also present, you frowned and sat down more pulled down by jenna because your mood was already fading.

you watched throughout the game how jenna kissed her boyfriend, how nick kissed a random girl, jenna kissed a boy you didn't know and in the end you also kissed a girl, the girl nick had kissed too. the kiss eas quick, but you could've feel the taste of nick's alcohol and cigarettes on her tongue, and suddenly, it was like a small part of you wanted to taste yourself.

the whole game nick kept glancing in your direction, content with the sight he himself had caused when he passed by you. and when the bottle you spun stopped in front of him, it gave him reason to look at you longer, the grin returning as well.

"what are you waiting for, idiota?" you asked him annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest, the sight getting even better for him, and he ran his tongue over his lips, smiling right after.

he moved closer to you just as you moved your hands to your sides, realizing what you had done, and he started kissing you with such force and desire, as if it was just the two of you.

what a shame it wasn't just the two of you.

if you were, then nothing would have stopped you from entwining your tongue with his for a bit longer, tasting yourself the alcohol and menthol cigarette on his, while his hands firmly covered your ass, squeezing lightly, gluing yourself to his body to stop the other boys from looking at your breasts.

lion started whistling next to you, bringing you back to reality just when you liked it more, and making you peel away from him as if kissing him had burned you.

nick glared at him, killing him with his look, and you tried to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly slightly embarrassed.

nick made a guttural sound to the rest of the boys, causing jenna to make silent noises. "if any of you take one more look at her, i'm going to gouge your eyes out with my bare hands, understood?" and they nodded, turning away almost immediately, looking anywhere but at you. "let's go put something on you," he whispered to you and you shooked your head. he said your name in a louder tone and you stood up, walking past him, walking alone towards the house.

or so you thought.

he was behind you right after you, watching you and waiting to a more secluded corner, to take you by the hand and pin you to the wall.

"what are you—," you started, wanting to kick him away from you, but he was a step ahead of you, and he put his hand on your leg, stopping you from kicking him. you swallowed hard, feeling waves of electricity where he was touching you.

"i won't let anyone to even look at you again."

you giggled weakly, more as a reflex, and you looked intently at him, wishing he had moved his hand higher up your thigh. "is this your way to tell me i'm yours or some shit?"

your question had been sarcastic, making fun of his possessive side, but he caught you by surprise when he nodded, bringing his lips to your pulse line. he kissed you there, making you melt into his arms, you becoming one with the wall behind you.

he lifted his lips to your ear, whispering softly, "you're indeed mine from now on."

for fuck's sake.

[peakbys]

A MINUTE AND GONE

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Summary: Quieter moments with Tommy almost feel like you're in another world, and you can't bring yourself to walk away when they present themselves. Request: Yes.            → @runnning-outof-time asked: Hi there! I saw that your requests were open and couldn’t pass up on the opportunity - you’re such an amazing writer! Would you be willing to write something for Tommy using the prompt "I believe this belongs to you."  ?? I’m not sure how you feel about prompts, but I’m not the best at requesting things and so they’re always a go-to for me. Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested. Thanks so much in advance if you choose to write it! 💕 Warnings: I went into this with the intention of fluff, but it got more angsty than intended. So, heads up for a dysfunctional relationship and reader's conflicting feelings. There's still some lightness to it, ofc. It's a mixed bag. Note: Thanks for sending this in! Took me a minute to get around to it due to life, but I hope you enjoy it!

Things were never simple with Tommy.

Sure, you knew what he and his family were, yet it was difficult to be pulled into that life from what would have been considered outside. Even with the close and intimate relationship you had with Tommy, it was a hard feeling to shake. Outsider, not really allowed in too close. Whether that meant you not being too involved in the business or not being allowed too deep into Tommy’s mind depended on the day, sometimes. For a while, you had accepted that. Some days, you accepted that the human mind and heart was too complex for a simple black-and-white idea that he didn’t have room for you. 

There was always someone else, you knew that. It filled you with such bitterness sometimes, and yet in others you supposed you could understand. 

It had you feeling like you were being torn between two mindsets on it. Sometimes you swore you were done, that you’d leave. Other times, you just couldn’t shake him and you found yourself trying to just make it work to the best you could. It was overly complicated, sometimes too much to really explain with words. (As much as you caught the odd knowing look from some of the other Shelby women.) 

Perhaps that was why you weren’t berated too hard for the little outburst you had the other night. Usually, you did your best to keep that behind closed doors, yet it felt like you couldn’t really stop it from coming out when it did. A little spat and argument at a public function with Tommy didn’t seem too bad for what you had seen in pubs and other functions like that, yet a part of you couldn’t help but kick yourself when the anger had subsided. Yet, your pride wouldn’t let you admit that in the moment. Really, you were stuck with some feelings that were all too familiar. 

Anger, discarded, hurt, like you couldn’t compare or compete. It wasn’t until a few days after the event that you realized it was that sense of competition that caused you the most issues. 

That night, Tommy hadn’t really done anything to set you off. Other times, definitely, but that fact had settled in when you had fallen asleep without saying another word to each other. You were lashing out from an insecurity that had plagued you long before you even got close to Tommy, but it certainly had a lot to play off of with him. That realization had come with a heavy pit of embarrassment that took another day before it was too much for your pride to push back. 

