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chris-continues · 2 days ago

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I’ve Got My Eye on You

If you dance I’ll dance <3

Robert “Bob” Reynolds/reader

SYNOPSIS: When you’re forced to attend Valentina’s gala for publicity, you find solace in a familiar face.

CONTAINS: fem reader, fluff + a dash of angst, mutual pining, reader is convinced she shouldn’t pursue Bob, brief moments w the team, my dialogue is ass because I need to understand his character more so if any Bob writers have insight pls lmk

You did not want to come out tonight.

Well, in part you were curious as to what exactly a gala entails, but with your ragtag team of mercenaries almost nobody was invested in appearing tonight. Well, aside from Alexei eager to show off the team. You rarely see Yelena and Ava dress formally, their dresses notably elegant and distinct.

Your own feels pale in comparison, having to shove yourself into a box that you could not quite seem to fit. Sleek black silk cloaks you, its floor length obvious as the hem brushes the marble below you. The lot of you had hardly any time to view one another, crammed into the backseat of a limo Valentina had used to collect you. At least now you can get a decent look at everyone after the initial round of press.

Bob had been invited along with the team, but was forced to take a separate vehicle. He was maintaining a low profile ever since the incident only a few months prior, and nobody could fault him for that.

“Do you think they have hoity toity hors d’oeuvres or something?” Yelena prods, probably just thinking aloud, “I’m starving,” she sighs, pacing towards the entryway that led to the main dance hall. Her blonde hair is tousled with waves, her bangs framing her face. Stubbornly, she attempts to blow it away to no avail.

“You think with your stomach. The whole common fridge has a shelf dedicated to your pickles and cheese,” Ava retorts, but she’s grown fonder of the team nonetheless.

Alexei storms in front of everyone else, bursting into the room several paces ahead with extreme enthusiasm.

The banter fades into the recesses of your conscience, more focused on the grandeur of the main hall. A grand staircase greets you, your hands gingerly raising your dress as you descend. An air of opulence floats about the room, a crystal chandelier hanging upon the ceiling.

Your lips part in awe, continuing to step down. Many view your group, your eyes raking over the audience until you find him.

His eyes are transfixed upon you, hopeful, admiring, and yearning. The Bob you see is a far cry from the one lounging around the compound, no loose sweaters to hide his figure- a fitted tuxedo hugs his torso.

“He’s doing the googly eye thing,” Yelena whispers, eliciting an amused scoff from you. She seems entertained by playing matchmaker, but you’re sure Bob has his own problems to manage. He doesn’t need you.

Still, the most polite course of action is to greet your coworker/friend/roommate of course, so you find yourself weaving through the crowd while the remainder of the team disperses into the room. Unbeknownst to you, he’s been doing the same, hopeful for your company ever since he arrived.

Up close, he doesn’t seem so startlingly different in contrast. He’s still the same man. A crooked boutonnière stands proud upon his lapel, a lock of hair refuses to be styled, and his amber eyes seem to always be focused on you.

“You… you look beautiful,” he says, reverent as ever. He cautiously steps closer to you, as if attempting to fathom that you’re even real.

Because you’re not a memory stolen from the Void, nor a fleeting glimpse of joy in his previously bitter life. You’re real, tangible and absolutely striking. Your lashes kiss your cheeks as you glance towards the ground, a bit shy.

Of course someone as wonderful as him has the ability to make your knees weak.

Your eyebrow raises, playfully eyeing him. “You’re one to talk,” you shrug, a moment of pause standing between the two of you. You’d hoped that the two of you would grow more comfortable conversing. There was occasional banter, where you’d share details of your day. The store clerk at a bagel shop in the city, a little girl pointing up at you with awe, and the kind lady on the subway. He’d do the same while the two of you cleaned around the compound or went grocery shopping. Spending time with him became domestic, something that terrified you and stoked the flames of your fondness for him.

“..do you wanna dance?” You offer, extending a hand towards him.

“Sure- yeah,” he nods, his free lock of hair bobbing with the movement, “if you’ll have me.”

A scoff escapes you, the thought of turning him away now was ridiculous.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You comment, not leaving any room for questioning. The two of you weave your way through to the dancing portion of the hall, his hand resting on your own as the other rests just above your waist. You step a tad closer, the air stifling and your breath almost stilling.

His hands rest tentatively, yours doing the same. You feel a streak of boldness, your thumb gingerly smoothing out his lapel. You almost don’t notice the way his heart is racing beneath your palm.

“I was hoping you’d be able to stay at the compound with me this week,” he confesses, “I’m due for a night of rest.”

You cock your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“Trouble sleeping lately?”

“That, and everyone’s been on their toes lately. Been remindin’ me-“

Suddenly, a jolt of force almost seems to knock you over. You don’t catch a decent look of their face, your shoulder stinging from the impact. Your torso is knocked, half pried out of Bob’s hands as the hand on your waist solely supports you.

His eyes are flooded with concern, never once leaving you as he scans you frantically.

“Hey- you ok?” He inquires, voice tinged with worry. The raspy quality to his voice has you attempting to steady your legs, lest you almost tip over once more.

You can feel the gaze of several onlookers, but you find yourself seemingly unbothered. His is the only one that matters.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” you mutter, the hand that was once on his chest finding purchase on his shoulder. If anything, from an onlooker’s perspective this could’ve been played off as him dipping you, which seems to stir something within your stomach.

“You’re more heroic than you give yourself credit for,” you tease after a moment, the two of you stepping in tandem with the surrounding couples.

“It’s more natural than you think,” you murmur, your hand resting on the nape of his neck. You almost don’t notice the way he melts, leaning into your touch.

Curiosity flickers behind his eyes, a warmth blooming within his chest.

“Do you like me playing hero? N-not that you need saving or anything-“ he rambles, but trails off once he sees you. Not the hardened front for press, but the kind, empathetic and caring person he’s come to know. The one who gently glides behind him in the kitchen to add something to a skillet, who accidentally locks eyes with him from across the conference room, who’s lingering touches have been seared to his skin and worshipfully committed to memory.

“Yeah. I do.” You whisper, your lips pressing together before they part for a cheesy grin.

Your steps are careful, measured, worried your step on his toes. Despite your coordination as a mercenary, you still manage to be rendered immobile by his presence. Especially when he’s holding you like porcelain, hands cradling your figure like you were worth more than anything.

“I’m up to stay behind from a mission this week.” You state after a moment, recalling his prior statement.

Something small twists in your gut, guilt eating away at your conscience. You shouldn’t be doing this, it’s a far cry from your main priority- yet his smile keeps your worries at bay for now. Keeping him company is enough, the soft moments between the two of you something sacred and almost saccharine.

#chris writes #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#Robert Reynolds #Robert Reynolds X reader #Bob Reynolds X reader #sentry X reader #thunderbolts Bob

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posh--bee · 3 days ago

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falling for you (into the deep end) || Aaron Hotchner

pairing → Aaron Hotchner x Reader

summary → One second, you're standing next to your father's pool, ready for a cold drink on a hot summer day, and the next you're suddenly falling into said pool with a man you have never met before in your life. A man who shortly after introduces himself as Aaron Hotchner to you, your father's unit chief and friend. Yep, this is definitely your worst nightmare come to life.

warnings → meet-cute, fem!reader, rossi!reader, reader has rossi's last name, reader wears a bikini, reader is down bad immediately, Aaron is the sweetest guy ever, but also down bad, a cuss word here and there, short description of a hypothetical crime, no y/n used

author’s note → I wanted to write something for Hotch, preferably with a reader who is Rossi's daughter. Throw in a quirky and slightly awkward meet-cute and voilà—here we are! I'm pretty sure Rossi's mansion doesn't have a pool, but who cares, now it does! This fic kinda developed a life of its own near the end so let me know what you think about it <3

word count → 4.8k

masterlist(s) || part 2 coming soon-ish :3

The soft ripple of the pool's aquamarine water rocks you gently, caressing your sun-warmed skin, the smell of chlorine, sunscreen, and what can only be described as summer tickling your nose.

The leaves of the trees surrounding your father's property rustle in a lazy breeze and you open your eyes, the clear sky that greets you as brilliantly blue as the water you're floating in, your arms and legs spread like you're mimicking a very happy and very relaxed starfish.

It's one of the hottest days of this year's summer and you decided to enjoy it thoroughly in the best way you know how: By lazing around your dad's house—sorry, mansion—eating his food and commandeering his pool until you're all wrinkly, while he is at work, catching the worst monsters humanity has created.

You will always be worried about him when he's gone but you've only ever known a world where that is what your father does; hunting down killers, teaching others to do the same, or writing books about understanding and capturing these dangerous people. And making a ton of money in the process.

Naturally, he never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, knowing how dangerous, how grueling, how draining his work can be, hoping that his only daughter would choose a different path for her professional life.

And naturally, you defied his wishes.

Kind of.

Only last week, after years and years of studying and researching and writing papers and pulling all-nighters and drinking enough caffeine to power an aircraft, you graduated with a PhD in Forensic Science and can now proudly announce yourself as Doctor Rossi instead of Miss Rossi.

That's why you're currently back at your father's place, simply enjoying doing absolutely nothing before you're officially joining the workforce, hopefully helping to catch many more of the monsters your father and his team hunt and developing the methods and practices of your field further.

But for the moment, you're content to simply float in the pleasantly cool water, watching a single lonely cloud drift across the endless blue sky before you decide in a stroke of pure genius that a cold and fruity drink is exactly what you need to make this perfectly carefree day even better. You let yourself grow heavy in the water, your body sinking to the tiled bottom of the pool where you remain motionless for a few seconds, admiring the mesmerizing shifting patterns the sunlight paints underwater before you kick off the tiles, your fingers wrapping around the metal bars of the pool's ladder as soon as you reach them.

You climb out of the pool, water cascading down your body and creating a small puddle on the sun-warmed wooden planks of the patio at your feet. You grab your towel from one of the fancy deck chairs and quickly dry yourself enough to go to the kitchen and make yourself a drink before leisurely sipping on it while you lie in the sun, a hopefully good book keeping you company until you decide it's time for another relaxing activity.

With your game plan fully formed, you set it in action, going over to the sliding glass door that leads back into the house when you catch sight of your reflection in it, briefly pausing to fix the top of your—if you might say so yourself—super cute and flattering bikini.

But before you can then reach for the handle, a silhouette of a person appears behind the glass out of nowhere and the door slides open all the way, revealing a man you have never seen before in your life standing in front of you.

In your father's house. That you thought you had to yourself.

Oh hell no.

Immediately, your heart jumps into your throat, your pulse spiking in pure panic and you stare at the stranger fearfully, your brain frantically scrambling to find the best course of action that doesn't lead to your pictures ending up on one of the boards at your father's workplace—one photo showing a candid shot of you smiling, probably from your recent graduation, while the others would document how the killer left your broken and bruised body behind on the patio, your blood painting the wooden planks red, seeping into the cracks between them, maybe even dripping into the pool's clear water and staining it with clouds of diluted blood.

The stranger's dark brows furrow in concern, and when he gently, carefully says your name, it does nothing to calm you—not in the slightest. Your body is stiffly frozen on the spot while your fight-or-flight response is busy flipping a coin and waiting to see which side it will land on.

But then the stranger takes a step towards you and you spring into action, yelping in alarm and instinctively taking one, two, three steps backwards—away from him—which you quickly realize was a big mistake when the terrible feeling of having missed a step makes your stomach drop.

And then time slows down.

With a startled cry you fall backwards, flailing your arms helplessly but without a chance to regain balance when your back foot is already hanging over the edge of the pool. The stranger's eyes widen in surprise and he urgently reaches for you, his warm and strong fingers actually closing around your wrist firmly, trying to pull you back towards him—but it's too late.

