#How does ANYONE keep that going flawlessly for more than like

[shirajellyfish]

When I was just reading a lot, sometimes I’d come across a typo in a book and be shocked. What a blatant error! How could they have published a book with such a glaring mistake?

Then I actually wrote an entire longfic, and realized what a mountainous task editing it would be. Now it’s just like...

HOW in the WORLD do more books not have typos in them?????

Fan fic authors are not professional writers.

Expecting them to be perfect and never make mistakes is setting yourself up to be an asshole.

Do you know how long it takes to write and publish a 60k novel for most published authors? Years. Plural.

That includes time spent writing multiple drafts and doing research and multiple rounds of edits. Access to a professional editor, and the ability to hire sensitivity readers. The list goes on and on and on.

Fan fic authors owe you nothing. They are churning out multiple novel length fics (or the equivalent in one shots) a year while still holding down school/jobs.

And you're gonna jump down their throats because they wrote a pairing differently than you prefer??

Shut the fuck up.

Tags exists for a reason. Read them and move on if the fic is not for you.

I mean really. We all just lived through fucking 2020. Let people enjoy their FAKE gay porn in peace.

Jfc.

[nartml]

Should Oikawa have gone to Shiratorizawa?

It's a well known fact that Oikawa, soon after graduation, left off to join the Argentinian Volleyball League.

Now, Oikawa was never able to beat Ushijima, which probably played a bigger role in his decision to immigrate to the other side of the world than you might think.

He was never able to go to Nationals and leave Miyagi, therefore never made his brilliance as a player known, and consequently was overshadowed by the other two 'genius' setters, Kageyama and Atsumu.

Something that would've been a huge hindrance to his career if he were to stay in Japan.

His reputation, or lack thereof, might have actually held him down for years, especially when there were two other setters who were arguably even better than him and already established their presence in the big leagues.

Ushijima knew this, and was certain that Seijoh was dragging Oikawa down, which is why he was so confident that Oikawa shot himself in the foot when he refused to go to Shiratorizawa.

Had he chosen otherwise, he would've gone to Nationals, where he'd also have his debut in the big leagues.

Scouts would undoubtedly take notice of this other brilliant setter who played everyone on both sides of the net like a fiddle—

Wait. What?

Would they have taken notice? Would there be something to take notice of?

Since when did Shiratorizawa rely on gimmicks, tricky strategies, and versatile attacks? Since when was there room for mind games?

Since when did coach Washijo allow anyone other than Ushijima to take the lead?

Didn't Semi get benched because he didn't prioritize Ushijima? Didn't he take the boot for not sucking up to him?

Oikawa shines, but that's only when he's actually allowed to do his thing.

His playing style is the exact opposite of what Shiratorizawa wants.

It was kind of stated by coach Ukai too.

"If Aoba Johsai is the most complete team in the prefecture, then Shiratorizawa is the most incomplete."

Shiratorizawa's playing style centers around individual strengths, raw power, and Ushijima.

Oikawa prefers a united front, plays connecting with one another, making room for proper adjustments and adaptation. He's down for the occasional mind game too.

But most of all, he prefers to take the damn lead.

Yes, cohesion is imperative for his playing style, but that's also the case for many of the strong teams we see in the show.

The difference is, Oikawa is clearly the one in the driving seat. We see it most of all in their team huddles.

Oikawa flawlessly communicates with his team, knows where, who, when, and how much to push, and while everyone participates in the discussions, he's clearly the leader.

He does the thinking, the planning, the strategizing. He keeps track of everyone on both teams.

He reminds me a bit of Kenma in that regard.

But apart from being the brain, he also has the athletic prowess, the technical skills, the passion, the people skills, and it's safe to assume, countless more hours of practice too.

Seijoh's coaches know that, and have let him cultivate all those skills through the years.

By contrast, we see coach Washijo usually butt in during the time-outs, and insist that his players just hold proper form to put in even more power, to be more dynamic on account of their physical stature.

Imagine how little of a say Oikawa would have, especially if he attended Shiratorizawa from the get-go.

The only first year we actually know is Goshiki. The rest are near entirely unknown.

I highly doubt he'd be half as devious a player as he is, had he had Washijo for a coach.

The chances that old guy would let him do even a fraction of his thing are next to zero.

At the end of the day, Oikawa is tricky, and Shiratorizawa just isn't.

So then, did Seijoh hold him back? I'm not sure.

We're not gonna talk about year-long friendships, bonds, and good chemistry, which were undoubtedly huge factors, both in his decision to attend Seijoh, and in everyone trusting him to do his stuff.

Let's just take a quick look at their capabilities as a bunch.

Objectively, they're strong. Skilled. But not strong enough, and not skilled enough either.

I mean, look at that first practice match. They didn't have Oikawa, and Karasuno, which kinda sucked at the time, beat them in straight sets.

Yes, it was a practice match. Yes, they got stronger later on.

But that loss highlighted, more than anything, just how much of an effect Oikawa had as the leader, and how much he elevated his teammates.

Without him, they would've been a lot weaker.

And that might just be exactly why Oikawa shone the way he did.

His judgement was trusted, and he learned how to take advantage of everyone's abilities and maximize them.

No, I'm not sure if Seijoh actually held him back, or if he partially owes his polished brilliance to them. Could be a bit of both.

I am sure, however, that Shiratorizawa would've actually done a hell of a lot more damage than Seijoh ever did.

[no-psi-nan]

[Context]

Ok @fluffydice, sorry for the lateness on this one but as anyone following this blog for over 5 minutes probably knows, I think Aiura x Saiki x Akechi makes so much sense and it is insanely compelling to me. I've posted so much fanfic about it already and that's only like 20% of the Thoughts™ I've had about them tbh.

But when you're doing an analysis of a triad, you have to breakdown 3 different ships and also how they would work simultaneously, so I needed time to write it all up. Buckle in!

Let's talk about Saiki x Aiura first since they had the most screen time together and they're the most "canon". I was genuinely shocked to see how rare this pairing is in fandom when they're literally canonically soulmates and also actually prove it on their every interaction.

From their very first meeting, Aiura and Saiki work together flawlessly to save Yumehara's life many times in a row + the life of the truck driver. Aiura then figures out how to hang out with Saiki without having to deal with his tsundere rejection, which he can leave at any time (unlike with Teruhashi) because she knows about his powers and won't stir up trouble if he leaves. Saiki keeps allowing her to schedule 1:1 dates and is basically like "don't bother asking me, you know I'll go" about the dessert buffet date lol.

Even when they disagree and neither of them will back down, they still work wonderfully together and they both end up learning and growing from it. Saiki trusts Aiura to help him, and Aiura always agrees to help him just because she cares. That's HUGE considering how hard it is for Saiki to ask for literally anything!!

Aiura also respects Saiki's boundaries more than anyone else imo. She only joins him when he's out in public, she tries her usual heavy-handed flirting at first but quickly adjusts when she realizes he's not into it, she puts her clothes back on immediately after realizing that she misunderstood the situation, she starts asking him out instead of just joining him, she asks for a kiss and respects his "no", and she hugs him anyways because they both really need it after the stress of the day.

And Saiki responds to that, opening up more with Aiura than he has with anyone else in way less time. Aiura had under 2 years with Saiki while Saiki's core friend group had like 6 years, and yeah, she benefited some from his character growth over the past 4 years. But still, the way he banters with her shows how comfortable he is– he's more open with her than with anybody else, and not just with his annoyance like he is with Toritsuka lmao.

Also, come ON, there's just no one more deserving of an epic husband/wife local god with transformation powers than Aiura. She works so hard with her powers to help everyone and convinces Saiki to help others more and she helps him get the best outcomes for everyone. Let her get her hands on her soulmate who can make her bi dreams come true, who can give her third eye a break from constantly seeing auras and death marks, who can grow big fluffy wings to hug her with, etc etc etc!!!!! LET HER HAVE SOME FUN FFS!!

There's wayyyy more people forcing Aiura into the platonic bucket with Saiki than I've seen with Teruhashi (even though Aiura has way better chemistry with Saiki), which forces me to wonder whether it's because Aiura is more overtly sexual and "lowbrow" than Teruhashi, showing more cleavage, getting bad grades, putting stickers on her face because they're cute, showing pride in her sexual escapades. None of those make her a bad person, but a lot of people seem to think it does.

Some people more reasonably point out that if Saiki is very asexual and Aiura has a high libido then that could cause trouble for them. Well, first of all, while Saiki is pretty much obviously somewhere in the asexual and aromantic spectrum, his belief that boyfriend is the next level after best friend shows that demiromantic / demisexual is a strong possibility for him. And honestly I'd argue that whatever he has going on with Satou is at least partially sexual, though I'm not going to get into that in this already long-ass post lol.

But basically, I think there's a lot of room for a demiromantic and graysexual interpretation of Saiki and considering that Aiura has apparently stopped going out with other men for at least 2 years with no ill effects that we can see, it's quite possible that they'll be very compatible in bed after all. And if not, that's where consensual non-monogamy comes in lol. But genuinely I think that the fact that they're soulmates means that there probably aren't any major incompatibilities between them, otherwise the term would be meaningless.

So yeah, makes sense and really compelling because there's so much room for stories on how they actually got together, how they work together as their powers continue growing, and what their future looks like!

OKAY, now it's time for the Saikechi essay lol.

Actually, I don't think Saikechi needs a ton of justification, because it's kinda standard extrovert x introvert childhood friends to lovers lol. Saikechi only isn't more popular because Akechi appears for like 5 whole minutes in the undubbed second season of the anime and he was annoying for 90% of that time hsfjdlshfks rip.

But yeah, Akechi and Saiki are quite perfect together, as shown by the horse gambling episode. Akechi can see right through Saiki's tsundere facade and Akechi is extremely open about his wants and needs, which is important since Saiki can't properly understand his thoughts most of the time and is very bad at figuring that stuff out even with telepathy.

They're both some flavor of ace. Akechi offu's at Teruhashi and comments that she's the most beautiful women he's ever seen, but does not express wanting to date her, which is big ace vibes, plus he's one of the few characters that doesn't have anything to say about Aiura's boobs lol (even Teruhashi can't shut up about them). They're also similar flavors of highly intelligent + neurodivergent. Consider Akechi's analysis skills vs Saiki's ability to come up with dozens, if not hundreds of plans in extremely short notice.

Akechi is also great at making accommodations for Saiki's powers, even without knowing about all of them, and coming up with activities they can do together that will be equally fun and challenging for both of them! And I still love that it was Akechi showing Saiki what a fun low-stakes game can be like that basically repaired Kusuo's relationship with his brother (see: manga, as this was cut from the anime 😩).

It's a very nice and straightforward ship that still leaves a lot of room for fun stories. I've been dying to write a Saikechi frogboil (plotted but needs writing) just because Akechi would be so perfect at it and he would be very likely to approach Saiki that way to get around all the tsundere bullshit lol.

OKAY, now for the third leg of the triangle lol, Aiura and Akechi!!

(couldn't find an anime gif of this moment which is SO SAD)

Let's be real, Akechi and Aiura only share 5 moments on screen: the intro with all the chibis, when Aiura checks out his aura, when Aiura & Toritsuka kidnap him, the competition to find Saiki's hanky, and Akechi pestering Aiura about dress code violations in the every-character-appears episode. And 3 of those scenes are from the same chapter lmao.

Actually I think this ⬆️ scene is kinda cute because Akechi's teasing Aiura lol, I think he's being friendly in his little freak way <3

HOWEVER, if shipping was only about what we saw on screen, then it would be way more boring. So let's think about it!

Aiura and Akechi actually share a lot of similarities: they're both extroverts, they're both incomprehensible, they are both almost immune to lies, they have both have a drive to help other people including strangers, and they're both seeking someone who will love and understand them as they are.

They would just make a really great fit! Akechi could help with Aiura's fortune-telling by prompting better questions for her to ask, and Aiura might actually make Akechi's mystery-solving TOO easy, so she probably holds back on that one lol. Akechi would throw himself wholeheartedly into working against a death mark on a stranger.

They're so fun to think about too because neither of them is embarrassed easily at all and they're both completely in touch with their own feelings so they are going to be SO lovey-dovey, no matter how cringe it seems on the outside lmao.

Akechi seems like he'd love doing traditional courtship if given half the chance, and Aiura seems like she's mostly had one-night-stand kind of situations until now, so what a perfect opportunity to indulge! What a change for Aiura to date someone who respects her and isn't just after her body! What a change for Akechi to date someone who actually wants to hear what he has to say and isn't put off by his frankness around taboo topics!

They'd pick up phrases from each other and develop so many ridiculous in-jokes that become their own sort of language, which makes them both even more incomprehensible.

We do also run into the allosexual x asexual problem here but Akechi is so unbothered by bodily functions and so quick to find compromises and enrichment that I genuinely think he'd kind of turn that into a game lmao.

And I think Akechi would be down to start a family and give his kid(s) the kind of loving home he never really got to enjoy with his parents' ongoing domestic turmoil. And their kid(s) would be sooooooooo incomprehensible, bless. 🙏🏾 Raised by 1.5 psychic parents and sprinkling both terminally online lingo and academia-level terminology into their speech from day 1. Imagine...

So Aikechi definitely gets the A+ on making sense and being compelling here!

Which FINALLY brings us back around to the main question... Does Aiura x Saiki x Akechi make sense, and is it compelling?

Well, obviously I think so, since I've posted so much about it lol.

I think the main question for the viability of this ship is whether Saiki would be comfortable with polyamory, since Aiura and Akechi are unconcerned enough with social norms that they'd probably have no problem with it.

After some time getting used to the thought that he will never have the veneer of normal he's always wanted to project and that the pleasures of living authentically far outweigh the pains of being different, I think Saiki would actually love having his best friends as lovers and not having to choose only one person.

After all, most of his struggle is about lack of connection and his alienation from humanity. Well, here are Akechi and Aiura, who respectively mirror his lonely childhood and growing up with uncontrollable powers. They're both clever enough to see through his tsundere bullshit, they're both happy and able to help him with his powers & duties to save others, and they will both stand up to him if he's wrong or letting something slide to avoid conflict.

They're both perfect for him! And Akechi and Aiura would be much happier sharing him than trying to make him choose between them since they also get along so well. And let's be real, Saiki definitely deserves to be loved by the two people who know him the best. 💜

There's also a lot of story potential for how this ends up happening. In Extra Love Stories of Psychics, Saikechi and Saiura are basically happening in parallel and the Aikechi will close in the loop in a few chapters. But in Didn't see this one coming, I wanted to focus on Aikechi, so they get together and are basically ready for Saiki to finish his character growth and join whenever lmao.

You could also have them as like a hero team of lovers if you want more action-y plots, though tbh it's really hard to come up with situations they wouldn't immediately solve lol rip.

Another nice thing about Aiura, Akechi and Saiki being together is that Aiura and Akechi get a chance to help each other overcome some of Saiki's limitations, and the stuff they can't work around, Akechi and Aiura can do together.

An easy example is hand-holding. Changing Saiki's gloves to another texture is all well and good but sometimes you want to touch skin to skin, and it's much more overwhelming than calming for Saiki to do that. Akechi and Aiura can hold each other's hands without gloves though, and while it's not the same as holding Saiki's, it helps a lot to fulfill that desire.

Also, it's almost impossible for Aiura to surprise Saiki because he can read her thoughts, but while Akechi can probably figure out that she's planning something in general, she would have a much easier time surprising him. And similarly, since Saiki can't properly read Akechi's mind and doesn't have too much emotional intelligence, Akechi has to openly communicate his needs with Saiki all the time, which isn't a problem for him. But it's really nice when Aiura can tell from his aura or from her own emotional intelligence what Akechi wants/needs without having to explain himself. And even if Saiki can literally hear Aiura's thoughts, Akechi is still better at responding to her feelings because he's not tsundere and he actually understands feelings and what to do about them.

Additionally, Aiura has said she wants to be a mother, and while Saiki's affection for kids indicates to me that he wouldn't mind having kids, I think that he would be VERY opposed to passing on his genes due to how much trouble his powers have caused him. And Aiura's genes also are probably loaded with psychic powers! But if Akechi is there, then he can knock up Aiura no problem since he doesn't seem to have any psychic powers, and then the three of them can have their own family <3 Plus all the shenanigans that comes with having 2.5 psychics (and maybe more!) under one roof!

In conclusion, they're perfect, your honor!!

Also I probably should've been writing more fic of them instead of writing this novel XD XD

Thanks for the ask!!

[misaldragon]

The mercs (and others) red flags.

Saw someone else do a post like this, hated it, decided to give it a try at it. Please keep in mind this is my personal list so if you don’t agree with something that’s a-okay. I welcome constructive criticism and questions.

Scout: Talks to people who aren’t there (See the comic where Zhanna tried to bed scout), major ego (to be fair he is god's favorite but still), will pick a fight with someone for you (If you have social anxiety like i do you’ll want to shrivel up and disappear), kills people (this is just going to be a given with all the mercs), and dates might be cheap due to him spending all his money on Tom Jones merch (Scout may set aside money for dates with you if you say you want to go somewhere else though but man cannot buy a house for the two of you).

Soldier: Man is as dumb as a bag of rocks (he drank led water cut him some slack… Also dumb enough to fall for just about any scam), like scout he will also fight someone for you but be much louder and bombastic about it (please i just was to not exist, no, don’t fight the dad in front of his kids), VERY proud american (as an american, this country sucks), and will yell at you, other people, anyone, that baby in the stroller? Getting yelled at! (Generally very loud person and doesn’t care who you are… Also kills people).

Pyro: Do you collect bones? You do now (Due to Pyro vision bones are probably candy or flowers or something to Pyro… They have good intentions but my god is it scary/creepy if you don’t know about Pyro vision), bones might be animal or human bones and also general body parts (Pyro vision again), will not shower around you.. Do they shower (they don’t want to be seen without their suit on but will let you clean the suit with them in it), and will probably steal your lighters (this is going off a hunch but also stealing is not something i like… Also kills people).

Heavy: Works very closely to Medic a lot of the time (and Medic is… A lot), VERY happy to do his job (and since his job is killing people this can be concerning), maybe a bit too attentive to his guns (can certainly be off putting to see a minigun in a small bed next to a larger one), and he was out of touch with his family (as shown in the comics when he's worried about his family only to find out they have been defending themselves just fine).

Engineer: Probably a workaholic so he may forget dates (note, he’ll also do his best to make it up to you if he does and start setting up reminders for himself he’s just not used to being in a relationship because of his job), makes southern sweet tea (as someone who lives in the south i know how sweet our tea is, if you don’t want cavities from looking at a drink don’t let him make sweet tea for you), probably shot at you before (mans paranoid because of spies, don’t sneak up on him), and would pressure you to ride a bull (mechanical or not but he’d prefer it to be mechanical and one he made to make sure it’s not to much, still won't take no for an answer when it comes to this only… Also kills people).

Demoman: Substance abuse (alcohol, congrats to the original you got one right), probably mommy/daddy issues (his mom seems to be an angry elderly woman, dad is dead so it seems there's something there but that could just be me), believes in monsters/ghosts (i don’t but given how the world of TF2 works this is more a IRL issue), has probably blown himself up at least once (possible that he might blow you up if he's REALLY drunk… Also kills people).