Apologies weren’t always a huge struggle for you, but when it came to things like this? It was hard to form the words. You knew you didn’t want to pick at it, make things worse, but it was more like you didn’t really have the words for the explanation that followed. 

It was with those thoughts you found yourself approaching his office, stepping inside with somewhat slow, cautious steps. You shut the door behind you softly, lingering by the door as you took in the scene before you. 

It was almost ill-fitting, how beautiful the day out was. 

It lightened up the room, giving a natural light that seemed all too inviting. As much as Tommy had only given you a flicker of his gaze in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence, even he seemed relaxed. He was notoriously difficult to read, sometimes. Expressions flashing in a small flicker on his face, his eyes more cold than you could stand at points. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, especially when things were rough. 

On the other hand, ironically enough, he was easier to read in neutral moments like this. 

He was focused, yet he didn’t seem that frustrated. A touch bored, maybe, but nothing that really suggested to you that you couldn’t approach him. That you should rethink your intentions on showing up there. 

With a small, reassuring breath out, you finally approached him. 

“Are you busy?” you asked, placing your hands on the back of a vacant chair in front of his desk. 

“I’m always busy,” he replied matter-of-factly, “This can wait, though.” 

Tommy looked at you, then, giving you his full attention. His expression was neutral, gaze expectant. You had a hard time not meeting his gaze, feeling your fingers dig into the back of the chair somewhat as a sense of nervousness settled. You couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been easier if he had just let you talk while he worked, yet you knew this was the best way to do this. In a way, you were almost intimidated by the genuineness of it. 

“I…wanted to apologize,” you stated after a moment, “For what happened a couple of nights ago. That it’s taken this long to even say that. I was…lashing out over something that wasn’t anything you caused. I was acting like a frustrated child. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.” 

He seemed to take that in for a moment, meeting your gaze before he leaned back in his chair somewhat, the touch of a grin crossing his face. 

“Believe it or not, that was not the first time someone’s lashed out at me in public,” he replied, “I thought it was something like that. I’ve already forgiven it.”

“I…still wanted you to hear that. From me,” you said, taken a little off guard by the casualness of the conversation. Yet, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how he’d react anyway. 

Despite only giving you a nod in return to that, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief upon hearing his words. There it was again, pulling you back toward him again when you had promised yourself, yet again, that you weren’t going to. A part of you knew that it would probably do you better to actually say what you mean–to actually explain your behavior outside of acknowledging that it was out of line. 

Yet, a bigger part of you in that moment was just tired. Of the overthinking, the seriousness, the isolation, the frustration–all of it. 

You knew you let it win when you backed away from the chair, but didn’t leave the room. The wheels in your head had started to turn, and the idea that formed was quite appealing. If he’d humor it, you supposed. It wouldn’t hurt to offer. With some mild amusement, you stepped forward as you fought to keep a small grin from slipping onto your face. 

“Well, if that’s how it is…” you began, pausing a moment before you held your hand out toward him, “I believe this belongs to you.” 

It was hard not to grin at the slight confusion that settled into his expression, his sharp gaze searching your own as you flexed your fingers somewhat invitingly. Amusing as it was, and you didn’t want to ruin the moment by spelling it out for him, yet you knew you wouldn’t leave him in suspense for much longer. Though, after a few moments, you realized that you may not have to. The realization that settled softened his expression, his eyes brightening in a similar amusement. 

Tommy’s smiles were rare–the full ones, at least. The ones that almost changed his face and let you catch a glimpse of someone he might’ve been before the war and the world he lived in hardened him. The ones you were fortunate enough to catch always seemed to catch you off guard–in a good way, at least. So, it was hard to hold back the one you were hiding when he gave you one at that moment. 

“Now you want to dance, eh?” he asked, making you chuckle. 

“I promised,” you replied with a light shrug, still (somewhat awkwardly) holding your hand out. 

You had left that night before you had gotten the chance, and you figured perhaps this would be a good signal to show that you really just wanted to move on from the whole thing. You knew it didn’t solve what caused it in the first place, but it was hard to make the decision to ruin a moment like this. Despite everything, moods seemed high and your resolve had crumbled plenty over the last couple of days. 

Luckily, it seemed like his resolve didn’t need much poking to fall in that moment, either. 

“You’re leadin’, then?” he asked teasingly as he took your offered hand, which prompted a small chuckle from you as you pulled him further into the office where there was some more space. 

“I barely know how to dance as it is, so no,” you said, letting him pull you in closer to him. 

Tommy slipped his arm around your lower back as you rested your own on his, your free hands entwining in what was a loose representation of waltzing positions. You tried to mirror his movements in what was a light sway, no music and much too close for what it probably would have been if you had managed a dance that evening. Yet, you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that, sinking into his touch as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

It was odd. For all the violence that Tommy had within himself, it was moments like the current that surprised you. The small, tender moments that he could show behind closed doors or with people he trusted. So, in a way, you supposed that it had to mean something that he was willing to do this so freely with you. Yet, it was hard to say that with much certainty, especially when it came to Tommy. 

Yet, despite the doubts, it really only had you grasping these moments alone with him all the tighter. 