Your momentum makes the stranger lose his footing as well and not a fraction of a second later the two of you break the pool's glittering surface in a joint, enormous splash, instantly submerged by the water.

Little drops of it are still raining down on you when you and the stranger come back up at the same time to gasp for air, your pulse ringing in your ears, looking and feeling more than a little disoriented. Your wide eyes find the deep brown ones of the unfamiliar man next to you and he silently stares back at you with an equally befuddled expression.

He's extremely handsome, your brain notes unprompted, even with his previously styled hair now completely wet, the dark strands sticking to his forehead and sending droplets running down his sharp features, some stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes and even the tip of his nose. Naturally, his clothes are completely soaked too, his dress shirt now clinging tightly to his body and it embarrassingly takes you a moment to avert your eyes from this sight, from his chest, and shoulders, and arms, especially when you notice the way he has the sleeves rolled up above his elbows.

With warm cheeks that have nothing to do with you lazing around in the sun all day, your gaze snaps back to his face which looks like he's still trying to comprehend what just happened.

And that's when the horrible realization dawns on you.

That maybe this man who didn't show any signs of aggression towards you and even tried to save you from falling, who knows your name and is dressed in suit pants, a dress shirt and nice shoes might not be a serial killer coming to end your life after all.

And you just made him fall in the pool with you—completely clothed.

Oh no. Not good. Very not good.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry! Are you—are you okay?"

The words tumble out of your mouth franticly, your voice too loud, too shrill, a wholly different kind of panic settling in that makes your hands tremble and your stomach feel slightly sick.

The stranger lets out a high-pitched, breathless laugh, an amused kind of disbelief on his face when he answers, "I am, yes. Are you alright?"

His deep voice is good-humored and kind, the kind that makes your knees go a little weak despite yourself and all you manage in response is a quick little nod, threading your fingers together in front of your body, nervously playing with them under the water.

You watch him brush the hair from his forehead with one large hand, slicking the wet, jet-black strands back, water running down his arm, droplets getting caught in the dark hairs on his forearm and he quickly looks at the probably very expensive and now very drenched watch on his wrist before his kind gaze finds yours again, saying, "I'm sorry I startled you like this. I thought Dave texted you I was coming over. He has some old case files on his desk he asked me to review while he's still at the office."

As soon as these words leave his mouth, your cheeks and ears flame up in shame while your eyes widen in horror. Because that means this man who is currently in the pool with you is an FBI agent, a highly skilled profiler working on the same team as your dad, and it's all your fault that he took a completely involuntary dive with you.

And then, as if you're not already wishing for the bottom of the pool to open up and just swallow you whole to end your misery, he adds the one thing that makes this surreal situation even worse.

"I'm Aaron—Hotchner. It's good to finally meet you. Your father talks a lot about you."

Cool.

Cool cool cool cool.

Because of course, of all the agents your father works with you just made Aaron Hotchner, the BAU's unit chief and your dad's very serious, very important and very no-nonsense FBI boss fall in the pool with, completely clothed, and probably ruining his expensive shoes and watch and wallet and phone in the process.

Sure.

No problem.

Definitely not one of the most humiliating things to ever happen in your life.

You are going to drown yourself in this pool.

With your mind and body locked in a continuous state of distress, you exhale a trembling breath that does nothing to calm you, the words just spilling out of your mouth, your voice cracking pathetically as you try to explain yourself and apologize to him, completely distraught.

"Oh god, I'm so so sorry, I—I didn't know—I left my phone inside and haven't checked it in hours—If I'd known you were coming over, I'd—I'd never—oh my god—"

To make matters even worse you have to realize with renewed horror that tears are welling up in your eyes and you stubbornly press the heels of your hands to your eyes as you gasp for a breath, struggling to keep your emotions under control and regain even the semblance of composure. You refuse to make an even bigger fool out of yourself in front of him than you already have.

But that's nearly impossible when Aaron's voice is so infuriatingly understanding and kind, his tone soft and comforting.

"It's alright, you really don't have to apologize to me. You didn't know and I scared you half to death. It's not your fault, so don't worry about it, okay?"

But how can you not worry about how much you messed up when this is probably the worst first impression you have ever left on someone—and that includes the time you destroyed someone's side mirror with your own car only to learn a few days later that that someone was your then-boyfriend's very unamused mother when you visited his parents for the first time for a very uncomfortable and icy dinner. (Your mind still likes to torture you with this little incident when you're busy trying to fall asleep, basically dooming the relationship from the very beginning, but in the end it was for the best—because that woman would've shown up wearing a white dress to her son's own wedding. So you're pretty sure you dodged a huge bullet there.)

You risk a glance at Aaron through the gaps between your fingers, the reassuring smile on his face making you feel a little silly, a little overdramatic but it also makes you calm down enough to let your hands drop from your face. Not that you had any chance not to, not when he's looking at you like you couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes, ever.

"I mean it, it was just an accident. Don't blame yourself for that."

He says it with so much conviction that you're almost ready to believe him, but the unhappy frown still clings stubbornly to your face, still mentally berating yourself over this whole situation you actually had very little control over.

That's why you jump almost a foot into the air (the water you're still standing in) when a warm and big, big hand gently squeezes your naked shoulder. Aaron is somehow so much closer than before, looking down at you and steadily holding your gaze while all you can do is dumbly stare back into his eyes, captivated by the sparkle of amused patience in them, by the way his dark eyelashes frame them so perfectly, following his sharp features to the slope of his nose, further down to his lips, wondering just how they would feel pressed against yours—

Nope—!

That very attractive and very wet man in the pool with you is still your father's colleague and friend, you remind yourself with burning ears, letting out an involuntarily awkward little giggle that ends in a dramatic sigh, your whole body deflating under the comforting weight and warmth of his hand on your skin.

You manage to smile up at him despite your chest still feeling a little too tight with anxiety while butterflies undeniably start to stir in your stomach.

"Thank you for saying that," you murmur defeatedly as you try and fail to tear your gaze from his eyes. "But I'm still sorry about your clothes and watch, and everything else too."

But he simply shakes his head, easily dismissing your attempt to apologize once more, shutting down your offer to pay for the damages that would surely follow before it could even pass your lips.

"It's fine, really. All of these things can be replaced. I'm just glad you didn't hurt yourself."

How can he just say things like these with that stupidly attractive and smooth voice of his while his hand deliberately rubs up and down your arm and not expect you to fall for him right then and there? Because you're pretty sure that's what's happening right now, without you having the slightest of chances to stop it.

But that's a problem you will have to deal with later, you decide, because right now the two of you are still just standing in the water together, and while your attire is completely pool-approved his very much isn't and you probably should get him at least a towel and some dry clothes to change into.

So you softly tell him as much, nodding your head towards the house, "I could get you some of dad's clothes so you can change, I hope that's okay."

"That would be perfect, thank you," Aaron answers, a grateful smile on his lips and you can't help but notice and appreciate the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes while he does.

You give him a timid smile in return, mumbling, "It's the least I can do."

He only gives your elbow a final tender squeeze in reply before pulling his hand back, his fingers lingering on your heated skin for just a moment longer and you can't find it in you to complain about it, not when a pleasant shiver runs down your spine at that.

Crap. You're in so much trouble already.

Reluctantly, you look away from him and turn around, heading to the pool's ladder, your whole arm tingling with the ghost of his touch but you try to ignore it as best as you can—which isn't all that much.

You climb up the steps first before holding out your hand for Aaron even if it's not strictly necessary. You're delighted when he takes it anyway without hesitation, your whole hand swallowed in his firm grasp, a discovery that makes your stomach do a funny little flip.

"I hope this at least takes the first place of the most memorable ways you ever met someone for the first time," you joke as Aaron emerges from the pool, finding some humor in this absurd situation as you watch his soaked clothes lose probably half of the pool's content on the planks of the patio, the wet fabric sticking to his body unpleasantly. But you don't miss the quick upwards quirk of his lips despite him looking like a pretty miserable, drowned rat now. You try to cover up your amused snort with a cough, but you know he can't have not caught it.

He however takes it in stride and graciously ignores it, instead starting to take off his watch while saying, "It absolutely does. And I can't say I wasn't wishing to cool off all day today, but that wasn't really what I had in mind. Not that I'm mad at all about this spontaneous opportunity to take a swim with you."

He smiles at you, fully, boldly, and you're probably mistaken when you think you saw just a sliver of shyness shining in his eyes because you're too distracted by the rest of his face that looks somehow even more handsome than before.

"Well, in that case, you're very welcome," you play along easily despite your heart slamming almost painfully against your ribcage. "And what can I say, I just love to leave a lasting first impression."

You're blessed with that charming high-pitched laugh of his again while he lays his watch on the patio table before his hands move to the buttons at the top of his shirt—which is not something you should find as enticing as you do.

"You definitely did. I just hope you don't make everyone you meet for the first time fall for you like that."

The words take a moment to fully register in your mind as you're busy admiring his deft fingers working on the first button of the shirt, but when they do something must suddenly take possession of you because your mouth curls into a teasing smile without you really meaning to and you casually hum, "Hm, no. Just you."

Aaron's fingers freeze mid-movement, his gaze so much more intense than just moments before but to your own surprise you don't shy away from it, keeping your eyes locked with his as he carefully utters his next words, his voice just a little rougher.

"That must make me pretty special, then."

You consider his words with a slow tilt of your head, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep the eager smile threatening to overtake your face contained, your heart hammering away in your chest and your head feeling slightly dizzy. The daring and impulsive part currently in control of you makes you step directly into his personal space without hesitation where you can openly admire the small amount of chest hair peeking over the collar of his t-shirt which immediately cancels out the disappointing discovery that even in this heat he's wearing multiple layers.

"It probably does, Mr. Hotchner," you practically purr in reply, your voice almost unrecognizable to your own ears as you bring your hands up to his chest.

Your eyes never stray from his when you nudge his hands away from his shirt and replace them with your own, your fingers shaking visibly as you slowly, deliberately slide another button through its respective hole for him. And he lets you, his lips slightly parted, his gaze so much heavier, so much more heated than before that you have to suppress a full-body shiver.

You know it's not appropriate to do what you're doing right now, not with a man who is easily ten years your senior, who you never met in person before today and—most importantly—who is not only your father's superior but also his friend. And before today you would have never given in to your impulses like that, simply shoving them to the farthest corner of your mind where they would come back to haunt you during sleepless nights, making you wonder what could've been if you had just taken a chance for once in your life.

You don't know why it's different now with Aaron Hotchner of all people, what it is about him that makes you act like this so suddenly, so uncharacteristically bold, but you can't stop yourself—and to your thrilled delight, it doesn't seem like he wants you to either.

Not when you can clearly see the nice blush dusting the apple of his cheeks pink. Or when you notice the anticipation in his eyes, his tongue absentmindedly peeking past his dry lips to wet them. Or when you catch his pupils dilating as his attention snaps down to a droplet of water shining on your collarbone, his eyes following its path utterly transfixed as it slowly runs down between your breasts, the soft swell of your chest on full display for him thanks to your bikini top hugging you so perfectly.

To your astonishment, his gaze doesn't make you uncomfortable or exposed and you don't shy away from his attention—quite the opposite. You let yourself revel in it, a pleasant tingling sensation spreading from the very tips of your fingers to the rest of your body, making you feel confident and desired in a way few, if any, people have in the past.

He makes you feel cherished, the (poorly hidden) want in his eyes only increases this feeling.

But most importantly—he makes you feel safe.

That's what's so different about him.

So it's not surprising that you're lightheaded in the best way possible when your fingers slowly trail further down his shirt, smugly smirking up at him when he realizes he was caught red-handed ogling his friend's daughter's scarcely clad chest.

