#I have more thoughts on the AU that I want to share but this is all for now

[lunammoon]

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook? Probably something that they can put in food. Like Basil or Rosemary. Just not mint because they already have Too Much in a way that anyone who has planted mint will understand. Harding still tries to give them mint. Again, for reasons anyone who has grown mint can understand.

Do they like Harding's cooking? Harding's Yam and Jam slams are not that bad, but Harding gets bonus points for the thoughtfulness of the gesture more than anything. During the first couple of months where Ezra is legitimately trying to figure out how to separate Lucanis and Spite after the first attempt, but before the second and last attempt (because if anyone could do it without hurting either of them they're sure that they could) in trying to express how fucked up what Zara did to them was on a purely metaphysical level says calls the Ossuary experiments "Facinating in the same way that what Harding does to potatoes is fascinating. "

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook? I'm torn between some kind of cat, and some kind of dog. If it's a dog, then it's specifically a grim.

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin? Ezra loves the fresh air and the sunshine and the way Arlathan feels alive. They also enjoy spending time with Davrin and Assan. Sometimes they'll invite him out instead of waiting for him to invite them.

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case? Things related to spirits but unrelated to the deceased. Particularly blood magic, which is used to bind spirits to objects. In like, an au where Ezra is Ezra and not Rook, and Neve was hired by Caterina to locate her grandson (maybe in a timeline where the Inquisitor and Varric successfully talk Solas down long before the 9:51) and she had picked up enough info to know what was happening down there, she would have asked Ezra to assist.

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish? No. While fish is the only meat they eat and they basically only eat if if they're out in the wilderness and it's the easiest food to access. They tried it once since they'd already been given to them by Neve and didn't particularly like them.

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen? They might join in if it intersects with something that they know about. Or if they're helping Bellara work out an issue. Otherwise, they just sit and listen. They like to listen to Bellara work through a problem.

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together? Yes. Ezra goes out of their way to find good ones for them to read with, as many containing happy endings as they can.

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks? I don't know what the exact dish is, but it's either some kind of stew or some kind of pastry stuffed with vegetables.

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market? An empty notebook small enough to fit in their coat pockets. They end up filling it entirely with information pertaining to helping him and Spite. It's a coincidence that it's the notebook Lucanis gave them mind you. They just need a separate notebook for it since the plan is that when they're done they give the notebook to Lucanis to either keep or burn instead of submitting the contents to the Mourn Watch as part of their research like they normally do.They don't want Lucanis to feel like a thesis project.

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best? The Vinsomer. They are correct.

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often? Yes absolutely. Ezra doesn't drink much, but Spirits like them and so they'll sit and talk with them for a while.

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte? They adore it.

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook? If Ezra is making themself tea, it's always mint. But I feel in my heart that if Emmrich is making it, then the answer is a strong black tea. Something so strong that they can taste it and nothing else.

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down? Davrin - When Ezra is reaching a point where it seems like they're going to lose it, Davrin will come up with some excuse why the three of them (Davrin, Rook, Assan) need to go to Arlathan forest so that they can Touch Grass.

Small Rook & Companion Questions:

What type of plant would Harding gift your Rook?

Do they like Harding's cooking?

What animal/monster would Davrin carve for your Rook?

Does your Rook like the walks in Arlathan with Davrin?

What is something Neve could call on your Rook for if she needs certain expertise for a case?

Does your Rook share Neve's love of fried fish?

Does your Rook join Bellara in her technical talks about the Fade and various artifacts or are they more content to listen?

Do your Rook and Bellara read serials together?

What is your Rook's favorite dish that Lucanis cooks?

What would Lucanis buy for your Rook at the Grande Market?

What dragon would Taash think your Rook would like the best?

Do they bring your Rook 'round the Hall of Valor to drink often?

Would your Rook like Emmrich's mother's hazelnut torte?

What kind of tea would Emmrich make for your Rook?

Bonus: What is one thing a companion does to cheer up your Rook if they're feeling down?

[reidology13]

in my life, I love you more

Aaron Hotchner x fem babysitter!reader - He comes home after a hard case

cw: fluff, pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, a few barely suggestive thoughts, really just cuties wc: 1.7k a/n: this is basically an au where aaron and haley divorced when jack was about one, and they have shared custody so it doesn’t line up with canon at all <3 this whole fic is serving nuclear family but she’s just an acts of service girly okayyy

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“Look, it’s a buttafly!” The four-year-old tugged on your hand, pointing to the window, where a small grey insect fluttered around the porch light, seeking refuge from the dark.

“No, Jack, that’s a moth.” 

“Buttafly.”

“Okay, it’s a butterfly.” You smiled at his insistence, conceding with a squeeze of his hand, “Say goodnight to the butterfly.”

“Goodnight, Buttafly.” He didn’t move, looking at you expectantly, and it took a moment to understand what he was waiting for.

“Goodnight, Butterfly.” You waved to the moth with your free hand before turning back to the boy, tilting your head in the direction of his room, “Let’s get you to bed, alright?”

“I’m not tired.” He whined, although he had been yawning non-stop for the past half an hour.

“I’ll tell you a story.” The bribe had his face lit up in seconds, and he practically flew down the corridor to his room. You followed him, reminding him that he had to brush his teeth before you could tuck him in. He pouted, but begrudgingly agreed, walking with you to the bathroom. You helped him hold his toothbrush, brushing his teeth with him, shushing him when he tried to speak through the toothbrush and toothpaste in his mouth.

A minute or two later, you were back in Jack’s room, tucking him under the covers before sitting down on the edge of his bed. You had his favourite book open in your lap, ready to start reading it, when he spoke.

“I miss daddy.” You looked over at him, the tears in the corners of his eyes, your heart nearly breaking at the sight, knowing how hard Aaron’s job was on both of them.

“He’ll be here in the morning, I promise.” You knew it was true, in the three years you’d been working for him, Aaron had never made you watch Jack overnight—you could still hear his voice, ‘You’re a babysitter, not a nanny’—and if something went wrong you would drop him off at his mother’s. Despite all of this, you spent most nights in the guest room, enough that it was slowly becoming yours, more so than the dorm room you were supposed to be living in. It was almost jarring every time Aaron’s week with Jack was over, and you had to go back to that lifeless room that was technically yours.

“I want him now!” No matter how well-behaved Jack was, he was still a child, and you could spot the tantrum that was close to exploding. It was fair, he had the right to be upset, but it was getting late and he needed to sleep.

“How about I tell you a new story tonight, would that help?” He perked up a little at that, nodding, and you used your thumb to wipe away the unshed tears from his eyes.

“Okay.” He sniffled, the kind children do when they’re pulling themselves together.

“Fantastic. Once upon a time,” you started, realising too late that coming up with a story on the spot was going to be much harder than you’d thought, “there was a superhero. He flew around, saving people that were in danger, and he had a son, who was a lot like you, now that I think about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You smiled, brushing some hair out of the boy’s eyes as they started to grow heavy, “So, one day, the superhero had to fight a really bad guy, and he didn’t make it home for dinner.” You didn’t mention that most of the time, ‘bad guy’ meant stacks of paperwork.

Jack’s eyes finally slipped shut, and you sighed in relief at the fact that you could start to wrap up the story, as you had been rapidly running out of ideas, and there hadn’t been many of them in the first place.

“His son was very sad that the superhero wasn’t there, and he struggled to get to sleep, since he missed his father so much. But the superhero felt bad, too, and in the morning he made his son pancakes to show him how much he loved him” Jack had started to snore, the small sound that came with hard nights like that one. You turned off the lamp, leaving his small nightlight on for if he woke up, and stood, careful not to wake him. You still held his book in your hands, placing the forgotten story on the bookshelf for another night.

Back in the living room, you tidied up the toys Jack had left out, the bright mess bringing attention to the neutral and minimalist nature of the rest of the apartment. Once all of the toys were put away in their box, you checked in on Jack, just to make sure he was still asleep, although you knew that if he woke up he would be out of his room and calling for you. He was asleep, and Aaron still wasn’t back, so you packed the dishwasher and wiped down the dining table that was still messy from dinner and anything else you could think of to fill the time.

You had circled back around to unpacking the dishwasher by the time the front door clicked open. Aaron dropped his briefcase on the table, slumping into one of the chairs, exhaustion etched into every line on his face.

“You don’t have to do that, I don’t pay you to be my cleaner.” He peeled off his suit jacket, draping it over the back of the chair beside him, you did your best not to follow the movements too closely.

“I know, but you barely have time for yourself. Have you had dinner?” You already knew the answer was no, he was terrible at taking care of himself, even worse at admitting it.

“It’s fine, I’ll make something, go home, get some sleep.”

“Are you kicking me out?” 

“I’m saying you don’t have to stay.” His words said one thing, but the way he tugged at his tie, pulling it loose, had you thinking about everything but leaving.

“I want to. You look rough, it’s the least I can do.” You opened the cupboard, grabbing a bowl that you had only placed there a moment earlier.

“I really look that bad?” As far as you were concerned, Aaron Hotchner looking bad was physically impossible, unfortunately you couldn’t exactly say that to ease his mind.

“You look tired.”

“I’m going to check on Jack.” Kids, then. It was always kids. You finished unpacking the dishwasher as you waited for him to come back, then pulled out the leftovers from dinner. He walked back into the room, sitting back down as you scooped a portion of the pasta you had made earlier that night into a bowl.

“Do you wanna tell me about it?”

“How was he today?” Aaron Hotchner for no. Sometimes you wondered if he thought that regular people couldn’t detect basic deflection, or if he just didn’t care about subtlety.

“He was good, we went to the park after I picked him up from school, let him tire himself out before dinner. We had pasta, which is what you’ll be having in a few minutes, and put him to bed. That bit was hard, he missed you.” You placed the bowl into the microwave, setting the timer and pressing start.