“...I don’t know if I understand you, love,” Tommy admitted quietly after a few more moments of your silent dancing. You couldn’t help but let out a soft huff at that, almost a touch bitter. 

“Next to you, I must look like a half complete puzzle at worst,” you replied, somewhat muffled as you still were pressed close to his shoulder. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe we just don’t know each other that well,” you muttered, although you knew the proximity and the quietness of the room would allow him to hear every word of that. 

You weren’t entirely wrong, either. On your own side, at least, but you doubted if he wanted more out of this than the odd event and nights spent together that the crumbs that he knew about you would be enough. Really, maybe a part of you should have realized that he wasn’t someone who would just let you in easily–from what you knew about him, that made complete sense. In a way, a part of you knew that was the case and made sure not to share more than what he gave you. 

You weren’t without your own walls, after all. 

Still, it seemed like it was enough to keep you around. The rope that kept you close to him certainly pulled tight at points, but it hadn’t snapped just yet. 

“We’ll do somethin’ soon,” he said, pulling you back into the current moment. The certainty of it caught your interest, as much as a part of you hated that it did. 

It was odd to hear–for the most part with him it was a lot of ‘try’, ‘maybe’, and ‘might.’ 

“Just you and me,” he continued, making you pull back somewhat to look at him, “We’ll go to London, take the car into the country or the horses. Whatever you want.” 

“I’d like that,” you replied with a light nod, not ready to put much stock in his word about things like this. You knew that his life could change depending on the day. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a pit of hope that settled in your gut. 

Yet, in your mind, it was still another ‘maybe.’ You accepted the lingering kiss he pressed to your mouth anyway, still holding onto that light feeling in your chest that had built up throughout the last while with him. As it was, in that little world in that moment, you wanted to pretend that you could trust that. 

In time, maybe you actually could.

[ghostkingart]

Thoughts on a bg3 x the arcana crossover?

first of all thank you sm for the ask!! I really need to get my mind off of things and just think about my blorbos for a while <3

somewhat spoiler-y for The Arcana and Baldur's Gate 3 (I've played all of Arcana but not BG3)

so first of all, Astarion and Asra, right??

not only do they both have curly white hair but I also think that something about them just works (well, not really at first, but it has the potential to work!)

would Astarion mind Asra's absence? maybe he'd like it at first. maybe he'd think it's neat that someone is giving him so much freedom, that he doesn't feel restrained. but... would he begin to resent it? Astarion, imo, longs for genuine connection, but just has too many walls around him. and Asra kinda does too. I think they'd learn to love each other and to fulfill each other's need for connection, while simultaneously giving each other enough room to breathe

Julian.... what can I say about Julian? I hate to be That Guy but he'd work sooooo well with my BG3 Tav, Veles. so they're both masochists, right? it's the first thing that comes to mind lmao. guilt and shame are also something they have in common. but where Julian is more avoidant (remember Doc Talk? that man was READY to break up a relationship that hasn't even officially STARTED (as far as the apprentice and him both knew at the time at least, without their memories and all)) Veles is sooo much more anxious and clingy. Veles's biggest defining quote is Mitski's "if you need to be mean, be mean to me," after all. he would. probably rather DIE than allow Julian to leave him, especially because, well, Julian's avoidance and Veles's clinginess comes from the same place: fear. specifically, fear of hurting the other.

I think Wyll and Nadia would work rather well, maybe as friends, but Karlach and Nadia hmmmmmm that would be nice. opposites attract, right?

I'm sorry but Asra and Julian are my faves, and so is Astarion and I just had to push Veles forward again, also. but what else is there? any other character relations? do you have any thoughts or more specific things you'd like to ask me? feel free to send another ask, or ofc anyone else can join on the convo!!

[sallowsunshine]

SORRY you probably have gotten a lot of quidditch related requests now but I got one more for ya

Hufflepuff x Sebastian

After the seb quest, they don’t turn him in ofc and he starts playing quidditch to take his mind off things but is still standoffish to the reader because he thinks it’d be better for her if she(or they) just forgot about him. Well she gets a chance to get his attention again when the hufflepuff quidditch team begs her to replace their seeker that got hurt? After hearing about her fifth year feats and she can’t say no to her housemates. No one knows about it until she steps onto the pitch in the hufflepuff - slytherin match and causes an uproar

Don't Push Me Away (Sebastian Sallow x Reader)

Thank you for this!! I love this so much. Okay, this is mostly in Sebastian’s POV. also major spoilers for his questline.

Sebastian Sallow had lost control of his life. He’d lost his oldest friend, and his own twin sister, and he had nothing to show for it. It would have been all worth it if he had cured Anne, but she was no better. Knowing it was Rookwood all along did bring him a sense of piece, knowing he was gone.

The summer before his 6th year was spent in isolation at his family home in Feldcroft. Anne didn’t wish to see him, and Sebastian didn’t know where she was staying. Ominis could barely stand to be around him, he would only send him the occasional owl with updates on Anne. He knew time heals all wounds, but he was afraid these were scars that would never fade. 

As for you, your summer was spent off on some other adventure, some other quest, some other ancient magic business. Yet you still took the time to send an occasional letter asking how Sebastian was doing. He was surprised to know you still wished to converse with him, seeing as everyone else had given up on him. Yet he never could send an owl back. He’d read and reread your letters, then sit down to reply, but he could never get the thoughts in his head out onto parchment. 