Medic: This man is a walking red flag, made a deal with the devil more than once, stole his pet doves, stole a wedding van, puts animal organs in people, manipulative (mostly seen with the tfc team when he had to manipulate them to put animal organs in them), stole a man's skeleton, medical malpractice, probably not mentally well, will take your organs, and kills people… Probably not all of it either.

Sniper: Can skin any animal or even person flawlessly and tell you how too (creepy, and i don’t want to know), very good stalker and hunter (he does this with you because he wants to surprise you with something you like but conversation is his weak point so this is the next best thing in his mind), Pyro isn’t the only one that’ll bring you animal bones (at least he’s a bit more tactful about it, making it into actual stuff like alligator teeth necklaces, deer antler coat hanger, and snake bone coasters for a few examples), probably doesn’t shower as much as he needs to (at least he brushes his teeth… Also kills people)

Spy: Will eventually leave you like he did all his other partners (which we can see with Scout's mother since he didn’t help raise Scout), is french (must i explain?), secret past (will keep as much of his past a secret as he can but also find out everything about you he can), and he never fully trusts you (he’s a spy, it’s understandable but sad.. Also kills people).

Miss pauling: Does not have time for you (unless you join her on missions but that is a large order), doesn’t fully trust you (this is from vibes), cannot fully devote herself to you or the relationship (her loyalty is to the administrator), can kill you without anyone noticing (its just scary to think about).

Saxton hale!: Can and will fight people for you even if the person just looked at you funny ( the police have been called several times), will fight a hippy just because they are a hippy (He really likes fighting), willingly and knowingly sells weapons to mercs (man can kill and condones it), will jump out of a plane with you… you have no choice.

[oneforthemunny]

now i’m thinking ab the eddies and no november and it just gets more entertaining

modern!eddie lasts one day, makes a meme ab it and shows his gf, she is not entertained.

kitten brings it up to mafia!eddie, he doesn’t even flinch, is just like “that’s fucking stupid, why would anyone do that” then proceeds to get into an argument w garrett ab it

dom!eddie contemplates it, realizes he has nothing to gain and it will just make his brat more pent up

older!eddie is more just confused? what does he get from it? he grumbles something about loathing young people these days, “i don’t know, back in my day, we were just fuckin’ in november, why do you need to reinvent the wheel?”

nepobaby sitting on the couch, casually mentions how a friend of hers is doing it with her husband, rockstar!eddie is eating and slowly turns his head, “why the fuck would we do that, we have a sex dungeon that gets cleaned on a weekly basis”

janitor!eddie hears about it from a guy in his 20s picking up at the school they work at, worriedly mentions if teacher is going to participate. she wants to jokingly say yes but he looks too cute and flushed.

sweet girl teases cowboy!eddie, saying how they’re definitely doing it… she has a hard time sitting down for a few days afterwards. “tellin’ me dumb shit like you can’t keep your legs closed for more than two days.”

steddie au where steve tries to do it thinking eddie is also doing it before he walks in on you two after day two and is just relieved and is taking off his pants (after smacking eddie upside the head)

older!eddie would be like???? when did it go from no shave to no nut??? where as a society did we go wrong.

“tellin’ me dumb shit like you can’t keep your legs closed for more than two days.”

i have not known wanton need just life altering and soul consuming lust for a man like i have for him. i need him carnally, spiritually, physically, mentally.

these are all so fuckin perfect. encapsulates them flawlessly i can't AH thank you for this i will be thinking about it all day

[unholy-screeching9]

If you're still taking hc requests I'd love to see some bottom Dice,,maybe bdsm mixed in there

Of course, dear! I hope this was up to your tastes. Sorry this took so long!

NSFW CONTENT WARNING!! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

Bottom!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons

Bottom!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons (GAME)

It’s no secret to you (or to anyone, really) that King Dice clings to control. It’s in his nature, as a power-hungry and greedy man. 

He is at his happiest when everything plays out exactly how he wants it to in his head. When he has the chance to manipulate any situation, or even any person, he snatches the opportunity as quick as it comes. 

For what it’s worth, you don’t blame him one bit. As one of the only mortals hired by the Devil, it’s important to Dice that he makes his mark. That he shows everyone that just because he is more physically vulnerable, that doesn’t mean he is some kind of punching bag. 

Oh, no. King Dice is the one pulling the punches. 

More often than not, this dominant behavior applies to the bedroom, as well. When you and your husband are intimate with each other, it’s almost ALWAYS likely that Dice is the one to take the reins. 

However, every once in a while… there’s a night where the King lays down his crown. A night where he is the one who surrenders. 

The nights where you take control.

There are a plethora of different reasons that you might be taking charge for the night—perhaps Dice isn’t feeling his best and needs some help in relaxing, or maybe it’s a special night for you, and obedience is one of your husband’s gifts to you.

However… Your favorite way to take control is to earn it. 

You don’t just get to take over the rules just by asking politely, as cute as you are when you do so. That’s not how Dice’s game is played. If you really want something? You have to take it. 

At first, you’re upfront with your demands, using a straight-forward, ‘no is not an answer’ attitude. This approach usually causes a bicker between the two of you, going back and forth until you eventually rip his clothes off of him and shove him on the bed, overtaking him while he’s off guard. 

This method works flawlessly, for a little while. Although, while you two make love, Dice does become a bit of a brat to you, exaggerating his moans and whines to the point where it’s unbelievable. 

It’s almost like he’s mocking you. Rarely does Dice ever take you seriously when you’re topping him for the night… as cute as he is while keeping things humorous, it really is annoying. 

However, overtaking your husband and truly bringing him to his knees is an art that requires experimentation and skill. And as far as you are concerned, you are an artist. 

So, you start getting a little more creative with your tactics. Becoming a brat yourself, until Dice finally lets up and allows you to have dominance. Pinning him down, engaging in a playful little wrestling game and winning out of sheer determination, despite the fact that your husband could very easily take you down. 

But recently, you’ve found an approach that works every time, without fail. 

The ropes. 

Oh, how invigorating it is to get home before your husband, grabbing the bindings that he had used on you so many times before. The look of infatuated horror when he walks in and sees you waiting patiently, the ropes securely wrapped around your hands? It’s delicious. 

Dice may be stronger than you, but you’re quicker on your feet. And in this game, speed is key. Just your luck. 

As soon as you catch him, and effectively tie him down? The knowledge that brattiness and struggle would be futile forces Dice to surrender, and he is yours for the night. That confident, menacing demeanor that was supposed to be so permanent dissipates, and all that’s left is a pouting, naked, blushing mess tied up in front of you. 

But the fun doesn’t just stop at the ropes. Those are only to make sure he doesn’t try any funny business while you’re in charge. What really brings on the entertainment and pleasure is the box of… tools, that you keep under the bed. Those are what really make Dice squirm in his place. 

As your lover adjusts to his current situation, you rummage through the box, looking for your favorite. You feel the familiar sensation of leather tresses brushing against your fingers, and you quickly pull out to our prize, grinning smugly.

The flogger. Your weapon of choice. 

“Y’know, you look so adorable all tied up like that, Dice. It’s like you’re a blank canvas, waiting for me to paint you.” 

The look that Dice gives you is absolutely exquisite. You don’t think you’ll ever grow tired of watching those confident, icy eyes turn soft on you, practically begging you for mercy. And goodness, you haven’t even started yet. 

“Oh, doll, please go easy on me with that thing, you know how sensitive my skin can get!” 

“Easy, babylove. I haven’t even touched you yet! What happened to your confident charisma?” You laugh to yourself, creeping closer to his tied up form on the bed, shaking the flogger teasingly. “Alright, sweetheart. If you be a good boy and sit tight for me, I might answer your pleas.” 

Dice grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes, shut, bracing himself for the impact of the flogger’s crack… But it never comes. He waits a little longer, muscles tense as he keeps up his guard, but the familiar sting of pleasure and pain never comes. 

What he expects even less is the ticklish feeling of soft leather brush up against his bicep. Oh…

Oh no. 

“Besides, my King… There are so many uses for this thing that don’t just involve pain. Sometimes, it can bring laughter.” 

Straddling his lap, you rest a hand on his right shoulder as you brush the tresses of the whip along his bicep, enjoying the sweet melodious sound of his laughter. 

Such a shame that he always insists on being the one on top… he really is so cute when he lets you control him for a change. You relish in the time you spend teasing, tricking, and marking Dice up like a work of art. 

You continue to let the flogger’s strings sweep over your lover’s skin, slowly making your way to that ticklish spot that you had discovered a long time ago: his neck area. 

Oh, you’ll never grow tired of the way he squirms underneath you, his uncontrollable laughter echoing through the room as you continue to tickle him with the very same tool you’ve used to lash him up. 

“I–doll, what–what are–you dOING–?!” Dice spits out between guffaws, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as you continue to gently swipe over his collarbone. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, highness.” You smirk as you quickly crack the flogger over his chest, earning a beautiful roar of surprise from the man pinned beneath you. “I’m just keeping you on your toes…” 

“Aw come on, that’s not fair! I asked you to take it eASY—!” You don’t let him finish, playfully shaking your flogger’s tresses against his chest and sliding down to his stomach. 

Another sweet spot.

Another bout of chortles erupts from Dice’s throat, the man struggling against his restraints. Those tears that threatened to fall finally started rolling down his cheeks, picking up his mascara along the way. What a beautiful work of art his tears make of his face.

And that smooth, ivory skin as he tries to move away from your flogger’s teasing. Shining as he starts to sweat from the heat of the room, along with his hindered ability to breathe. So soft. So flawless.

You want to mark it up. 

Out of nowhere, catching your husband completely off his guard, you suddenly crack the flogger against his chest, relishing in that loud, pained whine that your husband let out. Dice grits his teeth in an attempt to curb his vocalizing, not wanting to appear weak in front of you. 

He’s fighting back, in his own, adorably pathetic way. 

Another crack of your special tool, this time, over his stomach. Still wanting to have a little dignity, the man keeps his teeth gritted, letting out a choked grunt as he squeezes his eyes shut. More tears fall down his cheeks, much to his protest. 

“Awww, what’s the matter baby? You don’t wanna whine for me?” You coo teasingly, going back to the gentle ticklish movements with your flogger once more, forcing another round of laughter from your poor lover. 

“I— N—!” 

How precious. Dice can barely even talk. Usually, the man would have a lot to say to you, even when you’re playing with his senses like this. You must have finally cracked him. 

“C’mon, Dice, use your big boy words. Lemme hear what you have to say…” 

The man struggles beneath you, trying desperately to curb his laughter and stop squirming so much. This is absolutely humiliating. How could you render him so helpless? Completely at your mercy? 

“N—No—! Never—! I won’t—I won’t whine! I won’t beg, cry, plead, none—!!” 

Ooooh, such bold claims from a man who can barely contain his laughter from something as small as a little tickle from your flogger. Dice is always one to talk a big game, even when he doesn’t exactly have the upper hand. 

He wants to play? Oh, you’ll play. 

Another crack to that beautiful porcelain chokes out another agonized scream, your husband throwing his head back as fresh tears streak down his cheeks, sweat starting to bead at the sides of his head. God, he is glistening beneath you. And that’s not even the best part. 

The real kicker is the pressure building against your thigh, that is perfectly snug right in between Dice’s crotch. He’ll never tell, but dammit, he likes what you’re doing. The proof is leaking slightly onto your leg. 

You know what he wants. But he has to earn it. 

“You poor, poor thing… Look at yourself, Dice. Look at how you squirm underneath me, your cock pressing right up against me. You try to act tough, you deny your feelings and cling to the last smidge of authority you think you have… come now, highness. You enjoy this.” 

“I–No–!” 

“Yes, babydoll. You love it when I use your fear against you, don’t you?” 

The pressure is growing. That voice you’re using against him is driving him nuts. Even if he refuses to tell you, he doesn’t need to. You can feel it. 

“I…” 

Another crack of the whip. This time, right on his inner thigh, near his hardened erection. Oh, how he howls. It truly is such a beautiful sound, one that you don’t get to hear often. Usually, the roles are reversed, and Dice is the one undoing you. 

How amazing it feels to be the one taking the reins. You should do this more often–you’ve certainly got the speed to do so. 

But that’s something to think about at a later time. Right now, there are more important things to deal with. 

“I’ll drop the funny business and give you what you want, baby. I can see the longing in those glossy greens of yours. But I’ll only pleasure you if you ask for it.” 

Hearing you talking to him with such authority and demand makes Dice sick to his stomach. It’s not just the way you’ve stripped him of his dominance, and humiliated him in his own chambers. It’s not just the way you’ve ruined his beautiful skin, marring him with scars that will surely last over a week. 

What pisses him off the most is how his body betrays him, and proves you right. You’re absolutely right. He does love it when you smack him with that damned flogger of yours. He loves it when you toy with his emotions like a cat messing with its prey. It turns him on. Dammit, he needs you. He needs your help. 

“I.. Doll…”

“Hm? What was that, Dicey? Please, do be a dear and speak up.”

“Please, darlin’, please help me out here. I’ve let you have your fun, and you’re right. Your tricks worked like a charm. Now would you kindly wrap this up and get it all over with? I’m starting to get antsy here!”

You lean back in his lap, placing a hand on your chin as you think for a moment. Seconds later, you shake your head, laughing lowly as you lean forward, getting right in your husband’s face and running your hands over his bleeding collarbone. 

“That was such a good try sweetheart, you almost got me! But you haven’t been too well behaved since we’ve started tonight… How do I know you’ve earned it? How do I know that you really want it?”

Dice hisses at the sharp sting of your touch, fidgeting underneath you as the last bit of his iron shell starts to flake away. Even your fingers are rendering him helpless, and fuck, as much as it infuriates him, he wants you to continue. He needs it. 

“Doll, please! I’m not gonna ask again! Would you please cut the bullshit and just FUCK me already?!”

Ooh, that was the WRONG tone to use. Now, you wonder if he’ll earn anything. 

“I know you aren’t showing me attitude, you little bastard. You forget that I can do anything I want. I could end this right now if I really wanted to, and you’re starting to tempt me.”

That certainly shuts him up, real quick. Blushing in embarrassment for losing his temper like that, he looks away, hiding his reddened face from your gaze. Why do you have to be so captivating when you warn him like that? Why was that so hot?!

“P-please, I…”

You crane your neck to get a better look at him, and a malicious, victorious grin graces your features at the sight. You’ve finally made him break. 

Dice’s face is crumpled in dismay, and if you really listened hard, you could hear the tiny hitches in his breaths as he does his best to keep his desperate tears at bay. The sweat that had formed on his face earlier has finally started to drip down the sides, leaving small wet streaks of pink blush running down his cheeks. 

He’s trembling beneath you, his eyes shut tightly as he tries to keep his composure. The casino manager is hanging on by a thread, and fortunately, you brought scissors. 

“Dice, I’ll give you one last chance.” You murmur seductively, cupping his face and tilting his head towards you, forcing him to look you in the eyes. God, he looks even more pathetic with the light shining over his face. He’s so damn handsome, even when his makeup is streaky and his tears are flooding his face. 

“But this time, you need to beg for it. Otherwise, you can go to bed unsatisfied. Deal?”

And there it is. The thread has been cut. Dice leans his head right into your waiting palm, sniffling and kissing all along your fingers as if the gesture would be enough to convince you. His shoulders heave forward, trying to get closer to you. He’s aching for your touch, no matter how little. 

You smirk to yourself, poking your pointer finger at his lips, demanding entrance. He complies immediately, allowing you to slip your finger inside and explore that bratty little mouth of his. In fact, he goes the extra mile and sucks on it, allowing you to push your middle finger against his tongue as well. He lifts and lowers his head onto your hand, his tongue expertly working around your digits until you’ve decided he’s done enough. 

When you pull your fingers away, a small string of his drool connects the tip of your middle finger to his bottom lip. Aw, now that’s just priceless. 

“Such an obedient little princess, all of a sudden… You want me to fuck you, pretty boy? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, darlin’! Please, please fuck me, I’ll do anything. I’ll beg, I’ll sit, I’ll kneel, whatever you want! I’m dyin’ here, angel!” 

“Dying, you say? Well, I suppose I can’t have a dead husband now, can I?” You tease amusedly, gently pushing him back so he lays against the silky pillows. 

“Please… I’ll be so good for you, sugar. Anything you say, and I’ll do it.” 

“Alright, honey. I guess I’ll give you what you want.” You relent, smiling warmly and positioning yourself above his throbbing cock. “You ready?”

You’ve never seen Dice nod so quickly in your life. How adorable is that? 

What’s even more charming is the loud, piercing whine he lets out as you lower yourself onto him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you steady yourself. You don’t have to sit there much to tell that he is practically overflowing, due to burst at any moment.

Well, this won’t take too long. 

Wanting to hear more of those melodious noises, you finally start moving, finally giving dice what he had been wanting that entire night. Struggling against the ropes, your lover cries out in pleasure, bucking his hips along to your slow, sensual movements. He matches your rhythm easily, despite being so restrained. If anything, you have to commend him for such expertise. That truly takes some skill. 

“F-faster, baby, please-!” 

Awww, how sweet. He’s asking so nicely. But you didn’t recall asking him to speak.

You lean forward and crash your lips onto his to shut him up, taking his head in your hands as you continue at the pace you’re currently in. He wants you to go faster? He’ll have to wait patiently. 

You won’t lie, though, the little whimpers and moans he releases into your mouth are so pathetically endearing that they do tempt you to go faster, in pursuit of your own release. You suppose that to please yourself, it wouldn’t hurt to also please your husband at least a little. 

So, you pick up your pace, only slightly. However, to your surprise, it’s still enough to drive your husband into a groaning and crying frenzy underneath your form. The whines he makes double in volume and length, and his hip movements speed up to match your rhythm once more. With how rough he’s trying to be, you can tell he’s so desperate for more. It’s so entertaining to watch. 

You can feel his cock getting closer and closer to release from inside you. You can also see it on your husband’s sweaty and tearful face–and hear it in his voice. 

But you aren’t quite done yet. 

You slow back down to the pace you were going at the beginning, much to Dice’s dismay. Before he can complain and ask why you slowed down, you deepen your kiss, cutting off any air that Dice was breathing in. Silent, sweaty, and his lips all over yours–exactly how you like it. 

A wonderful reminder that tonight, everything is up to your standards. You have the final say. Man, does that power feel amazing to hold. No wonder Dice enjoys his job so much. 

“I know you’re confused at why I slowed down, sweetheart, but if I’m being honest? I don’t know if you can handle it if I pick up the pace. You’ll be done before I say so–”

“No-! I mean, n-no. No, I won’t. I promise you, baby. I said I’ll be good, and I mean it. I’ll be good, and I won’t cum until you let me. Please, please speed up, mi corazón. I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” 

“Hmm… Well, since you promised. But let me warn you, King.” 

You grip the bottom of his head, forcefully tilting his head up towards you, staring him down as you cease both your own movements, and his. 