“Not too much trouble?”

“You know he’s an angel, one story and he was out.” He nodded, and you sat in silence for a second before you spoke up again, voice softer than before. “You’ve done a great job raising him.”

“No, I haven’t. You and Haley have done an amazing job.”

“You’re that boy’s hero, Aaron, that doesn’t come out of nowhere.” The microwave dinged, and you took the bowl out, placing it down in front of him, “Careful, it’s still hot.”

“I wasn’t aware, thank you.” You’d met a few of his coworkers, when Jack needed to be picked up by Penelope, or you took him for a playdate with Henry. You wondered if the rumours you’d heard about him having no sense of humour were true, or if they just didn’t understand it.

“Sorry, I’m still in kid mode.” You laughed, a breathy, nervous sound that echoed awkwardly in the quiet space, “I’m too tired for this.”

“Too tired for what?” Aaron spoke, an amused smile gracing his face, so different from how he smiled at Jack. It was new, unfamiliar, and you turned away at the sight of it because surely looking at it for too long would be bad for your health.

“I don’t know, talking. Interacting with people.” By ‘people,’ you really just meant Aaron; you weren’t even particularly tired, just too tired for him with his jacket off and his tie hanging loose around his neck.

“Then go to bed.” The smile on his face grew broader, switching almost imperceptibly from entertained to smug, and if you didn’t know better you would have wondered if he could actually read your mind. He couldn’t, obviously. Not because he wasn’t a good profiler, but because if he knew the things you thought about, you would’ve been fired years ago.

“Is that an order?”

“Just get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, not moving from your place as you rinsed out the few dishes you had created, minus the bowl that Aaron was still eating from.

“I mean it, you take care of Jack,” the ‘and me’ went without saying, “please take care of yourself, too.”

“Okay, fine.” You relented, finally setting down the dishcloth, the idea of your bed too tempting to let up. As you walked towards the guest room, Aaron’s voice called out, quiet and low.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” You echoed back, stepping into your room for a moment before your head popped back out of the doorway, “It’s a Saturday tomorrow, you don’t have to go into work unless you have a case, right?”

“Right.” He nodded, taking a bite of pasta, and you smiled at how perfect he looked. Tired, stressed, sitting dishevelled at the dining table eating pasta that might have been in the shape of dinosaurs. 

“Make him pancakes.”

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tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[paishoeyeroh]

Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER TEN: Fracture

Chapter Summary: You push. Sukuna breaks.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Sukuna is ignoring you.

At first, you don’t think too much of it, assuming he’s just quiet this morning. You hadn’t seen him since last night, after all, and you figured things might be a little… tense. But by the time you’re sitting through your first lecture, tapping your pen against your notebook in distraction, the truth becomes evident. He’s doing it on purpose.

No odd comments thrown your way, no dry observations, no flickering glances. He follows, because he has to, but he doesn’t acknowledge you once. It’s as though you don’t exist.

You try to push it aside, to focus on your professor’s voice, on the words you should be writing down, but it hurts. There’s no denying that.

There’s really only one explanation for his coldness. Last night. The way you were drawn to each other like magnets. And then, Megumi’s call. A reminder of the one person Sukuna seems to despise, though you’ve never been entirely sure why. He’s never liked Megumi, never tried to hide his distaste. Whatever his reasoning, you know the timing isn’t a coincidence. Whether it was the moment itself or the interruption that followed, it’s clearly bothering him.

And if it’s not? If there’s something else behind his silence? That thought is even more frustrating, because it means you still don’t know what’s going on inside his head at all.

Between classes, you catch sight of a familiar head of pink hair bobbing above the crowd. Yuji. At the sight of him, you remember your conversation with Megumi last night. You decide to call out his name.

He turns immediately, eyes lighting up the second he spots you. A wide grin spreads across his face, and before you can brace yourself, he’s bounding toward you, all but skipping across the hall.

“Hey!” he exclaims, wrapping you in a tight, familiar hug. The embrace is warm, effortless, and you sink into it without hesitation. A real, genuine smile tugs at your lips, one you didn’t have to force. His energy, so bubbly and contagious, fills your insides with light, chasing away the darkness you’ve been carrying all morning.

“I was just thinking about you! Nobara and Megumi are coming over later to hang out. Wanna come?” he tilts his head closer to you, his hand coming up to cup the side of his mouth as he lowers his voice, “there’ll be weed and snaaaacks,” he sing-songs, as if he’s trying to bribe you into coming.

You giggle at his antics, but you feel a tight pang in your stomach at the realization that he’s trying to convince you, probably because he thinks you don’t want to go.

“Alright, I’ll come. But I’m not smoking any of your weed. Not after what happened last time,” you say with a grimace. Yuji’s weed is always incredibly strong, and since you’re not much of a smoker anyway, it had too great of an effect on you the last time you tried it. You don’t even want to think about it. The head spinning. The paranoia. The crying. Not fun.

Yuji throws his head back as he laughs, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and you have no doubt the memory is playing back through his mind.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that. Good times,” he mocks as his hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder. “Well, just come over whenever after class. Nobara and Megumi are catching a ride with me, so we’ll all be there.” He waves his hand at you as he walks away. “See ya later!”

You find yourself still smiling long after Yuji passes by you in the hallway, his bright and bubbly mood never failing to cheer you up. Tonight is going to be just what you need.

As long as Sukuna behaves with Megumi around.

Your smile immediately falters at the thought. You glance over at him, standing a few feet away leaned up against the lockers, looking in the opposite direction of you. You sigh as you head to your next class.

The rest of the school day goes by quickly, now that you have something to look forward to. As Sukuna continues to neglect your existence, you become more and more certain that he will keep up the charade at Yuji’s place. The thought almost comforts you. Maybe it’ll feel like old times again, before you ever put on that damned ring.

You make your way up to Yuji’s apartment, lightly rapping your knuckles against the door.

It flings open suddenly, and Yuji’s standing there in all his marijuana-induced glory, having clearly started smoking already. His eyes are half-lidded and red rimmed, and there’s a wide, goofy smile plastered across his face as he welcomes you.

“Heeey! Guys, I told you she’d come!” he shouts back to the others, before beckoning you inside. You take a step in, with Sukuna following behind you before Yuji closes the door.

The moment you step inside, the thick, unmistakable scent of weed hits your nostrils. It’s warm in here, cozy in that lazy, indulgent kind of way. The coffee table is a mess of half eaten snacks—open bags of chips, crumpled candy wrappers, a box of cookies that’s already looking dangerously empty. And right in the middle of it all, Yuji’s bong sits proudly, a testament to the night they’ve obviously already been having.

Megumi is sprawled out on the couch, legs spread wide, looking more relaxed than you’ve seen him in months. His head tips lazily toward you, and a slow, lopsided smile spreads across his lips as he greets you. You return it, unable to control the tugging at your lips at the sight of him so at ease for once.

Yuji flops down beside him with a satisfied sigh, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. Meanwhile, you settle onto the floor next to Nobara, who turns to you with a look of pure relief.

“Thank god you’re here. I can’t listen to those two anymore, especially Yuji. I think I can actually feel him making me dumber.”

“That’s not because of me, it’s the weed, idiot,” Yuji quips, ducking to avoid the pillow she throws at his head in response.

You laugh, shaking your head, as you turn back to Nobara. “How’d your date go the other night?”

She immediately rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag of chips and pulling out a handful. “Ugh, don’t even get me started,” she shoves the chips into her mouth, crunching loudly. “First, he didn’t open the door for me. Then, he tried to, like, order my own food for me? And to top it all off, he didn’t even compliment my outfit!” she crushes her bag of chips in her fist in anger.

“So, naturally, I ghosted his ass. I don’t have time for that kind of disrespect.”

“Naturally,” you snort, as Megumi coughs loudly, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke as he takes a rip of the bong. He reaches out, offering it to you.

“Want some?”

You turn to him, shaking your head.

“Nah, I’m good.” you decline, watching him pass the bong to Yuji. As you do, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. It’s Sukuna, and you watch as he rounds the corner, walking out of sight. Probably off to go pout somewhere by himself like a sullen child, you think as you inwardly roll your eyes. You have no intention of dealing with that for the remainder of the night. You quickly turn your head back to the group as Megumi speaks.

“Guys, can we put a different show on?” he asks, his voice strained, almost pleading. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked onto the screen like it’s about to crawl out and grab him. “This one’s freaking me out.”

Yuji squints at the screen, then back at Megumi.

“What? It’s just Pokémon, dude,” he says before he leans forward, studying Megumi like he’s the most fascinating thing in the room. “Are you good?”

Megumi stands shakily, his face pale, quickly making his way down the hall. “I’ll be back,” he weakly mutters over his shoulder.

Nobara and Yuji watch him for a moment, bursting out in simultaneous laughter after the bathroom door slams shut.

“He must’ve smoked too much. He’s probably in there freaking out,” Nobara manages to get out through her wheezes.

“It’s not his fault,” you defend, “Yuji’s weed is way too strong. Last time I smoked with you guys, I convinced myself I was in a simulation.”

You shudder as you recall the memory, but it only encourages another round of cackles from the two.

You watch them for a moment, trying to contain your own laughter. But after what feels like way too long for a regular trip to the bathroom, Megumi still hasn’t returned.

You glance over at Yuji and Nobara, but they’re engrossed in their own conversation. They’ve either forgotten about the situation entirely or are too high to care. Or both. You realize that you’re going to have to be the one to go check on the poor guy.

You stand up with a sigh, preemptively pouring a glass of water in the kitchen before heading down the hall.

As you pass by Yuji’s bedroom, the open door offers a glimpse inside. You glance in casually, only to stop dead in your tracks at what you see.