The more time Sebastian spent alone, the more he realized what a horrible friend he’d been to you. You were there, every step of the way, defending his actions to Ominis, convincing him to give Sebastian one more chance, and then another chance, and then another. 

First, he shifted the blame to the Goblins and Rookwood. Then he shifted the blame to Ominis, for not supporting him. Finally he looked at himself. He always thought the Dark Arts were hidden potential. He didn’t understand the fear behind the unforgivables. “How could a curse that could save your life be unforgivable?” he had once said. Now that he was on the other side of things, he knew why the Dark Arts were avoided. No one talked about the corruption the Dark Arts created. The hold it took on one’s mind was powerful. It was obsessive and invasive, and Sebastian no longer wanted any part of it. Yes, the Unforgiveable spells could save your life, but the aftermath would destroy it. 

After that realization, he didn’t deserve to hear from you. He couldn’t bare it. So he ignored any other letters from you. He wouldn’t even open them. It seemed anyone he involved himself with always ended up hurt, or worse, so he decided the best course of action was to free you of him. 

With how busy your summer seemed to be, he was sure you’d forget all about him and move on, but your letters never ceased. Sebastian tucked them away, leaving your concerns for him to be silenced.

After that, Sebastian finds tasks to occupy his mind. He takes to cleaning the house, clearing out Soloman Sallow’s belongings. He saves anything he might need or can sell, but the rest he gives to other villages in Feldcroft. He’s been avoiding Anne’s room, the feelings too painful to bare, but once he’s gone through everything else in the house, he finally cleans her room. Ominis had recently sent an owl, asking him to separate some of her things to be picked up at a later date. He opens her closet and pulls some clothing out. Something catches and he reaches to move it out of the way. It’s a wooden handle, and he pulls it out to reveal Anne’s secondhand broom. 

-

The school year finally crawls around. Sebastian is used to summers speeding by, dreading the start of classes again, but this year it is the reverse. He has yet to reach out to you once, and he knows you’ll give him an earful. He hates himself for this, but he needs to be cold towards you. He doesn’t ever want to hurt anyone again, and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Omins, Anne, and you. Even if it means ignoring you. You’d eventually take the hint and leave him alone- and be better off for it. 

Classes have yet to start and Slytherin captain Imelda Reyes is already talking about Quidditch team auditions in the Slytherin Common Room. After finding Anne’s broom, he had taken up flying and exploring the greater Feldcroft area. He’d never really been interested in sports, but flying provided a most welcome distraction. Before he thinks better of it, he’s approached  Imelda.

“Imelda, I’d like to try out for the team this year.” Sebastian chokes out, a bit intimated by the Chaser.

“You?” She laughs. “Very funny, Sallow. Don’t waste my time.”

“Imelda, I’m serious. I’d like to play this year- or even just practice.”

“Seriously? Well, we did lose one of our Beaters. Although you’d need to bulk up for sure-”

He tunes out the rest of her ramblings about how he could better himself. He doesn’t know why he asked to try out. He just wants something to focus on. Something new, that doesn’t involve spells, or exploring catacombs, or- well, the list could go on and on. He wants something to focus on that won’t remind him of you.

-

Hogwarts hasn’t changed one bit over the summer. You’re happy to be back, happy to be able to stay in one place. The whole summer you were running around, tying up loose ends with Professor Fig’s leftover research on ancient magic. Ranrok was gone, but he had many allies out there that you spent the summer tracking down. You had just finished unloading your trunk and were ready to head down to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. You had yet to see Ominis or Natty, and were eager to greet them.  As for Sebastian, you weren’t sure where you stood with him.  He hadn’t responded to a single one of your owls this summer, and you would have thought something had happened to him, had Ominis not told you he too had been conversing with Sebastian. Except Sebastian actually responded to to his letters.

-

Sebastian was officially avoiding you. Every time you saw him in the halls, he’d duck away. Everytime you sent him an owl asking to meet in the Undercroft, you’d wait around for hours, and he’d never show. You didn’t want to ask Ominis about it because you knew they were still sorting out their own problems. He wouldn’t sit with you in class. You had no other conclusion to reach except that he no longer wanted to be your friend. 

In a rush of frustration, you grab your broom, hoping the rush of fresh air would help calm you down.

You soar above the grounds, with no particular destination in mind. You’re surprised to find yourself at the Quidditch Pitch, where yellow and black robes cover the field. You land and walk in, excited to see your fellow Hufflepuffs’ Quidditch practice. Last year, Professor Black had cancelled the Quidditch season, so you were very much looking forward to it this year.

A couple students are hitting a ball a bit smaller than a Bludger back and forth with bats. Others are doing laps around the Pitch on their brooms. And lastly, Chasers are weaving back and forth, passing a Quaffle between them, and then attempting to score on a Keeper. 

“Name and position you’re trying out for!” A Hufflepuff shouts at you, a clipboard covering their face.

“Oi! I know you! You helped save the world last year! With Professor Fig. My condolences by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met. My name’s Henriette Toro, but feel free to call me Henri!” 

“Oh, thanks, but I’m not here to try out, I just wanted to watch.”