You see his Adam's apple work uneasily in his throat as he tilts his head slightly, not being able to meet your eyes anymore, his whole posture suddenly uncomfortable and stiff and the look on his face downright terrified. You find everything about this incredibly endearing and equally entertaining, the way his cheeks are now deeply red and probably burning hot to the touch, the tips of his ears very much in the same condition and his hand flexing by the side of his body as if debating whether physically pushing you away and creating some distance between the two of you would somehow remedy the situation.

But he doesn't, instead his gaze guiltily flickers to meet yours for a split second and then his lips part for the first words of a sincere yet deeply embarrassed, stammered apology. Yes, Aaron Hotchner, the ever-serious, ever-composed, big bad FBI agent who stares down serial killers for a living, who doesn't even flinch when the barrel of a gun is pressed against his head, actually stammers, evidently not used to losing control like this, not used to allow himself to give into temptation, anything that would expose that behind his almost perfect mask is simply a man, a human, with tragically repressed wants and needs and desires.

But you smile up at him, kindly, giddily, because you're really not used to someone like him giving you this kind of attention and you refuse to let yourself feel bad about it now and start to overthink it, so you simply say, "It's okay. I don't mind."

And then, because it's the truth, you add, "Not when it's you."

Your words cause a quick succession of emotions to flash across Aaron's face—regret, surprise, doubt, relief—only to finally settle on something so soft, so gentle, so close to adoration that your first, entirely instinctual reaction is to shrink and hide away from gaze.

But he doesn't let you, holds your gaze steadily and brings his hand up to yours still lightly resting against his chest. His fingers curl around your much smaller palm and he has the audacity to smirk at your very obvious, very telling reaction to this as if your roles weren't reversed just moments before. But then he gently presses your hand against his chest, his hand still covering yours and you immediately forgive him.

Because like this, you can feel the heat of his skin slowly bleed through the wet fabric of his shirt and into your own skin. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the low hum forming there when your other hand moves with a mind of its own to rest on his shoulder, anchoring you to him further.

But most importantly, like this, you can clearly feel his heartbeat mirror the almost frantic, thundering pace of your own.

It's as confusing as it is exhilarating, knowing that for some bizarre reason, you and this stranger (because as many times your father has talked about Aaron, you have never met him before today) feel the same magnetic pull towards each other, and without knowing who moved in first you're suddenly breathing the same air, your faces close enough for you to count each individual dark eyelash and admire every single detail and imperfection of his handsome face.

Questions linger unspoken in the small space between you—Is this okay? Should we really be doing this?—but the small impatient noise escaping you is enough to dissipate them immediately.

He moves in even closer and you let your eyelids flutter shut, your heart stuttering in your chest when you feel his breath fan across your face, feel his lips hesitantly brush against your own, the faint touch enough to send a spark of overwhelming pleasure down your spine, the eruption of butterfly wings in your belly like nothing you ever felt before in your life, before finally—

Finally—

—the devastating sound of the front door falling shut echos through the whole house, your father's cheerful voice calling out both your and Aaron's name.

Your eyes snap open in horror, your heartrate spiking alarmingly, and like you were burned you push away from Aaron, desperate to create even the illusion of distance between the two of you. You're lucky you don't fall in the fucking pool again but only because of Aaron's quick reflexes, his arm wrapping around your naked waist and urgently pulling you flush against him, thankfully not losing his footing this time.

Terrified, you stare up at him, both of you frozen in this blatantly incriminating position—entirely too close, too intimate for two strangers, a daughter and her father's friend—his palm burning into your naked skin while your dad's footsteps are coming closer, and closer, and closer—

In a last, desperate attempt to save yourself and Aaron from being discovered like this your tardy fight-or-flight response kicks into gear again, urging you to—albeit reluctantly—exit his hold and rush towards the house, fleeing the scene of the crime and leaving poor Aaron to explain what happened to your father.

You don't stop when you run past your dad, only squeaking something unintelligently about getting some dry clothes when his confused voice calls after you, your wet feet almost causing you to slip and fall on the cold and hard marble floor but somehow you make it to the safety of the upper story, making a beeline to the master bedroom's dressing room.

With your heart beating painfully inside your chest, you curl up into a miserable ball of anxiety and regret in the middle of the room, not caring that you're dripping pool water onto the expensive carpeted floor, your shaking hands coming up to cover your face.

What the hell were you thinking? How will you be able to face your father—or worse, Aaron—ever again?!

You press the heels of your hands hard enough against your eyes that stars and shapes overtake the darkness of your vision, contemplating if staying inside this dressing room for the rest of your life is really that bad of an option.

But you're startled back into action when Aaron's calm but carefully controlled voice followed by your father's boisterous laughter travels up the stairs to you and you pick yourself off the floor before hectically digging through your father's clothes until you find something passable for Aaron to change into.

As you descend the stairs, knees weak and threatening to give out underneath you, your anxiety pressing heavily against your chest, you wonder helplessly how you will survive the rest of this day, how you will ever survive seeing Aaron again after today.

Because this afternoon, while he fell in the pool with you, you fell for Aaron Hotchner.

(And he fell in love with you, too.)

part 2 coming soon-ish :3

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds x you

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fixated-cookies · 3 days ago

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Fit for a king

I am sooo sorry this took forever I've been busy with college hahaha, also I've been a bit insecured about my writing style so if its a bit different its just me trying new things out You’ve always admired the strength of a king—his discipline, his silence, his restraint. But beneath all that armor is a man starved of touch. And when he finally takes you into his arms, he’s gentle… until you prove just how much you can take. You never expected him to praise you so sweetly while filling you so deep—never expected to feel him pressing into your stomach while he whispered how perfectly you were made for him.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The halls of the Dark Cacao Kingdom were vast, echoing, and cold. You had grown used to the hush of snowfall outside, the ever-present scent of frost and iron lingering through the citadel—but him?

You hadn’t grown used to him.

Dark Cacao Cookie was a towering figure, stoic in every public moment, carved from steel and restraint. And yet... when the doors to the war chamber finally shut behind the last advisor, and the silence settled thick as molasses between you both, it was impossible not to feel the weight of his presence pressing in.

You stood there, clutching your notes like a shield.

“I… I’ll return tomorrow, if that’s all,” you offered quietly, unsure of why you hadn’t turned and fled already.

But his voice rumbled low behind you.

“Stay.”

Your breath caught.

“Come here.”

You turned slowly. He was still seated, hands clasped, elbows resting on the arms of his throne. His cape hung heavy behind him, boots planted wide apart. And yet his eyes—dark as obsidian—were fixed solely on you.

Your feet carried you forward before your mind could object. You stopped just short of the throne platform, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“I have noticed,” he said, tone careful, “you’ve been avoiding my eyes as of late.”

Your cheeks warmed. “I… apologize, Your Majesty. It wasn’t intentional—”

“You are not in trouble,” he interrupted gently. “But I would like to know why.”

You swallowed, mouth dry. What could you say? That his height made your pulse race? That every time he looked at you with those brooding eyes, something low in your stomach flipped? That you had wondered—too often—what it would feel like to be held by him?

“I suppose I… I just find you a little… intimidating,” you admitted, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t smile. Not exactly. But there was a subtle shift in his face—an interest. A softening.

“Is it my size?” he asked, voice lower now, intimate. “Does it frighten you?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then nodded slowly. “I don’t think I’d know what to do with you,” you murmured, instantly regretting how that sounded out loud.

The air turned warmer. He rose from his throne, slow and deliberate.

Towering. Wide-shouldered. Measured in every step as he descended the dais and stopped in front of you.

“You need not do anything,” he said. His gloved hand lifted—so careful—as if touching something delicate. His fingers brushed your cheek. “Only trust that I will guide you.”

Your breath stuttered. He looked down at you not with lust—but reverence. Possessive reverence.

"And should you ever decide," he said quietly, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw, "that you want to try… I promise to take care of everything. Even if you tremble. Even if you break."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Not when his thumb traced the hollow of your throat… not when he dipped his head to look you over so slowly, as though memorizing every inch of your expression.

“You are trembling,” he noted quietly.

You hadn’t even noticed.

“I—” You looked down, flustered, cheeks burning as his hand fell to your waist. “I didn’t think you’d actually…”

“Want you?” His voice was calm. “I do.”

His hand spanned your side with ease, gloved fingers caressing over your waist like it was second nature. Your own hands fluttered—unsure of where to rest, whether to touch his chest or his arms, whether to do anything at all. The difference in size made your stomach twist—he was a wall of muscle and steel and you were… soft. Curvy. Barely able to breathe under the weight of his attention.

“I’m not sure I could take it,” you whispered.

He stilled.

“All of you, I mean.”

There. You said it. Your eyes darted away—but he tilted your chin back.

“I would never harm you,” he said, voice suddenly low. “I will guide you through every step. Slowly. Carefully. Until your body learns the shape of mine.”

You whimpered, just softly, as he lifted you with startling ease and carried you—without struggle, without hesitation—to his bed.

Thick blankets. Pelts. Warm, dim firelight flickering off the carved stone walls.

He laid you down like you were something holy.

“Let me see you,” he murmured.

His armor had already been shed earlier. Now he unfastened the dark outer layers, revealing thick hands, veined forearms, a powerful chest still faintly dusted with cocoa-colored scars. But his eyes never left you. Not even as he bent down and pressed his lips gently to your collarbone.

One kiss. Then two. Then a long, slow trail down your chest as he pushed your clothing back—only as far as you allowed.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. “And strong. And perfect.”

You gasped when his hand drifted lower, cupping you through your underwear. His palm engulfed you. The heat of him seeped through the fabric like fire.

He watched your face as he pressed down, rubbing in slow, careful circles.

“Do not fear what you have not yet felt,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “If it becomes too much… tell me. I will stop. But for now—just let me feel how well your body takes my fingers.”

You nodded shakily.

He slipped his fingers beneath your waistband, dragging the damp fabric down.

“You’re already warm,” he whispered, lips at your neck. “You’re ready for me.”

And then—one thick finger slid between your folds.

You gasped.

The stretch was sudden, but not painful. His finger moved slow, deliberate, curling just enough to make your hips jerk.

“Good,” he breathed. “So responsive. You’re already tightening… and I’ve barely begun.”

You mewled softly, grabbing at his wrist. He groaned at the sight.

“Look at you. Taking me so well already… even just my finger.” He leaned in close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “When the time comes, I’ll make sure you’re stretched enough. Lubed. So gentle.”

His voice dropped a note lower. Darker.

“And then I will ruin you.”

Your body was burning.

You didn’t realize how wet you’d gotten—how desperate—until he slid in a second finger, and then a third, slow and methodical, his lips pressed against your ear as he murmured praise after praise.

“You’re taking me perfectly… so warm, so soft…” Each word soaked into your skin like molten syrup. “Let me hear you. Let me feel all of you.”

And you did—shamelessly, body trembling beneath him, clutching at the sheets as his fingers worked in and out of you with maddening precision. He curled them just right, grazing something deep that made you arch and sob.

It was too much. Not enough. A tension knotting tighter and tighter in your gut, winding toward something unfamiliar.

“I—I can’t,” you whimpered, hips jerking.

“You can.” His hand cupped your thigh, spreading you wider. “You will. Let go. You are safe.”

And then, with one slow, final pump of his fingers, he withdrew—slick and glistening—and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I will go slowly,” he whispered. “I will not break you.”

But gods—when you looked down and saw the size of him?

Thick. Heavy. Dark and flushed. He was massive. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I…” you hesitated. “I don’t know if it’ll fit.”

He took your hand—your entire hand—and wrapped it around the base of his length.

“Then let us show your body that it can,” he said, voice husky. “You are made for me.”