Sukuna is there.

Flat on his back, sprawled across Yuji’s bed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. But something’s off.

His upper set of hands are thrown over his face, fingers digging into his forehead, covering his eyes like he’s trying to block out the world. The lower set of hands are clenched into fists, the muscles in his forearms tight, twitching with some kind of barely restrained force. You don’t even have to see his face to know he’s seething. Pure, unadulterated anguish radiates off of him, thick enough to suffocate the air in your lungs.

You watch him for a second, concern twisting deep in your gut. You’ve never seen him like this. Ever. Sukuna does not unravel. But here he is, unraveling right in front of you, completely unaware that he now has an audience.

Your lips part, the start of his name forming on your tongue, but before you can speak, his hands slide up, gripping into his hair with so much force it looks like he might tear it straight from his skull.

You stand in the doorway, mouth open, quickly snapping it closed when you notice the look on his face.

His eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed so tight it looks like it hurts. His lips part slightly as he exhales a slow, trembling breath, one that sounds like it’s been forced from the depths of his chest. His jaw clenches, the muscles flexing repeatedly, and his fingers tighten their grip on his hair almost desperately, as if he’s trying to anchor himself, to keep from coming apart entirely.

Your own breath stills in your throat. Every muscle in your body goes rigid, your mind struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing.

What the hell is going on?

A lump forms in your throat as you try to make sense of it. He’s been avoiding you all day, shutting you out since last night, and now… this? The distance, the cold silence, was all a cover, that much is clear now. But for what?

A part of you wants to go to him. To reach out, to touch him, to offer anything that might ease whatever war is raging inside of him. The urge claws at you, visceral and insistent, your arms aching to wrap around him in comfort.

But another part of you hesitates.

I shouldn’t be here.

You’re witnessing something raw, something unguarded and deeply, painfully human. A moment he never meant for anyone to see—least of all you. You’ve been toeing a dangerous line with Sukuna for a while now, but this… this feels like stepping over it. Stumbling over it, straight into a place you don’t belong.

You should leave.

The need to understand him, to help him, gnaws at you like a hunger, but he isn’t someone who needs things like that. Sukuna doesn’t want help. He is power. He is control.

But right now…

He looks like he has neither.

You catch yourself before you do something you’ll regret, clenching your hands around the glass of water you’d forgotten you were holding. Slowly, as to not make a sound, you creep past the doorway, heading over to the bathroom.

You press your ear against the door, listening for any sign of life from inside. Nothing. No movement, no shuffling. Only silence.

After a brief hesitation, you turn the knob and push the door open, peeking your head inside.

Megumi is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows braced against his knees, his head cradled in his hands. His shoulders rise and fall with slow, deliberate breaths, the kind you take when you’re trying to will your heartbeat to steady.

“Megumi?”

He lifts his head at the sound of your voice, blinking sluggishly. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, his pupils blown wide. It takes him a second to register you standing there, and when he does, his posture stiffens just a little. A ghost of a smile flickers across his lips—weak, sheepish—before he clears his throat.

“I’m alright, I just needed to chill in here for a second.”

You step into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you before lowering yourself onto the floor beside him. The cool tiles press against your legs as you settle in close to his feet, holding out the glass.

“Here, drink this. I got you some water.”

Megumi takes it, fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment. He doesn’t look at you right away, instead staring down at the rim of the glass like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.

“Thanks,” he mutters, finally lifting it to his lips. He swallows a few careful sips before adding, “Sorry for ruining the vibe.”

You shake your head, lips twitching into a small smile as you reach out, rubbing his arm in comfort.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assure him, your voice soft, “you didn’t ruin anything.”

That gets him to look at you, but only briefly, his eyes flickering to yours before darting away. He shifts slightly on the edge of the tub.

You grin, deciding to tease him just a little. “Come back out whenever you’re ready. Oh, and I’ll make sure that show isn’t on when you do.”

His lips part slightly before pressing into a flat line. A weak chuckle escapes him, half amusement, half mortification. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

You squeeze his arm lightly before rising to your feet. As you do, you glance down at him one last time, watching as he rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. Stifling a giggle, you reach for the doorknob.

“See you out there,” you say, stepping through the doorway.

As you make your way back to the living room, you pass by Yuji’s room once again. This time, you keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, resisting the urge to steal another glance inside. If Sukuna were to catch you looking, even for a second, he’d know you saw him earlier. He always knows. And you’re not sure you’d be able to school your expression fast enough to keep the truth from spilling across your face.

Right now isn’t the time to deal with whatever it is Sukuna’s got going on. Right now, you just want to have fun with your friends. You can deal with anything else once you get home.

That’s what you keep telling yourself.

Upon re-entering the living room, you notice the show from earlier has already been turned off, the soft hum of music filling the space instead—low, rhythmic beats that sink into the atmosphere like a gentle pulse. Yuji is sprawled across the couch on his back with a half-eaten chip bag laying forgotten on his lap, one arm tucked behind his head, the other drumming lazy fingers against his stomach in time with the music. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, his expression distant, no doubt lost somewhere in the hazy lull of his high.

Nobara mirrors his sprawl on the floor, phone in hand, absentmindedly scrolling as she occasionally pops a chip into her mouth. You retake your spot beside her, snatching one from the bag without a word.

“Do you think that grass is, like, the earth’s pubic hair?”

“Yuji. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Nobara responds immediately. Based on her reply, you can only assume this has been going on for a while.

“I’m just saying! It makes sense if you think about it.”

“He’s kinda got a point,” you add with an amused tilt of your lips.

“Please, don’t encourage him.”

“You guys just need to get on my level. Nobody’s on my level,” Yuji pouts.

Before anyone can respond, Megumi reappears, looking far better than he did before. His complexion is no longer pale, his movements steadier, the color returned to his cheeks. He runs a hand through his hair as he steps into the room, shaking off the last remnants of his ordeal.

“Welcome back, buddy!” Yuji exclaims, immediately sitting up to make room for him on the couch. “We were worried about you! Were you fighting demons in there or what?”

Megumi levels a deadpan look at him before scanning the room, his gaze settling on you and Nobara before he sinks back into his previous spot. In one swift motion, he reaches over and swipes the bag of chips right off Yuji’s lap with a little more force than necessary.

“Nobody speaks of this outside of this room,” he says, voice flat as he pops a chip into his mouth. “Or you’re all dead.”

“Alright, jeez. Relax. Not like we’ve never greened out before,” Nobara mutters without looking up from her phone.

As the night winds down, conversations fade into a comfortable lull, and Nobara suggests putting on a movie. You settle in as it plays, watching it unfold on screen, but your mind is elsewhere now.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about what you saw in Yuji’s room—Sukuna lying there, his hands fisted in his hair like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will, seemingly teetering on the edge of some sort of breakdown.

You’ve never seen him like that, so unguarded, so vulnerable. You’ve seen him express emotion, sure. Anger, usually. Or quieter flickers hidden beneath sharp words and sharper smiles. But you’ve never seen something like that, not from him. It was unsettling, to say the least.

Is it because of me?

The question nags at you, digging into your ribs like a phantom dagger, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Would he be angry if he knew you saw him like that? Or would he shut you out even more?

The idea sends a wave of sadness through you. Your heart aches for him. Whatever it is he’s going through, you have a sinking feeling that he’ll never open up, no matter how much you pry.

You shift in your spot, eyes flitting toward Yuji’s bedroom before quickly turning away.

Don’t.

The urge to check on him gnaws at you, but after the cold shoulder he’s been giving you all day, you doubt he’d give you the answers you’re looking for.

So instead, you decide it’s time to head home for the night. Yujis passed out anyway, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the movie started, and Megumi looks like he’s close behind him. You stand, gathering your things as you whisper your goodbyes, heading to the door.

Just as your fingers curl around the doorknob and open it to step outside, Sukuna appears, rounding the corner with his usual quiet grace. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t look anywhere but forward. He just slips past you and steps out the door ahead of you, carefully maneuvering his body so that his arm doesn’t so much as slightly brush your own.

You exhale slowly, watching his back as he strides ahead, his steps long and deliberate. You’re not surprised to see him keeping up his silent act. He doesn’t know that you saw him in Yuji’s room, after all. He doesn’t know you stood there, rooted in place, witnessing him beginning to unravel at the seams.

You step outside after him, the cold air a sharp contrast to the cozy warmth of Yuji’s apartment, slapping you like an icy wake-up call. Sukuna is already way ahead of you. The wind tugs at the strands of his hair, but he doesn’t react—just keeps walking, his movements purposeful, controlled.

By the time you reach the car, he’s already inside, the door shutting with a firm click. You sigh, tightening the grip on your keys.

You settle into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking lot. The hum of the car feels louder than usual in the empty space between you. Neither of you says a word.

You want to say something, anything, to break this awkward tension. But… what can you say? You glance over in his direction briefly, but Sukuna is turned away, the side of his face barely visible in the dim light coming off the dashboard. You can’t tell if he’s avoiding you, or just lost in his own thoughts. Probably both. Either way, you can feel the distance continuing to grow between you with every minute that ticks by.

You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to demand an explanation for his behavior today.

Just drive.

When you finally pull into the parking lot to your apartment, Sukuna doesn’t wait. As soon as the car comes to a stop and you shut the engine off, he’s already out, his door slamming shut before you can un-click your seatbelt.

You watch his back as he walks ahead, his long strides forcing you to pick up your pace just to keep up. With every step, frustration burns hotter inside of you, winding itself around the ache that’s been sitting there since you saw him in Yuji’s room.

Why won’t he let you in? He’s hurting, you saw it with your own eyes. So why is he still keeping you at arm’s length? Why does he insist on suffering in silence when you’re right here?