“Nonsense! You totally should- oh, I know! You should try out for Seeker! Our starter is injured and no one else seems to want to try out,” Henri glances over the clipboard.

“I’m not sure I even know all the rules-”

“Listen, you’ve got time! We play our first match in three weeks, and we can’t play without a Seeker. We’re playing against Slytherin, an unlikely match we’d win anyways. You’re practically Hogwarts loyalty. You playing for us is more for show. As long as you look like you’re trying, no one will bat an eye.”

“Well-” you hesitate. 

“Listen, I know you know how to fly. I’ve heard Imelda grumbling about how you beat her time trials. Being a Seeker is all about speed. And good eyesight. I am begging you, please. Even if we lose that match, showing up with you on our team might make us the talk of the whole school.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll do it.” you give in, maybe wishing you hadn’t wondered over here on today of all days.

“Lovely! I will work with you privately throughout the weeks to get you ready. Don’t tell anyone though. I want to see the look on Imelda’s face when you walk out on to the pitch on game day.” Henri smiles mischieveously.

-

Sebastian loves the distraction Quidditch has provided him. He’s also surprised to find that he’s getting along with Imelda a lot more than he used to. Sort of. She’s been pushing the team extra hard this last week, staying out until it was too dark to see the balls, and making the team eat together in the Great Hall so she can monitor what they ate.

“As you all know, we play Hufflepuff tomorrow. I’m ending practice early today so we can all get a goodnight’s sleep.” Imelda is giving her pregame speech. 

Early? Sebastian thinks, looking at the last bit of sun sinking over the horizon. 

“-so I’m not sure who their Seeker will be. I’ve no doubt Toro is waiting to announce it, thinking it’ll bother me. Well, she is wrong!” 

Sebastian tunes out the rest of Imelda’s speech, a bit nervous about the match. He wonders if you’ll be there to watch it, no doubt supporting your own house. He’s managed to avoid you for the first month of school by some miracle. Either that, or you must have taken the hint.

A wave of sorrow washes over him. Thinking about you makes him miss your friendship more than anything. He longs to talk with you, ask you how you’ve been, make sure you’re doing okay. But he reminds himself why he must avoid you. You’re better off without him. He knows if he keeps pushing you away, you’ll eventually give up. 

-

Rain has been pouring down all morning, with no signs of stopping for the match, Your heart is racing a mile a minute. You didn’t realize Sebastian had made Slytherin’s team.Out on the field, you’ll be forced to interact with Sebastian. You learned that he’s a Beater, one of his position descriptions being, stop the Seeker from getting the Snitch as all costs.  It’s game day and you’ve got the hood of your Quidditch robe over your head, keeping low so no one will recognize you, per Henri’s instructions. The team is lined up at the entrance to the pitch to make their flying introduction. Slytherin have gone it first, the audience cheering and clapping. 

-

Sebastian finishes the introduction lap with his team, the adrenaline from seeing such a big crowd giving him an unfamiliar thrill deep inside. He settles next to Imelda in the air. Imelda’s got her eyes trained on the entrance, waiting for the Hufflepuff’s self-deemed ace of a Seeker. 

The team enters, all flying in syncronization. In the back, is the new player, holding their hood over their face, keeping low and close to their broom. The team circles around once, the two beaters breaking off and doing some loops. They make their way to the center, the Seeker flying up to their starting position. Only then, they pull their hood back, revealing their face to the crowd. 

Sebastian practically gasps with the rest of the crowd. The Hufflepuff side erupts into cheers. “No bloody way.” Imelda breathes out.

No bloody way is right. Sebastian thinks.

-

Everyone instantly recognizes the face of the Hero of Hogwarts. Sebastian just sees you. He’s a little peeved, mostly because all his work in avoiding you is now in vain. The game has started and he has yet to take his eyes off you. You’re floating pretty high above everyone else, your eyes scanning every inch of the pitch.

It takes narrowly avoiding a Bludger to the head to knock Sebastian back into reality. He focuses back on the game, a bit surprised at how dirty Hufflepuff is playing. Their two Beaters have got Imelda pinned between them, forcing her towards a wall and then releasing her last minute. She’s too quick though, and narrowly avoids crashing into the barrier. 

-

Henri was right. Using you as their Seeker had the exact effect the team had been hoping for. Imelda was off her game, and the crowd was in an uproar. The rain has slowed to a light sprinkle and you were hovering above everyone, trying to spot the Golden Snitch. Honestly, in this weather, it felt useless.

Just then, a blur catched your eye and you turn in time to see a Bludger heading straight for you. You have no time to move, but someone zips up between you and the Bludger, smacking it away from you. To your surprise, it’s not a Hufflepuff Beater, but instead, it’s Sebastian.

“Sebastian!” you call out. He zooms away before you can stop him. You pull forward to chase after him. “Sebastian, wait, please.”

You’re the faster flyer, so you catch up to him easily. “Sebastian!” you call out one last time. “You’ve been avoiding me! Aren’t you tired of pushing everyone away?” you provoke him, hoping it’ll get him to at least face you. It works.

He slows and turns to you. “I’m not really sure this is the place nor the time to talk.” He yells so you can hear him through the rain and the noise of the crowd.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?” you laugh.