He lubed himself thoroughly, spreading your slick along the length of his shaft with deliberate, reverent strokes, letting you watch the way his body twitched with every pass of his palm. Then, finally, he aligned himself.

The head of his cock kissed your entrance—warm and firm and thick.

“I need you to breathe.”

You nodded, lips trembling.

And then he pushed in.

Your whole body arched. A strangled cry left your throat—your hands flew to his shoulders as your body tried to accommodate the heavy, stretching fullness.

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear, not moving. “You’re doing so well. You’re perfect. You feel like heaven.”

Inch by inch, he sank in. Letting your walls adjust, stretching you slowly—thoroughly—until the base of him was flush against your soaked folds. Until you could feel everything.

You were full. So full.

He groaned—low and long, his breath stuttering.

“You… took all of it,” he rasped. “You took all of me.”

Your eyes welled with tears—overwhelmed, ruined, worshipped.

And then he moved.

The rhythm he found wasn’t brutal—but it was deep. Measured. Heavy. With each thrust, he pressed against that tender spot inside of you, and your moans turned helpless.

He bent over you, pressing down gently on the bulge in your belly—his bulge.

he whispered. “That’s me. All of me.”

Your walls pulsed around him. You were falling apart.

“I can’t—Dark Cacao—I—!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. He kissed your sobs away.

“I will carry you through it. Let go.”

And then he pressed down again—slowly—on the bulge, rubbing soft circles against your stomach as he rocked in deep—

And you came undone.

Your vision white. Legs shaking. A wet rush between your thighs—more than ever before. You gasped—screamed—as your release sprayed beneath you, soaking the blankets.

His voice broke—"Oh, gods—look at that—"—and he grunted hard as his hips slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt as he came, warm and thick and so much.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just cradled your shaking form, his weight sheltering yours.

"You did so well," he whispered, brushing sweat-damp hair from your face. "My brave one. My perfect one."

The room was quiet now.

Only the soft rasp of your breath and the low hum of his voice, murmuring praise into your skin. The bed was soaked—your thighs still trembling, slick pooling beneath you—but he didn’t pull away. He stayed nestled close, still inside you, one massive hand cupping the curve of your thigh, the other stroking your hair back.

he murmured, voice thick with awe. “I’m so proud of you.”

You could barely speak—just a soft whimper escaped as you shifted slightly, your body too sensitive, too full.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, little one. Don’t move. I’ll take care of everything.”

He pulled out slowly, the stretch making your breath catch again, but he was so gentle—so careful—as if afraid you’d shatter beneath him. A soft gush of his release followed, pooling warm between your thighs.

He made a sound—somewhere between reverence and regret—as he watched it, his large hands moving to cradle your hips with near-devotional care.

“I’ll clean you up,” he promised. “Stay here.”

But you reached for him—still dazed, trembling, but desperate not to be apart from his warmth.

“Don’t go…”

And just like that, the warrior melted.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He gathered you up—ruined, sticky, breathless—and carried you to a fresh blanket laid beside the bed. His arms were firm but cradling, and the moment he laid you down, he was already reaching for the warm cloth beside the basin he’d set aside earlier. Of course he had. He always thought ahead.

Every wipe was slow. Gentle. Worshipful. He cleaned between your thighs, his gaze never straying from your face, like he was afraid to miss a single wince or twitch. And when he was done, he pressed a kiss to your thigh, whispering,

“You were magnificent.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed, and he hushed you again—stroking your cheek, slipping a warm robe over your shoulders, and tucking you into his side like a treasure.

“Rest, little one. I’ll stay right here.”

And he did.

One arm wrapped around your middle, chest rising and falling in slow rhythm against your back. His nose buried in your hair. His hand never once stopped stroking your side.

#Dark cacao cookie x reader #dark cacao cookie smut #dark cacao cookie #crk smut #smut

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honeytonedhottie · 8 hours ago

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shopping tips from a professional shopaholic⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💕

in this post im going to give you the rundown of my all-time FAVORITE activity… shopping! and i must say im quite the professional. i’ll be talking about navigating sales, identifying deals, and finding the CUTEST stuff that’s worth ur buck…💬🎀

GOOD DEAL VS. BAD DEAL ;

let’s imagine there’s a big sale going on. $5 for 10 basic tank tops that are so cute! but the quality isn’t very good. but it doesn’t matter cuz there r 10 different tops right? WRONG. quality > price ALWAYS, sometimes cheap isn’t a good deal if it won’t last. if it’s a reasonable price for good quality than it’s a good deal, but if u have to pay a pretty penny for good quality products it’ll be worth it in the long run.

when shopping for clothes think of investing in pieces that will actually get used. imagine ur looking at two super cute hand bags, one is $50 that you’ll prob wear like twice and that you don’t anticipate will last very long and the other is $150, it’s designer and it’s high quality and goes with more outfits.

the $50 bag worn twice = $25 per wear. not worth it.

the $200 bag worn 100+ times = $2 per wear. way more value for your money.

now THATS girl math. investing in well made pieces actually saves you money in the grand scheme of things. you’ll have go to pieces, so make sure ur thinking about you’ll be wearing the piece ur about to buy.

FINDING THE GOOD STUFF ;

when shopping i love to go to the mall or online shop but ultimately THRIFTING has my heart. i’ll find these super cute pieces or pieces with loads of potential that i have a vision for, and i’ll DIY it until it’s exactly what i want. that way i have original pieces in my wardrobe that no one else does. it makes me feel like a custom barbie doll 🎀

when shopping i gravitate towards clothes within my color palette (pinks, black, browns, creams). because i know my colors and my palette so well it’s easy for me to mix and match pieces and thinks blend easier. next i check the fabric bcuz even if a piece is cute, if it won’t last i don’t bother wasting my money.

another thing i always make sure to do is try on the piece before purchasing it because the fit is also important. i want the piece to flatter my proportions. another thing i take note of is unique details that elevate that the piece already has or that i can add. some examples include…

faux furs

rhinestones

cute ruffles

always browse beyond the mannequin displays. oftentimes the best pieces are hidden in the back of the rack or in sections you wouldn’t normally check. also, don’t sleep on the kids’ or men’s sections, they have good stuff there too!

NAVIGATING SALES LIKE A PRO ;

sales are such a blessing when u know how to navigate them correctly. when theres a sale make sure to ask yourself if you'd buy that same item at full price. if not, PUT IT DOWNNN. a discount literally means shit if the item is just gonna collect dust in ur closet.

also, know what a real sale is as opposed to a fake one, some stores mark up prices just to mark them down again. do ur research and compare prices to different shops to see if you’re actually getting a deal.

PRO TIP : holiday sales and end-of-season clearances usually have the best markdowns, so that’s when i go all out and stock up...👛💕

ONLINE VS OFFLINE SHOPPING ;

the perks of online shopping include :

better for finding exclusive pieces

online only discounts and promo codes

make sure to check the reviews for something before buying anything!

the perks of offline shopping include :

you can actually try on the pieces

you see the item in person, feel the fabric, its much more intimate and personal

impulse buys are typically less tempting

to get the best from both worlds i'll do some research before shopping in person to check the quality. if I love it, i buy it right then and there. iff it’s cheaper online, i'll order it online.

REWARD SYSTEMS AND MEMBERSHIPS ;

if ur a shopaholic TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MEMBERSHIPS AND REWARD SYSTEMS, especially from shops and boutiques that u frequent.

🎀 keep track of birthday and anniversary sales

🎀 subscribe to emails

🎀 sign up for store memberships

SOME OF MY FAVORITE ONLINE SHOPS ;

🛍️ i.am.gia

🛍️ shou shou cherry

🛍️ princess polly

🛍️ prty grl beauty

🛍️ depop

🛍️ poshmark

🛍️ pieces of porcelain

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piccxzell · 1 day ago

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High Honor Arthur Morgan Headcanons :3

Lowkey NSFW under the cut so…urm you have been warned

➴➵➶GENERAL HCS➴➵➶➴➵➶

Arthur loves to draw his partner, in any state, sleeping, awake, happy, sad. He wants to capture every movement and every moment. He loves going back and seeing how you looked one day as opposed to another.

If Arthur is upset or on edge about something i think he would actively avoid eating. Like not starving himself exactly….just avoiding eating. Not actively seeking out food or anything, would eat if offered something, but wouldn’t go out of his way to get food for himself.

Spends way too long critiquing himself in the mirror, picking and plucking at his hair to get it to sit right, biting his nails down to look more “masculine”, practicing facial expressions to make sure he doesn’t look like a fool.

I think he purposely hides his face with his hat, it could be dark as night, he could be inside, and he would keep his gaze down. Either too insecure to look up, or feeling as if hes too intimidating for the moment.

He likes when his partner bathes him and vice-versa. He’ll talk about whatever, Dutch’s plan, Micah’s insolence, the reverend’s refusal to get better, Sadie’s gunslinging. Anything. When hes in the bath, hes very emotionally vulnerable.

Hes so grabby. By the waist, by the hand, by the belt loop. forehead kisses, nips to the neck or shoulder, hand on his partner’s head.

Does the thumb thing idc.

He doesn’t really know how to settle down, so he isnt very good at reading people’s needs, but the second his partner mentions wanting something hes on top of it. “𝚘𝚑, 𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚡,𝚢,𝚣) 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠��𝚎𝚛𝚎….” and the next morning its on their bedside table.

If he gets particularly comfortable, he would show his partner some of his drawings, maybe just the small ones, like the drawings of animals he finds, or plants. The whole time he just mutters about how bad they are or how he “hardly spent time on it” which makes his partner even more impressed.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆personal headcanons based off MY gameplay⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Always, always, ALWAYS has some sort of fresh fruit on him, cant STAND the taste of canned fruit after eating them for months straight, thinks the sugar level is too much and can’t handle it anymore.

talks to his horse probably more than he talks to most people. Just any horse really. He’ll sit on the porches of businesses and just talk to the horses hitched there.

Rarely steals anymore, but if he’s really low on money, he might. Of course, the second Dutch claims to have a plan hes robbing left and right. But personally, he doesnt see the appeal much anymore. Will definitely loot people who tried to shoot him though.

Loves exploring, will spend days on the trail, in different states and environments just seeing what he can. Though, he once came upon an old shack just west of a river and got so sick he had to stay back at camp for a few weeks.

Loots old abandoned buildings. Doesn’t matter if its filled with only stale bread and ammo, sometimes if he’s lucky he’ll find a few dollars and he likes the idea of holding onto it to give someone in the future.

Claims he trusts Dutch’s plan, but has never once contributed money for camp. Well, one time he did. A few cents. But only because Grimshaw had gotten upset with him. Always makes sure everyone has food though.

Spends a lot of time around camp, often times neglecting tasks in favor of just being around the gang. Besides, it pushes them to contribute too.

He rarely cuts his hair. Keeps his beard low, but prefers having long hair. Claims it covers his neck to protect him from the heat, but just likes how it covers more of his body.

sleeps for either 38 hours uninterrupted or doesn’t sleep for a week. No in between at all.

⋆ ݁. ˖ 𖠰 ݁↟𐂂 ݁↟𖠰 ˖ . ݁⋆ Freaky HC🤤⋆ ݁. ˖ 𖠰 ݁↟𐂂 ݁↟𖠰 ˖ . ݁⋆

Bites his partners lip, thinks it the hottest thing in the world. He loved seeing his partners face scrunch up with temporary pain before he kisses it all better.

Says the sweetest things in the most condescending way. “Oh…well now look atchu darlin’…” “…hush now, sweet thing, yer bein’ too loud.” “Thats it, sugar…take it.”

does the knee thing. (idc if this is canon. This is real to ME!)

Such a sucker for seeing his partner on their knees. He loves the eye contact. Thinks eyes are the window to the soul and absolutely just melts whenever he sees his partners eyes looking up at him.