By the time you reach the door to your apartment, your chest feels tight with your unspoken thoughts, the urge to voice them aloud becoming harder and harder to resist. You step inside right behind him, closing the door softly despite your inner turmoil threatening to spill over. And once again, Sukuna moves past you without a word, already striding down the hall, probably planning to disappear to wherever the hell he goes when he doesn’t want to be seen.

You make a quick decision. You’ve had enough of being ignored. You can’t just keep pretending everything is fine, like you’re sure he intends to. You have to say something.

“Sukuna.”

He stops, turning halfway around to face you. You study him carefully, searching for even the faintest trace of what you witnessed earlier—the tension in his jaw, the desolation in his face, the silent war he was waging within himself.

But there’s nothing.

Where there should be emotion—something raw and real—there is only an empty stare, a hollow reflection of the man you know lurks beneath his mask.

Cold. Dark. Void.

It’s a door slammed shut, an unspoken message that whatever moment of weakness you glimpsed was never meant for you.

The air between you grows infinitely heavier, colder. You can almost physically feel it, the absence of him, like something vital has been drained from the space he occupies. It prickles at your skin, wrapping itself around you, a quiet, almost suffocating numbness that mirrors the emptiness in his gaze.

He raises his brows at you, waiting for you to continue.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

“Have I?” his voice is steady, indifferent.

You fold your arms across your chest, feeling your irritation finally rising to the surface. “Yes. You haven’t said a word to me all day. You haven’t even looked at me, not since—“ you cut yourself off, afraid to bring up the almost-kiss directly, “not since last night.”

Sukuna turns away, dismissing you with the shift of his shoulders, as if the conversation itself is beneath him. “There’s nothing to say,” he replies flatly, his tone impersonal, like he’s already decided this discussion isn’t worth his time.

But you refuse to allow him to slip through your fingers so easily. “Come on, don’t do that,” you step closer to him, determined to not let him brush it off, “don’t just… shut me out. Haven’t we moved past this?” your voice softens, the concern evident in your words.

Sukuna remains still, his shoulders drawn tight, his entire body wound like a thread stretched too thin. He doesn’t turn to respond, but his silence speaks louder than any answer he could give. And still, you push, even knowing it might only drive him further away.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” you continue, your frustration giving way to something dangerously close to pleading. “I’ve opened up to you about everything—about my past, my ex, my life. You’ve basically seen it all. But you? You’ve given me nothing. You hide behind this wall like you’re… some… untouchable thing.”

At that, Sukuna finally turns his head, just slightly, his narrowed eyes settling on you over his shoulder. There’s a shift in the way his eyes almost darken, like a tide pulling back before the wave crashes. His voice is low, almost a growl.

“What exactly do you want from me?”

His question stings, cutting deep. Your throat constricts, like his own words have wrapped themselves tight around your airway, but you swallow hard, willing yourself to push through it.

“I want you to stop pretending that this means nothing to you,” you say, gesturing between the two of you, between the space that feels impossibly vast despite how close you stand, “that I mean nothing to you.”

For a moment, he just stares blankly at you in response. Then, without warning, a low, humorless laugh escapes him, dry and sharp, like the crack of a splintering bone. “You think this… whatever this is, means something to me?”

You take a breath, the words that have been stuck inside you for days, weeks, finally crashing to the surface.

“I know it does,” you say, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts, “and I know you feel it too, Sukuna. You’re not as detached as you think you are.”

He whips around at that, his face twisting, a sharp flash of anger breaking through his emotionless exterior. His brows pull together in disbelief, a deep furrow forming between them.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “Let me guess, you think just because we’re stuck in this bond, you can ‘fix’ me, is that it? You think I can feel anything? Love? Don’t be foolish.”

You’re taken aback by his words, his sudden anger. This is not how you wanted this conversation to go at all. But it’s happening now, spiraling out of control right in front of you, and there’s no turning back.

“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just asking you to let me in.” You step closer, desperate to break through the icy wall he continues to throw up, to finally see the real him that he’s been hiding behind it. You’re tired of him pretending there’s nothing left of the man he once was.

Fuck it. You might as well let it all out.

“I’m not like her, Sukuna.”

His reaction is immediate. Sukuna’s body stiffens, his shoulders locking into place as if he’s just been struck. His eyes widen dangerously as his stare burns straight through you, unsettling you to your core.

“What?” His voice is low, quiet, but full of warning, like a blade pressed to your throat.

Your pulse pounds rapidly in your ears, your instincts screaming at you to stop and retreat, but you can’t stop yourself. The words continue to spill out.

“Look, I know about Uraume. I know what she did to you. I—“

“If I were you, I’d choose my next words very carefully,” he interrupts, his tone razor-sharp and dripping with venom.

You really should stop talking. Any rational person would. But the next words are already on your tongue, your desperation outweighing your better judgment. If you just keep pushing, if you can just make him see—he’ll believe you. He has to.

“I’m not her, Sukuna. You can trust me. I would never do that to you.”

His eyes flash, cold rage igniting in them like a distant storm, dark and inevitable. He takes a slow step toward you, his presence suddenly overwhelming, and you have to lock your legs in place to fight the urge to step back in response.

“Since you think you know so much,” he growls, his voice dripping with contempt, “then surely you know what happened to her, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head in response, your voice sounding much smaller and less confident than before. “No, I don’t.”

His expression changes, the sharp edges of his fury settling into something eerily calm. Too calm. His lips curl, not into a smirk, but something that resembles more of a grimace, though his eyes remain wide, uncanny and hollow.

“I killed her.”

He takes another step closer, and a sudden, primal fear rises inside you, sharp and instinctual. Your body tenses as you cower back.

His jaw tightens, and for a brief moment, a shadow of something—pain, maybe rage—contorts his features. But it’s gone in an instant, swallowed expertly by that cold, unrelenting mask.

“She screamed,” he continues, his voice dipping lower, “begged for mercy, for forgiveness.” A slow, humorless chuckle escapes him, causing a chill to run along your flesh. “As if it meant anything. As if I would ever grant her either.”

He takes a final step forward, and you don’t move, don’t breathe.

“I tore her apart, piece by piece for what she did to me. Watched her blood stain the ground like spilled ink. And when she finally stopped screaming, when she gasped that last, pitiful breath—“ he leans in, just slightly, “it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.”

Your stomach plummets, a sickening drop that leaves you dizzy. His words coil around your throat like a noose, tightening, choking. You had considered the possibility—of course you had. Sukuna had killed before. You had seen it yourself in the visions of his past. But those had been in battle, acts of war and conquest.

This… this was something else entirely.

A slow, merciless dismantling. A deliberate, calculated destruction of someone he once loved. Nausea rises in the pit of your stomach, threatening to bubble up into your throat. You stare at him, at the thing standing in front of you, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly seeing him. The demon. The unrepentant, merciless king who had bathed in the blood of those who wronged him.

The Sukuna you’ve come to know—the one who met your wit with dry amusement, the one whose touch had once felt gentle against your skin, who had almost kissed you just yesterday—is gone.

“I…”

You take another step back, the words struggling to form on your trembling lips.

“You’re nothing like her,” he sneers, his voice laced with disdain, “and you never will be. You think just because you have some sort of odd little obsession with me, that makes you special? That I could ever feel for you what I once felt for her?” His lips curl into something akin to a snarl, “I am a monster. I kill, I destroy, I devour.”

His words strike like a blade, each syllable leaving his lips like tiny knives carving into your heart, stripping it away piece by piece, leaving you hollow. You can do nothing but watch, wide-eyed, empty, nothing left but the overwhelming ache where hope used to be.

“You’re nothing to me,” he continues, cruel and cutting. “Your pathetic little life is a mere speck in the grand scheme of things. I have been here for centuries. And I will continue to be here long after you’ve rotted, buried deep and forgotten underground.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, your vision blurring around the edges as your eyes begin to fill with unshed tears. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You have no words. The air is heavy, thick with the weight of his cold dismissal of you.

“I’m not capable of love, girl, and you’d do well to remember that.” He says, his voice quieter now, but no less harsh.

“I’m not some human you can change and mold into a version that you prefer. I’m a demon. That’s all I’ll ever be.” He takes a step back, his face hard and unrelenting. “And if you think for even a second that I could ever care about you, then you’re even more fucking pathetic than I thought.”

The tears come fast, scorching trails down your flushed cheeks as your breath turns ragged. Your vision blurs, the room shrinking in around you, and all you can think is that you need to get away. Away from him, from his words still ringing in your skull, splintering through your chest like jagged glass.

You don’t look at him. You don’t even think. You just run.

You barely make it to your bedroom before the first sob rips free, raw and uncontrollable. The door slams behind you, but it does nothing to stop the pain from clawing its way up your throat, your shoulders heaving with the force of it. You stumble forward, collapsing onto your bed, curling in on yourself like a wounded animal.

Your hands tangle in your hair, gripping tightly, desperately, as if you could anchor yourself, as if you could stop the ache spreading through your chest, sinking deep into your bones. But it’s useless. The sobs wrack through you, shaking you to your very core, your breaths coming sharp and fast, too fast, until you’re gasping, until it feels like you’re drowning in it, in him, in everything you thought you had and everything he just tore apart in an instant.

And still, his voice lingers. Still, it hurts.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t feel. He’s a demon—a creature of pure, unrelenting cruelty. You knew that. You’ve always known that. And still, somehow, you let yourself believe. You let yourself hope that there was something more beneath all that rage and ruin, something real. Something for you.

But there isn’t.

There never was.

You’re just a pathetic, lovesick fool, chasing a dream that was never yours to begin with. He’s not a man. He’s not someone to be understood or saved, not someone who could ever love you back. He is darkness, destruction, a force of nature that does not bend, does not break, does not care.

Your stomach twists with the sheer humiliation of it, shame seeping into your skin like poison. How could you let yourself fall? How could you have been so blind?