He returns your smile, “And oh boy, did you! Let’s finish this game before Imelda takes my own bat and beats me with it.”

“No more running, Sebastian. It’s time to accept help. And friendship.” You point to the Hufflepuff crest on your uniform. 

—--

I am fully aware I am lazy at finishing fics. Henri Toro belongs to cadencesroundglasses (not sure if you'd want to be tagged) thanks for letting me use your lovely Hufflepuff!

[miusmusings]

north sonic kim royalty au 👀

Hi anon!

This one is one of my newer wips—I saw the ship one day and my mind went huh, they'd be pretty cool in an arranged marriage setting, and boom, this au was born!

It begins with Sonic's kingdom, where's he's a spare not an heir, and Kim's kingdom (where he IS the heir) being in a long war that exhausted everyone. What's the best way to end such a fued? A royal union ofc!

And so Prince Sonic was shipped to Kim's kingdom as a pretty omega bride to be for Crown Prince Kim. And with him goes his sworn guard—North, a minor noble. They've always been close since North grew up in the royal palace and had been Sonic's childhood friend slash study companion slash partner in crime. A closeness that would bring up questions, if North wasn't also an omega himself. And of course, as sworn guard, and an omega at that, North is free to follow the Prince because not like two omegas can do something scandalous, right?

Wrong! Guess what, North and Sonic are already mated, but their bond doesn't have the traditional mating marks since they are omegas. Convenient, unless one is being shipped to a foreign kingdom to mate another prince.

Still, one must do what they were ordered.

North and Sonic arrive in Kim's kingdom pretending everything is fine, and they're not gonna reignite the war again for the terrible slight of sending an already mated omega as the crown prince's betrothed. (Sonic doesn't like his royal family, but he does love his people - he doesn't want to see them die)

Kim is pleasant when they meet, to everyone else it's a pretty fairytale, but Sonic and North are terrified.

They sneak around, having to hide their already hidden relationship more than ever.

One day while they are in the garden talking with each other (or making out idk) in a super secret nook that North had scouted, when, drum beats, Kim walks into them.

North pulls out his dagger, ready to kill the Crown Prince or die himself before he lets any harm comes to Sonic, when Kim just goes “why are y'all doing that here in this place? Anyone can stumble in, even the matron of the kitchen. I'll show you two the real secret nook, follow me."

And SNorth (that's Sonic+North's ship name) follow him, half expecting a trap, but Kim keeps his word and leaves.

Later, they ask Kim why he's so his betrothed loving someone else, and Kim's all "look, this ain't no fairytale, we're marrying to save our kingdoms from getting ruined by war. I'm not going to destroy that for something as silly as 'feelings'—I have a duty to my kingdom, and I believe so do you. We'll have kids, doesn't have to be mine, as long as the kingdom has heirs. I won't interfere with you two, not like a heart can be forced to love someone. And anyway, one can love more than one person.”

Basically Kim's a very practical lil prince.

And he cares about Sonic who was basically thrown to a foreign land with little help.

This brings him close to North, who also cares so, so much about Sonic and um. Let's just say. They get quite a bit close.

Cue Sonic who is also having strange feelings and thoughts about Kim but is confused cause per his very traditional teachings about relationships and love and mating, he's confused if you can really love two people so much at the same time.

Dw, they do work it out in the end!

More about North being a trans alpha in this au is here!

I actually had so much fun writing it all out, thanks for the ask anon! (and sorry this was so late - I got busy with a lot of things suddenly >.>)

[loverhymeswith]

Spellbound

Day Four of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Witch!OFC

Summary: Polly’s meddling has unintended consequences for Tommy

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, set around season four but mostly spoiler free

A/N: Dedicated to @a-reader-and-a-writer ❤️

“There’s a woman here to see you, Tom.”

Tommy tears his gaze from the pile of paperwork strewn across the desk to find Lizzie hovering in the doorway. His secretary’s face is a careful mask of indifference as she leans against the wooden frame, but her apparent apathy is belied by the hint of jealousy in her voice.

There’s nothing for her to worry about, Tommy muses to himself, reaching for the half-empty carton of cigarettes resting on the far side of his desk. He doesn’t have any of those appointments booked this evening - or for the foreseeable future. These days, sex is the furthest thing from his mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side with one hand and lighting his cigarette with the other, he inclines his head. “Send her in then, eh?” Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so accommodating towards unexpected visitors, but heaven knows he could do with a distraction.

Lizzie nods brusquely and disappears from the doorway before he can ask her to fetch him another packet of cigarettes.

“He says you can go in,” he hears her mutter in a clipped tone.

Choosing not to acknowledge her possessiveness for the time being - that’s another problem for another day - Tommy reclines in his chair and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He exhales heavily and when the smoke clears, he casts his attention over the woman who has taken Lizzie’s place.

Her appearance is unexpected. Striking, even, to say the least. Dressed from head to toe in black, she’s at least a foot shorter than his secretary but just as slight. A headscarf conceals much of her hair, and she appears to be dressed in a riding cloak and long skirts, a far cry from the ever-changing ladies’ fashion he has grown accustomed to in recent years.

Tommy narrows his gaze, trying to place her. It’s unheard of for his mother’s kin to approach him like this; these days, all communication flows through Esmee or Johnny Dogs. A gut feeling tells him this woman is something else entirely.