Grips the headboard.

He likes to hold his partner’s hands during missionary, just one, both, holding their hands above their head. He loves it, he loves running his thumb over their veins while he does it.

Kneads his partner’s thighs when he’s between them.

He has a whole lot of self control. Stops the second he sees hes doing something wrong. His partner looks just a little too uncomfortable, hes paused. “Darlin’..? alright?” “Theres my good girl/boy.”

Keeps a pretty consistent pace. But the second he feels nails dig into his back or hands grip his hair, his hips stutter and his next few thrusts get all sloppy.

I think he would be VERY good at tying his partner up. Though it isnt really his thing, he absolutely would if they asked.

He growls, he pants. Animalistic sounds are absolutely his thing. Loves making noise.

Cant do quickies, he tried once. Left him feeling so unfinished and unfulfilled.

Hes been with women before, had a kid before, he absolutely knows what hes doing, and has discussed the possibility of kids, but inevitably came to the conclusion that if it didn’t happen by accident he didn’t want to bring a little one into this world. (Though one major point for wanting one was seeing how well his partner was with Jack.)

Absolutely will NOT do knife or gun play, worried he might hurt you. (unlike low honor Arthur who i think would love that kind of stuff.)

#okay thats all #freaky Arthur #rdr2 headcanons #why did this take so long #love it !!!😭#arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader

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ashenstardust · 3 days ago

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Hiiiiiiii author I hope you're doing well <3

So i saw that you're writing for clair obscure (you're the only one i found really 😭) and i wanted to know if you can write something fluffy with Verso ? 😭 (If you're taking requests ?) Idk just pure fluff like he calls her "princess" and is a gentleman to her ? (I'm a hopeless romantic and a sucker for fluff 😭)

Aaand that's it , sending love your way <3

I hope this is okay;;;; If it is not, I am so sorry pls forgib me ;w; Pairing: Verso x Reader Summary: Verso goes out of his way to make sure you're okay when the group is spending the night in camp. Word Count: 929 Rating: G Warnings: Fluff (?), use of nicknames

“Careful, princess,” Verso’s words of warning cut through the quiet copse and make you jump a bit in surprise.

You look over your shoulder, briefly, to see him walking your way. Then you go back to looking over the Curator who stands idly by waiting for someone to engage its skills.

“You might not like what looks back,” Verso says, meeting where you’re standing and casting his gaze at what you’re investigating.

“Its just so interesting,” you marvel, leaning over to try and notice something new from a different angle.

You hear Verso hum an amused, if skeptical, acknowledgment. “Well, I came to ask if you wanted dinner while it was still warm,” he muses, “I know how you scientific types absolutely love to put anything and everything before your own wellbeing.”

You scoff at him, but it carries no weight as you circle around the Curator and fumble through your jacket for your notebook. You flip through the pages quickly to find a blank sheet.

“Are you ignoring me, mademoiselle?” the usual growling cut of Verso’s voice is there and undercut by his feigned, dramatic, offense.

“I’m not ignoring you,” you begin to say.

“But you wish to gain sustenance from scientific discovery and have no need to partake in basic human functions?” he interrupts you.

You slide your eyes to meet his and find his chastisement is coming from a place of concern, not anger. You make a dramatic display of tucking your notebook away and gesture for him to lead on.

A small, slanted smile graces his features as he turns and walks you back to the fire.

You study his back as you go. His concern for you was different from his concern for Maelle. And as you think about his addition to your camp you realize you’d seen him impatient, but you aren’t sure you’ve seen him angry.

Not that you want to see him angry, particularly, he is fierce enough in battle while calm. But, call it scientific folly, you want to see what would happen.

A simple stew was simmering over the fire. You aren’t exactly passing through greener pastures so stew is the best your group can do with what little supplies you have. Verso has been more than helpful on that front too. He knows what plants grow in even the harshest environments, and he knows how to prepare them so they don’t kill you.

Verso waves you to sit, while he grabs two bowls and fills them. You take the time to glance around. It’s dark in the clearing, even with the moon shining on a cloudless sky. You notice there are no other silhouettes. The rest of your small expedition team must’ve already gone down to rest for the night.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks, handing you a warm, full bowl.

You take it, gratefully, and get caught under his stare for a heartbeat. He breaks the moment, seemingly reluctantly, to sit with his own dinner. Your mind comes back to you as do the many questions you’re dying to ask him, most of which you fear you know the answer to. You take up a spoon and eat a few bites instead.

“You know you can tell me anything, princess,” he says, and the nickname he’s chosen to give you makes your blood warm. “I want you to trust me – I want us to trust each other,” he adds.

“Why does it matter?”

Verso gives you a look like he needs you to explain.

“We need you to continue on our journey. Why does it matter if we trust you?”

You watch a glimmer of understanding twinkle in his eyes. He leans forward, and you forget, for a moment, what you’re a part of. “I need you to trust me,” he says, his growling voice is low. You realize he’s telling you a secret. “I need you to trust me because things are only going to get worse, and I know we’re all going to need someone to rely on.”

You let him know you are listening to what he is telling you, and for a long while after you let his words sit between you in silence. You are hungry and you do want to eat something warm for once. And hadn’t he gone out of his way to make sure you take care of yourself?

But soon enough the food is gone, and you don’t feel tired and when you look at Verso, he doesn’t look tired either.

“You think I’ll rely on no one?” you ask, staring into your empty bowl.

“You rely on no one now,” he says with a light laugh. The sound doesn’t help how gravely serious he’s looking at you. “If you rely on no one it will kill you long before any of our enemies get the chance.”

“Okay,” you concede.

Verso stands and offers his hand to you.

You look up at him curiously but take his hand without hesitation. It’s warm and rough with callouses.

“When we get to that point, promise you’ll rely on me too.” You’re cringing a bit at your choice of words, given how the last promise had gone for your group, but felt you meant the words you chose.

For Verso’s part he doesn’t seem at all phased by you. Instead, he allows you to use his hand to stand and begins walking you to where everyone else is sleeping soundly.

“I promise,” he tells you as he leaves you there. You watch him disappear into the shadows before you lay down and finally rest.

#fanfiction #Request #Anonymous #Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 #Clair Obscur #Expedition 33 #Verso x Reader #Verso #Reader #GN!Reader #I'm like ankle deep into act two now #so if Verso isn't like this then you can blame that I've only just met him

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missust3l3vision · 1 day ago

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Orange Sunglasses - Arthur Frederick fluff

Description: Arthur is allowed the very rare chance to wear your sunglasses, too bad he's as forgetful as the day he was born.

Word count - 712

"I swear to god if you steal my sunglasses again I will kill you"

Arthur pouted dramatically as I spoke. He was already eyeing my favourite pair. Rather than offering them you crossed your arms.

"Baby pleaseeee" he begged "I don't have any to wear" which was true. Only due to the fact he lost all his pairs.

"Look, you can borrow a different pair, and only for the day. I don't want to be late to the beach. You know what Chris can be like" Arthur let out a laugh before grabbing a particularly ugly pair of glasses, earning an eyebrow raise from you.

They had thick orange rims and low quality shades. Did they go with any outfits? Not even a little. But they were a go to pair, they you packed everytime.

Finally at the beach the group were all there, Chris filming some video that you weren't apart of. Rather you sat off to the side either tanning or going into the ocean. When they finally wrapped up Arthur immediately joined you.

"Ughh its almost dark!! I thought it would’ve been a shorter shoot" he complained as he slid the sunglasses off his hair to his eyes.

You simply stood up in the water, the waves reaching your waist. It was not a surprise to you, his filming always took longer than he expected.

"Its okay, you have the day off tomorrow right? We can come back" Arthur smiled wide before giving you a tight hug, your wet bikini top soaking his shirt

"Ack! Now my shirts wettt" he cried out, gaining laughs from his friends who were only a few feet away. All of them in just their swim trunks. Letting go of you he ran to the shore, taking off his shirt.

"Hey Y/n can I ask you something?" George asked standing only a few feet away. Once you had nodded he went on to ask "Is there any reason Arthur's wearing those glasses?"

Turning pink you explain, the boys all getting a kick out of their forgetful friend. Once Arthur returned them all taking turns teasing him. Arthur took it in stride, struggling to walk in the water he trudged to you.

"You're all just jealous my girlfriend shares her most precious accessories with me" earning groans as he kisses your cheek. The glasses nudging against your cheekbone.

"Nah mate I'm jealous that you can pull them off so well" Chris says teasingly.

"Don't worry Chrissy, I'm sure they make sunglasses in your size" you say earning gasps from the group before the others piling onto short jokes.

Arthur's hand slid down your arm and squeezed your hand. A silent thank as it directed attention off of him. He was never one to shy away from pda, rather he hated putting you on the spot.

Squeezing back his smile was small but earnest. The group spent another hour on the beach before packing up and leaving to go back to their hotels. Y/n and Arthur being the last on the beach, as they walk along the shoreline.

The sun was setting beautifully and the two walked with light conversation being a background noise to the crashing of waves.

Turning to face Arthur he took your hands in his and brought them to his lips to kiss. You could feel yourself melting before noticing something.

"Arthur" Your tone snapped him out of his daydreaming look "where are your sunglasses?"

Terror washed over him. His hands slapping to his hair where as he had dreaded, the glasses were missing. His mind raced trying to think of where he could have lost them. Maybe the water?

"Fuck" he said exasperated. Not only had he done exactly what you asked him not to do, he lost your glasses. "Can I buy you a different pair?"

"How about you buy me dinner instead" you said with a sigh, as much as you were disappointed he lost them, you knew in your heart it wasn't his fault.

"Deal...and I can sleep in the bed right?" Letting out a bark of a laugh you reached up, kissing his lips quickly. Him closing his eyes like he always did.

"Let's see how well you do at dinner and we will go from there"

#uk youtubers #arthur frederick #arthur fredrick #arthur tv #ukyt #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv #george clarkey #Chris Md #fluff #arthurtv fluff #original ☆#husband ☆

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maxdibert · 22 hours ago

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I mean, the trio can't be faulted much for despising Snape (Hermione also didn’t, she probably just judged him), they were children, and he did kind of target Harry. They were just being his best friends and standing up for him, plus I doubt Severus cared for the opinions of children. (Except for Harry's maybe?) But Sirius and Remus are the ones I will never understand. Snape is a very strong and brave man for risking his life for them despite the burden of hatred and being constantly judged, knowing he had no ally or friend, especially after Dumbledore died. And even Dumbledore used him. I would not be able to handle that. He must have felt so lonely and depressed.

I think his main mission was to protect Harry and defeat Voldemort, but he helped others in the process too.

Well, basically Sirius was a loyal dog and never stopped being one, and his hatred toward Snape was completely irrational. James hated Snape because he was friends with Lily, and as a heteronormative toxic guy, he couldn’t conceive that the girl he liked could have male friends, and even less so a low-class Slytherin, obviously. But Sirius’ grudge was always irrational. Maybe out of loyalty to James, maybe simply because Sirius was a Black and that elitist arrogance had to come out somewhere, and being sadistic to a Slytherin who hung out with his brother’s friends probably felt justifiable to him. Maybe it was a mix of all of it, but it was resentment without a real reason, just for the sheer pleasure of being abusive.

And Sirius was also a proud man, someone who in his youth had it all: extreme good looks, money, popularity, a group of friends where he felt like the king of his own little ecosystem at school. On top of that, Sirius was very self-satisfied with his role as the rebellious one who opposed his family’s values, which made him feel morally superior, a heroic figure.