Your body trembles as you curl in tighter, rocking slightly, trying to push it away, to find some shred of comfort in the wreckage. But the thoughts won’t stop. The hurt won’t stop. It digs into your ribs, carves itself into your heart, reminding you over and over and over—

“You’re nothing to me.”

A strangled sob tears from your throat, raw and broken, as you bury your face into the pillow, desperate to muffle the sound. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. The ache in your chest is too big, too unbearable, clawing at your ribs, crushing the air from your lungs.

For a fleeting moment, you think about leaving. Just getting up and walking out the door, disappearing into the night, never looking back. Maybe if you run fast enough, far enough, you can outrun this pain, escape the weight of what you’ve done, what you let yourself believe.

But where would you go?

There is nowhere he wouldn’t follow. No distance you could put between you that the bond wouldn’t snap back into place, dragging you right back to him. He is inescapable.

And you are trapped.

Your chest tightens violently, a crushing, suffocating weight settling onto it, making it impossible to breathe. The walls feel smaller, the air thinner, the room closing in like a prison. You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenching in the sheets, trying to steady yourself, to think, to breathe.

Breathe.

Eventually, the sobs fade, not because the pain lessens, but because your body simply can’t keep up with it anymore. You lie still, curled in on yourself, drained beyond measure. The tears don’t stop, though—they slip silently down your face, soaking into the pillow, leaving behind the sticky remnants of grief. The hurt remains, dull now, a hollow, throbbing thing inside your chest, like an open wound that refuses to close.

You take a trembling breath, staring blankly at the wall as the crushing silence of the room presses in around you, thick and suffocating.

“You’re nothing to me.”

The words replay in your head, slow and deliberate, sinking deeper with every repetition. Maybe he’s right. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe you were foolish, delusional to think you could ever be anything more than a passing amusement to him. To believe you could reach something inside him that simply doesn’t exist.

And yet.

Even as you think it, even as you try to carve the truth into your own heart, a part of you refuses to believe it. Because you know better.

You’ve seen it. Felt it.

Despite his cruelty, despite the ice in his voice, despite the way he shut you out like you were nothing—you know there’s something beneath it all, something he won’t let himself admit.

But if he refuses to acknowledge it… does it even matter?

The thought lingers, heavy and unresolved, sinking deep into the marrow of your bones.

It shouldn’t matter. It can’t matter.

As you lie there, hollowed out and aching, the weight of his words pressing into your ribs like iron, you know this wound won’t fade so easily. It’s carved too deep, settled too far inside you.

So you let the tears fall, silent and endless, tracing paths down your skin like a grief that refuses to be swallowed. You close your eyes against the darkness, but there is no escape—not from this, not from him.

All you can do now is endure.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @after-laughter-come-tears @rizzyjuney609 @prezzleyy

[fishymom-art]

I really love your Fix a beast AU omg it gave me some ideas that prob won't be canon but i wanted to share them:

1. Corrupted Vanilla Cookie's Soul Jam (or in this case, multiple soul jams), would be the Light of Delusions or Betrayal. I haven't really thought about it but it would kind of fit? If he even has a light. You tell me

2. The way I would imagine Shadow Milk Cookie to awaken would be because when Confronting Corrupted Vanilla Cookie, the thought about helping him kept rising more and more until Shadow Milk (somehow) managed to get a connection with his soul jam, he doesn't know how but it seems even the soul jam of deceit wants to save the soul jam of truth. After all, like Pure Vanilla said, "Sometimes, you need darkness to see the light" and this gave Shadow Milk a huge boost competition from his original power and with a lot of Dark Moon Magic shining in him, he became Moonlit.

THERE I JUST WANTED TO SHARE SOME IDEAS I LOVE YOUR AU KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK

UH

WELL, FUCK, YOU EXPLAINED THE WHOLE THING YOURSELF AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO

THANKS FOR DOING IT FOR ME

(I’ll draw a bunch of comics ofc, but yup, you got the second one absolutely right down to every detail)

The idea of all of the Soul Jams being together a nd be called the Light of Delusion would be interesting, because originally it is Light of Peace! Delusion would fit as a reverse version of it.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona i NEED to yap about this thought I had about the angst Dukedom au so my brain worms will let me sleep. I Imagine a people's princess duchess who spends time with others to fill in for the lack of emotional connection between her and John and people just do not understand why she is out of the house so much. Tea with the ladies? She's there. Charity event for struggling orphans? Duchess is there to help! Church in the middle of the afternoon on a random day? She's in the pew. The house is taken care of, her parties are enjoyable, but why is she gone so often? Duchess just gives a pained smile and says that her husband does not mind her being gone because neither the staff nor him want her there. Why ask her husband for love when he clearly just needed someone to run the duchy?

Hope your sleep went well <3 i nees these men to suffer tbh

The house runs itself.

At least, that is what you tell yourself. The schedules are in place, the staff well-trained, the estate thriving. You have done your duty as Duchess of Price, managing affairs with grace, ensuring that the duchy’s name remains untarnished, that the books are balanced, and the tenants are provided for. You have even done more than what was expected, expanding the duchy’s charitable reach, establishing new programs for the less fortunate, and ensuring the nobility sees the Price name attached to every act of generosity.

And yet, despite all your efforts, there is no warmth in your home.

The staff keep their distance. There are no hushed greetings in the morning, no inquiry into your health when you sit at the long dining table, staring at your untouched, cold meals that are a stark contrast to the others’ steaming dishes.

They serve you as required, but do not linger. They do not ask if you would like another cup of tea, if your shawl is warm enough, if the flowers in your room are to your liking. You don’t need them to do it, but- it’s the emphasized loneliness that hurts the most.

John is no different.

You see him at dinners, always seated across from you, his gaze never lingering, his words few and functional. He speaks to Kyle more than he speaks to you. He shares glances with Simon that you have never been privy to, and when Johnny appears with a dish in hand, John’s expression softens in a way it never does for you.

Meanwhile, you are… tolerated.

And so, you leave.

Your absence from the manor goes unnoticed at first.

The city welcomes you in ways your home never has. Tea with the noble ladies? You never miss an afternoon, sipping floral blends as you listen to idle gossip, smiling where appropriate. A charity event for struggling orphans? You are the first to arrive, personally distributing warm coats and new shoes to children who look at you with something you rarely receive- gratitude.

Church in the middle of the afternoon? You kneel in silent prayer, hands clasped, seeking answers from a God who offers none. And yet the statues and pews are still not as cold towards you as your own husband.

“Duchess, you do so much,” Lady Bethany remarks one afternoon over luncheon, her fan flicking open with an appreciative snap. She’s a pretty thing, recently wed and already draped in the pretty glow of pregnancy. “I swear, I see you more than your own husband must.”

You laugh softly, demure and mindful. “The duchy has many responsibilities.”

“And yet you make time for everything but your home?” Another lady muses, curiosity laced in her tone.

You lower your gaze to your plate, the question hanging in the air. You have learned to navigate this tightrope of expectations, of unspoken truths wrapped in silk and civility.

With a practiced, pained smile, you say: “My husband does not mind my absence.”

You let the words settle before adding, voice barely above a whisper, “Neither he nor the staff particularly miss me.”

The silence that follows is thick.

Lady Bethany’s fan stills, her eyes softening towards you. Another woman fidgets with her gloves. No one speaks, and you take a sip of your tea, the bitterness sharp on your tongue.

Why ask for love when your husband only needed someone to run the duchy?

And the house remains indifferent to your absence- at first.

The staff continue their duties as usual, the butlers maintaining the schedule, the maids ensuring the rooms remain pristine. No one spares a thought for why you are always gone, only that it makes their jobs easier.

Until, one evening, Kyle pauses in the study, glancing at the untouched tea left on a side table. The Duchess usually ensures the staff are well taken care of, he realizes. Who had reminded them today?

No one.

In the kitchens, Johnny frowns when he notices the ledger left open, the list of requested ingredients unusually long. You had always been meticulous, approving the finest quality for the household, ensuring every item was fresh and of the best stock. The kitchen had run smoothly for months, never wanting for anything.

Now, it was as if no one had noticed the difference until the fruits arrived bruised and the meat not quite up to the usual standard.

Simon notices, too. The events you planned, the invitations you managed, the way you always ensured John’s name was spoken with admiration at every gathering- without you, the social scene seemed… quieter. The duchy’s presence less prominent.

And John notices most of all.

At first, he does not think much of it. His wife was always attending some function or another. That was her role, wasn’t it? To manage the estate, to see to the duchy’s reputation?

But then, he starts seeing the effects of your absence the longer you continue to keep to the people and not the duchy.

The reports come in slower. The meetings with city officials, once neatly arranged for his convenience, are now scattered, delayed. The letters from the nobility are fewer, the invitations sparser. The charitable events- ones that bore the Price name- have dwindled in number.

And the house itself… feels empty.

John returns from meetings to silence. Dinners are quiet, even when the others join him. There is no soft rustling of skirts as you pass through the halls, no gentle murmur of your voice as you speak to the staff.

One evening, he enters his study to find a stack of correspondence on his desk- letters you had handled, decisions you had made.

You had been doing so much.

Too much.

And no one had noticed.

When he finally seeks you out, it is not in your chambers.

John finds you in the drawing room, seated by the window, your hands resting idly in your lap. Your gaze is distant, unfocused, the usual light in your eyes dimmed. Winter was drawing nearer, and so gatherings dwindled in number and as a result, you had to spend more time in this cold, unfeeling house.

For the first time in months, he hesitates.

“…You’ve been busy.” He says at last.

You turn your head slightly, but you do not smile. Or at least, put no effort in making your smile appear genuine. “As have you, my lord.”