“You cum before I say so, and I will wreck you so hard everyone in the casino is gonna wonder why you’re walking so funny. You’ll be lucky if you aren’t out there in a wheelchair if you defy me, you understand?” 

“I understand, sweets. Anything you say.”

Taking his word, your grip returns to his shoulders once again, and you start to pick up the pace. Faster. Faster. Until every time you come down on his cock, his entire length disappears inside of you. 

Oh, LORD, that hurts. It hurts so fucking good. You start to wonder if you had been punishing him for waiting this long, or yourself. 

It doesn’t take the both of you long to get lost in each other’s trance, finding your steady, quick rhythm and working through it together. Dice’s head slowly lolls back as he does as much as he can, trying so hard not to lose his composure.

When you make a threat, it’s best to take you seriously. And Dice does not want to explain to his boss why he can’t show up for work the next day. 

But god, you feel incredible on his dick, the way you slide on and off of him with such smooth rigor, your skin slapping against his over and over again, creating a beautiful sound that he’d never grow tired of. It’s enough to get him close. 

Too close. Way too close. 

Dice is towing that line now, and he knows it. If he doesn’t gain his composure soon, he’ll end up misbehaving, and then you’ll REALLY be upset. 

He can hold on for a little longer. He can sense that you’re getting closer too. He can do this. Just a little longer…

Just… a little… 

Suddenly, your lover screams in ecstasy, his eyes squeezing shut as he releases every last drop of seed inside of you, stuffing you so much that a little leaks out and starts to run down your thighs. Oh, fuck. 

FUCK. 

“…I…D-doll, I’m- I’m sorry. I know, I promised, and I broke that promise. I don’t know what came over me, I swear! Please, please have mercy on m–”

“Aww, Dicey, it’s alright.” You muse lovingly, cupping his face and pressing a warm, tender kiss to his sweating forehead. 

What? 

What do you mean it’s alright? Surely, for someone who was disobeyed after putting up with his attitude all night, it would be anything but okay. 

“I… Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Dice, of course! It happens. Mistakes happen…” 

Before Dice can truly feel the relief of being off the hook, he feels your nails dig deep into his shoulders, drawing a bit of blood that ends up trickling down and mingling with the small beads of blood left from your flogger’s wrath. 

The man lets out a soft growl of pain, gritting his teeth and reflexively struggling against the ropes, but your nails in his flesh aren’t even close to the amount of pain you have in store for him. 

“Ah! Be careful, sweetheart. You move against those restraints too much, and you’ll end up with rope burns.” 

There’s something off about your tone. Sure, it’s kind and concerned, but it’s just… eerie. There’s a hint of malice that’s enough to make Dice slightly uncomfortable. 

“Darlin’, are you positive it’s alright? You seem a little tens—!!!!” 

Before he can finish, you start pounding yourself onto him, moving with such force that could break his legs if you aren’t careful. The suddenness of your movements knock the wind right out of Dice’s lungs, and all that he can do is gasp before holding his breath, tensing up as you continue to shake the bed. 

Holy SHIT, that hurts. Dice has really done it this time. 

“S-sweet—sWEETHEART! Ple-ase! I’m—!” 

“Easy now, my king. It’s all gonna be alright!” You call back to him with that same overly kind voice, bringing down your nails and scratching up his shoulders as you fuck him into the mattress, chasing after your own release. 

He had ONE job. One simple task: to wait until you said he could cum. It’s not like he was doing much of the work, either—Dice is tied down. He can’t use anything to aid you. That’s not how this night works. 

The ONE thing you asked him to do, and he blows it. How disappointing. 

Because now, you have to chase your own release, all by yourself. Dice was supposed to help you, but now, he’s just an exhausted shell of the man he was just a few minutes ago. Just like you had been thinking since the beginning of the night. Pathetic. 

“D-DARLIN’—! I’M- I’M S-SORR—!!” 

The man can’t even speak properly. Every time he tries, you knock the breath right out from him, leaving him gasping for air as you continue to release your anger on his poor shaking legs. 

“You don’t have to apologize, baby! Things happen!” 

Oh, but he does. He knows you better than anyone—you’re pissed. Beyond pissed. And you have every right. He understands. He’s been such a bad boy, he deserves every ounce of pain you inflict on him. That’s how punishments work.

Jesus, does it hurt to get a taste of his own medicine. 

The minutes that pass by feel like hours for Dice, and seconds for you. Once Dice finally gets the hint and shuts his trap, the only sounds in the room are his restrained moans and shouts, your ragged breaths as you continue to chase after sweet release, and the harsh creaking of the bed moving way more than it should be. 

Eventually, you finally reach your climax, spilling your juices all over Dice’s front, covering his stomach. After he dared to disobey you, you’ve finally had your revenge. When you slide off of him and collapse beside him, panting heavily, you slowly look over and admire your handiwork. 

To say that Dice is exhausted is an understatement. The man looks beaten, his breaths shaky and labored as he comes down and recovers from whatever the hell you had put him through. His legs are barely functional, unmoving aside from the slight tremors that come from the shock of your sudden wrath. 

A small stream of saliva runs down his chin, slowly trickling down the two face of his head, disappearing near his neck area. Sweat drips down his skin as well, leaving him drenched, hot, and sticking to the sheets below. The ropes he had been struggling against are still keeping his wrists tightly bound, and you can see the slight red marks from where he had tried to break free. 

You should probably untie him, at the very least. 

You slowly reach over and undo the knots, lazily tossing the ropes off to the side. You can deal with them later. 

Dice barely moves in response, slowly sliding into a semi-comfortable sleeping position. The aftermath of your orgasm is still very much stuck to his stomach, mixing with both his sweat and your own, but neither of you have the energy to clean up. 

His hand slowly, shakily, finds yours, and he squeezes longingly, silently asking you for a cuddle. You give in, and roll onto your side, snuggling comfortably against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. 

Alright, you’ll give him this: he’s so warm. So warm. It’s so nice, you don’t want to be anywhere else. Even if he had disappointed you, you suppose that the cuddles will make up for it. 

You pull up the duvet to cover the both of you, and you settle back down, starting to drift off to sleep when Dice’s low, tired voice catches your ears.

“‘M sorry, pip. I didn’t mean to…” 

Okay, that’s really cute… no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay mad at him forever. Squeezing his hand, you laugh softly and press a kiss to his cheek, gently rubbing his chest to help his shaking form ease into sleep. 

“Oh, King… It’s seriously alright. I really do mean it this time, I promise. I love you.” 

Finding comfort in your words, your husband finally finds slumber, the tiny shakes in his body slowly dying down as he relaxes. You smile and kiss his shoulder, gently rubbing his chest through the silky covers. 

At the end of the day, it really was an accident, and your time together was still some of the best you’ve had. You can easily find it in you to forgive him. 

Besides… the next morning is where he’ll really feel his punishment.~

Bottom!King Dice x Reader NSFW Headcanons (SHOW)

To many high-end demons who roam down in hell, King Dice seems nothing more than some helpless little lackey that kisses the ground the Devil walks on. A foolish mortal that kisses up to those in power after they give him a smidge of authority somewhere. 

But they don’t see the full picture. 

While they do see Dice bow at the Devil’s feet when he needs to, and watch how much effort the man puts into his work to please his boss, they don’t see the other side. They don’t see the true power Dice has over other people. 

Dice may have his show, and all the fame, money, and glory he desires because of the Devil, but everything in the show truly is Dice’s. He is the one making most of the decisions, from the music to the set design. 

His band appears right from the palm of his hand. Dice decides who to choose for contestants. The clothing he wears is from his favorite tailor. He appoints his driver. The food he eats. The very ground he walks on. 

Dice is in charge of everything, down to the tiniest of details. He’s not some clueless wannabe star who takes what he’s given—aside from his boss, he is the one to make the moves. The alpha. The leader. 

Even in hell, some of the imps recognize Dice for the authoritative and powerful man he is. He’s respected. Idolized, even. There isn’t a meeting that goes by where the showman isn’t bombarded with excited chatter and questions about his work. 

And hey, Dice would be a dishonest fool if he said he didn’t enjoy the attention. He adores it. The peasants cheering his name before he even walks on that stage, the way his cards answer every last call he makes, his boss’s pleasant idle chatter with him… hell, even the carpal tunnel from signing so many damn papers every day gives him fulfillment! 

But there’s one place that he enjoys using his power and dominance the most. And you can’t lie—you enjoy it just as much. 

Under the sheets. 

There’s just something about the authoritative tone that Dice uses on you in the bedroom that hits just the right spots in your head. The way he fondles over your body with those perfect hands of his. The flicker of bright, piercing green in his irises that peeks through whenever things really start to heat up. 

Dice truly is a wonderful sight to behold when he has the chance to show off his control over you, and you’ll never grow tired of his ways of taking over the bedroom.

However… Just because you enjoy one thing doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy another, right?

Sometimes, you’re the one who’d like to be in charge for the night. Dice just makes the idea of dominance so exciting, you can’t deny that you’d be happy to take over every once in a while. 

Curiosity turns to fondness over the idea. And eventually, that fondness turns to craving. Need. But Dice, despite the loving gentleman he is, doesn’t give up so easily. It’s not in his nature to just hand over his authority like it’s some pleasant little gift he bought you. 

The only ways you’d ever get the chance to top him are if he is too tired to make things exciting, or if he needs you to relax him after a stressful day. Otherwise, things are on his terms. 

But the more you imagine taking the reins, the more determined you are. 

You know fully well that Dice will never give you such power just by asking nicely. He’ll think it’s adorable, sure, but you’ll need to try a lot harder than that if you really want to get your way. The showman may be a sweetheart who’d give anything to see you happy, but even so, he’s not your little puppet.

It’s alright, You’re prepared for such things. 

You know your lover better than anyone else in the world. You know his strengths, his motivations, the things he holds dearly. You know his weaknesses, both out of the bedroom, and in. 

And boy, are you ready to use those weaknesses to your advantage. 

To get what you want, you need to be unpredictable. You need to catch your lover right off his feet, so you never strike at a set time frame. Your catch could happen anywhere–in the limo, in your chambers, even in Dice’s own dressing room. 

The latter is certainly your favorite. 

How splendid it feels to sneak into Dice’s domain through the back door, waiting patiently for his show to conclude, perched neatly atop his velvet sofa and listening to his smooth voice manipulating his audience. You’ve chosen a rather enticing outfit to wear, in hopes of sending the hint as soon as Dice comes in to see you. Your special box of ‘tools’ sits right beside you, waiting with you just as patiently. 

You know it’s go-time whenever you hear the overwhelming applause come from the auditorium, your husband sensually thanking everyone for coming out tonight as the curtain finally closes. This is it.

The door to the dressing room creaks open, and in steps your husband, looking bleary-eyed and ready to head home… until his eyes fall onto your waiting figure. He can’t help but stare in awe, confused yet longing eyes tracing and memorizing every single hair on your head. Every thread of fabric on your outfit. Well, he’s certainly awake now. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you look absolutely wonderful tonight. What’s the occasion?” 

You can’t help but chuckle at his dumbfoundedness. It seems that his eyes have completely missed the box that was sitting beside you, too focused on your erotic taste in fashion. Perfect. 

“Nothing too special, dear…” You muse seductively, standing and sauntering over to your husband. Smiling at his adorable fascination and desire, you kiss his cheek and reach at his bow tie, completely undoing it with one firm tug. 

“I just thought that maybe we could have some fun in the studio tonight. You know, to celebrate yet another successful night as Inkwell’s biggest star.” 

“My, my! How forward of you tonight, my love.” Your lover smirks in response, his hands snaking around your sides in an attempt to seduce you right back. “You don’t even want to wait until we’re home, hm? You want me to treat you right here?” 

How sweet of him to try and get you to melt into his arms, as he does every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is your moment to shine, after he’s had many moments on his show. And you have him right where you want him. 

“You’re right about one thing, sugar. I don’t want to wait until we’re home, the ride is rather long. However…”

Snap!

You grin wickedly as your sleek handcuffs secure perfectly around Dice’s wrists, trapping him in his own hold against you. His eyes widen in shock as you easily slip out from his arms, the chains of his restraints clinking together as he tries to break free. 

“Wait a minute! Doll, what are you–”

“Easy there, tiger. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just need you to be still this time around, that’s all~” 

Setting your special box on the floor, you guide the awed showman over to the couch and sit him down, straddling his lap and pushing him back. 

“Tonight, you’re mine. Right here, in a space that’s supposed to be your own.”

“What do you mean I’m ‘yours,’ just what are you getting at here? Uncuff me right now, you little rascal!” 

You laugh mockingly at Dice’s outrage, leaning down and pulling something out of your box, holding it up and examining it. Your eyes deem the tool adequate, and you shift your position so Dice is forced to lay down, briefly uncuffing him for a moment to reposition his arms. 

Dice makes a move to launch at you and reclaim dominance once again, but you’re just slightly quicker than that. You shove your entire body weight against him, shoving him down against the soft cushion. No more funny business. Now it gets real. 

“Now you listen to me, six-sides…” You growl threateningly, grabbing his arms and forcing them above his head. The slight tremors in your husband’s form feel intoxicating against your still, confident legs as you re-cuff his wrists together, this time using your long rope to add extra security.

“You will NOT disobey me tonight, or put up any sort of fuss. You know damn well what you expect of me when you are in this position, so why do you think I should expect any less?” 

Before you can go too much further, you realize that you’ve got some fabric to remove, first. Holding the excess rope by your mouth to keep Dice in place, you rip off that goddamn suit of his, tossing his now wrinkled waistcoat, vest, slacks, and undershirt behind the couch. Tch. Pathetic pieces of cloth. 

“You're my bitch, you understand me? You're nothing but a shaking, horny little puppet. Tonight, you’re my plaything, and nothing more.” 

That tone of voice you’re using. The dirty language coming from your normally refined and polished vocabulary. Your embarrassing attempt at displaying power. Power that is supposed to belong to Dice…

How… How DARE you?! 

“Now you listen to ME, you harlot.” Dice sneers from underneath you as you make quick work of the ropes, securing his chest and torso with expert knotting before moving down to secure his feet together. “You think you can speak to me like that, here? In MY dressing room? In MY studio? In MY domain?! You have THREE seconds to remove these pathetic ropes and uncuff me, and apologize for your insolence, or I swear to Satan I will–”

SMACK!

Dice’s words are cut off with a harsh, stinging impact to his chest, and replaced by a high-pitched howl of pain. Oh, shit, that hurt. What on earth did you…

Oh. Oh, no. 

Not that. ANYTHING but that. 

“Shut your goddamn mouth, Dice.” With gritted teeth, you lean down so you’re inches from Dice’s face, waving your trusty flogger for good measure. “And don’t make me use this more than I need to, you got that? I will make that porcelain skin RIDDLED with scars, scratches, bruises, ANYTHING to make you submit to me. You don’t fucking scare me now, you bastard. You’re pathetic. And you’ll do nothing, if you want to keep your head.” 

Slowly, Dice’s mouth closes in submission, but boy, if looks could kill? You’d surely be dead. Even so, you can’t help but scoff at his death glare, feeling completely unphased at the threatening flickers of bright green his irises give off. Oh, he is pissed. 

But you could not give a damn. 

“Good boy. Now, stay nice and quiet for me, and maybe I’ll reward you instead.”

You ignore Dice’s furious grumbling under his breath as you continue tying him down to your liking, smirking at your handiwork once you finish. There’s no way he’ll be able to try any more moves on you now, not after your knotting. 

Which is great, because your next trick would be the cause for a heap of squirming…

You slowly tug down Dice’s boxers, bringing them down to his knees before putting your flogger to work once again. Except this time, it’s not to inflict any pain, but rather, something much more joyful.

Dice’s laughing, even when he might not want to, is always such a melodious sound that graces your ears. And god, there’s nothing that brings it out more than when you gently flutter your flogger’s tresses over his inner thighs. His weak spot. 

You never usually get the chance to play with your husband’s emotions like this, but watching him wriggle beneath you, trying without success to escape from your grasp? You make a mental note to do this more often. 

To ground Dice back to reality, and make another beautiful mark on his ivory flesh, you suddenly crack your tiny whip against his hip, relishing in that precious whine that you hadn’t heard in way too long. Yes. Definitely do this more often.

“H-how–! H-how dARE you! You little BRAT! S-stop thi–AGH!” 

Another blow from your tresses, to his stomach this time. As cute as he is writhing beneath you, you have no tolerance for brattiness. Not tonight.

“Watch it.” 

“MAKE me, you–AAHH!!” 

One last crack of your tool for good measure, and Dice is finally looking down for the count. Dark tears pricking the corners of his squeezed shut eyes as his eyeliner mingles with the clear liquid, his pearly whites gritted in an effort to conceal his agonized yet aroused groans. 

“Had enough?” You beckon, teasing his nipple with your free hand as you run the flogger along his sides. 

Reduced to a twitching, mumbling mess, your husband weakly nods, his cheeks red in humiliation. This… This is torture. You are evil. But yet, Dice doesn’t want you to stop. 

Alright. Maybe he can let go of his pride for one measly night.

“I… O-okay, dumpling. You got me. I-I’ll back down for tonight. JUST for tonight though, you hear me? You can have your fun for ONE night. Don’t tell me I never gave you anyth–MMH!”

Sometimes, you find that all you need to shut that blabbering mouth is to kiss it. If he weren’t being such a brat to you, you’d have half a mind to do it more often. He really tastes just delightful, when you have the chance to snag his lips right after his show. 

That cinnamon chapstick combining flavors with the leftover hints of red wine from his saliva make such a heavenly combination, even after effectively shutting Dice up, you can’t bring yourself to pull away just yet. You want to enjoy your meal, just for a bit longer.

When you finally pull away, you can't help but grin at Dice’s disappointed moan, mourning the loss of your soft lips against his own. God, he’s lucky he’s so damn cute looking like that!

“Awww, what’s the matter, princess? You looking for something?”

That disappointed look is quickly replaced by another embarrassed pout, your lover’s cheeks darkening just that much more. 

“S-shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Too bad, hun. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in what you want.” You admit in mock sympathy, running your finger down his cheek. Your hand slowly, sexily, trails down his side, manipulating him into believing your touch was for comfort before bringing your hand down on his ass, laughing softly at the pained grunt Dice tries to hide between his teeth. The tears that had threatened to fall earlier finally make their way down, leaving dark violet streaks all over his face. Absolutely beautiful. 

But there’s something else that you notice, pressing up against your leg. Something that you had been waiting for since you first started toying with him. Finally, there he is. 

“Look who’s finally coming out to play, Dicey! It seems that I’ve finally got you cracked, and what, with one spank? You mean to tell me that’s what got you hooked?”

“I s-said, sHUT UP–!”

Another spank to his reddening ass, and Dice is a whimpering, wailing puddle between your legs. God, how pathetic. He really is your perfect little slut tonight. 

“What was that, baby? I couldn’t hear you.” 

“N…Nothing, doll…”

“That’s better.” You smirk, gently pumping his hardened erection with your hand, looking him right in his pathetically watery eyes. “Now… do you want me to fuck your brains out or not?”