Seeming to shrink under the weight of his stare, his visitor is the first to break the silence, taking a tentative step forward as she murmurs, “Mr Shelby?”

There’s a note of nervousness in her soft Birmingham accent, which comes as little surprise. Clearly, she knows exactly who she’s dealing with. What he’s capable of. And why wouldn’t she? After all, the Shelby reputation continues to precede him.

Tommy nods, exhaling another cloud of smoke in her direction. “And who might you be?”

“Your aunt Polly sent me,” she answers, choosing to omit her name as she glances around the dimly lit office. “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced but she said it was for the best.”

A familiar sense of irritation prickles within Tommy’s veins as he recalls the particularly contentious conversation he’d had with Polly not two nights ago. It would seem his aunt has finally made good on her threats.

“Come in and close the door,” he barks, stubbing out his cigarette with more force than necessary.

The woman does as he commands, crossing the room until only the large mahogany desk separates them. With the distance between them now halved, he’s taken aback by how young she is, how her skin is unblemished and her hair - thick and dark - threatens to escape from two untidy braids. Her pale blue eyes, currently filled with the hint of trepidation, are lined with kohl.

“So you’re the witch, eh?” He raises his brow, wishing he’d poured himself a whiskey before agreeing to see this woman.

The feeling only intensifies as her striking gaze lingers on him for a beat longer than is comfortable and her voice takes on a more confident edge.

“We don’t like to use that term these days, Mr Shelby.”

“No?” Tommy considers this, pulling out another cigarette from his dwindling supply and rolling it across his bottom lip. “What would you have me call you then?”

The woman’s shoulders lift slightly, apparently unfazed by his churlish response. “Some call us healers.”

“Healers?” he scoffs around the cigarette, the beginning of a headache starting to form. “You think I’m in need of fixing?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mr Shelby. But Polly seems to think so.”

Polly. Damn that meddlesome woman. One day she’ll realise that some things - some people - are better left broken. And even if he could undo the events of the last five years, there is simply no coming back from what happened in France. There is no coming back from death.

“Polly doesn’t know anything. And you are wasting your time.” He waves his hand towards the door. He has absolutely no intention of entertaining Polly’s fantasies tonight - or ever. “No amount of magic or potions is going to change a bloody thing. So you can leave now.”

Despite his disparaging tone, the woman doesn’t baulk. “She already paid me twenty shillings to come here tonight.”

“Twenty shillings, eh?” He blinks back his surprise. “That’s quite a profit you must be turning. And you didn’t just take the money and run?”

She frowns at the implied insult, her pink lips pursing. “My grandmother taught me better than that. Besides, Polly is a friend of the family.”

“And who is your family?” he wonders aloud. “You’re not one of the Lees.” No, they assuredly would have taken the money and ran.

She shakes her head, her unwavering gaze still trained in his direction. “I’d prefer it if we kept my family out of it, Mr Shelby. As I said, I’m here at your aunt’s behest.”

Unaccustomed to being on the backfoot, Tommy is careful to hide his unease. This woman seems to know him - or his family, at least - but he has absolutely no idea where she has come from.

“Forgive my curiosity,” he mutters around the cigarette, not an ounce of contrition in his tone. “But I usually seek references when doing business. It’s good practice to know who you’re getting into bed with. Do you know Johnny Dogs?”

Her lips curl into a smile. “He offered me his hand in marriage once. My grandmother saw him off with a shotgun. Threatened to put a curse on him if he ever came back.”

“Smart woman, your grandmother.” Despite his misgivings, Tommy gestures for her to take a seat across from him, unable to deny his growing intrigue. He’d wanted a distraction, had he not? “Cigarette?”

She shakes her head, gracefully lowering herself into the spare armchair. “They’re bad for your health.”

“This is Birmingham, sweetheart. Everything is bad for your health. Including” - he points a finger in her direction - “witches.”

In lieu of a response, she smiles again and suddenly he finds himself wishing she’d remove that headscarf. Her face is still partially cast with shadows in the low light; he’d like to see all of her.

“So humour me.” He settles back in his seat and stubs out his second cigarette, both his headache and the desire for whiskey beginning to fade away. “What exactly has Polly paid you to do?” Tommy would be the first to admit that he has a complex relationship when it comes to his family’s faith in fortunes and curses.

“Besides the magic and potions, you mean?” she teases, her ring-clad fingers clasped in her lap.

Fighting the unexpected and somewhat disconcerting urge to smile back, Tommy nods. “Besides the magic and potions.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr Shelby, but it’s bad for business to reveal all my secrets.”

There’s no trace of her initial apprehension as she continues to meet his eye. In fact, she seems to have relaxed in his presence. He can’t decide whether she’s brave or just naive.

“Tommy,” he tells her, taking both of them by surprise. “You can call me Tommy.”

She pauses for a moment, her blue gaze suddenly unreadable, before she replies, “Ok, Tommy.”

Another beat of silence passes between the two of them and there’s a noticeable change in the air as it fills with an electric charge - the portent of a gathering storm.

“You won’t tell me about your family, but it seems only fair I should get your name, eh?” Tommy remarks, offering her an expectant look. The truth is, he wants to keep her talking. Magic and potions be damned.