He swallows, uncertain. “You have done a fine job with the duchy, wife. The duchy is in good standing.”

You inhale, waiting for the unspoken ‘but.’

“But…” He hesitates. “Some matters are not quite as well-managed as before.”

Your lips curl in a faint, humorless smile. “Did it take you long to notice?”

John exhales slowly. He had not noticed, not until things started slipping. But now, looking at you- at the exhaustion in your frame, the emptiness in your eyes- he realizes you had been holding up far more than he had ever given you credit for.

“… You aren’t here anymore much.” His voice is quiet now, almost careful. As if he is speaking to an animal that will bite him if he misspeaks.

You laugh softly, but there is no joy in it. “Would you want to spend your days in a house where you are not wanted? That aside, I assumed you would prefer not to see me at all.

“I never said you weren’t wanted. Nor have I told you I’d prefer it if you were away.”

“You didn’t need to.”

The realization strikes down much like a hammer, and all that’s left in its wake is silence.

John had always assumed you knew- knew that your marriage was one of convenience, that his affections lay elsewhere, that you were never meant to be part of the life he had built with his men.

But looking at you now, he realizes he had mistaken your silence for understanding. Had mistaken your silence for acceptance, for agreement that you were complete fine with this cruel treatmeant.

He had thought you accepted it, that you preferred the distance.

But had you?

Or had you simply endured it because… there was nothing else to do?

You sigh, bowing your head to avoid his gaze. Your voice is quiet when you speak next, bereft of any hope, any warmth.

“…I shall return to my duties in the morning, and I will keep out of everyone’s way, my lord. Goodnight.”

[moody-alcoholic]

are there any other cod fanfic writers on here that you recommend? I want to support as many as I can!!

I feel like I'm the worst person to ask for this because I don't read as much anymore. I also really want to make a permanent post I have on my page for all to see, that updates as I read.

I will share some of my favourites though. Disclaimer most things are +18 be sure to check content warnings for each fic.

void-my-warranty Service Dog Johnny - Ghost/Fem Reader/Soap Ax Grinder - Gaz x Fem Reader (zombie apocalypse AU)

rememberwren Honesty all her work is amazing, everything she has written blows my mind. A Dichotomy of Thought - Ghoap x reader Harmless Fun - Ghoap x reader

theorist-fox - My go too for quick one shots & sexy smut on-a-lucky-tide - His nikprice stuff makes my day laswells-ashtray - Another account I scroll through now and then the-californicationist - Great smut, Ursa Major is on my TBR

Some of my personal favourite fics/ one shots, the stuff I go back and read over and over again.

rememberwren A Dichotomy of Thought - Ghoap x reader.

milf-murdock Captain - Price x reader

losersimonriley Sundowning - Soap x Ghost

headlocket all that's said in the low light - Soap x Ghost

I really should read more and share more, there's no excuse I'm just lazy. You can check out my likes for more, it usually updates daily.

Enjoy <3

Let me know if any of the links are broken.

[rayyanishere1]

"Studying? Yeah, Totally."

A Short FiddleStan Oneshot

(Part of the Loser Ford AU, but isn't relevant to the lore whatsoever lmao)

One night, Ford announced that he'd be at the library for a couple of hours.

"Knock yourself out, Sixer."

Once he left, Stan and Fiddleford looked at each other.

"Wanna..?"

"You don't even have to ask."

Stan led Fiddleford to the couch with only one motive in mind.

Forcing him to watch trashy television! They spent good money on that TV, and by God, they were gonna use it.

"Ladies and Gents, welcome back to 'Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong!' The show where you don't win prizes, but you don't get punished, either. I'm your host, Zain Squalus—"

Ah, yes, gameshows. The peak of entertainment.

"Is this really what you wanna watch?"

"It's either this, weird chick dramas, or the news."

Welp, can't argue with that.

Fiddleford tried many times to make a move; pretending to yawn to wrap his arm around Stan's shoulder, not very subtly inching his hand towards Stan's thigh. Hell, he tried to go in for a kiss at least 3 times!

Without fail, something would make Stan dodge his advances. Oh, he suddenly has to shift a little in the opposite direction to grab something, oh, something shocking happened and he needed his whole body to react to it.

Seems fate was planning on cockblocking Fiddleford today. Not cool, man. Not cool.

During a commercial break, Stan left to get some snacks. That gave Fiddleford some time to think.

It was obvious that subtlety was getting him absolutely nowhere. He just had to be a little more direct, right? Yeah, that's definitely it.

Stan returned with a bowl of chips and sat back down. Now was time for Fiddleford's master plan.

He used every tactic he knew all at once. Wrapping an arm around Stan's shoulder, leaning in closer. Maybe he should also try getting Stan's mind off of this weird gameshow he was so invested in...

"You know, Stanley, we're home alone."

"I would hope so, yeah."

"And we aren't doing anything."

"Yes, we are! We're watching Your Guess Could Be Royally Wrong, the totally original gameshow based in Oregon."

"I just thought that, with Stanford gone, we'd be doing something else."

"...I don't follow."

That's Stan Pines for you, folks. The dumbest genius on Earth.

"Stanley..."

Fiddleford didn't know if he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. Instead, he decided that his plan of being direct was the right way to go.

"Stanley Pines."

"That's my name. Am I in trouble?"

"You're going to be if you don't kiss me right now."

"Haha, what?"

∆∆∆

The TV buzzed on in the background as they practically devoured each other's faces.

"Fidds, if you were this—hah—pent up, you could've just told me.."

"I tried to! For an entire hour!"

"Wait, really?"

"Lord, yes! I suppose something was keeping you from noticing."

"Uh huh.."

Deeming the couch to be too uncomfortable, Fiddleford took it upon himself to bring them somewhere more suitable for their.. Activity.

He picked Stan up like he weighed nothing and carried him to the bedroom.

Many kisses later, the two were shirtless and all over each other. It was like they were trying to fit multiple days worth of making out into one session. To be fair, though, it wasn't often that they had alone time like this.

Stan pulled away for a moment, much to Fiddleford's dismay.

"Ford's been out later than usual. He could come back any minute..."

Just as he said that, they heard the front door open.

Oh, God.

They rushed to put something on, not bothering to check what they had grabbed. If Ford saw them like this, in their shared space, Lord knows they'd never hear the end of it.

"Wait, are you wearing my—"

Too late to change now!

A few lazy knocks came from the door before Ford went in. He didn't even look at them, he just dropped his bag on the floor and flopped face first onto his bed.

Stan sighed in relief. It was a good thing that Ford was so tir—

"Wait."

The couple tensed up, expecting to get berated for their "inappropriate behaviour." Instead, Ford just took his glasses off and put them on his side table before promptly passing back out.

That was close...

[atlaculture]

Hi! You are awesome, your blog is awesome, it's a great inspiration and very interesting to read!

(I even want to translate some of the posts, with credits and everything, to share your awesomeness with not-english-speaking part of the fandom, if you don't mind)

I saw you helped other fans with creating looks for their original characters... Please, can you give an advice: where to look for references if I want to draw an AU with Yue being saved by not the Moon, but the Ocean spirit? Just mentioning the general direction would be great! She definitely should have a different hairstyle (+hair color ofc), a different spirit-form and a different name... I barely know anything about asian/ingenious cultures and don't want to make rude mistakes.

I know it's a lot so any small advice will be very helpful.

And thank you for your posts, you are absolutely amazing! 💜

Aww, thank you! I'd love it if you translated my posts into German. <3

Interestingly enough, both the Chinese and Inuit ocean deities are women, so there is plenty of inspiration to draw from for Yue. ^_^

Like most mythology, these stories have countless versions. I'll be choosing the versions that are most relevant to Yue. This will be a two-part post, with the first part covering Inuit culture.

Inuit Mythology: Sanna / Sedna

There was once a beautiful and kind girl named Sanna who did not want to marry and turned down many suitors. One day, a seemingly talented hunter passes through her village and demands she become his wife. Her father decides to marry her off against her will, in exchange for the hunter's large haul of fish.

The man reveals himself to be a powerful raven in disguise and carries her off to his nest--- this won't be the only time that The Raven tries to kidnap a pretty girl in Inuit mythology. Realizing his mistake, Sanna's father gets in his boat and steals her back from The Raven's nest. As he and Sanna begin rowing away, The Raven flaps it great wings and conjures up a storm.

Fearing The Raven's wrath, Sanna's father throws her into the sea as an offering. She swims back to the boat and grabs on to its edge to stay afloat. Fearing that she'll capsize the boat with her weight, her (asshole) father chops her fingers off in a panic.

Poor Sanna sinks helplessly into the ocean, her chopped off fingers following behind her. Fortunately, she is reborn as the Mother of the Sea and her chopped off fingers transform into the beloved sea mammals of the Arctic (and a much more substantial food source than fish): Whales, narwhals, seals, sea lions, and walruses.

The waters and animals that Sanna watches over will be good to those who treat animals and other people with respect.

You can see how her tale relates to Yue's story. Physically speaking, Sanna is often portrayed as resembling a mermaid, but with a seal's tail. Yue's hair could be black like a murky ocean. I also think it would be cool if you gave Yue line tattoos on her fingers, to represent the tragedy that befell Sanna.

Additional Thoughts

I like the idea of ocean goddess/mermaid Sanna wearing a parka with mittens; she only takes off her mittens to show off her finger stubs and give people a little fright. She's got a sense of humor about it. ^_^

Chukchi people, who are culturally similar and geographic neighbors to Inupiat people, believe the ocean god is the son of The Raven. I guess their version of Sanna ended up staying and having kids with her bird husband.

Sanna's story is so heart-wrenching. She should spend the rest of her days playing with baby seals and pranking people with her hands.

[truelotus]

Hii. I have such a request… How about Aizen is punishing his s/o? Can it be both SFW and NSFW, pleeeeeasse?