And suddenly, he gets out of prison and that kid he bullied, abused, even tried to kill — the one he always saw as a loser and dehumanized to the point of stripping him of any humanity — turns out not only to be a member of the Order but basically its most important one: Dumbledore’s right hand, the one who knows everything before anyone else, and takes on all the dangerous, secret missions. Meanwhile, Sirius is a broken man stuck in his parents’ house, good for nothing except offering up his property as a headquarters, literally unable to contribute to anything. And that must’ve eaten him alive, wrecked his ego and his masculinity to the core. And of course, he was never going to admit that Severus was more than efficient and talented, because doing so would mean admitting he’d been wrong all his life, that he’d misjudged and targeted the wrong person, and his pride was never going to let him do that. Gryffindor pride, they call it.

Remus comes from a different place. He’s a guy who loves playing the victim. I mean, he is a victim, and he’s suffered a lot because of his condition, sure. But in this life, you can either be resilient and rise above the crap (which, ironically, is something Severus actually does) or turn yourself into a martyr and go around pitying yourself, which is exactly what Remus Lupin does his whole adult life. And I don’t think he was too emotionally prepared to face the fact that maybe he wasn’t the biggest victim in his own story, because he’d been a participant in the abuse and bullying of someone else. Admitting that would mean seeing himself as a perpetrator, and well, a bit too much for his warped self-image.

In the end, it all comes down to not wanting to own up to their own mess or be held accountable. That’s the biggest difference between Severus and them: Severus screwed up, realized it, owned it, and dedicated his life to seeking forgiveness. The Marauders, on the other hand, kept selling the narrative that they were the real heroes. It takes a hell of a lot of guts to admit your mistakes and make amends. I guess they were either born gutless or simply weren’t as brave as the Sorting Hat claimed they were.

#severus snape #pro severus snape #pro snape #severus snape defense #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #the marauders

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greenbunny7 · 3 days ago

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These were originally asks sent to @aroace-get-out-of-my-face

Unfortunately, I can't tag TSP GF anon. Whoever you are, you were the inspiration for this

Ok, so even before the memory vial au, there was a TSP GF au, and this audio has just been existing in my head about it for weeks now

https://youtu.be/hyuDYAT7mnk?si=RxATikczefWxb8L_

But now, after the memory vial au and all the TSP GF anon posts, this audio takes on a whole new layer of emotions cause, like

Ford fond the ai of his brother sitting in a corner. That just wouldn't do. Ford tries to comfort Stanley, make sure he knows he's loved, and that people care about him

But this ai can't understand. It's just an ai, after all. And the more words of comfort Ford tries to give it, the more he wonders who exactly he's talking to

"Because I can see how much your current thought patterns are hurting you. And believe it or not, you don't deserve to be hurt like this." As soon as Ford said it out loud, he released. He sounded just like the kids whenever they came to check on him

Ford never actually believed them. Of course, he does deserve it! After what he did to Stanley... how could he not!

Ford just wanted his brother back

He thought about what Stan might say to him, Stan would probably make a dumb joke, first and foremost. And then he'd probably say that Ford shouldn't beat himself up so much, 'I mean, if you didn't have that metal plate in your head, you were just as willing to make that sacrifice. I chose this. I chose to save everyone's life. I chose to save your life. Now go live it.'

Ford doesn't know where that came from. It was almost like... but no, that was impossible

There were streams of water down Ford's face now

Ford sat up, stretched his legs, and left the computer.

Ford knew who he was actually talking to now

Ford was talking to himself

~~~

Add on to the last ask

Ford had two paths in front of him. He was finally ready to walk the harder one

Somewhere far away, a ghost that didn't even know its own name was proud of him

Why yes, I do listen to that audio of the narrator when I'm feeling down. How could you tell?

~~~

I just had the thought to end all thoughts!

The Jim button, THE JIM BUTTON, BUT IT SAYS STANFORD INSTEAD OF JIM!!!

The unnamed ghost was having fun massing with this man who looked suspiciously like him, Ford. The man's name was Ford.

Ford's ai was really fun to mess with, going through all the different paths. The ghost quite liked listening to Ford's voice, though he couldn't place why. Sometimes, on very rare occasions, he even managed to lose Ford's ever-present voice

Those times were wired, be it journal entries, wandering empty halls until it reset, or an odd triangle shaped machine. One time, he somehow managed to put the fez in it

There was something unsettling about the places Ford's voice couldn't reach, something off. He found himself in one of those places again

The ghost had been to the desert before. But this time was different. He had help from the old man who liked to add settings and sliders for him

The desert was empty

He was by a campfire

He was in a sand storm

It was night, and there was a full moon out

The sun was rising

And then

The desert was almost empty. Now, there was a wrecked sailboat and a strange triangular device. It still had the fez

He took the fez to investigate the sailboat. It had more journal entries and buttons, lots of buttons

The ghost recognized the buttons as the same one Ford had added. Ford was so excited to present, the button that says your name when you press it! That excitement quickly faded when he pushed the button only for it to just say 'Stanford' over and over. Ford took away the button when he wouldn't stop pressing it

These buttons were the same. He went around pressing all the buttons. A "Stanford" accompanying each one

"Stanford"

"Stanley"

The ghost paused

"Stanley"

That was his name. Somehow, he knew it. Stanley knew it. His name was Stanley Pines. And he remembered