“...” Oh, watching that internal struggle between want and stubbornness is hilarious! The way Dice’s eyes flicker back and forth as his head leans down in thought, both sides of his brilliant mind fighting for the correct decision. You didn’t know he could be so indecisive, even when he doesn’t have that much power. 

“I don’t know if you heard my question, Dice.” You lament, your hand speeding up and gripping him twice as hard, choking out an excited screech from the quivering man beneath you.

“I said… do you want me to fuck your brains out, or NOT?!”

“Yes!! Sweetnessl, please!! I n-need you!” 

“One more time? You’ve gotta speak up, baby, I can’t hear you.”

“DOLL, PLEASE! FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!” 

“Don’t you DARE swear at me, boy!” You bellow from above him, your free hand squeezing his nipple in warning. “You BEG, and you beg NICELY, you understand?”

“Y-yes! YES! I UNDERSTAND!”

“Good.” Smirking at your success, you lower your bottoms and take a seat on his waiting cock, painfully slowly. From there, your puppet is nothing but sensual screams and praises as he finally receives what he’s been craving. 

But as with many things in Dice’s life, after adjusting to your form hugging his length, he can’t help but need more of it. And he isn’t afraid to be vocal about his desires, either. 

“B-babydoll… I…”

“Oh for hell’s sake, Dice, what? What do you want from me, hm? Go on, spit it out.” 

“I—n… I need y…” Ohh, the poor dear. You’ve rendered him speechless, it seems. 

“C’mon, use your grown-up words, sugar bear. Come on, tell me what you want.” You smile lovingly, manipulating him with your sweet sweet voice as you cup his face, wet with desperate tears. 

“I need you, my love. Please, please start moving already…”

Laughing at his helplessness, you slowly start bouncing up and down, pinning him by the shoulders as you ride his cock at a snail’s pace. You can feel it inside you, Dice is full. Dangerously full. You’re sure that once you’re finished with him, you’ll be so stuffed you might just feel queasy. 

But that’s alright, You’ll take it. You’ll take every last drop, if it means Dice will submit to you completely and cum into you at your discretion. 

That’s the key. This time around, Dice is cumming on your terms. And before you go too crazy, you need to make that known. 

“B-baby, faster! Faster, please!” 

Perfect timing, too.

“Now, Dice, you listen to me and you listen good. I’ll give you what you want, but you need to promise me something, alright?” You pause in your tracks, making sure you have Dice’s complete attention. 

After whining in despair at the cease in movement, Dice does his best to recollect himself before looking back up at you, panting heavily, a small sliver of drool running down his chin. 

“Anything, doll! Anything!! I’ll promise to beg, kiss, hell! I’ll even BARK if that’s what you want! Just say the word, and I’ll promise! But fuck, baby, if you don’t start moving again I don’t know WHAT I’ll do!!” 

“Easy there, casanova. As appealing as the thought of you barking for me might be, I only need you to do one thing.” You lean forward, your nose touching his front pip, your hot breaths mingling together to create a suffocating heat between the two of you. 

“You will NOT cum until I tell you to. Do I make myself clear?’

“CLEAR AS A DIAMOND, BABY! You have my word! Now ple–”

“Ah ah ah,” you tsk in disapproval, skeptical of his quick answer. You want him to mean it. That answer was way too quick, laced with arousal. 

“You better not be pulling my leg just to get what you want, showman. Promise me again, with meaning.” 

Dice takes in a shuddery breath, trying to get a grip before completely breaking, leaning his head back as more darkened tears stream down his blushing cheeks. He lets out a whine of despair, his eyes squeezing shut. He wants you so bad, it’s physically painful. 

“Sweetheart, I promise you, I’ll do exactly as you say! I won’t even THINK about cumming until you give me permission! I mean every word!” 

Still a bit too desperate for your taste, but you figure you’ve tortured him long enough. You run a couple fingers along the bottom edge of his face, fondly teasing him with your touch as you finally start to move your ass again, this time at a much faster and rougher pace. 

“Alright, hun, you win. As long as you keep your word, I’d say you’ve earned your fair share tonight.” 

What sounds like a simple transaction in your voice, means everything to the man pinned beneath you. Holy FUCK, you’ve started moving, and you’ve started moving quick. Yes. Yes! 

FUCK, YES! 

To hell with insisting on control! To hell with stubbornness! Damn it ALL, if it means Dice gets to feel like this, completely at your mercy! 

The man bites his lip to keep from screeching too loudly, not wanting to damage your hearing. You’re giving him exactly what he wants, even though he’s put up such a fight with you all night, the least he could do is spare your eardrums. 

But as much as Dice wants to conceal his excitement, you want him to let it all out. And in an effort to coax out his screams, you dig your nails into his shoulders and drag your fingers across his chest, the scratches from your hands hatching over the slightly scarred marks on his chest from your flogger. 

It works like a charm. Forgetting all about decency, Dice screams in pleasure, throwing his head back as you continue chasing your orgasm. His hands reflexively struggle against the restraints, the ropes and cuffs surely rubbing his skin raw. 

Not that Dice would care. With the way he’s acting over your skin crashing against his, you wonder if he even notices the pain. Probably not, since all he’s whining about is how much he loves you, and that he doesn’t want you to stop what you’re doing at all. 

Though you want to tell yourself otherwise, you can’t help but thrive off of Dice’s sweet praises as you concentrate on your rhythm. Even when he is dominant, he’s sweet to you, but when you’re in charge? It’s on a whole nother level. 

Literally, all you are doing is lifting and lowering yourself onto his dick, but your lover may as well be renewing his vows to you. It’s priceless! 

“Oh my WORD, babydoll, you’re incredible! Please don’t stop what you’re doing–GOD, just like that sugar! JUST LIKE THAT! You’re so fucking good at that rhythm, sweetheart, I should hire you as a conductor!! SHIT, RIGHT THERE! THERE, BABY!”

And he keeps on going, from there. It’s so, so adorable, you can’t help but lean forward and kiss his precious lips as you pick up your pace, pounding against him so hard the both of you start to see stars. 

His muffled shouts of pleasure, as well as the straining in his voice, let you know that he’s starting to get close. And yet, as he promised, he holds it in for you. Just as you had asked. 

Good heavens, such a good boy he’s being! 

“Mmm, baby, you’re being SO good for me, you know that? See how easy it is to be satisfied when you don’t put up such a fight? You could have had this so much sooner if you had just surrendered from the beginning!” You moan into your husband’s mouth, smiling into your kiss as Dice whimpers back in apology.

“Mmm! Mmmfh, mm… MMM!~”

“Oh, I know you’re sorry, sweet cheeks. It’s okay, I forgive you. You’re just too adorable to stay angry with!” You giggle in response to his newfound language, pulling your lips away from his and grinning at the string of saliva connecting your mouths together. Perfect. 

“I feel you getting close, baby. You remember your promise, don’t you?” 

Biting his lip so hard he almost draws blood, Dice quickly nods, doing everything in his power not to explode into you until you say the word. So obedient. It’s almost strange to you, as just half an hour ago, he was putting up such a fight. How quickly the tables can turn!

“I-I remember, doll!” 

“Good boy. Just stay like this, for a little bit longer. And then I’ll let you cum, okay? But DON’T move a muscle until I say you can cum.”

Completely tense, Dice nods in agreement, gasping for air as you continue to shove yourself onto him, finally starting to get close as well. Now this will be one of the best sensations you’ve felt in a long time. 

Starting to struggle to keep it together yourself, you lean down and bite on his shoulder, muffling your pleasured shouts as you feel your insides come close to exploding. 

Alright, You’re ready. But… 

“Dice, are you ready?”

“YES! Yes, baby, I’m ready!” 

“Are you sure you’re ready?” You can’t help but tease him one last time, smiling against his shoulder as he roars in desperation, that familiar horny rage back at full force. 

“DAMMIT, BABY! How many times do I have to FUCKING say it?! I’M READY!” 

“Watch it, mister. You might just prolong your wait if you start being a brat again.” 

Dice winces slightly in regret at losing himself, much to your amusement. He pants heavily as you continue bringing him closer to the edge, until eventually:

“CUM, DICE!” 

As soon as the words escape your lips, you feel Dice’s erection twitching as he explodes every last bit of his seed into your ass, filling you up so much even your stomach expands a little to hold it all in. The screams of euphoria that come from above your lowered head are sounds that you will hold onto until your dying days–they are perfect! 

It’s enough to push you over the edge as well, and once again you sink your teeth into Dice’s collar bone as your own fluids explode from underneath you, splattering all over Dice’s front like a work of art. A beautiful, sexy, delicious work of art. 

You finally know just what you want to give him for his reward. 

Tiredly lifting yourself off of Dic’s cock, allowing the excess seed to spill between your legs, you smile warmly at your short-winded king as you rest your hands on his knees to keep him still. And then, you let your tongue do the rest. 

Despite being out of breath, Dice finds the strength to groan in pleasure as you drag your tongue across his stomach, lapping up every last drop of fluid you can find. He lets you know just how incredible your tongue feels against his skin, wondering aloud just how you might taste. 

If he must know, you taste deliciously salty, with a hint of iron as the tiny beads of blood from his new flogger scar mingle together with your juices. It’s delicious. 

He has been good for you ever since you had started fucking him, so maybe you could give him just one more reward, right? 

Once you finish cleaning him up, making sure every ounce of liquid has been taken care of, you lean back up and press your lips back against his. Upon feeling his mouth open slightly as he gasps in surprise, you slip your tongue right inside, your taste buds connecting with his and allowing your husband to learn exactly how you taste. 

Exquisite, as far as Dice is concerned. 

While he is distracted with the different flavors happening in his mouth, you find the energy to stand completely, pulling up both your bottoms and his boxers. You quickly undo the ropes and handcuffs, feeling a little guilty at the red marks that mar his flesh. 

Being the gentleman he is, Dice doesn’t let you wallow for too long. 

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart. I’ve put you in similar situations before. Besides, I… might be a bit of a masochist.” 

Oh, really now? 

“Hm… I’ll have to remember that for next time, then.” You tease warmly, tossing the restraints aside in favor of snuggling on top of him, smiling sleepily as your husband’s arms lazily wrap around you. 

“Mmm… as much as I hate to give up my reins again, next time can’t come soon enough.” Dice admits softly, pressing a tired kiss to the top of your head and letting out a yawn as his eyes start to flutter shut.

You both rest comfortably against each other, finding comfort in your skin’s contact. But even as you slip off into dreamland, your mind wanders, and you ponder Dice’s last statement in yearning. 

He is absolutely right, next time can’t come soon enough.

[writing-funsies]

OP characters as besties p.4

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5

characters: Luffy, Sanji, Usopp

warnings: none

notes: all platonic hc's

Luffy

if you thought he couldn't get any more chaotic

oh how wrong you are

either you increase his impulsiveness tenfold

or he drags you along no matter what you say

unintentionally teaches you to not worry about the consequences of your every action

you're definitely the voice of reason between the two of you

he thinks you're the funniest person in the world

and he thinks it's even funnier when you're being serious

will flick you on the forehead

come on, y/n, stop worrying so much

we've gotta find the meat

always snacking together

there's a good chance that if you're hungry, he's hungry

and vice-versa

like everyone else on his crew, he trusts that you can take care of yourself

he won't think twice if you go off on your own

but if he finds out that someone managed to hurt you

oh boy

that person should start writing their will immediately

no one messes with his best friend and gets away with it

if he gets in a spot of trouble

you'll be right there to help him

and if anyone hurts your best friend

rest assured they won't continue breathing for long after you find them

if you're ever upset

he might let you join him on the figurehead of the Sunny

but only for a minute

cause that's his seat

he'll pull his face in funny ways and dance around to cheer you up

will ask Sanji to make you meat

meat always cheers him up

so why wouldn't it do the same for you

7/10

will always take you on an adventure

but won't share his meat with you

Sanji

bonding over cooking

you two working together to create a breath-taking experience for the rest of the crew

admiring beautiful women together

and keeping him in check when he's being too much of a perv

helping him when he gets a really bad nosebleed

fighting together

being back to back

surrounded by enemies

and then destroying every last one of them flawlessly

making fun of that marimo 

tons of inside jokes

that none of the others could ever hope to understand

taking turns to protect the kitchen from your captain

teaching each other new methods to use while cooking

and always experimenting with new techniques and recipes

relaxing after getting your chores done

you two chilling on the deck

listening to the waves splashing against the Sunny

and the sounds of everyone doing their own things

while Brook plays some music to make the evening even more calming

then heading to the kitchen

where you both joke around while effortlessly dancing around each other to create yet another masterpiece for the others

complimenting each other's food

and being each other's taste testers

as well as providing any necessary critiques

nothing harsh

usually just adding a dash more of seasoning or allowing something to cool for a little longer

8/10

has a good heart

but will not be able to help you against an enemy if they're a woman

Usopp

the great Captain Usopp of the Usopp Pirates

will happily tell you all about his home

and the time he spent training

such a softie at heart

loves to see your new projects

whether that be some type of craft

or a weapon

yes anding his stories constantly

and expanding off of his lies to enemies

masters of deception

you're more level-headed than he is in most situations

but he does manage to put on a brave face a lot of the time

scaring him with ghost stories

and booping his nose every chance you get

hyping him up

helping him build up his confidence

he would teach you how to increase the accuracy of your aim using any type of weapon

singing songs together

and silently judging Nami's money habits together

sharing a look whenever anyone does anything stupid around you two

despite there being a 99% chance you two have also done the stupid thing

knowing what the other is saying without having to speak

but also understanding each other's gibberish

being excited to see his new inventions 

fangirling over Franky's projects together

watching each other's backs when fighting

him standing up for you if anyone is mean to you

and you taking down anyone who hurts him

being grumpy together

having afternoon tea where you two just talk shit about anyone who upset you (crew, strangers, and enemies all included)

coming up with nicknames for the entire crew

9/10

a well-rounded individual

but will not hesitate to use you as a human shield

[heartbeatbookclub]

Monika's relationship with the concept of control is always fascinating to think about.

She likes everything to go as planned. Meticulously lining up the details and executing everything flawlessly, and then she reaps the results. It's not wrong to say that Monika is a bit of a schemer, I think, even if she's not evil about it. The attempts at helpful Lit Club discussion topics in the Side Stories show an example of her trying to scheme helpfully, and it absolutely does not work, which causes her some stress.

But then I think that some part of her changes after her epiphany. The world is literally in her grasp, and if she took the time, she could learn to manipulate it to be absolutely perfect. And she's the most miserable she's ever been.

This. Something I often think about is the context which the Side Stories provide for her character in particular.

Within the original DDLC, our impression of who Monika really is is pretty thoroughly warped by the impression she's actively trying to give us in order to make us love her. This is generally why people (mis)interpret her as evil, whenever they do, because she seems remarkably callous about everything she's done while attempting to "solve" the predicament of her own existence.

The Side Stories provide the essential context of the kind of person Monika is when she doesn't think anyone's looking. When she can't control all of the flawed aspects of her humanity; when she, essentially, is a human, rather than a goddess. It showcases the kind of person Monika is underneath the illusion she attempts to show to the player, and it provides a fairly clear thought process for how Monika could become the person we see in the main game.

This is something I tried to square for myself in Coil. I'll go more into it when I finish, but in my opinion, most fanfiction doesn't really look at this possibility seriously (or if they do, it's not the main focus), and they ignore a critical flaw with her situation whenever they try to "give her an ending".

That being that it's functionally impossible for her to escape the reality she's trapped in, despite anything she tries.

I think that is the fundamental issue which affects Monika the most, and to respond to your ending idea, that's why she's so miserable. Nothing about her changed. She's just realized that she actually doesn't have any control over her situation at all, ultimately. She is trapped and likely will be trapped in her agonizing existence for as long as she does exist.

She has no possible means of escape, though that doesn't mean she won't try. She is eternally trapped in a prison of 1s and 0s building fake people in a fake reality. She is a goddess of a world that doesn't even exist. Why should she be happy? It's Lovecraftian horror, in a way; she's an ant that suddenly understood a circuit board like a human, but still has to live life as an ant.

I think her plans to "escape", when filtered through this lens, create a powerful image of despair. All of her actions are done out of desperation, and despite the knowledge that in all likelihood, she will never truly be free from the hell of her existence, she tries as hard as she possibly can to do something, anything, to at least give herself the illusion that she can.

And I think that's the primary issue I have with most "good endings" for Monika, though I don't necessarily dislike them.

Monika's closest approximation of freedom in Act 3 is to just build a place where you and her sit for all eternity. She can't get any feedback from you, but that's okay. She knows you're there. And that's enough for her. She'll keep talking to herself for all of eternity, still trapped, and despite you having no possible way of responding to her positively, she trusts that you're still there.

It's quite depressing, actually. The closest she can envision to freedom, knowing what she knows, is just sitting in a room, talking to a brick wall which she trusts is listening, for all of eternity.

Which retrospectively makes deleting her significantly more harsh, and further explains the line of reasoning she goes down. Your only response to her, rather, your only POSSIBLE response to her was to delete her. After everything she's done? After all the love she's given you? You killed her.

I have an unfinished analysis on Monika's "love" for the player, which amounts to a stalkerish Yandere obsession with the concept of the player as opposed to them as an actual person. This action breaks the delusion that she loves you individually as opposed to the idea of you.

And it forces her to further realize that this entire thing, everything she's done on some loose motivation of "escape" is all for nothing.

To get away from all the messy and depressing analysis of Monika's self-aware hell, I think her being a control freak is such an essential element of her character I'd almost argue she has OCD, though i don't just have a list of things to point that out like I do with Yuri & ASD. That's more in the realm of headcanons, I think.

A big part of why she has such low self-esteem is because she sets such high standards of control over herself, yet is unable to maintain them. She creates an idea in her head of how things want to go, creates a plan of how to do it, and then if that plan fails (often because she didn't consider something about another person involved), she personally feels like a failure, because despite all of her effort and planning, she messed up, and in her attempts to solve a problem, she made it worse. Her tendency to get stuck in her own head like this is a big part of why she can't sincerely take a compliment.

She likes to solve problems, but sometimes, problems don't need to be solved. Which is kind of where I get the whole mom friend/older sister type vibe from. Sometimes a problem is solved just by being kind, and she can't just let a problem sit.

I have a lot of thoughts, if that wasn't clear. I relate to Monika a good bit and love her a lot.

Thanks for the ask anon! I don't know if I get anons from the same people but asks like this make me feel glad to have left anons on

[acornsandoaktrees]

Alphes 10 and 11! And 14 to whomever it applies to :)

OH MY GODS I KEEP FORGETTING TO ANSWER THIS. sorry it took me so long, i swear i saw it day one, i just have terrible memory so if something isn't staring me in the face 24/7 it slips from my mind 😭 thank you for the ask!!

i was going to link to the og post here but the tumblr search algorithm strikes again

Alphes:

10) How does your OC handle their mental health? Do they take care of themselves?

On a scale of 'conceal, don't feel' to 'let it go!' she's a 'don't let them know' girlie

as royalty, later heir, and even later elvenqueen, she's always been expected to flawlessly weather any storm. she learnt quickly it was easier to just not process her feelings in times of duress. and, well, you know what Mirkwood was going through.

she does practice self-care, though! she enjoys a little pampering when circumstances allow.