All around me ᢉ𐭩 Sosuke Aizen X reader

𓂃۶ৎ warning: 18+ content, NSFW, MDNI, Female! reader, rough sex, punishment, spanking, orgasm denial, hair pulling, dirty talk, teasing, oral sex(M! receiving), masturbation, Modern AU!

𓂃۶ৎ context: You thought teasing Aizen would be funny, but Aizen found nothing hilarious about it. He decides to give you a proper punishment..

a/n: Tysm for the request! I hope you enjoy reading <3 most of it was nsfw 😢

Aizen is the breadwinner of the house, so naturally.. he comes home rather late and tired. He’ll try his best to show you affection, but there are times where he is just exhausted from work.. you feel bad so you leave him be.

So you would take matters into your own hands.

Once Aizen was asleep next to you, knocked out.

You would slip your hands under your panties, spreading your wet folds apart, slowly pushing your fingers further into your tight hole. Soft moans would escape your lips, you’d have to bite your lip just to shut yourself up sometimes. You wouldn’t want to wake your hardworking husband would you?

But tonight.. you had enough.

He was once again, stuck at work, finishing up a project. And you were home, all alone, lonely, touch starved for your husband but he wasn’t around to help you. You grew frustrated, pulling down your shorts all the way, grabbing your phone in a quick motion.

“This will show him what he’s missing out on.” You turned your phone on to record, you angled the camera just right, your pussy and all it’s glory was being captured by your phone.

As you pressed record, you said “Don’t you wanna come home Sosukee~” You chanted and moaned his way out, in a way only that could only be said in bed.

You shoved two fingers into your pussy, then pulling them out nice and slow, to show your juices on your fingers, “Imagine what you could do if you were here, Sosuke~” You said as you pumped your fingers into your cunt. The only thing that could be heard were the sounds of your wet pussy being fingered.

You moved the phone away from your pussy, now you were recording yourself slowly lower down your shirt, revealing your breast. Your hard nipple was out on display for the camera. “Too bad you won’t have any of this.” You whispered before ending the video.

You replayed the video before sending it to Aizen.

You smiled to yourself, proud of what you’ve done. You then typed out your text,

Y/N: I have a surprise for you Sosuke <3

Aizen: Oh? I’m excited to see what it is hon.

Y/N: *Video*

Aizen: You know very well you shouldn’t tease me like this at work.

Y/N: Oh whatever, I’ll see you at home. Have fun at work

You let out a big sigh, turning off your phone. You were frustrated and nervous, how come he didn’t compliment you or anything? He lightly scolded you for teasing him.

You wanted him to say something, maybe like, “I’m coming home right now.” But you knew he would never say that, he isn’t the type to fall on his knees for you, he prefers you to be on your knees for him anyways.

“I’m just gonna head to bed.” You said in a grumpy tone, pulling back up your shorts.

You tossed and turned in your bed, the bed you shared with Aizen. You were too hot, frustrated and embarrassed by earlier. You sent a video of yourself to him and he didn’t even give you a compliment.

You hugged your pillow tightly to your chest, closing your eyes tightly, eyebrows furrowed. Then, you heard keys jingling, unlocking the door. You already knew that it was Aizen coming home.

You covered your head with the blanket, wanting to avoid him. You thought maybe if you faked being asleep he wouldn’t talk to you or scold you any more.

You heard him enter the room, quietly closing the door behind him. And for some reason, you held your breath. There was some tension in the air and you were trying your best to avoid it.

“I know you’re awake, darling.” You could hear him unbuckling his belt, but you just assumed that he was changing into his sleeping wear. You didn’t respond and kept quiet.

And it continued that way for a while. Aizen grew frustrated by your frustration. He pulled away the blankets from you, revealing yourself finally.

You finally locked eyes with Aizen, but then suddenly..

Aizen grabbed your ankles, pulling you down to the edge of the bed, bending you over the edge, forcefully pulling down your shorts in a hasty motion. “What did I say about texting me like that during work?” Aizen said as he creased your ass, rubbing it gently.

“Oh please, like if that video even caused any harm to you.” You said, trying to crawl back up to the your side of the bed. Only for him to pull you back down, he pulled down your panties, smacking your ass hard.

He smirked when seeing your ass get slowly turn red, having his hand print on there. You let out a little yelp by how hard he smacked your ass. “I couldn’t focus because of you.” He said as he gave you another smack on your ass.

“That’s why I told you before, to not tease me at work.. It seems like you need to be punished a bit more.” You could feel your sex getting hotter and wetter, you could tell where this was going already.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged him, he smirked by your response. He then pulled down his pants��along with his boxers— “Looks like I’ll have to fix that attitude of yours too.” He grabbed both of your arms, pinning them behind your back, he put some force as he held your arms behind your back.

He gave his hard, lengthy, pre-cum dripping dick a few strokes before shoving it right into your pussy, with no warning. You let out a sharp and loud moan, no matter how many times he fucked you, his dick could always surprise you.

“Fuck! Aizen!” You moaned out as he continued to thrust himself into you, his thrusts were fast, hard and harsh. His movements were almost too much, you kept moving forward because of how hard he was fucking you.

His balls were hitting your clit, sounds of skin clapping to each other filled the room, along with your moans.

You were seeing stars, your knuckles turned white by how tight you were holding onto your bed sheets, eyes rolling back and slobber slowly coming out of your mouth.

“Oh. My fucking.. goshh.” Your words were shaky, arching your back as your face was squished down to the bed. You could hear low grunts behind you, from Aizen.

“You seem.. fuck. to be enjoying your punishment a little much.” He cursed out loud by how tight your walls were clamping onto him, not wanting him to pull out of you. He slapped your ass as he watched it jiggle from him fucking your pussy.

“Please.. Don’t stop. I’m so close.” You cried out, slowly turning your head to look at him with your pleading teary eyes, you didn’t want any of this to stop any soon, you could feel yourself about to cum soon.

Aizen’s smirk then became wider than ever, he pulled out his cock out of you, turning your body body around, he swiftly threw you to the ground, but of course made sure to not hurt you while doing so.

“If you want me to make you cum you’ll have to work for it.” Knowing exactly what he meant, you quickly got up, knees on the floor. You quickly grabbed his cock, you hollowed your cheeks, taking all of him in with your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around his tip, causing him to grunt. As you sucked his dick, you held eye contact with Aizen, looking up at him with glossy doe eyes.

“Fuck.. thats it.” He grabbed your hair, slightly pulling it, fucking your mouth. He pushed your head deeper down to his cock, making you choke, tears swelled up in your eyes when feeling the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

It didn’t take long for Aizen to finish using your mouth, you could feel his warm and salty cum filling your mouth up. When he knew he was finished shooting his cum into your mouth he pulled out, making a ploop sound.

Your lips were glossy with saliva, you swirled his cum around your mouth before swallowing, “Open, let me see.” He demanded, and of course you listened, he bent over slightly, towering over you as you stuck your tongue out to him.

He smirked, seeing you successfully swallow his cum. He took this moment to steal a kiss from you, you melted to his touch.

“You did a wonderful job.” He pulled away, having a wolfish smile on his face when seeing you panting, desperately trying to ease up your breathing pattern. “Though I do believe you are in need for some more punishments.”

As the both of you panted, finally able to breathe properly after everything. Aizen pulled you closer to him than ever before.

The both of you were now plopped down on the bed, exhausted from everything, “How was that?” He purred into your ear, then resting his head on the crook of your neck. “It feels like I’m seeing stars still.”

His chuckle comforted you, “I’m glad, I apologize for neglecting you for so long.” He placed a small kiss on the crook of your neck, his big arms held onto your frame so tightly.

“No, it’s okay. I know you’re busy with work and everything.”

“It’s not okay, A man should never neglect his woman’s needs.”

You smiled to yourself, happy to the end like this. Sex felt great, but being this close to him felt even greater.

Being skin to skin with Aizen felt..safe.

[ghostgirl-22]

Yes hello I have some thoughts about dopey cockslut Art I'd like to share with the group.

In the lockeroom with Patrick and his teammates.

Wearing those obscene blue panties briefs.

Discuss.

🩷

Oh my love. It’s been ages since you sent me this. I know. I’m so sorry 💔

Poor guy. Art definitely prefers boxers at this point in his life but it’s been two a day practice sessions for the past couple weeks. And with his crazy course load he’s barely had time to do laundry so he’s wearing as a last resort these briefs his mom bought him (Patrick finds that part out later).

CW: 18+ NSFW, exhibitionism, voyeurism, bimbofication, cock!slut, my little mildly ooc au where everyone wants that blond in those panties. And no, i don’t mean the au that is challengersblr. Or do i…<3

—-

It’s not even Patrick who does it. It’s this boy named Eli. Tall and built, he’s kinda stocky for a tennis player. He’s not particularly quick on the court but when he gets to the ball the return is usually powerful and right down to the baseline.

The locker room is half full, everyone just getting ready to go home and that’s as close as they come to all doing it. Eli is sitting on the bench, watching art bend over to grab something out of Patrick’s tennis bag when he tugs at the waistband of his shorts trying to peek inside. “Shit are you wearing panties, Donaldson?” He says loudly. Heads turn, some boys start snickering. 

“No,” Art begins to flush immediately, shoving Eli away and trying to straighten his shorts. 

“I can see the panty line…You so fucking are,” Eli says. 

“Oh my god, lemme see.” Eli’s good buddy Adam approaches. Walking up behind Art.

“I’m not… shut up you guys,” Art says, but his voice takes on this playful sing song tone. A tone that Patrick is more than familiar with. Flirty and soft because he can’t help himself.

Adam and Eli aren’t the only boys that are curious .

“Are they lacy panties?” Another teammate jumps in and there’s more snickering.