Stanley looked at the fez in his hands for a minute, then put it on his head where it belonged

~~~

Also, there's this

https://youtube.com/shorts/IMflGaTZ8MM?si=lVVSwUV_jVPmZK2O

#gravity falls #memory vial au #tsp gf au #stanford pines #ford pines #gravity falls ford #unnamed ghost #aka Stan #stan pines #stanley pines #gravity falls stanley #stanley #Rip E's ask box #we'll throw a funeral

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misskingshit · 3 days ago

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So close yet so far

summary: They both want it with all their might, they need it. But how difficult can it be to face their own fears just to be together?

note: I really hope nobody notices how much I fcking love Bucky lol.. xoxo

IMPORTANT: I wanted to make something clear, this type of attitudes in a partner in real life its completely unacceptable, this is pure fiction and I wrote this knowing the intetions and feelings behind every character, you do not accept this type of rection or attitude from anyone!, in any case, reach out to someone, a parent, a teacher, a friend, dont be scared!. I know bucky its not being violent or abusive but Idk why I just wanted to say this in case someone needs to read it.

chapter I - chapter II - chapter III - chapter IV

Unseen Tension

Bucky had been trying his best to ignore it, to keep his cool. But no matter how many times he told himself it wasn’t a big deal, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You and Peter had been spending more and more time together lately, talking about tech, helping with upgrades for your suits, laughing over some joke only the two of you found funny. It wasn’t anything bad, but to Bucky? It might as well have been an affair.

You didn’t notice it, of course. To you, Peter was just another friend, another person in the family, and you were just being nice, helping him out. You had no idea how much Bucky’s blood was boiling whenever he saw the two of you too close, too comfortable.

He walked into the living room where you and Peter were sitting on the couch. Peter was explaining some new tech idea to you, leaning in slightly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Your eyes were locked on him as you nodded along, a smile tugging at your lips.

It was innocent. Too innocent. But to Bucky, it felt like a dagger in his chest.

“Hey, Bucky!” you called out, noticing him standing in the doorway, but his gaze was fixed on you and Peter. He didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he watched Peter's hand move a little too close to your shoulder.

“You alright, Buck?” Sam’s voice came from behind him, but Bucky didn’t acknowledge him.

He wasn’t alright. Not at all. The way Peter smiled at you, the way you laughed, made Bucky feel like he was losing you.

The Breaking Point

Later that night, Bucky found himself pacing the hallway, his mind running in circles. His anger kept rising, but he couldn’t exactly put a finger on why. He tried telling himself it was just his protective instinct kicking in. But deep down, he knew it was more than that.

The moment he walked into the training room, though, the frustration he’d been bottling up exploded.

You were standing there, talking to Peter, as usual. And, as usual, Bucky saw things differently. Your laugh, the way Peter reached out to hand you a device, the way your fingers brushed ever so lightly—it was too much.

His fists clenched, and before he even realized it, he was already moving toward you both.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky's voice rang out, low and threatening.

You turned toward him in surprise. “Bucky, what—?”

Peter looked up from the tech in his hands, confused. “Uh, hey, man. We’re just talking.”

But Bucky didn’t care about that. His eyes burned with jealousy as they locked onto Peter, who had the audacity to stand there so close to you.

“Get your hands off her, Parker,” Bucky snapped, his voice laced with venom. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Peter froze, his expression shifting between bewildered and unsure. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Bucky.”

Bucky ignored him and stepped closer to you, his hands grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. “I don’t want you close to her anymore, Parker. Got it?” His voice was a low growl, as though every word he spoke was laced with warning.

You yanked your wrist away, anger flashing in your eyes. “Bucky, you’re being ridiculous—”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. Without another word, he took a hold of your arm again, this time more forcefully, and began leading you out of the room.

As Bucky pulled you down the hallway, he didn’t care that you were protesting, trying to get free from his grip. The only thing in his mind was that he needed to get you alone. Away from Peter. Away from anyone who might take you from him.

When he reached his room, he slammed the door shut behind him, his chest heaving as his anger spilled out. He was shaking, trying to contain the rage that had been building inside him for days.

You tried to break free from his grip, but Bucky was relentless. “Let go of me, Bucky!” you shouted, but he just pulled you into his room, slamming the door with his back.

“No,” he growled. “Not until you understand. I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, but I’m not letting anyone get that close to you. Not him. Not anyone.”

His voice was so cold, so intense, and you took a step back, shocked. “What the hell is wrong with you? Peter is just—he’s just a friend.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening. In one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist again and pulled you toward him. You gasped as he cut you off with a kiss—hard, demanding. His lips were rough against yours, almost punishing. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, his body pressed against yours.

You tried to pull away, but the intensity of the kiss held you captive. It was a storm of emotion, of jealousy, of ownership. And despite yourself, your body betrayed you, responding to him, to the heat, to the fire he was lighting inside you.

“You’re mine,” Bucky breathed against your lips when he pulled away, his hands gripping your hips as if to ground you to him. His eyes searched yours, fierce with need. “And I’m not letting anyone take you from me. Not him. Not anyone.”

You stood there, breathless, unsure of what to say, of how to feel. The air between you was thick with something neither of you had acknowledged before.

But then Bucky kissed you again, more desperately this time, and for a moment, you let him. Let him take the control that you didn’t know he was seeking.

As the door to Bucky's room slammed shut, Tony Stark was sitting in the security room, watching the cameras. He had been keeping an eye on the compound, and something about the way Bucky had stormed off earlier left him uneasy.

But what he saw on the monitors made his blood run cold. His daughter, his baby girl, in Bucky's arms, the two of them kissing like the world had faded away. He sat there, his jaw clenched, his mind racing.

“What the hell?” Tony muttered to himself, his hand gripping the edge of the desk.

He immediately stormed toward Bucky’s room, practically bursting through the door. “What the hell is going on here, Bucky?”

Bucky was standing at the edge of the bed, his chest rising and falling with anger, while you were still catching your breath, trying to make sense of everything.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Tony’s voice was laced with rage, his eyes locking onto Bucky. “She’s my daughter, Barnes. Not yours. You don’t get to do this. What happened to respecting boundaries?”

Bucky didn’t back down, his stance unwavering as he stared Tony down. “I’m not letting anyone take her away from me,” he growled.

Tony’s fist clenched, a vein popping in his neck. “You’re out of your mind, Buck. Don’t you ever touch my daughter again.”

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grayintogreen · 3 days ago

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HELLO FELLOW NEIN AGAIN ENJOYERS. And happy Tombtakers Loredrop Day. Today I bring you a preview of a long term event coming this summer.

Are you sad that all the enticing lore dropped in CR2 episode "Fleeting Memories" might as well be an eternity away from bearing fruit? Did you think Cree was a fun NPC and wanted more of her? Are you a fan of fix-it fanfic that barely fixes anything and in fact just makes everything a little bit worse?

Well, I have something you might enjoy!

In honor of Nein Again reaching episode 26 on the day of LitMoR's fourth anniversary, I'm going to be running a weekly "bookclub" for the series to run parallel with Nein Again starting July 29th. You can find the full schedule for the entire duology, plus side stories and intermissions here (more dates to be added depending on where I get with the third mega novel and yet it's still going to take less time to get through than Nein Again). It runs exactly like Nein Again, only its a really long fanfic.

And you may be asking yourself? Uh, what's LitMoR? And I'm GLAD YOU ASKED.

life in the margins of redemption is a post-episode 26 canon divergent series I started writing four years ago after the end of Campaign Two to satiate my incredible need to retell the story but slightly to the left, keeping dead characters alive, making certain plot threads and themes more prevalent, and exploring some elements from the campaign that I thought were underdeveloped simply because those just weren't the things the cast wanted to focus on (and that is valid- this is in no way me going HERE'S MY BETTER VERSION OF CANON, it's a love letter to wanting more of these characters). At 1.6 million words and the main two stories of the duology remaining in the top three longest fics in the CR tag even after all these years, it is an absolute chonker and I'm still adding to it. It's a story that is very close to my heart and I thought it would be fun for people to either re-read or discover it while taking it in in bite-size chunks as you watch how it diverges from canon and goes off in wild new directions.

Below the cut is an FAQ ranging from what you can expect to the story to how the book club will be run if you'd like to participate. If there are any other questions, please don't hesitate to send me an ask! I look forward to seeing how this goes. Hopefully it'll be fun for the people who would love an excuse to reread and for new readers alike.

WHY ARE YOU DOING IT?

I've been told numerous times by people that LitMoR looks interesting, but is ultimately very daunting and intimidating. By promoting a book club, I hope that maybe those people who have wanted to read it will find it easier to do so. Also a lot of people who have read it thought it would be cool to do.

WHAT WILL WE BE DOING?

Whatever you like! You can read the assigned chapter and go "that's nice" and never do anything else. You can leave a comment on AO3! You can join my Discord and talk about it with other people. You can talk about it on tumblr. You can not do any that at all and instead do some secret additional thing. It's really up to you how you engage with it. I just ask that you be polite about it. It's all in fun.

WHAT IF I DON’T LIKE IT?

Back button. I really don't expect this to be a huge thing- it's just something that I'm proud of and want to share it with others and if there's a way to share it that makes it easier on people to read, that's great! But I will not be coming to your house and demanding you give me my flowers. I just ask, again, that you be nice. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

WHAT CHARACTERS DOES THIS FOCUS ON?

This is an ensemble story, so while there are significant narrative beats dedicated to Molly, Cree, and eventually Lucien, every character is given a chance to shine and have their own subplots and arcs. A lot of arcs still play out as they did in canon, but under radically different circumstances and in new ways and some characters whose personal growth wasn't focused on as much even get some additional layers.

WHAT IS THE SHIPPING/ROMANCE VIBE LIKE?

My rule of thumb is that if you absolutely despise any of the ships listed, this series isn't for you, but if you're indifferent at worst, you'll probably be okay, because the shipping is on par with how canon treats it- i.e. it's part of some characters' arcs, but it does not derail the plot nor does the romance override other relationships. Everyone is still intensely weird about one another, regardless of whether or not they are kissing.

EXPLAIN THE RATING

The rating is for violence, gore, intense situations, and a lot of mindfuckery, but I wouldn't say any of it is atypical of what you would see in canon. The tags represent anything that comes up more than once, but if something is specific to a chapter, I will usually put it in the author's notes.

WHAT TAGS SHOULD I USE IF I WANT TO POST ABOUT IT?

LitMoR, LitMoR bookclub or life in the margins of redemption are good tags to use! I would avoid using canon CR tags unless you're just really into them for organizational purposes so to not to annoy people who aren't here for this. I'm trying to make this as fun and hassle-free for all sides of the line. I will only be using the CR tags for this post and the starting post and every subsequent bookclub post after will be tagged with the series name or "LitMoR bookclub" to keep things tidy and not annoying so you can either follow me or the LitMoR bookclub tag for updates.

WILL THIS SPOIL FUTURE EPISODES?

If you are aware of things that are coming up narratively even if you don't know the details, then you should be okay, because for the first few weeks OUADYA will follow pretty close to canon before it wildly diverges and doesn't pick up canon events until much, much later. If you want ZERO spoilers ever, then you might wanna sit it out, because while it does take lore in a different direction and does operate under its own thing, it will likely spoil a lot of things for you.

I have heard that it's possible to enjoy the fic if you haven't seen the full campaign if you don't care about utterly spoiling yourself! If you decide to stop watching after episode 26 for... reasons, it is actually fully able to be enjoyed with just that context.

HOW CANON COMPLIANT IS THIS?

It does not consider TNEOL or Molly and Caduceus's Origins comics canon (the first story was written before any of them came out), and does, again, take things in wildly different directions and has intense, deep, and maybe not exactly what was intended by Matt and the cast, lore, on top of occasionally throwing out certain spell rules that get in the way of good storytelling (like Doric's infinite wildshapes in the Dungeons & Dragon movie). I do have it on good authority that my characterization is pretty damn accurate, but you'd have to ask the frequent readers to weigh in on that.

Also shockingly, I have accidentally predicted a lot of canon events, which is very funny.

#critical role #cr fanfic #cree deeproots #mollymauk tealeaf #the tombtakers #lucien nonagon #life in the margins of redemption

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vossn · 2 days ago

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okay some originswap lore on the bastard: (this might only make sense if you're somewhat familiar with his lore?)

Everything up to the factory accident happens the exact same. Maybe there's no Schola shuttle. Maybe they decline. Maybe no one thinks of that option. In any case, what now? He needs to survive, need to find a way to make money that isn't going back to the factories. He's motivated by having his life saved, he's motivated by having lost pretty much everything and having nothing to lose. That makes him driven, dangerous, and once again gives him his signature willingness to do anything and everything to secure even the dirtiest of wins.

He begins to (over-)identify with his homeworld conflict, but also the legacy of the accident. Its the workers against the Mechanicus against the Imperial envoys. His dead mother was a personal symbol and his dead father a communal one, and he's the sum of their parts and stands in the shadow of both. For a long time, he rides the coattails of his father's influence on the workers and their needs for a better life. He just likes the parts of the rebellion a little too much that do more than just dream of rebelling, those parts that see him as more as a symbol-driven daughter and are a little more willing to see something greater.

For his descent into crime I'm just gonna quote my bro @marsskop because he said it better than I could have:

"what is a crime lord in the first place? i feel like it is very close to being a leader of some community of people, especially when it is skirting what is legal. especially in Imperium of Man that does not approve any non-Imperial (a)political organizations. [..] you just need to be a leader that is not approved by authorities, and because you are not approved by authorities, you attract people, organizations, trades that need these unapproved methods. Plus, rebellion leader vs crime lord? i think it is in Imperium's own advantage to label as a "crime lord". "rebellion leader" means that there is something to rebel for. crime is just scum."

and that's exactly what happens.

It starts as a time of odd jobs and just keeping your head over water. He's not really strong enough to be muscle, but he's a good runner who can take a good punch, wiry, too, attentive, and has a real knack for guns later along the line. He picks up a lot of things that way, learns who pulls the strings and who the loudest voices and who keeps their mouth shut. He's still a quiet one, but that means that people talk more in his presence. His strategy becomes focussed on the individual: find out who to apprentice with and from whose mistakes to learn, and later, find who can be taken off the board. He learns where one could shoot some holes into the power vacuum and where the pillars lie that hold the city upright and should not be toppled.

Again, he‘s not a talker, nor is he particularly charming in the traditional sense, but he’s dependable, audacious and competent, and that makes the people gather behind him. When the shots come hailing you want the bastard on your side, not the idealist. The rebellion welcomes more and more, and because you’re already branded as an unauthorized body, it attracts a different kind of folks. He doesn't mind it - he knows his own ideals, and it's not so much the money that gets him there, but he doesn't mind sticking it to the institutions whose presence on Gryphia relies on indebting the planet - and two can play that game. He keeps climbing, and the higher he goes, the dodgier the enterprises under his belt become.