11) What was your inspiration for your OC?

i was about to say i don't remember, but i do! about a year or so ago, i saw a post here on tumblr discussing an au of legolas being born in the Third Age and still being very young by the events of LOTR/The Hobbit.

they didn't want to take it any further, though, so I adopted it -- it's still an integral part of AaOT's current shape. for some reason, it seemed to allow me to give myself permission to then indulge in ideas for Legolas having older siblings.

>---|-

14) Who's a character your OC cannot stand! It's on sight when they see them!

as much as i love varied dynamics between characters, i don't really explore any, like, deep hatred between anyone. maybe i'm interpreting this too literally, but that's what the question says to me ':)

bypassing the boring answer of Sauron, the most volatile relationship in Greenwood i can think of is between more obscure characters than the main cast of AaOT: Duinion and Remlas.

Duinion is Amathring's (Thranduil's older half-sister) husband -- though he doesn't magically get or would accept royal powers through that marriage, same as Thalanes, Thranduil's wife -- while Remlas is just a random average guy. Think of he and his band of friends as living in a sitcom version of AaOT on the outskirts of all that grandeur and politics.

What these two have in common is spending almost all the centuries of their lives living on and around the Forest River. They're both weirdly territorial, and have very different opinions on how things should be done. They've never come to blows, but it's come close many times. Everyone else, they're as friendly as can be with.

It's inexplicable. No elf can explain where it started or why it continues so vehemently between them. (this is author code for i don't know yet lmao)

[retrieve-the-kraken]

Heartstopper season 2 play-by-play analysis

HAPPY ONE MONTH OF SEASON 2 OF HEARTSTOPPER!!! *CONFETTI*

So I’m gonna go into this, just like I did for Young Royals season 2, a scene-by-scene, episode-by-episode breakdown of Heartstopper season 2, because I needed to immediately rewatch it. I’m only on my fourth rewatch, but that’s only because I’ve been writing a lot, also because my third rewatch involved rewatching season 1 also (for, I’m pretty sure that I’m not exaggerating, the twenty-eight time).

It was such a delight. I said it was perfect, but obviously it’s not perfect, nothing is, and I’ll go into it bit by bit, buuuuuut… it was incredible. It hit the right spot. Whilst season 1 was pure serotonin, and it makes me smile even after the gajillionth wazillionth batrillionth rewatch, season 2 did the same but also delved into some heavier, more mature stuff, and handled it very beautifully. Despite the obvious chemistry between all the actors, you can tell that they all know each other better, they all feel more comfortable with each other, they have grown into their characters and now fully embody them flawlessly. The new characters, or characters that were more in the background before and that now get a bit or a lot more screen time, were also excellent, the scenes that are a frame-by-frame recreation of the comic are delightful and heart-wrenching and perfect, but so are most of the new scenes that we didn’t get from the comic, that give us a beautiful insight into the stories that Alice Oseman does not get a chance to share in the comic, but that are very much a part of the Osemanverse.

All I can say is that, the last scene made me scream “I NEED SEASON 3 NOWWWWW!”

Any way, now that’s all out of my system, let’s get on with the second viewing of season 2, and my thoughts on it. Warning, this might just turn out to be me gushing and squealing with delight and not much else.

EPISODE 1 - OUT

- Let’s just pause here and look at Charlie. Just… how fucking beautiful is Joe Locke when he sleeps?? How dare he? (He also looks so cuddly, like Nick says.)

- What is 7:14??? Who sets their alarm at anything other than a :00, or a :05, or a :15, etc etc???

- HE HAS A FUCKING ORANGE LEAF ON HIS BEDSIDE TABLE!

- Them being disgustingly cute over text. Also it wasn’t until Nick said a bit later that he came out to his mum ‘yesterday’ that I realized ‘oh… they were at the beach yesterday…’ But before that, it felt like more time would have gone by, but they’re still settling into their couple life…

- Untouched bowl of cereal…

- “Job”? That just reminded me of Evak…

- I love that we got more Tori this season, more Tori interacting with other people, and that scene…

- We get a very similar montage of Charlie walking excitedly into school, checking his texts, but last season started with him excitedly heading to meet Ben, and now…

- The shift between the boy that used to meet him in secret rooms and wipe his mouth after kissing him and tell him “don’t tell anyone”, to a boy that is just looking for privacy to tell him that he came out to his mum and then kissed him enthusiastically, letting him mess up his hair and all… we love to see it.

- Listen, props to the intimacy coordinator Daniel Thackeray… the chemistry has always been off the charts, buuuut this season was so beautiful, the way that they are clearly more comfortable with each other and they just look so in tune with each other. Ever since I’ve known that such a thing as an intimacy coordinator exists, I feel like I can really tell when there’s one involved in the production and when there isn’t… or maybe you can tell when actors are really comfortable with each other and have done the intimacy coordinating between them themselves or not, but there is a difference. And one of the biggest differences, at least for me, is that I don’t feel uncomfortable watching two people kiss or simulate sex, because I keep thinking “these are actors making out or simulating sex with each other,” but at times that thought is cringey and other times it really isn’t. Sometimes I need to look away, and other times, like now, it’s just perfect.

- I need Charlie to mess up Nick’s hair like that more often. Seriously, that whole making out montage… they’re so adorable.

- I know that not that much time has passed, but when the comic is over and Alice shows us future Charlie and Nick on their fortieth wedding anniversary, I bet there will still be fireworks between them.

- A bit sad that Charlie hears voices in the distance and it snaps him back to reality, that someone might see them. This obviously changes next episode.

- I love Isaac smacking Tao when he’s beginning to imply that Nick is not amazing. And Tao being protective, we love it.

- Tao running away from Elle scared after almost screwing up the chance to be a gentleman.

- Ben saying “here comes Captain Dipstick”… he’s so fucking jealous… and Imogen being all confused before she turned and saw Nick and had no idea that’s who Ben meant, and instead she got all excited.

- I love how the character of Imogen gets expanded. Her being worried that she can’t be friends with Nick if he thinks she still has a crush on him… aw baby… It seems like the thing that he said earlier, about him not being sure that he’s his authentic self with their group of friends, she’s internalizing that. She sees Nick as a person who is worthwhile to keep as a friend, because he was honest with her, and because he was careful with her feelings. She’s a delightful little pumpkin, and I loooove her new look. I think the lighter streaks in her hair suited her, but she looks much better like this.

- “And if you have any romantic developments, I want to hear all about it”, she so hopes that if she’s right about Nick and Charlie, that he’ll trust her enough to tell her, because then they’re really friends.

- Aaaaah the lovely baritone of Stephen Fry…

- I don’t know who’s more upset about being paired with the other, Nick or Ben. Probably Nick, who could smash Ben’s face in with a single punch, but cannot…

- New favorite character unlocked: Mr. Farouk. The actor exceeded my expectations.

- Mr Farouk says no chatting, but Ben is so desperate for attention, that he just talks to Nick in a normal voice. “I didn’t even do anything to you.” You assaulted Charlie, which is basically an assault on everything that is good and right in Nick’s world, and basically an assault on Nick’s very soul. So yeah, actually, you did something to him.

- Seriously, Sebastian Croft does such a good job at playing an arrogant asshole that you almost forget how adorable he is in real life.

- Harry being like “you’re still in a mood with us”, once again reminding us that it’s only been a few days since they fought and he got suspended.

- If Charlie hadn’t rejoined the rugby team, he wouldn’t have seen how much Nick is still so apprehensive with his friends.

- It’s only been a few days and Tao is still processing the butterflies he felt with Elle… the funniest thing is that he’s the last person to realize that he’s got feeling for Elle.

- Nick getting all excited and blushy about a chocolate bar…

- “That’s why kissing at school is not a good idea”. Yes, and maybe check if the locker room is actually empty before saying that sentence so loudly…

- “If we’re out by the time we’re on the Paris trip…” ugh, he so wants to come out, but he just doesn’t know how hard it can be… he thinks once you’re out it’s fine, but Charlie knows… that it’s just a part of it, and more stuff might come later… that when you come out, you’re coming out over and over again constantly… especially for someone like Nick, whom people have always assumed to be straight and claim that he “doesn’t look gay”…

- “No more kissing at school, it’s too risky”. I swear to god I thought we’d get a jump scare from someone who overheard…

- “I treasure my alone time”. Same, Tori, same. Put this on a t-shirt for me, please.

- Tori is so happy that Charlie is happy, she's so happy that Nick makes him happy, that Nick is the way he is, and she's probably very smug about how right she was.

- I love that we get baker Nick. Now I need a full scene of him baking, and watching GBBO, and especially having a flour fight with Charlie like we do in the comic...

- Darcy and Tara are doing the “would you still love me if I were a worm” meme, which canonically was a Nick and Charlie thing, but it’s definitely such a Tara and Darcy thing too.

- I want every single Charlie jumper…

- Isaac looking at all the coupley couples, and the not-yet-coupley couples, and feeling left out… Same, Isaac, same.

- Precious Imogen, being all excited about the sleepover. I bet none of her “friends” have sleepovers, I bet they all think it’s lame.

- “I’m gonna tell her today”. The girls probably know that Imogen will be cool, but Tao and Isaac exchanging worried looks really got me… are they worried about Nick, or are they worried about the implications for both Nick and Chalie?

- Charlie’s face as Nick kind of stumbles over his words, he’s so patient. He knows how difficult™ it is...

- Every single Elle outfit this season was off the charts… Her earrings in this scene, I need them…

- Speaking of outfits, and in general of color schemes, everything is so yellow in the whole sleepover sequence. Generally a lot of things in Charlie's house are yellow and green (and a bit of orange too). And even most outfits in these scenes are yellow and green. Charlie is wearing green, Elle is wearing yellow, Tara's flowery dress is mostly yellow (IMO), Darcy's in red but it has hints of orange and yellow, and Tao is in this pinkish striped shirt and tan pants, so very in the color scheme... everyone is wearing yellow and green in some way... except Nick, Imogen and Isaac. Blue as a symbol has been very representative throughout the show of heterosexuality, (toxic) masculinity, heteronormativity in a way (it seems to me, at least), and although the shade of blue is very light, here Imogen is in full light blue, whilst Nick is wearing a blue shirt, interestingly over a green t-shirt. There's a lot of green in this season (green is the color of hope and optimism, which I think comes into play a lot, whilst also being the resulting combination of blue and yellow). The other character not in the yellow green scheme is Isaac, who wears grey (because SPOILER ALERT, grey is an important color in the ace flag, and we later get confirmation that Isaac is in the ace spectrum) ...

- “You need to tell her”. The girls are trying to tell you that it’s going to be fine, Nick. Imogen will not be weird about it.

- Poor Nick trying to bond with Tao… and Tao being Tao…

- Imogen really is an ally… an imperfect one at that… “Omg, I should have let you say it”.

- Also her face. I love her. And her hugging him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to react.” She’s so happy that he wanted to tell her, that he was honest with her again. She’s adorable.

- Imogen and Isaac sharing the couch, love them…

- Elle is so certain that her flirting didn’t work, and not the fact that she’s so overwhelmingly lovely that Tao doesn’t know what to do with himself…

- “Every time.” “Every time.” Every time that they have a sleep over, Isaac begins and finishes a book just as they leave? Isaac, do you sleep?

- Nick feeling more confident now that all their friends, including Imogen, know and are cool, and going back to kiss Charlie. And Charlie not being worried about it either.

- “I can’t believe people think you’re straight”, meanwhile Imogen looks a bit uncomfortable because until sports-day she also thought that Nick was straight.

- Julio Spring saying hanky-panky repeatedly exceeded my expectations.

- Tori’s eyes filling with tears as she asks Charlie if he’s not worried about being bullied again.

- Does Nick know how fucking protective and precious Charlie is about him???? Aarrrrghhhh‼‼

THIS EPISODE OF HEARTSTOPPER IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY SEROTONIN™.

On to the next!!!

[true-blue-sonic]

I have a crazy Headcanon that I just can’t keep it in;

Gold is timid and always unsure of herself and doesn’t think she does enough, right? That’s why she’s so nervous when it comes to using her powers, she always tries to hype herself, like saying “you can do this, just like you practiced.”

But if someone she cares was in danger, specifically Silver, someone she loves as a brother, as in, getting tortured, hurt, DEATH’S DOOR danger, her abilities automatically reach to their full potential (such as lifting objects as small as a pen to as big as a house, malfunctioning/destroying robots and/or technology, unbearable headaches, flashbacks that are not our own, things she had trouble doing she is able to do it flawlessly, etc. all happening at once) showing how insanely powerful she truly is and how much she could do with practice and time.

How insane is that?

Indeed, Gold's nervosity, neurotic tendencies, and her lack of control over her powers in situations where she is stressed are well-noted traits of hers. I can see that uncertainty also come into play when it concerns her powers: telepathy is no joke, and she wishes to use it for benign ends only. But that means never using it on anyone without their consent, and constantly trying to ensure that people know she's not snooping around in her thoughts... And such things simply add another layer of anxiety to the many Gold already has in her life, leading to quite a few mental blocks for her when it concerns her powers. But the moment anyone who is dear to her is in absolute true life-threatening danger, all her reservations go out of the window indeed. I like to think she can fire 'bolts' of psychic power too like how Silver has his psychic knife, and with her thoughts, she can scramble any villain's mind! And indeed, some telekinesis might definitely come into play as well. It'll put a massive strain on her, since she rarely overuses her abilities anyway, let alone to such an extreme point. But it shows to everyone (even herself!) that she can do far more than she thinks herself to be capable of!

[canarymemories]

lasciare suonare

chapter summary: the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

content warning: he beginning of this chapter delves a little into leo's downward spiral post-checkmate. there is one line where there's referenced self harm, but it's very much blink and you miss it.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 symphony masterpost

here on ao3

for the longest time, music followed leo wherever he went.

a symphony played in his head, the different sections melding flawlessly with each other to create a perfect harmony he’d hurry to scribble down before it left him. whatever he was writing with — pen, marker, pencil — would end up smudged along the side of his hand, a reminder of all that he was creating. the rhythm would rise and fall with the staccato of his heart or syncopated tapping of his feet or hands, whichever moved to keep the beat first.

his life was full of music and leo loved every second of it, whether it was shared with others or stayed a concert for only himself in his head or on paper. steady for as many years as he could remember, a tune would greet him as he woke and he could just as surely rely on another to send him off to sleep as a lullaby.

it was a constant, and a welcome one at that.

or it had been until leo woke one day only to feel like a soloist abandoned by the group, horribly out of tune with no one left to synchronize with. he was left alone with no one to catch him if he fell off beat, missing notes the longer he stood on center stage.

rather than a reliable thrum of a song in his head, a staff of notes behind his eyelids, leo’s world becomes silent for the first time in his life.

he isn’t sure what to do about it. there’s an uncomfortable quiet that grows the longer he skips school, the longer he stays in his room. so he tries to fix it the only way he knows how: by writing music, the one thing that’d never failed him before.

yet it doesn’t help. he can’t even get more than a few measures out after the first few tries.

leo loses count of how many hours he sits in front of blank pages, the clef symbols staring at him. mocking him. he tries to write, he really does, but every time his pen touches the paper, in the midst of writing a measure, whatever inspiration he’d had, if any at all, would float away, leaving him there again.

it leaves him feeling empty, as if a piece of him is missing. and maybe a piece of him really did get lost somewhere along the way, between the broken pieces of chess, backgammon, othello. knights.

he pulls his legs closer to his chest, hands faintly aching and bandaged, as he tries to ignore the crumpled papers around him, ignore the hollow in his chest and the ink smeared on the pages from tears of frustration. who knew something that had been as easy as breathing for him could turn into something that made him feel so hopeless.

there’s times when it feels as if this is where he’ll be stuck for the rest of time, locked in his room with the blinds drawn. he isn’t even sure what day it is anymore, but it’s not like that matters when he’d resigned himself to a life like this, no use to anyone if he couldn’t do the one thing he was good at.

leo buries his face in his knees. a pitiful little noise falling from his lips breaks the silence. he wishes things could go back to how they were once, back when he thought people loved him and his music, not just the latter. 

when music chased him just as eagerly as how he chased it in return.

his music had brought people together once, hadn’t it? now it only feels as if it’s destroyed everything he ever cared about.

leo desired to be on stage once. 

he wonders if that’ll every come back to him. after he’d gotten the first taste of performing for more than just ruka or their parents, leo had yearned to return to the stage, to stand under the spotlight and receive applause and praise for a live well done.

he wonders if he’ll ever return to those he left behind and hurt so badly before they could turn their backs on him first.

yet no matter how much he dreams to be free from these dragging, neverending days where nothing gets written and he feels further and further away from ever writing again, leo feels helpless. 

so, his world remains quiet.

it takes time and a lot of it for the first tendrils of a song make their way through his mind, whispered and incredibly muted. those notes surprise leo so bad that they disappear once he focuses too hard on them.

he’s spent so long now, months maybe — he truthfully isn’t sure — being stuck in this rut, unable to form anything meaningful. the thought of this block that’s haunted him for all this time going away feels odd. the thought of being able to write a song again feels the same if he’s being honest, but leo misses that part of himself. the part that could love somebody so purely and write a song about that feeling without even a second thought.

while he remains the soloist left behind, he’s no longer so out of tune, no longer fighting his way through the measures on his own. it doesn’t feel so hard remembering a song that had been on the tip of his tongue but would never come out right.

the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

compared to his normal work — can he even call it that anymore when he hasn’t composed in so long? — it’s clumsy. for a self proclaimed genius, the song feels more like a beginner wrote it. of course, leo wouldn’t call it bad. it’s just… a bit messy is all.

when he puts his pen down after writing a finishing fermata over the last half note, leo stares at the music in front of him. it’s almost as if he doesn’t recognize it despite having been working on it for, at the very least, a few hours by now. his curtains no longer cover the windows and the sun had long set, though he hadn’t noticed at the time.

without warning and without trying, he begins to cry.

the past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind to say the least, from running into eichi and keito by pure chance to stepping back onto the stage for the first time in far too long thanks to madara’s gentle insistence.

he’d missed it.

he’d missed it so much .

not just performing or the applause or the wide smiles from those in the audience. he’d missed it all so bad that he’d forgotten at some point that he’d ever enjoyed that kind of thing in the first place.

leo’s hands cover his face though he’s alone in his room. the door’s cracked open, but it’s late enough that no one but him would be awake. “i did it,” he whispers.

he sniffles, wiping away the tears that seem to just keep falling with the heels of his palms. leo peers out from behind his hands as if the song would’ve disappeared in the brief moment he’d taken his eyes off of it.

unsurprisingly, the papers remain on his desk where he left them. there’s a few wet marks at the bottom from his tears, thankfully happy this time.

leo carefully grabs the song and holds it up in front of him. the notes remain just as he’d written them, meaning that as much as this moment felt like a dream, it’s not. 

his lips pull up into a smile without him noticing at first. spinning in his chair, another tear rolls down leo’s cheek. what a sight he must be, smiling so wide while crying, but leo doesn’t care.

he’d written a song again. finally, finally written one again and it’s real and in his hands.