“Evelyn,” she murmurs, her answer taking him by surprise.

“I knew a girl named Evelyn once,” Tommy tells her, clearing his throat. Deep in the back of his mind, a memory is stirring. A truth, demanding to be revealed. “We called her Evie. Always had flowers in her hair. We played together as children on the banks of the canal. Me, her and Arthur.”

The woman, the witch - Evelyn - shifts in her seat. “What happened to her?”

“War happened,” he tells her, bluntly. “Never saw her again.”

That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about the girl often, although admittedly less so over the years. He’d made a point not to seek her out when he’d returned from France. It was safer to treasure her as a memory than trouble her with the demons that had followed him back to Small Heath.

“But you got to say goodbye.”

It’s less a question than a statement, but Tommy finds himself responding anyway, still grappling with that insistent feeling that he’s forgetting something. “I did.”

“You kissed her,” Evelyn continues solemnly. “At Digbeth Lock. After the summer fair.”

Thrown off balance entirely, Tommy stutters. “I- how did you know that?” He frowns, rubbing a hand across his jaw. Is he under the witch's spell right now?

Slowly, wordlessly, the witch begins to unwrap her headscarf. Tommy watches, spellbound, as her beautiful face finally comes into full view, a thin crown of crimson and ochre flowers resting atop her midnight hair. All of the air leaves his lungs in a single breath.

It can’t be.

“It’s you. It’s fucking you.” He shakes his head, eyes rapidly searching her face as he reconciles the woman before him with the memory of his childhood sweetheart. Evie. How could he have been so blind. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Evelyn clutches her discarded scarf tightly, her eyes now shining bright with unshed tears as she offers him a melancholy smile. “I was told the war had changed you, Tommy. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Of course he remembered her. Evie. The girl with the flowers in her hair.

Abruptly, he rises to his feet, torn entirely between pouring himself a whiskey and gathering her into his arms.

The truth is, Tommy Shelby has always believed himself to be irrevocably broken. But maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to fix him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

How's about follower kallamar with a squid reader that is the head doctor and a former follower of his

On the day of your indoctrination...an ugly plague was currently infesting he entire cult. It definitely wasn't the best first impression.

You saw so many sick followers shuffling around, trying not to throw up (although some failed miserably) as they went about their daily tasks.

Lamb excuses themselves to go yell at the healthy followers who didn't bother cleaning all the puke lying around, before sending the sick to their beds and shoving thermometers in their mouths.

And of course, an elder decides to die right next to the goddamn shrine...resulting in those still hanging around to vomit at the sight.

Once everything's slightly under control, Lamb rushes back to officially welcome you into the cult, but you're not impressed at all.

"You promised me sanctuary, Lamb. But all I see is illness and death here...was I right to trust you?"

"....you can blame your "bishop" for all of this......I promise this is a safe haven."

You give them the benefit of the doubt, considering they did save you from being sacrificed to Kallamar.

But when asked why his followers chose you, you explained that you're actually a doctor who treated a lot of sicknesses back in Anchordeep. Sore throats, stomach bugs, flu, pox, etc. You were seen as sort of a miracle worker.

Unfortunately Kallamar saw your skills as a threat to his power, insisting only he can perform "miracles" and decide who's worthy of healing...and his fanatics were inclined to agree.

Luckily, your new leader allowed you to take on that role once again without fear of persecution, and you got the plague under control practically overnight.

You've implemented a system where every follower got a regular checkup. Even if they looked or felt fine, it's better to be safe than sorry.

When Lamb started bartering with ???, they gifted you a gold immortality necklace to ensure you didn't die of old age (seriously, they needed your medical expertise).

You already had a skull necklace, but were grateful nevertheless.

Ironically, Kallamar became the most troubling patient when he arrived into the cult, getting sick right off the bat just from his spiraling anxiety.

He hid behind a tree upon seeing you.....and Lamb found him, literally having to drag him over to your medbay (now a small building instead of a single shrub hut) and order you to treat him.

Great Ones forbid he caused a plague as both bishop and follower. They weren't going to tolerate that.

Ofc, he was hesitant to say anything to you, but after quietly treating his stomach ache and changing his bandages...he breaks down sobbing on the cot, begging for forgiveness.

"I-I was wrong. You do..s-so much good work. You were thriving, performing all these miracles, and....a-and I tried to take that all away....why heal me?"

"Kallamar, I'm not holding that against you anymore." You reassure him. "You're free of the Blue Crown's influence. I know you didn't really want me dead, did you?"

"..n-no, my...followers suggested it. Cult morale was low a-after what happened to Leshy and Heket so...I had to do something!"

Whether that revelation made you feel better or worse, you find it in your heart to forgive him, never denying him treatment even if others in the cult disagree.

You wanted to help him. One squid healing another.

To this day, he still feels bad visiting your medbay, but with time he becomes more comfortable approaching you whenever he gets sick.

Soon enough you find out one of the primary causes of his stomach pains.

It's cauliflower stew (while there's a 5% chance of sickness for everyone else who consumes it, his is always at 100% for some reason).

As it turns out he, ironically, has a severe cauliflower intolerance.

Poor guy never knew that was a thing.