Triumph: (still) Feat of Greatness The whole thing goes large scale when the trade route running along Gryphia v 1902 gets besieged by void pirates and the planet is in danger of running out of resources, something that would see the "lower" population affected first. The planet circled, it's difficult to launch ships and get them out without them being shot down from high anchor immediately, and the other planets are less than generous in their help. After several losses, both major factions on Gryphia settle in favor of waiting it out until reinforcements arrive. You can do a lot of things when you put everyone on quarter rations, after all. The result is a bloody shadow war between pirates and populace that only later sees Imperial involvement and is ended both through planetside efforts to hunt the pirates down where they have to make contact, and mobilization of shipmen within the workers, largely in the name of the rebellion. They can't stop you from hijacking a ship or several when the call is coming from inside the house ☝️ It's a truly impressive achievement only made possible through planet-spanning alliances and a few, crucial moments.

Much like Salazar, this fight is where Mayrie joins the picture, still a Lord Commissar, but I'd find it fun if she doesn't die by his hand this time. She allies with the rebellion because she's still a secret idealist, always fated to die for a cause and she does turn the tide in a way only she could have done, but gets taken out close to the end by someone else. -> I will find you in every lifetime and I will die in your arms in all of them.

Darkest Hour: (still) Shadow of Torment While his Shadow is a commissar is more the result of medical trauma, here he actually gets captured and creatively and violently interrogated for his involvement, but he's slippery enough to be let go in the end. He's become one of the pillars that are too load-bearing to shoot down and easier to let stand, and that's a huge feat for someone barely out of his twenties.

It's also notable that he's older when those moments happen (scratching 30) here than on Salazar VI (23), but these events inspire him to be more brutal and crack down harder in a way that rivals original Zlatko

By the time him and Emmot meet he's a strong presence along the planets of the sector's route, but his ideals have become a personal thing, something he keeps close to his chest. He's nothing noble anymore and he doesn't pretend to be.

Due to leaving Gryphia v 1902 way later in this timeline, I like to imagine he crosses paths with @jaal-ama-daravv 's Valerie at some point (again). Worker girl you knew is now a grown-ass man telling you to stop hunting Admech on his turf but once in a while you've got the hit out on the same person. unfortunate.

Since he gets the name Zlatko in the Schola, in this iteration he uses the moniker Hunter. It's, once again, not a chosen but a given name, born out of his practice of going persistently after individual people. If you don't have one, it's as good a name as any.

He still loses his eye in this AU, but instead of a Schola fight its in a backalley scuffle. He keeps the bullet that took it and the back of it becomes his new pupil (I've actually seen this done online, the bullet-glass-eye I mean). He also still gets his nose broken enough to warrant the reinforcement.

Funnily enough, in this AU smiles a lot more. Its not always sincere, often mocking, and his natural smile is a little crooked, but yeah.

I don't think he would go for gender reassignment as heavily as he does as his commissar version, since he has a greater amount of freedom as a crime lord and feels less of a need to "take it back", so while he goes on black market T still, he foregoes other modifications. He also transitions way later - its kind of a secondary concern when you have a rebellion to lead, yknow?

other design choices: he gets the skeleton augment earlier but constructs the casing out of scrap metal, he wear his clothes a lot more open (while commissar zlatko would rather die) and the belts tighter around the waist, has different tattoos, and of course he keeps his long hair. Generally he's a lot more gender non-conforming, which is very sexy of him.

.. thats it for now, WIP, who knows, maybe there's more.. >:) If you read until here you are entitled to a sticker and a kiss on the forehead. MWAH :*

was discussing originswap with @revivisection and I felt like I needed to introduce you to Crime Lord Zlatko

#very funny how Grphia mirrors Salazar the same way it mirrors Rime #But Zlatko is like 'i pretend i do not see it' meanwhile Mayrie is experiencing childhood trauma version 2 #zlatko (oc)

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sandinmybed · 1 year ago

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can i be fr for a minute?? sending abuse to people online for holding different views than you is not activism and in fact actively hurts your cause. most people are not extreme in their viewpoints, you can give them a new perspective if you're willing to spend some time explaining shit. if someone is saying something you disagree with and you rush in there to condescend to them and call them disgusting and subhuman and dont even TRY to explain calmly why their views are harmful, they're going to shut you out instantly and double down on their views.

most people are simply genuinely ignorant to the issues they're talking about - they just pick their views up from the news and the world around them and express opinions because that's what every person does. if you run in there and tell them they're scum for it, what then? if someone does that to you, are you going to think "maybe i should do some research" or are you going to think "this person is an asshole, im blocking them." a lot of you think you're activists and then refuse to do any kind of actual WORK to support your cause.

#this is not about the isr*el thing even tho thats obviously a huge issue rn #its just a pattern ive observed online #im not saying you have to be kind to people who oppress you dont twist my words #but if youre trying to support any cause and you think calling people names is going to help #youre a fucking idiot lol #people call themelves activists and pro-X cause because they called their opposition dirty c*nts online #how the hell is that meant to help anyone? theyre just going to retreat into their propaganda chambers because you proved what the leaders #of those spaces have been telling them #you can obvs block people if you dont want to deal w them but thats a neutral action. sending abuse harms ur cause.#text #like educating ignorant people is hard work! yeah! its also the entire fucking point of activisim #and if you think its too much effort then just stop pretending you give a shit tbh #like my parents managed to change our neighbour's very xenophobic stance on migrants with a calm conversation #some people will listen and some wont and shes not exactly going out to protests for migrants rights but shes not hostile anymore #and a lot of yall think that isnt good enough but let me tell you it IS good because these things take time!#unlearning things is MUCH harder than learning them in the first place and a lot of people grew up in environments that taught them #very discriminatory and conservative views and its actually not their fault. and its hard to educate yourself differently on something you #have no idea is not true. where do you start w that?

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what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque · 1 year ago

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Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

#also love that he's basically atheist like ok thanks you made the man exactly coded to be my type #and the humor and beautiful curly hair is very much something my IRL partner has too so like... how can i resist #anyways not sure a lot of people relate cause i think a lot of people want that fairytale romance #even tho wyll is right there yall #but i love me an unconventional or nontraditional one!!#i'm TIRED of being married with children as the endgame pls let's not do it #also a lot of people seem into him being a dad and im like... how? why? where in canon did he ever lmfao #more power to ya if you dig it but i just dont see it being in character #like in DAI i loved cullen and my inquisitor getting married and having a dog #and they seem the type to wants kids one day. but Tav & Astarion? lol no #i just think it's neat #is this a hot take? i have no idea but i don't see it mentioned a lot as a new fan tbh #pls do not come at me you can enjoy whatever you like #i haven't seen the ascended stuff so idk if being his 'consort' is like being his bride #but i feel like overall it's not and the vibe isn't all that different in this sense #except that you're hosting evil parties instead of travelling :/#Astarion #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 #also YEA he's nice to Arabella but you can tolerate certain kids without wanting one or being 'good parent' material #case in point: me lmfao #OKAY update i saw the AA stuff and yeah you're kind of implied vamp married and he does mention spawn as children 😫#but he also says in banter he won't make any other spawn??? so what is it dude #anyway that's also clearly the “bad” route and he doesn't seem as happy as unascended #who feels “truly free”#and if you're durge I'm pretty sure its even worse to consider having kids?? lol #but i digress #pk plays bg3

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burrythebusy · 3 days ago

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Part 2!

Another important gripe I have is with this

That's not what he says man. Here, hes supposed to be talking about how Hirano is considering how they might look and being caught meaning Hirano being "conscious" of the romantic aspects of their relationship. He's taking Kagiura’s feelings seriously and he knows others might see etc. "Its nice that you're looking out for me BUT" is just an odd choice. I don't get it.

And then, arguably the most important panel and the most important words of this chapter, what we've ALLLL been waiting for...

...Poopy.

When i say this chapter is 75% extra yap that wasn't in the original text, I mean it

Every single translation and live tl I've seen says that Hirano says, "So it's the same [feeling]". All he says here, is a short and sweet, our feelings are the same. It's Hirano realizing that Kagiura’s definition of love is the same as how he feels about Kagiura. So why in TARNATIONNN am I seeing a whole paragraph that doesn't even make SENSE.

"Thats exactly what i thought love meant" NO ITS NOT??? BECAUSE EARLIER IN THIS SAME TL HIRANO GOES

This is also why I brought up earlier what ichinose said about how it feels for love to be reciprocated, because this whole time hirano has been thinking that he wants to be with Kagiura [more than anyone] but he DIDN'T define this as love, so Kagiura saying what he said made Hirano realize that the feelings he didnt realize could simply be love, ARE love, and they're reciprocated! Does that make sense???

Hirano has never defined love for himself explicitly. Again, everything hes going through right now is because of what love is defined as through expectations of "normalcy". Hes thinking his feelings are different from Kagiura’s e.g. NOT romantic because everyone expects certain things he can't perform out of it. This isnt him realizing that "oh how I've been defining love all this time is how Kagiura defines it" no, hes thinking, "if love, according Kagiura, the one who loves me, is THIS, then I DO love him, and our feelings are the same"!!!!

The whole thing he went through earlier in this chapter was him worrying that he can't perform whats expected of him in order for his feelings to be categorized as love therefore he can't return it, when in reality he's told "Hey thats not what love has to be" so ichinose saying that and then Kagiura confirming that thats NOT what love is to him, is Hirano realizing that IS what he's been feeling then.

What he says in this TL comes off as when ppl have a wrong opinion of something and get proven wrong then go "YEAH THATS WHAT I WAS THINKING!" NO YOU WERENT AND THATS OKAY DAWG.

Sometimes less is more. And I think that applies here TENFOLD. He didn't say all this, he didn't say he was thinking the same thing the WHOLEEE TIME, he skipped away, the world's weight off his shoulders, and he said "We're the same" because if the guy that loves him says I love you because this, and he feels the same way, then hey! Guess I'm in love too!

To me, the original is sooo powerful because it just ended up being sooo simple. Ichinose assured him that kissing isnt what defines loving someone. And then Kagiura reassured his love for Hirano by saying I don't love you because I want to kiss you, but vice versa. "I want to be with you more than anyone" something Hirano has been (subconsciously) thinking all this time (and consciously sometimes!) It ended up being so freaking simple. He didn't have to say or think much. Because their feelings, after all, are the same. GUYS. WHAT ARE WE DOING.

God i love this chapter but it PAINSSS me reading ch. 28 and then this one because the tl just doesn't so it justice. From changing whole sentences to omitting important things I just don't understand why. It changes so much. And its constantly misleading readers that rely on this tl into thinking things are worse than they are. Urgh.

Anyway. We are UNDENIABLY in the post-Hirano-Realization arch and thats huge. This chapter made me CRY people. Its just such a good freaking chapter with such personal writing and I felt everything when reading it so it saddens me that might not be the case for others.

Outlining my gripes with the ch. 29 TL

Alright chat. Basically, i have the same problems I had with the 28 tl but, to give it credit, it's definitely not as bad. (Note that I'm basing my opinions off of the TL posted on the most known sites, and I'm comparing that to the TLs of the numerous servers I'm in INCLUDING the one of the person that did the popular TL I'm doing the comparison of)

I think one of the most important parts of ch. 29 is how it bounces of of 28.

Small bit first, but this still bothers me

Considering how weirdly aggressive ch. 28 was translated, the whole idea that hirano "fought it" annoys me because he literally just flinched??? Maybe thats just how I perceive the term "fought" but he didn't try to pull away nor did he react that adversely as were being made to believe by the words (re: the whole "repulsed" thing as if he didn't just feel discomfort or even just shock which was the tlers own words too, but whatever)

Anyway, Hirano is thinking that he can't live up to the expectation of what defines romantic love (certain physical touches, kissing, etc.) He WANTS to be able to return Kagiura’s feelings, but if this is what romantic feelings are supposed to be like, can he?

Firstly, his convo with Ichinose is fine for the most part. My small peeve comes in with this page because Ichinose actually says "just kidding" after but without that this looks kinda mean 😭 but out of context it's funny as hell

But I want us to keep in mind what ichinose says here

"Its the best feeling in the world finding out someone returns your feelings" and he's, to me, definitely referring to Hirano here, not Kagi (this'll make sense in a bit) keep this in mind.

So, we get to the parts that I have the most issues with, which is hrkgs conversation

Another small petty note but

"Them's fightin' words asshole" is admittedly funny but WHAT LMFAO?????

Okay, here's my BIGGESTTTT gripe. Which is shocking but it bothered me the most.

That is not what Hirano says.

Specifically, Hirano says that "the sky suits Kagiura". The sky is SUCH an important mention here and it being completely omitted is actually nuts. Because without that, Hirano just looks like hes thirsting! Out of nowhere! Like what do you mean "damn he looks good like this" like WHAT? If i hadn't the context of other tls, I would think that he's talking about Kagiura's muscles or something because, while the sky is still a possibility with this wording, it's not the only one. "Like this" with his sleeves up? Smiling? Sitting next to you? Relaxed? What are we talking about here? This gives us nothing to work with KNOWING that the original text is saying that the Kagiura with the SKY as his backdrop suits him. Why omit the sky part????

We know Hirano is very fixated on the sky (pilot things whatever whatever). Hes always looking up at it. He sees contrails and distrails and clear skies and overcast, he pays a lot of attention to it. So when he says the sky suits Kagiura (and not vice versa) that's so freaking important. The one time Hirano notices the sky but isnt looking at it, hes looking at the person in front of him, with the sky as the backdrop, something he loves emphasizing someone he loves, them complementing each other. And you choose TO OMIT THAT?? WHY???

Again, reading this tl, I was like holy shit. Why is he just THIRSTING??

Completely ruins the meaning. And this was my favorite freaking page from this chapter. Its not that much to ask that you include the literal SUBJECT that was said right??? The SKY??? Come on.

Another small peeve, the way Kagiura says yeah I wanna kiss you annoys me. Its not incorrect by any means and I know it's just added flare and characterization but

It just sounds so... matter-of-fact. The tone is like "well DUH" when I didn't take it that way originally when he says "I wanna kiss you because I'm in love with you" and i talked about why when the chapter First came out

To me, this translation kinda... diminished that. But of course after this he still confirms that he doesn't want to DATE hirano because he wants to kiss him, etc. That part I'm fine with i think it was done very well.

ANOTHERRR nitpick I hate this wording "kinda has me craving it" this is CRAZY to read and it makes me convulse sorry. Hirano was ""repulsed"" by that touch?? Well I'm REPULSED BY THIS.

WHY R YOU SAYING IT LIKE THAT

Please refer to my reblog for the rest because I reached the picture limit 😒😒😒

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #kagihira #hirakagi #i just needed to get this out there #i am absolutely gratefyl that we got tls at all especially since this tler was doing it frkm the start #but they keep changimg so much important stuff i just cant let it go #they make hirano extra aggressive and weird sometimes #like why #and the sky thing will bother me forever #how could thay even happen man #anyway #HAPPY HIRANO REALIZATION CHAPTERRRR WOOHOOOOO

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