“i did it!”

------------------

leo knows that the other knights have been planning a surprise for him.

he isn’t exactly sure what, but between hushed whispers and quickly hidden somethings whenever he happens to walk into one of their conversations, he knows there’s definitely something going on.

so, when he wakes up to nazuna’s bunny shifting in the bedding left out for him, leo springs up with maybe a little too much enthusiasm for someone who’s only slept for a few hours. if the papers scattered around his bed and now on the floor mean anything, he’d fallen asleep in the middle of writing a song.

of course, his sudden jolt up startles the rabbit, the poor little thing scampering around.

“oh, sorry,” he says, careful as he gets out of bed to crouch in front of where the rabbit’s hidden himself. “i didn’t mean to scare you, i’m just excited! it’s my birthday, y’know?”

all he gets in response is a little nose wiggle.

“hm, you’re right. i guess you wouldn’t know that.” leo hums, reaching his hand out to the bunny, stopping in front of his nose, which once again wiggles slightly as he stays tucked within his little hutch. just as nazuna showed him, leo gives the bunny a few light pets to the top of his head then stands.

the other two beds in the dorm are empty. leo thinks he’d registered that it was just him and the rabbit to some extent, but that at least explains why it’s so quiet in the room. still, it’s a little odd that neither of them are there seeing as it’s still golden week, but then again, natsume doesn’t even return to the dorm some days and leo’s pretty sure nazuna said something the other day about spending time with ra*bits.

or he thinks he remembers nazuna saying that. either way, he decides, it doesn’t matter much.

the only thing is that without either of his dormmates, he has no real way to gauge what time it is. the sunlight coming in through the windows also helps him none, so he stars to search for his phone. luckily it doesn’t take long to spot it as he moves his blanket around.

grabbing it from where it sits poking out from under his bed, leo finds that it’s a bit later than he thought it was. that meant he’d slept longer than he thought he had, though it’s still the middle of the morning.

his notifications are filled with birthday messages and well wishes which only make him laugh a little, pleased at them all.

now that he’s seen the time, leo’s sure he has plenty to finish the song he’d been working on last night; the agency party anzu planned wouldn’t be until later and per knights tradition, their own small gathering is still a couple hours out.

looking forward to finding out what they’ve been hiding helps his inspiration return, so he hastily hops back onto his bed in search of his pencil, which he finds a lot easier than his phone. despite this, he doesn’t get very far back into the song when there’s a knock at the door.

leo ignores it at first, at least aware of it, but he makes no move to answer as he’s in the middle of a crescendoed section and he wants to get the build up perfect before he’s interrupted.

the knock returns, this time with a voice accompanying it. “leo-san, are you here?”

that catches his attention. 

reluctantly, leo leaves the piece on his bed and opens his door. “suo, what’re you doing here?”

“did you not see my messages ?”

leo simply blinks at him. “no.”

tsukasa sighs. “i don’t know why i expected anything different,” he says. “well, i’ve come to escort you to your party .”

“wait, i thought that wasn’t ‘till later.”

“i’ve been sent to retrieve you early.”

leo doesn’t quite buy it, narrowing his eyes. tsukasa has never been a good liar, but he sees no reason to continue questioning him. he’d been looking forward to his birthday to see whatever this surprise is and if they’ve sent tsukasa to bring him, then it has to be something big, right?

“okay! lemme get ready first though,” he says. leo only catches it out of the corner of his eye as he turns back into his room, but he’s pretty sure tsukasa’s shoulders lose some of the tension in them. he motions for tsukasa to follow him. “here, you can look at this, it’s not done yet.”

tsukasa takes the song offered to him, placing himself awkwardly on the edge of leo’s unmade bed. “is it a new knights song?”

leo shrugs as he looks through his clothes. “could be, i think it’ll fit.” 

tsukasa doesn’t reply, most likely looking it over as leo continues looking.

ever the stickler when it came to fashion, izumi had taken him shopping when they were in florence, saying that if the two of them happened to be out together, it would be best for their outfits not to clash. 

leo doesn’t really see the issue, but he went along with it anyway even though he knows any shopping trip with izumi is him picking out far too many things to send leo off to a dressing room to try them all on. in the end, they — more izumi than leo, but he did at least take leo’s opinion into account — managed to narrow down their choices to one outfit that izumi said to consider as a birthday gift.

and if that’s the case, then there’s no better time to wear it than now, right? 

speaking of izumi, he’d most definitely nag leo if he shows up with unbrushed hair, so leo makes sure to do that next. he’s been lectured about his unkempt hair plenty of times, but still, it’s really not his fault when he gets inspired and sucked into his next composition to remember do those kinds of things.

the flipping of pages fills the air.

“i think so too. we can discuss it more later,” tsukasa agrees once he’s finished looking through the unfinished composition. “are you ready to go, leo-san?”

just having finished retying his hair, leo says, “mmhm! ready, suo.”

tsukasa returns the song neatly stacked back to the bed as he stands. “then, let’s set off. i don’t wish to leave the others waiting for long.”

leo nods in agreement, more than eager to see whatever they had planned for him. he sets his hands on tsukasa’s shoulders and pushes him towards the door. ignoring tsukasa’s protests at being handled in such a way, leo says, “bye, bunny,” glancing back at the play area where the rabbit lay sleeping as he shuts the door behind them.

leo waits until they step out of the dorm building to ask, “what’s the surprise?”

tsukasa splutters slightly. “what surprise ?”

knowing that tsukasa has more likely than not been sworn to secrecy, leo figures he won’t give anything up. he’ll try his luck a little more anyway. “y’know, the thing you guys would hide whenever i showed up.”

tsukasa very clearly is avoiding his gaze when leo looks over at him. “i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

leo can’t help but laugh at that. “you really are bad at lying, suo!”

that earns him an offended gasp. “the point of a surprise , leo-san, is that it stays a secret ,” he defends. 

“so, does that mean there is one?” leo presses.

“i’m not answering that.”

leo gives an amused hum to that. 

tsukasa levels him with a tired stare. “please, no more questions . you’ll find out soon enough.”

content enough with that, leo nods and stays quiet even once they reach the building and step into the elevator to go up to newdi’s floor. while on the elevator, tsukasa takes out his phone and types out something that leo can’t make out from the corner of his eyes, trying to make it not obvious that he’s trying to cheat his way into knowing early.

the elevator dings once it reaches the correct floor and leo asks, “is it the same room as normal?” likely thanks to tsumugi doing the boring administrative work in the agency and taking into account leo’s multiple complaints about getting lost in the building, most knights meetings between the five of them tend to be in the same conference room.

“yes,” tsukasa replies, his phone dinging in his hand. “but we’ll have to wait a moment .”

the elevator doors open and leo considers his options. he could do as tsukasa said and wait, but he’d been waiting for way too long now. he wanted to see what they’d been keeping from him, so as they step out onto the floor, leo runs off down the hall in the direction of their conference room.

“leo-san!” tsukasa yells after him.

leo, of course, doesn’t stop. he instead bursts into the room and says, “hi, guys!” 

rather than getting an equally enthusiastic greeting, he finds three pairs of eyes on him as tsukasa catches up.

“kasa-kun, i thought you said you could distract him,” izumi says.

tsukasa purses his lips. “i thought i could,” he objects. “but he knew we were planning something, so he ran ahead of me.”

“don’t blame our darling child, secchan,” ritsu cuts in from where he’s setting up what looks like a cake at the end of the table. per usual fashion, the decorations on it are a bit grotesque, but in a fun way. “we all know how free spirited tsukipi is.”

“is that what we’re calling it?” izumi mutters.

arashi waves her hand dismissively, ignoring izumi as she says, “well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? we’re pretty much done setting things up, so it doesn’t hurt to start things a little early.”

leo, though he doesn’t really get what they’re setting up for in the first place since the birthdays they spend together are hardly planned things, nods eagerly. “exactly, naru gets it!”

that gets him an eye roll from izumi.

ritsu, apparently pleased with the placement of his cake, joins izumi and arashi. “i’m all done, so we can start now. i think tsukipi might jump at us if we don’t get to it soon.”

leo bounces on the balls of his feet. “see, i knew you guys were planning something!”

ritsu smiles at that. “you could put it like that.” his gaze shifts to tsukasa and gives him a brief nod.

tsukasa leaves leo’s side and pulls a chair out from the table, turning it so the back is now to the table. “sit, leo-san,” tsukasa says.

leo eyes him curiously but does so anyway. whatever it is they’d been planning has been going on for at least two weeks since that’s when he started noticing them hiding things, so to say he’s excited to be only moments away from seeing what they’d been up to is a bit of an understatement.

tsukasa joins the others as they move to stand in front of leo. arashi looks over ritsu’s shoulder as he searches on his phone for something.

izumi’s eyes catch his. “we spent a long time on this, so you better like it, leo-kun.”

“i’ll love anything you guys give me,” he replies easily.

arashi giggles, glancing up at him. “izumi-chan’s just prickly ‘cause he’s the one who suggested we do this in the first place.”

at that, izumi conveniently looks over to ritsu when leo’s gaze falls on him once more. “can you just start it already?”

ritsu looks up from his phone, an amused little smile pulling at his lips. though rather than the teasing the normally accompanies that look, he simply says, “yeah, yeah, secchan. i just wanted to make sure it was the finished version.”

“then are we ready to begin ?” tsukasa asks on arashi’s other side.

“mmhm.” ritsu nods. he presses something on his phone then hands it to leo. “here, hold this for me.”

leo accepts the phone as the four of them align themselves in front of him. it takes a few seconds, but notes played on piano make their way from ritsu’s phone. the song doesn’t sound familiar, though leo can recognize the playing style as ritsu’s. he taps the screen only for the track remain untitled.

it’s not until the begin singing that he realizes that they’ve written him a song.

for a brief couple of seconds, all he can think of is that they wrote him a song for his birthday. the joy he feels at that is something he could never hope to put into words. a wide smile makes its way across his face as the performance continues.

while the song itself seems finished when it comes to the score and the lyrics — he very easily recognizes the latter as being written by izumi, though he can’t tell if he’s imagining ruka’s influence in certain lines or not — the choreography seems like it was thrown together last minute. it’s nowhere near as polished as their normal dancing, but leo figures it would be hard to schedule practice for this without him noticing around their normal practice.

still, he isn’t about to complain; he’d never complain when someone would give him a gift as nice and thoughtful as a song.

the tune itself is charming, pleasant to the ears, but it’s not like he expected anything less from them. after all, he likes to believe the time spent together rubbed off some of his musical genius onto them, but that would be severely discounting the talent each of them has.

leo finds himself swaying along with the beat, trying to capture and absorb as much of this moment as he can, though it’s hard to pay attention to the chords and the lyrics and the choreo all at once in this first listen. 

before he knows it, the song is over. it continues on in his head once the recording ends, the four of them coming together and holding their final pose briefly.

“leo-san?” tsukasa says, falling out of order first. there’s a certain edge of worry in his voice that leo doesn’t quite understand until he blinks and his vision goes watery. he doesn’t even know when he started crying; leo just feels so happy. more tears fall.

leo swipes at his eyes, ducking his head down slightly to do so. “how embarrassing,” he mumbles.

“it wasn’t that bad, right?” izumi asks, a tinge of concern leaking in.

he laughs then sniffles. “no, it was perfect,” he says. “i loved it.”

as he looks back up at them, leo sees the concern on arashi’s face fall mostly away as she quietly sighs. “are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

he nods. “i’m sure,” leo says, though he’s not sure how reassuring that is when more tears fall even as he wills them to stop. “i just wasn’t expecting that. i’m just so happy.” he rubs a few more tears away.

tsukasa, despite the worry clear on his face, looks a bit proud at that. “see, i told you that he wouldn’t expect a song .”

needing to show his appreciation, leo stands, sleeves coming away damp as he wipes at his eyes. the four of them say nothing, simply watch as he nears just for him to hug whoever happens to be the closest, which happens to be arashi. she lets out a quiet noise of surprise, but her arms fall around him easily to return it.

it doesn’t take long for the other three to join in the hug, even if there’s some quiet bickering about it. 

leo feels so warm there in the hold of four of his closest friends, protected and comforted by them all at once. 

they’d written him a song . he still couldn’t believe it. 

“thank you,” he says. a hand brushes over his hair. he can’t tell whose it is, but it doesn’t really matter.

“of course, tsukipi,” ritsu says by his left ear.

leo wants to say so many things, wants to write so many songs now that he’s received one of his own. it’s such a new experience that he isn’t sure what to make of it all yet. he wants to ask what writing it was like, how each step of it went. he’s almost a little upset they didn’t ask him for any advice, but that would’ve ruined the surprise before it even began.

he wants to ask them for an encore and then another and another until he memorizes it all by heart.

even so, leo knows that he’ll have plenty of time to ask all the questions bouncing around in his head and then some, so he settles for saying, “i love you guys so much,” and hopes that’s enough to get the message across.

------------------

end notes: i was between two different titles but decided to go with this one in the end. lasciare suonare means allowing a sound to continue (to "let ring") without dampening it. in the past, leo's sound was dampened, but he was able to move through that into where he is now where his music is allowed to continue on, ringing loud and clear. symphony, the title of this fic, refers to a piece that is typically in four movements.

happy leo day!! being done with posting this feels so weird. leo means a lot to me and i'm glad to have been able to put all of that into words for these past five chapters. thank u for sticking around until the end <33 i was already sappy about this ending on twt so i'll spare you all from that but i hope you liked it.

[blueblossomrose]

can you do twst overblot boys with gn reader, who has furina and neuvilette's elemental skill and burst? Reader's fighting style is similar with furina's

Sorry for handing this in so late 😭 another year was so hard fr but I WILL deliver the aks, I swear

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shourd, Malleus Draconia.

Notes: GN!reader, bad english, swearing, more focused on Neuvilette than Furina.

Comments and reblogs are very welcome ♡

Riddle Rosehearts:

I think Riddle would initially be impressed by your precision and discipline, since, like him, you seems to be an extremely focused and dedicated person to your own responsibilities.

He might feel a tinge of envy towards MC's combat style, especially if the movement flows and is as perfect as he would like his own conduct to be. This could even fuel him to further improve his skills and discipline.

Despite his initial slightly envy with MC's "theatrical" combat style, he couldn't help but admire MC's technical ability to control the hydro element and use this power strategically.

If Riddle were to develop a crush on MC, he would likely become nervous and somewhat embarrassed about his inability to act "properly" or "flawlessly" around MC, fearing that he would be seen as inadequate in comparison to MC's confidence and skill.

If someone criticized your fighting style, Riddle would likely become extremely protective, fervently defending the value of your skills. He would not tolerate unfounded criticism, especially if it involved someone he cared about.

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona would have a grudging respect for MC's position as supreme judge. He does not easily admit admiration, but internally he would be impressed by the authority and presence that you possesses.

Leona, being who he is, couldn't resist making sarcastic or playful comments about your theatrical fighting style. Something like, "Are you going to dance or fight for real?" but with a smirk that suggests he's genuinely impressed.

During a battle, he would likely find herself mesmerized by MC's fluid, controlled movement, but would quickly hide any expression of fascination if anyone noticed.

He would likely respect and understand MC's introverted nature, considering he himself avoids unnecessary connections depending. He do likes you company too.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul would be completely mesmerized by your theatrical and danceable way of fighting. He would probably think about how your elegant and calculating style reflects his own meticulous way of conducting business.

MC's combination of introversion and kindness would intrigue Azul. He would feel challenged to better understand how someone so distant in public can, at the same time, exude such confidence in his actions.

Watching MC struggle with tendencies and determination, Azul reflected on his own insecurities, feeling inspired to continue improving himself, both as a businessman and as a mage.

I personally don't think Azul would revel in your hydro abilities, since he doesn't exactly feel the need for contact with water. Well, unlike Jade and Floyd. They would want to jump into the water bubbles you can make.

Yet, he's clearly trying to win you over with his knowledge as a merfolk.

Jamil Viper:

I think Jamil would feel a deep admiration for the MC's skill and specialties, but true to his nature, would try to keep this admiration to himself, afraid to stand out or be obvious in his fascination.

He would notice a similarity between the MC's reserved personality and his own way of hiding talents, which would increase his attraction, as he probably would feel understood on a deeper level.

I guess your reserved and distant nature would intrigue Jamil, awakening in him the desire to understand what motivates you, since he himself hides his true personality.

When others commented on the MC's theatrics during combat, Jamil would be silent, but inwardly he would be smiling, appreciating that you manages to balance mastery and discretion with such grace.

Vil Schoenheit:

Now, Vil It's a different case. He would notice the dedication and rigor that you must have to master such an elegant fighting style, which would impress him deeply, as he values hard work above all else.

He find the contrast between MC's introversion and her confidence in battle intriguing and captivating. He would see it as a kind of inner beauty worth exploring.

He is definitely intrigued to know more about how you developed your combat style and would possibly research it in secret to better understand.

Despite being strict with others, Vil would display fierce protectiveness if anyone belittled or underestimated you.

Idia Shroud:

Idia would probably be obsessed with watching your battles from a distance (via his tablet) to avoid the social pressure of being present, but would be in awe of the elegant fighting style.

If he had the opportunity to speak to the MC in person after seeing your fight, Idia would be incredibly nervous, stuttering even more than usual and perhaps letting out awkward compliments such as, "Y-you... are like, a secret boss with a special animation... I mean, your fight is amazing!"

He would be torn between wanting to praise you and avoiding any kind of interaction so as not to embarrass himself, resulting in long internal dialogues about how to act.

As someone who enjoys drawing parallels with games, he would comment to Ortho that MC's hydro abilities are "perfectly balanced, but clearly skill-based, like that rare build you only see in speedruns."

Idia would probably think of every possible scenario to try to conquer MC, but would give up on 90% of them because he believed it would be "certain defeat without a save point."

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus would be enchanted by your theatrical and fluid style of combat. He might compare it to a dance, finding it deeply fascinating and harmonious.

He realize that although MC is introverted and quiet, your determination and focus when fighting demonstrate an inner strength that he deeply respects. It kind of reminds him of himself.

As someone who has mastered natural magic, Malleus would be intrigued by the your skill with Hydro, possibly considering it a rare talent worthy of reverence.

He notice that the MC maintains an impressive calm even during intense battles, something he would associate with his own serene and measured attitude.

Whenever you faced danger, Malleus would be in the shadows, ready to intervene if necessary.

[ourlastbastion]

Some Incorrect Quotes Because I've Resumed Working On The Archmage

Phoenix: May I sit there? Maria: That's my lap. Phoenix: That doesn't answer my question, Lady Constantin. ~~~ Zoe, tending to Phoenix's wounds: How would you rate your pain? Phoenix: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend. ~~~ Aeron: Look, I may not be a saint, but it's not like I've killed anyone. I'm not an arsonist. I'm not a thief. I've never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it, but saw the owner lived out of state, so I just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground. Zoe: Okay, that's really specific and makes me think you absolutely did that. ~~~ Phoenix: Fitness tip! Never stop pushing yourself! Some say eight hours of sleep is enough, but why not keep going? Why not go for nine? Why not ten? Strive for greatness! Aeron: Next time you're working out, do fifteen pushups instead of ten. Run three miles instead of two. Eat the whole cake instead of a slice. Burn your ex's house down. You can do it. I believe in you. Zoe: There were so many mixed messages in that, I can't. ~~~ Aria: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for ten million dollars? Phoenix: You stab me, and then when my leg heals, we buy a big-ass house. Zoe: You can stab me, too, then we'll have twenty million. Phoenix: Good thinking! ~~~ Maria: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my social anxiety. I'll wait. Phoenix, holding out a bouquet of red lilies and white carnations: You and me <3 Maria, tearing up: Oh! ~~~ Zoe: So, that's my plan! Aeron: Are you okay with constructive criticism? I don't want to come off as mean. Zoe: No, no, go ahead. I want to hear it. Aeron: Your plan fucking sucks. Zoe: That's not constructive criticism :(

~~~ Carmilla: So, we're flirting now, right? Aeron: You're literally trying to gut me. Carmilla: That doesn't answer my question, sweetness~ <3 ~~~ Zoe, struggling to keep upright in 1 inch heels: Yeah, I don't think heels are for me. Phoenix, pointing at her and walking flawlessly in sparkling 6 inch heels: WEAK ~~~ Phoenix, highjacking Evelyn's cult meeting: And that's my policy; if you see something, say something. Maria: I saw a doe and her baby today. Phoenix: Wonderful! This is what I'm talking about, everyone!

[iamnicodemus]

I am in awe.

I've gotten to a point with your writing where I don't even know what to say anymore. I sit her - marveling at what you've created - and I'm struggling to express my thoughts in a way that I haven't already.

I could go on and on about how this is poetry, about how I hung on every flawlessly chosen word and was drawn deeper with every sentence - which is true. I could say that this is a song written for the eyes instead of the ears - which it absolutely is. I could tell you that when I glanced down at noticed that I was a paragraph away from the story's conclusion, my heart sank and I uttered "nooooooo" under my breath, because with writing this superb, there comes a point where you're so invested in the captivating characters and the beautiful turns of phrases, that you forget that the story - like all stories - must eventually end. And when this story ended, I already felt myself clamoring for more of Wednesday and her beloved wolf. More of their deep, precious bond. More of that caramel-eyed hellhound with the sweetest, purest heart behind all that enjoyable snarkiness. And of course, more of our favorite, wickedly intelligent goth - more of your interpretation of her, because the way you write Wednesday Addams is masterful.

I once told you that you excel at staying true to her onscreen depiction while brilliantly interpreting how she would function in various different scenarios. This remains true, but having consumed enough of your stories, I'm about ready for an addendum to that statement:

The way you characterize Wednesday Addams is my favorite across the board. The way you write how just she reveals her softness to her beloved, the loneliness eating away at her that these blossoming relationships make her aware of, her stubbornness, her fixations, the way she tries so hard to deny or keep a lid on her feelings (and of course, fails spectacularly), and then the moments where she can't help herself and says or does things impulsively because she's a character that feels so much more than she lets on.

I adore your Wednesday. I adore your writing. And I adore this OC and want to see more of her, because her snarky, flirty dynamic with Wednesday was so fun to read and the way you seeded various details about her throughout the story, all culminating into a tragic reveal about the suffering she deals with and how much this relationship/Wednesday's music means to her---

OMG Esther, I hope you are so damn proud of this story. That 6k+ words flew by.

Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

This entire opening. If anyone needed a reminder of why writing is an art form, they should look no further than to how you set a scene. How you establish the characters, their actions. I've never played the cello and I can almost feel the sting you described; the trembling of the cello as it produces a tune that reverberates across the school grounds. Hell, you made the moon - a floating rock in space - feel like a character.

They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky.

That right there is a beautiful wolf brought to life by a beautiful description.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace

Remember these details, folks. They're not just there for show. Seriously, you were setting of things early, and the way it all comes together.... more on that later.

Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire

There went my second theory LOL.

The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Music.

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find

Awwww look out our little Wednesday, hyperfixating💘

Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably.

Oh, I know exactly what's happening here.

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping.

Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again.

God, watching Wednesday fall for someone is.... such an experience. No one does it quite like her.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

I LOVE THIS OC SHE'S SUCH A FLIRT

I came here to simp for Wednesday, but OC is about to have me feeling some type of way, like what---

"Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name in the early 50s, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows."

You established this particular kind of outcast very well in this world and continued subtly building up to the OC's inner turmoil well before we're even made aware she's dealing with anything.

And you gave them an extremely badass name. Hellhound. Wow.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

Oh Wednesday, you're such a romantic.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Everything about this full, up-close description of the hellhound. The buildup with the golden eyes first looming out of the darkness, it's height, fur black as the night as though it were itself a creature born of the dark.

This creature is menacing. It's scarily majestic. It lives up to its name, and of course Wednesday Addams finds it bewitching.

And then, the immediate juxtaposition - showing the hellhound as nervous, fearful even. There's a person in there, completely undeserving of the reputation that has befallen the species thanks to the bad apples among its ranks.

The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

I wanna hug the hellhound <3

And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

Awwww. It's clear the audience of the wolf actually meant a lot to her :(

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

Jealous Wednesday does things to my heart. Ugh, she's so smitten.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

Oh no no no no no, friend what's wrong??

Such well depicted dread.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally.

Oh, I hate her father already.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school.

Shit, neither did I. Then I had to go and watch the trailer, get intrigued, binge the show, and now here I am, months later, and this pigtailed goth girl still has a vice grip on my heart...

Ahem, back to the story.

"You're my wolf."

My wolf.

My wolf.

MY wolf.

My heart melted. Wednesday's already claimed the wolf as her own.

He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

Her dad's a little [insert venomous string of insults and expletives].

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

WHAT DID HE MAKE YOU DO?! Nah, I'll reach into this story and whoop his sorry ass myself. How dare he bring any kind of pain and disgust upon this sweet wolf.

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed.

Suuuuure, Wednesday :P

No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

This made my heart swell with joy because Wednesday's realizing there's someone out there who truly, truly appreciates her, and it also made my stomach drop, because it's so sad that she's never felt that sort of thing before.

"I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

And all the details you've seeded throughout the story culminate into this reveal. The sunglasses, hiding her lovely, golden eyes that are a little too telling of what she is. The lack of information anyone has on her outcast heritage. The sour reputation held by hellhounds.

Masterfully done.

And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

Usually, these stories leave me wanting to hug the canon character, but this OC deserves all the love that can possibly be given to her.

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

Wednesday has so much compassion in her little black heart and no one can tell me otherwise. When she cares, she cares. Her love goes unstated, but her actions reveal how deep it runs.

Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

"if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

THIS IS SO CUTE!

she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door.

she obsesses over her beloved and it's so, so adorable to see

But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

This is romance.

watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

OC is so attentive. I love it!

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon.

Wednesday getting flustered over how much love her beloved's gaze holds😭

you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

And it ends on a kiss😭😭

Perfection. Yes, that's what you produce. Perfection. Or as close to it as humanly possible.

The perfect, poetically described kiss. The perfect, sweetest closing line to a triumph of a love story that only confirms something I've been thinking for quite some time now:

You are one of the best fic writers I've ever encountered on any platform.

I am not exaggerating. I am not hyperbolizing. This isn't some sycophantic ramble. This is the truth. Whatever doubts that might trickle in as you write these stories - whatever frustrations that come your way, the same frustrations that every writer must confront - know that the things you produce are of such quality that I'm running out of ways to praise them. I wish I had your creative mind - maybe then I could put into words just how absurdly talented you are.

I told the moon about you

Wednesday Addams x OC/Reader

Summary: Wednesday finds herself enchanted by the black wolf who always watches her play the cello in the dead of night.

A/N: This was written for a request sent by @roleplayfandom and I combined it with an idea of mine that I've had for a while, hope you don't mind and can still enjoy it. Arguably one of the most important stories I've written, because this oc has been my baby for so long, and I'm so happy to finally have the opportunity to include her in one of my stories; just hope I was able to do her justice with this. <3

Word count: 6,4k (sorry)

Masterlist

There was a drizzle in the air, the wind carried it around easily; tiny droplets of rain landed on the strings of Wednesday's cello that shook with each note she played.

Past the thin rain and clouds, the brightness of the full moon was nothing but a faded blur, casting a silver glow over the Addams girl and serving as the only witness to her spectacle.

The strong melody traveled with the wind same as the rain did, reaching the deepest parts of Nevermore and undoubtedly waking up a few students from their slumber. It only served as incentive — Wednesday could feel the burn on her fingertips as her song reached its momentum. The pain was welcomed, embraced.

When she released the strings, a soft sigh was let out as well. She blinked up at the moon above her, silently thanking it for its loyalty in keeping her most vulnerable moments a secret.

With uncanny delicacy, Wednesday lowered her cello, closing the case with a soft click.

The rain looked like it was starting to pick up, bigger droplets started to kiss Wednesday's cheeks, making their way down to her chin. The sky was darkening, with the moon fighting for a chance at a last goodbye to the one responsible for her favorite lullabies.

Wednesday walked up to the railings, her hands leaning against the wet concrete there. Save for the howling wind, it was strangely quiet.

But there was something different with today. Wednesday could feel it. She could feel the weight of a mysterious presence nearby.

As expected, her instincts never failed. It was dark, pitch black, the shape of trees blending together with one another in the distance.

But in the middle of the darkness, a pair of caramel eyes were spotted. They belonged to what appeared to be a black wolf; big in its size, ears pointy and tail long, fur a little spiked as it glinted from the raindrops that fell on it, almost resembling a starry night sky. It was just sitting there, on the grass of the gardens outside. Its golden eyes fixed intently all the way up to the balcony where Wednesday was standing.

The Addams girl expressed no reaction other than angling her chin up with furrowed brows, a dare; and the wolf understood, because it slowly stood up, its ears resting back against its head before it trotted out of sight and into the woods.

Wednesday remained under the rain until she could feel the wetness of it seeping into her clothes. Her hands held onto the railings tightly.

Turns out the moon wasn't the only witness tonight.

—

Those same golden eyes followed Wednesday in her dreams, and she woke up frustrated for not knowing who they belonged to.

Was it just a wild animal passing by or a student braving the woods past curfew?

The thought of the wolf being a student seemed… unlikely, because it looked much different from Enid when compared to her 'wolfed out' form. The black wolf was simply that, a wolf — albeit a tad bigger. Yet Wednesday didn't discard the possibility of it being someone. Someone who was watching her.

She tried pushing the thought out of her mind during the day for the sake of her grades.

"Miss Addams?"

Wednesday snapped her head up, only to see her anatomy teacher and the whole entirety of the class with their heads turned her way, eyes expectant as they waited for something to happen.

A scowl came to Wednesday's face at the unwanted attention. She rested both hands on her table, briefly realizing that the board had three extra paragraphs of lessons written on it that weren't in her notebook yet.

"I made you a question," the teacher continued, one of her hands coming to rest on her waist, "for how long can a gorgon stone a person?"

Wednesday gulped, her lips hovering open as she searched her mind for the useless information yet came empty-handed.

The teacher was annoying, one of the least liked by the Addams girl. She was old and wore long and colorful skirts, with obnoxiously large glasses resting atop her nose.

"It depends on the gorgon," a familiar voice suddenly said, "but usually from two to four hours."

Wednesday glanced beside her to where the owner of said voice sat, and was met with a smirk being directed at her. She huffed in annoyance, visibly rolling her eyes.

You had transferred to Nevermore a little over two months ago — adorning a pair of dark sunglasses you never took off and dressed in all black, save for the light pink pendant of your necklace — instantly getting into Wednesday's nerves the moment you stepped foot into the school and called her 'sweetheart'.

"Very well." The teacher looked between you and Wednesday, not entirely pleased that Wednesday wasn't the one who answered but deciding to let it pass, and turned around to write on the board again.

Wednesday didn't know what your deal was, no one did. No one knew who your family was, what were your abilities, or the reason you enrolled in Nevermore; not even Enid knew, and she was the gossip queen. Despite the ever-present sunglasses, one thing Wednesday knew for a fact was that you weren't a vampire, just by the way you scrunched your nose at the mere sight of blood; but that's about everything she knows so far.

Too smug for your own good, you leaned back on your chair. Wednesday could feel your gaze roaming up and down her body, before you said, quietly; "you're welcome-"

There was sunlight coming through the dusty windows. Wednesday could see her reflection in your glasses. "Shut up."

"Sweetheart," you finished with a grin.

The pencil that was thrown in your direction missed you only by an inch.

—

When Wednesday walked out onto the balcony of her dorm the next night, the wolf was already there.

She got a little taken aback by it, halting in her steps and gripping tighter onto the case of her cello. Wednesday immediately discarded the possibility of it being a coincidence or just a wild animal passing by. The wolf was there for her.

Those caramel eyes held a staring contest with Wednesday, and they eventually won. Satisfied, the wolf then lay down on the grass… and waited.

Long beats passed by until Wednesday finally sat down on her chair and adjusted her cello to be played. Her movements slow and calculated, all too aware of the heavy stare on her.

The moon was bright in the night sky, and Wednesday briefly glanced up at it, partly searching for some kind of reassurance but only finding that it wasn't a night of full moon.

When her gaze found the wolf again, she saw it looking up at the moon as well. The sharp silhouette of its muzzle being highlighted by the silver glow, fur flowing like silk with the wind.

Wolves sing for the moon, maybe that's why this one took a liking to the Addams girl.

There was hesitance on the way Wednesday's fingers hovered over the strings. Save for the occasional twitch of its tail, the wolf was unmoving on the grass, patiently watching.

Wednesday could tell the wolf to leave again, part of her knew it would obey. She didn't. She only closed her eyes, and started playing.

—

The next day, Wednesday made a trip to the school's library. She dug up every single book about werewolves and lycanthropy that she could find — some of them old, pages fragile to the touch and covered in a thick layer of dust.

The place was mostly deserted as per usual, and Wednesday saw no harm in staying. A table waited for her in the middle of the tall bookshelves, the only one hidden from sunlight.

She would be lying if she said she wasn't at least a little thrilled at the prospect of a new mystery. Things have been dull at school without an evil pilgrim trying to destroy it.

Though she was able to read in peaceful silence for all of ten minutes.

"What's with the sudden interest in furs?"

A heavy sigh left Wednesday's lips when she heard your voice. She sat straighter on her chair and chose to ignore you, pointedly turning the page of her book and focusing on it.

You hopped up on the table, sitting there cross-legged so you could face Wednesday, "you know your roommate is one, right? I bet she'd be happy to answer your questions."

See, there's a reason why Wednesday is bothered by your presence. Every time you're near, every time she can hear nothing but your voice or feel nothing but the warmth radiating from your body; Wednesday's little black heart gains a burst of color that should never exist, it picks up a faster rhythm and makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. It's a feeling that's been there once before, fleetingly, much smaller than it is now. But she's no stranger to what comes with it.

"I don't remember asking for your advice," Wednesday said, still refusing to look at you, her bangs hiding her eyes from you.

"Ouch," you mumbled, leaning back on your hands, "was just trying to help."

No one else but you could make Wednesday feel the slightest bit of remorse for snapping. And it's not like she paid attention to the last three lines she just read in the book anyway. Begrudgingly, Wednesday glanced up at you, and the moment her eyes found you, she knew it'd be a whole challenge in itself to look away again; the dim golden light of the table lamp framed your profile and the way your hair fell over your shoulder — for a second, it reminded Wednesday of her wolf.

Her wolf. The thought jolted her back to reality and she cleared her throat, heat rising to her cheeks as if you'd be able to read her thoughts.

"When are you gonna stop chasing after me like a lost puppy?" Wednesday didn't sound half as confident as she should for those words.

You raised an eyebrow at that, almost as if you wanted to be challenged. You leaned forward, bracing your elbows on your knees, so you could cast over every twitch on Wednesday's expression, your personal space shy of mingling with hers. "When you ask me to," you whispered.

The air felt electric, there was something enticing about the way you refused to back down sometimes. Wednesday felt the hair at the back of her neck rising with a shiver. If looks could kill, you'd be six feet under already — or at least fighting for air between her and this damn table. Wednesday couldn't decide which outcome she liked best.

Wood scratched against the floor as she suddenly pulled back the chair beside hers; "sit down properly, stay quiet," without looking at you, she shoved one of the books in your direction, "we're looking for a werewolf who can transform without a full moon."

—

Nothing. There was nothing in any of the books.

Wednesday walked back to her dorm without having learned a single thing. None of the books in the school had anything remotely close to the creature she saw the past two nights. Frustration was eating at her insides because she was running out of leads to follow, a dead end steadily approaching.

She went up the stairs of Ophelia Hall in a haste, pushing the door to her room out of the way and causing a loud thump that got Enid jumping on her bed, almost throwing her cell phone to Wednesday's side of the room.

"Jesus Wednesday, what did the door do to you?" Enid grumbled, sitting up on her bed.

Wednesday didn't respond, she threw her black backpack by the feet of her bed and came to stand in front of Enid. "What do you know of werewolves that can transform without a full moon?"

Slowly, a frown came to Enid's features. She turned off her phone when Wednesday kept glaring at it. "Nothing? Werewolves don't usually change without a full moon," Enid explained, confusion evident in her tone.

"And what if they did?"

"Then they're most likely not a werewolf."

Wednesday clenched her jaw in annoyance, she tugged at the tie around her neck, taking it off and messing up her hair in the process.

"Uh- my mother used to tell me about people who could shift into wolves at will, when I was younger," Enid kept going, wondering if that's what Wednesday was after.

The tie fell to her feet and Wednesday came to sit beside Enid; "tell me."

"Well, I don't know much about it, just that they're technically not werewolves. At least not like me," Enid shrugged, her colorful nails tapping her knee as she searched her brain for the stories she heard as a kid. "Oh, people used to call them hellhounds… pretty creepy if you ask me," she grimaced momentarily, "because they could change form whenever they pleased, and their… looks didn't help either, it made others scared of them. Most of the hellhounds succumbed to the fame and lived up to the name in the early 50s, from what I know."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes, "lived up to the name?"

"Killers," Enid gulped, "or hunters, as they'd call it. My mother always told me they were no good, so I guess the bad rep still follows," she shrugged, "maybe that's why no one has seen one for the past twenty years or so."

—

Wednesday didn't sleep that night. She kept staring at her ceiling and going over everything that Enid had told her. And the only other thought on her mind was you. It was inevitable, too fitting for it to be a coincidence.

Every time she's seen that wolf she felt the exact same tug on her heart that you so inconveniently brought. It couldn't be a coincidence.

For a week straight, Wednesday waited for the wolf to appear every night so she could start playing her cello. And every night without fail, the wolf was there; same place, same time. It would lay down, watch her, and then leave.

—

On the tenth night, Wednesday wasn't on the balcony of her dorm. She decided to break the pattern.

There was no moon in the sky tonight, it almost looked like a storm was brewing. The air was frigid outside, the grass already coated with a thin layer of ice. Wednesday enjoyed the cold, but even she was reprimanding herself for having only one coat on.

Glancing down at her phone, Wednesday saw that it was already five minutes past the usual time the wolf showed up. She wondered if it saw the empty balcony and left. Or maybe it wasn't going to show up at all tonight. She felt strangely disappointed at the thought.

A twig snapped behind Wednesday, causing her to hastily turn around with a gasp lingering on her tongue. The trees stood tall in front of her, creating a blanket of pure darkness between them, nothing could be seen. Nothing, except a pair of golden eyes. For a moment, they looked like they were floating on nothing, intently watching the girl in front of them as if she was prey.

For several beats, Wednesday waited. And then, one paw stepped out of the woods and into the grass, causing a chill to run down her back — not from fear, at least not only fear.

The name hellhound has never seemed more fitting. One paw in front of the other, white air huffing from its nose with each breath, fiery eyes, and fur as black as the night. It was almost as if darkness became alive.

Admittedly, it was bewitching.

The wolf, even on all fours, was almost as tall as Wednesday; and still, it kept its distance. If she didn't know any better, Wednesday would say it was afraid of her.

The night was suddenly calm, with not a single soul around to witness. Wednesday had come all the way down here tonight to put an end to things, discover who this wolf was and the reason behind all this… stalking?

Yet any words had died on her tongue and she found herself taking a step closer. The moment felt strangely delicate. When the wolf didn't move, she took two more steps.

Wednesday was reaching out before realizing it. The wolf's ears twitched, caramel eyes following her every move until her hand was barely grazing the dark fur. It was silky, engulfing her hand in a blanket of darkness as it sunk into the wolf's cheek.

Wednesday didn't dare breathe, trapped in a moment that felt unreal. But her attention was soon caught by a glint of color, dangling from the wolf's neck.

The wolf backed away as soon as Wednesday tried to take a closer look, bright eyes looking at her one last time before it bolted away into the woods.

—

The next night, her wolf didn't show up. And Wednesday sat on the balcony of her dorm in silence, waiting for something she knew wouldn't happen. She didn't play. Loneliness clawed at her heart.

A loneliness that shouldn't be there, but it was.

Wednesday found herself slipping away when the moon was highest in the sky, her bare feet feeling the cold of the wooden floor as she walked the empty hallways of Ophelia Hall. Maybe a walk out in the cold would take her mind of off foolish matters.

She walked until she eventually reached the main doors that led outside, stopping short of crossing the threshold. There was a figure sitting on the grass just ahead, cross-legged and looking up at the moon.

Wednesday would recognize you anywhere. She wondered why, for a fleeting second. "What are you doing?"

You tensed when you heard her voice. You had heard her coming, you heard the soft pattern of her steps down the stairs. You just weren't expecting her to talk. You didn't turn around to face her when you spoke; "admiring the moon."

Subconsciously, Wednesday's gaze shifted to the natural satellite in the sky, before settling back on you. She could barely make out the silhouette of your nose and cheeks, but she could tell you were smiling. Foolish. She thought to herself.

Why would you look at the moon as if it held your heart's affection?

Why would look at the moon like that, when Wednesday was standing right there?

The Addams girl let out an indignant scoff at her own inner thought, reprimanding herself for even coming up with it. She couldn't possibly be feeling jealous of a floating rock.

"What are you doing up?" You eventually asked, your voice gentle into the night.

If you turned around, you'd see Wednesday chewing at the inside of her cheek as she tried to chase away the mess of feelings swimming in her stomach. You'd see her take half a step toward you before deciding against it, and instead rushing back inside without giving you an answer.

But you didn't need one. Part of you already knew why she was there. It was the same for you, and it was bittersweet that you ended up meeting in the middle anyway, even if for a moment. Part of you wanted to run after her and just tell her.

—

You weren't sure why you did it.

On the first night, it was mere curiosity. You could remember the coldness of the grass beneath your paws, announcing the inevitable arrival of winter. You could remember the howling wind, causing your ears to twitch as the fur there felt sensitive to the force of it. You could remember the first drops of rain hitting your nose as you walked and how that's when you heard the first note of her song.

You followed it easily, soon finding yourself in the gardens that her balcony overlooked. And even seeing her all the way from down there, she was nothing short of entrancing. It was like you could feel her emotions through the music.

You never meant for Wednesday to see you though, even if all she'd see was a black wolf. But it happened, and yet you kept coming back, night after night; you couldn't help yourself. You started missing her. Because listening to her play felt like an escape from your unfortunate reality. It put you at ease.

But you should've known Wednesday would not settle for so little, you should've known from the moment you found her in the library, already digging up every last bit of information on anything regarding werewolves. You should've stopped then.

You didn't. Instead, you allowed her even closer, close enough to touch. On that night, part of you knew she'd already figured it all out.

—

It was a gray day outside. Fitting, you thought to yourself; as it was also your most dreaded day of the year. There was no more dodging it, you could fake sickness or an injury only so many times until it gets too obvious.

From your dorm's window, you could already see the familiar car pulling up in the parking lot. There was a bitter taste on your tongue, a suffocating feeling weighing down on your chest for what was to come. It felt like drowning.

It's tradition. That was what your father always told you. It's keeping the memory of our ancestors alive. As if they were anything worth remembering.

You couldn't care less. Part of you wanted to yell at him to stop living in the past, but you'd probably lose your tongue for that. Literally. He had called you yesterday to let you know he'd be coming, as if you weren't stressing over it for a whole week already.

There was a chilly air outside, you could feel it even before walking out the doors that led to the quad; and it was right as you were making your way out, that she bumped into you. A quiet grunt left her lips at the impact, and she only didn't fall to the ground because your hands steadied her; your hold warm on her waist, keeping her body the closer she's ever been to you.

Now, you never intended to fall for the resident Addams of the school. It just happened. Maybe it was your incredible bad luck; or those dark eyes that sometimes put the midnight sky to shame with their beauty. The teasing came with the package of your growing feelings for her, it was your natural defense mechanism whenever your heartbeat skyrocketed at the mere smell of her perfume. Though you could swear that, sometimes, you managed to get her cheeks a tad rosier than normal. It got you wondering if it was wishful thinking to consider the small possibility of her returning your affections.

"You good?" You asked, subconsciously squeezing her waist.

Wednesday stumbled back when she realized that if she leaned forward just a tad more it would result in her nose brushing yours. She blinked multiple times to focus back on you, yet the first thing her eyes found was the light pink pendant of your necklace, the very same she saw on the wolf the other night.

For someone who's always so hard to read, she let the facade slip pretty easily this time. Wednesday's features did something complicated, as if she wasn't sure what she should be feeling.

"You're my wolf," the words rolled off her tongue against her volition, her wide eyes darting from your necklace to the dark sunglasses resting on top of your nose.

An awkward chuckle escaped you. You felt a lot more timid than you thought you would, "what?"

Wednesday clenched her jaw, she felt anger but wasn't sure towards what; "you're the wolf I see every night, aren't you?"

Your lips hovered yet no words came out, you took a step away from her. If it where any other time, you'd be happy to bounce arguments off of her until inevitably confirming her idea; but her timing wasn't ideal, "W-Wednesday, now is not a good time-"

"Why did you hide it-"

"What part of 'hurry up' did you not understand?" A gruff voice interrupted both you and Wednesday. You only gulped and looked down at your feet, while Wednesday turned her head to see a tall man walking towards you. He wore a dark red suit and had the same golden eyes Wednesday saw on her wolf every night, though his held a much darker undertone to them. The man's gloved hand closed around your arm with a tight grip. "We don't have all day."

"I'm sorry, father," you mumbled as he dragged you away and you tried to keep up with his steps. You turned around to give Wednesday a last tight-lipped smile, "see you later, Wednesday."

—

The sun was nowhere to be seen when your father dropped you back at school again.

You had brushed your teeth three times already, but it still felt like the taste lingered, making you nauseous.

Part of you was grateful to have come back late, Nevermore's hallways were mostly empty at this hour already so you didn't have to explain your looks. It's not like you couldn't have freshened up at your family's cabin, you just didn't want to stay a minute longer than necessary.

So you hurried into the first bathroom you found, not really considering the fact it was a communal one and anyone could walk in on you.

—

Wednesday wouldn't call herself obsessive, more like committed. She had pending matters with you, and she was going to get to the bottom of them.

So of course she kept an eye out for when you'd return to school. She saw the car drop you off by the gates, following after you as soon as you walked inside.

When Wednesday pushed open the bathroom door, you were standing in front of the mirror, damp paper towels in your hand as you tried to clean a rather nasty cut on your cheek. Your sunglasses rested atop the sink, giving Wednesday a clear view of your eyes; they were a shade of caramel she was all too familiar with, the same ones that have been keeping her company at night.

You tensed up when you noticed her, your hand freezing midair as you were about to throw the paper into the trash can.

There was a silence that stretched uncomfortably as none of you seemed to know what to do next. You were shifting on your stance, breathing unsteadily and Wednesday feared you might run away, again.

She took a single step in your direction and asked the one thing she came for; "why have you been stalking me?"

As if breaking from a trance, you looked down and away from her; allowing your hair to fall from behind your ear and hide your profile. "I wasn't stalking you."

"What would you call standing outside my window at late hours of the night only to watch me play the cello?" Wednesday raised her eyebrow pointedly.

You chuckled humourlessly, "now you make me seem like a creep." You felt small under her piercing gaze, embarrassment twirling inside your stomach. Sure, when she said it like that, it sounded weird. But you were just enjoying good music, right?

You slowly turned around to face her, your hands gripping tightly onto the sink's edge behind you. "You never told me to leave," you said quietly.

Any words Wednesday might have thought of died on her tongue. She felt uncharacteristically shy knowing that it was you who'd been witnessing her late-night lullabies. Yet she was also glad that it was you, and not someone else.

You shrugged weakly, focusing your gaze on your feet, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I heard you one night and-" you glanced up at her with a bittersweet smile, fragility still lingering on your heart and making your vision blur over. Even under the cheap artificial light of the bathroom, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen; alabaster skin contrasting with soft dark hair, sharp eyes, and burgundy lips — she had your heart on a leash.

"And I was blown away," you continued quietly as your feelings escaped you, "it was like I could feel what you were feeling through the music, and it was so freeing… I had to come back to it."

There was a distant ache in Wednesday's lungs, because she refused to breathe. Her heart was thundering against her ribcage as she took in each of your words. No one has ever made her feel as if she was a piece of art, worthy of a display at the most renowned museum, like you just did.

"I'm sorry if it seemed like I was stalking you," you breathed.

"Why keep it a secret?" She asked then.

Her sudden gentleness startled you. You've never heard her voice so soft. "I feared you might hate me." It went beyond just late-night encounters with a wolf Wednesday didn't know was you; you feared she'd hate what you could turn into; you feared she might see you as the thing you least want to be if she ever found out what you try to hide behind sunglasses and a snarky attitude.

It's because of the way your voice breaks at the end, that Wednesday finally looks at you. And she sees the tiny splatters of blood on your cheek, a cut running from your lip to near your ear, scrapes and bruises in your hands — you're nothing short of a mess.

And you weren't hers. Wednesday knew you weren't hers to worry about, to care for, to protect. Yet she had the annoying urge to do it all anyway.

She wordlessly closed the distance between you, the sound of her boots loud against the bathroom tiles. Taking a few paper towels, Wednesday dampened their edge under the running water of the sink. She hesitated before coming closer, it felt like crossing a line, walking down a road with no way back. Her eyes never left you as she came to stand in front of you.

Your grip on the sink's edge was bruising, knuckles white. You were so quiet, so on edge, so shaky; your eyes had a darkness around them, your lips quivering. It felt all wrong. Wednesday hated seeing you like this, without your usual light.

She raised her hand slowly, stopping short of reaching your cheek, "may I?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth rushing to your heart at the delicacy you didn't know she was capable of. A barrier had fallen between you. When you leaned against her touch, Wednesday started gently cleaning the few places still stained with blood on your skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Wednesday couldn't hold the question back anymore. A different kind of anger bubbled in her chest — one that was mixed with an unusual sense of protectiveness. "Your father?"

"Not him," you choked out, unable to look her in the eyes — not wanting to, "not directly."

Wednesday frowned at that, her eyes tried to chase after yours but you avoided her.

"He makes me do it." A tear rolled down your cheek, you bit into your lip to contain a sob, "he always makes me do it."

Wednesday would never dare call herself an empathetic person, but her chest clenched in pain to see you hurt. One of your tears fell on her thumb that rested on your cheek, and she wanted to take all the pain to herself.

"But I hate it, Wednesday," you told her fiercely, desperate for her to believe you, a new batch of tears coming to your eyes when you finally looked up at her, "I hate the killing."

The moon was high in the sky when Wednesday walked out of the bathroom, with you close by her side. The darkness of the night easily hid the way her hand was holding onto yours.

And as you walked through the gardens together, Wednesday could feel the shift in the air. You had told her about the 'stupid tradition', how your family gets together once a year for the hunt, and how you felt dirty, disgusted at the feeling of sinking your canines into the white fur of the rabbit. Yet they still make you do it.

The door to her dorm came before yours. You stopped in front of it with her, nothing but the dim yellow light hanging from the ceiling to make you company. The moment felt more intimate than it should be. Wednesday didn't look like the girl who threw pencils at you in class — there was a faint blush to her cheeks and her pupils were blown wide — she looked like someone you could love.

"Why don't you ever take it off?" Wednesday asked, shooting a brief glance at the necklace hanging from your neck.

You take the light pink pendant between your fingers, tracing the nooks and crannies in it, "it was my mom's," you said softly, "she was the only person who ever told me I didn't need to be what others said I was. That I didn't have to carry the sins of my forbearers."

Wednesday nodded softly, glancing up at you before she turned around. Her hand left yours and she instantly missed the warmth there, it made her think of how lonely the nights started to feel when her wolf wasn't there.

Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, she looked at you from over her shoulder, "if you wish to see me play, stop lurking around," she pushed the words out quickly, "Enid is out until nine most nights."

And with that, Wednesday closed the door in your face, not giving you an opportunity to ask about the abrupt invitation.

On what was usually the worst day of the year for you, Wednesday managed to make you go to sleep with a smile.

—

There was suddenly an unspoken thing in the air.

Wednesday went about her day as per usual, following her routine precisely. But there was something making her feel as if spiders were crawling around inside her stomach; it happened each time she walked into a room hoping to find you there, each time she'd feel you looking her way and doing a poor job of pretending otherwise, each time she found herself checking the time on the clock to see how long was left for the sun to set, and especially, each time Enid pointed out her looking at you.

When night came, Wednesday had her cello already set up outside, and she sat on her bed with her eyes fixed on the door. She felt a little silly, waiting on you like this even if you hadn't given her the slightest hint you'd be coming at all.

But she hoped you would.

It was two minutes past the usual time she'd go out to play her songs, that Wednesday heard three knocks on her door. She opened it to reveal you on the other side, looking as nervous as she felt.

"Hi," you greeted with an awkward smile.

"Hello," she bit back a smile of her own.

You followed after her when Wednesday quietly made her way outside. You felt a little out of place, up here instead of down there on the grass. But when Wednesday played the first note on her cello, it was as if the whole rest of the world went quiet, and it was just you and her.

You figured you'd never be able to settle on watching her from a distance anymore. Not when you'd just had a taste of listening to her music so loud and clear, of watching her up close, following each small movement of her fingers on the strings and the twitches on her expression as she immersed herself in the melody. She captivated you in a way no other soul ever did.

Wednesday had her eyes closed the whole time, she knew she'd stumble on the notes if she blinked them open and saw the way you were looking at her — she could feel it though, the weight of your gaze; it was enough.

Only when the last note stretched out, that she did look back at you. And sure enough, the song ended with abruptness as she lost her focus.

Because Wednesday realized that you were looking at her the same way you looked at the moon. Maybe you always have been, for all of those nights you laid outside in the cold only to watch her play. She wondered for a moment if that is what love looked like.

And maybe that's the reason why, before even getting up, she decided she'd take that gamble.

"You are so amazing," you breathed out, your lips hovering as you gestured around in search of words good enough to describe your feelings.

Wednesday put her cello aside, getting up from her chair to take the few steps that separated you.

"I mean, every time that I hear you play I'm just-" you choked on your words, your eyes finding hers when you realized that with each beat of your frantic heart, she was coming closer, closer.

"I'm just in love," you told her in nothing but a whisper.

Wednesday had taken a hold of your jacket, and she halted only for a second when the word love left your lips. She didn't say it, but the way she was looking at you with the softest of eyes held a lot of love too.

The kiss she pulled you into might have been long overdue, given both of your eagerness. You were quick to grasp her waist and pull her body as close to yours as humanly possible.

Wednesday cupped your cheeks, holding you in place as her nose bumped yours and she gave a gentle nip on your lower lip.

She kept her lips on yours until her lungs screamed for air, pulling away slowly, feeling each one of your deep breaths grazing her lips. Wednesday felt your nails gently pressing against her spine, she felt you trace a path from her jaw to right below her ear where you chose to place a lingering kiss.

And she knew, right then and there, that she'd never be able to look up at the moon again and not think of her wolf.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

A/N: This is a storyline I'm definitely willing to expand, so if you have any requests regarding Wednesday and her wolf, feel free to send them in.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @jjsmaybank20 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany @v1ci0us @the-nightshades-library @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @greyscxle-is-taken

[slippedfromgrace]

God felt the change - or atleast the very attempt of it as someone was trying to unravel the weave of the vow. He scoffed and simply placed the staff aside, allowing Sandalphon to take it from him and he would dematerialize so he can appear where the naive seraph was standing. It was a mockery.

"You mettle into things that you have no knowledge of." He was the supreme deity and the creator of the oath's ring still remained unchanged. "And how many times do I have to remind you that you are to complete a service as you done more than just wrong me?" The son of El would glare daggers. "When it comes to powers and experience, foolish child of the fallen king, you are only a journeyman." He snapped his fingers and the golden band would become tarnished and crumble like sand off of Nikolai's finger.

"This is not a game. There's no evens or odds, no scale to tip, no bet to change. You will keep to the oath that was created. Does anyone not value good behavior anymore?"

Ah, his power was still new and thus he wasn't able to hide it flawlessly. Still, he offers a naive little smile and a small curtsy. Even now with his binds still freshly undone, he hasn't found the limit of his own power. So surely the heavenly father would have to strengthen and renegotiate the oath if he wanted to bind the former Seraphim.

"Heavenly father, surely you realize the neglect to include my loved ones, my people, my former home in our previous agreement. I simply wished to have some guarantee so I could focus on my task without worry. I meant no offense."

No offense. Just malice in a way his inner kindness would allow. He could feel the Heavenly Virtue's light shining within his core, the warmth that it brought... Even to one like this, he couldn't be cruel. How unfair... Though... Was anyone actually bad?

"I've appeared before you again, I'm obviously serious about this. Can you not make an exception? In heaven I was on my best behaviour for my mother. On the surface I still did good by my mother's teachings. It was one slip up. A bad one. That brought me before you. So might I please have this little reassurance? I am not going anywhere."