“I wanna see,” another boy says excitedly.

It’s been such a crazy past few weeks, they’ve been training so intensely for this tournament against the best program in the nation. No time for parties and girls and all the other usual outlets. Just school and tennis. They’ve been all up in each other’s personal space, spent more time with each other than anyone else. There’s been all this tension and hormones and Art’s kinda pretty. Girl pretty and kinda soft. This blond with full lips, long eyelashes and sad blue eyes. In one of their more inappropriate away game late night drunk discussion sessions they’d all basically agreed they’d fuck Art first if they ever got stranded as a team.  (They all planned to eat this kid Jeremy first, the team captain, nothing personal it’d just be his duty to the team). 

The whole dumb conversation left Patrick oddly aroused, the idea that practically the whole team admitted they would fuck his best friend. The idea that most of them had thought about fucking him before it ever came up. Gets him so fucking hard.

Art had rolled his eyes, saying that it was so stupid and unrealistic and none of it made sense.

“Really? you don’t want us all to take turns fucking you?” Is all patrick had to say, whispered soft in his ear. Art never says anything but he does go silly for the rest of the night.  

He tends to fall apart so easily for sexual attention. Especially when it comes from other boys and everybody knows it.

“Come on just let us see the color,” Adam teases, he’s grabbing at Art’s t-shirt while Art playfully bats him away. 

”I bet they're red,” someone else says, padding over from the other side of the locker room. “He’s so pretty in red.” 

“I bet… Patrick knows what color they are,” team captain Jeremy chimes in.  

Patrick snorts, “well as his roommate…sure i do,” he shrugs casually and settles on the bench, just opposite of them. As distracted as he is, it’s easy for Art to find Patrick’s gaze, it’s like he follows the sound of his voice or whatever which is kinda fucking hot. Patrick isn’t sure what to do with that yet.

Art can’t stop looking when he sees Patrick sitting there watching him. His flush getting deeper and more delicious.

“As his roommate, right… I’m sure…” Jeremy smirks, clapping Patrick on the back and Patrick grins.

“Dude everyone just wants to see if you’re in girls panties, come on, show us,” Eli says.

Art goes completely silly when Adam grips his waist and shoves him firmly up against the locker. Art leans his back against it, jutting his hips out while gazing at Adam and Patrick in turns. Lips wet, eyes dilated, as Adam tugs the waistband of his shorts low, revealing his little blue briefs. Fitting even tighter cause he’s half aroused.  

“I told you they weren’t panties,” Art says, tone still singsong and soft. 

“Might as well be. Holy shit, look at you,” Adam says, touching him right away.

Art gazes at Patrick biting down on a soft little moan. 

Patrick drags his palms over his thighs. 

Eli puts his hand on Art too and suddenly they’re both touching him.

”oh fuck,” someone else whispers. There’s barely any air in the room when Eli kisses him and Art closes his eyes and starts moaning for it in front of everyone.

“You should let me fuck you… oh my god.” Adam sighs, kissing his throat. “Fuck.”

“God,” Jermey says, he’s mildly breathless. “You know you boys can’t do that in here. I-I mean what if coach comes in.” 

Eli breaks the kiss with a sigh. “Yeah, mmkay right, cap.”

“’m sorry,” Art says, licking his lips. He’s all flustered pushing Eli and Adam off of him and trying to pull his shorts back up over his erection. Trying to hide it.

Silly. Silly boy. So fucking silly.

It’s enough to put a little bit of the air back in the room but Patrick can see various teammates adjusting themselves for this.  

Eli pats Art on the bottom when he tries to bend over Patrick’s bag again. Another boy pinches his waist when he stands up. Jeremy is practically white knuckling his gym bag, can’t take his eyes off Art.

“I don’t see why we have to wait to be stranded to fuck him.” Patrick overhears one of their teammates whisper to another as they’re leaving the locker room.

Adam is basically begging Art to come over later. “I know you want to.” 

“I dunno,” Art’s all squirmy trying to accommodate for how messy he just got. For how hard he still is for their attention. They all want his attention and he’s just so flustered and overwhelmed. He walks the wrong direction to grab his bag. Patrick tugs at his shirt as he passes, to redirect him to the right locker. And of course he can’t remember his locker code.

“Come on, I got it.” Patrick says. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he tells Patrick, antsy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Patrick spins the dial.

“Didn’t you?” Patrick smirks, teasing the hair out of his eyes. Art bites his lip. Patrick grabs Art’s bag. Picks up his own.

Art is so easy right now, nearly let himself come in front of his teammates. Probably would’ve let Adam fuck him if Jeremy wasn’t such a goody two shoes team captain. Probably would’ve let them all fucking take turns inside him after that.

Patrick can’t wait. he just has to fuck another load into him right away.

He doesn’t even have to try to get those little blue briefs off, just steps away from the boys locker room, Art bent over the desk of an empty office. They’re still all sweaty and damp from practice and from what they did right before practice started. When he’s done, Patrick pulls the briefs back up slowly while Art’s panting for him. Admiring how they look over the mess he made. 

“Mm i dunno.” Patrick sighs. “i like you in red but blue is my favorite color.” 

(I have one day off, yall, dare I say inbox zero? *she says, eyes maniacal, crazy and deranged*)

[radioactiverats]

would starscream ever have cadet as his conjux endura?

Thank you for your ask!

Just random things I’ve been rotating in my mind like a low-poly kebab on how to push the story: Evolution of the relationship + Starscream would burn the world down for you :,)

---

Evolution of the relationship:

Prefacing by saying that in this AU cadet is of age - I'm imagining somewhere between 23 and 26 in human years. Honestly haven't decided on any concrete ending! I’m happy rn playing around with the current dynamic we have, but I have been wondering about the different directions it could possibly go, like an AU of an AU. I want to keep Mentor/Cadet frozen in time, but also curious about what happens if we press the 'play' button and move forwards?

The Autobot/Decepticon war has created a maelstrom of fear/needing to feel safe/needing to be able to trust, and it forces out the extremes in all of you - you risked yourself to learn first aid for Starscream, Starscream puts his spark on the line to keep you safe from Megatron. The things said while the other was unconscious range from pleas to be okay, to outright begging not to be left alone. The situation gives rise to a dynamic only the harshest of conditions can produce, because now you know you would die for each other. It’s difficult to describe the bond you share, because there is in unnameable sense of trust and closeness that comes from relying on each other for survival. You know each other better than anyone else. You know what Starscream looks like when he’s terrified. You know what his energon feels like when it’s dripping down your servos. Hell, you know what his spark looks like.

So, Starscream is your commander as much as you are his cadet. It’s not love in its most straightforward sense, but the dogged adoration someone lost and adrift has for a mentor - until it snowballs into something much bigger, something all-encompassing and unnameable. All you know is that both of you can’t - won’t - live without the other. I tend to think about aged up ReiMob from Mob Psycho 100 to try and pinpoint the dynamic, because having someone who understands you so wholly is genuinely on a whole other level of intimacy.

I have thoughts... it's basically you can't imagine existing so closely with anyone else, and when it comes to secrets, 'firsts', personal matters... you can't think of anyone you trust more.

Also kind a ramble plz bear with me bc I am taking all the opportunity to yap :,)

I started out with a gentler Starscream than I was used to seeing in media, because I wanted to see how giving him an outlet to show care and becoming attached would reveal a softer side of him that he can’t afford to show in the war (can’t trust anybody, etc.).

But at the same time, several things are true:

- His care for cadet is genuine

- He would go to extreme lengths to protect us

- He hides this from you, because he wants to keep you untouched by war for as long as possible - and a deeply buried part of him fears your revulsion if you realised the things he’s done.

- His servos are filthy with energon that no amount of solvent can ever wash away, and another part of him rages and screams at the very idea that you’d turn away from him, because some of these things are done for you.

In my mind, we are not here to ‘redeem’ him necessarily, and having you there won’t change the vicious ambition that’s a core part of his character. We just… experience it differently, so to speak - instead of being on the receiving end of his cruelty, we are an ignorant beneficiary, because Starscream would burn the world down to keep you safe - and perhaps he knows that you would never consent to the things he does, never accept what he offers you, if you knew the methods he used to obtain them - how happy is a happy ending if he had to carve it from the light of countless sparks? Can it still be recognised as a happy ending when it’s drenched in energon so fresh that it’s warm?

By design, we don’t really know what his duties as SIC entail. Some days, he comes back reeking of solvent - clearly having spent a joor or so under the steaming taps before recharge, but you’ve mostly put it down to habit. (Deep down, you know it’s not a habit.)

To some degree, then, you reluctantly understand why he can’t afford to be kind. His bloodstained servos single-handedly carved a space for you to remain gentle, which meant that he couldn’t be. Not if you both were to survive.

On the battlefield, though - you gaze at the feared Decepticon SIC, known for his ruthless cruelty, spinal strut ramrod straight and wings proud - and find it impossible to believe it’s the same bot who sings you Vosian lullabies at night.

[kyeomofhearts]

Back For More | J.WW

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ "A little rain never hurt anyone." ᯓᡣ𐭩

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to share a history with. + pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader + genre(s): fluff, smut, romance, childhood acquaintances to lovers (?), angst (only if you squint at the end). + word count: 6.3k + content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, teasing. + warnings: heavy make out session, a lot of teasing in-between, oral (fem!rec), they switch positions like once, slight overstimulation, hair pulling, dry humping, wonwoo calls reader 'birdy'. [MDNI]

HC | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] heyyyy! long time no see :D i know i took forever on posting this but at least i hope i made it worth the wait. if you like it please comment and reblog, it honestly pushes me to write more hehe! ALSO HUGE THANKS TO @facethesunflower for beta reading this for me!!

The helmet glared in your direction. It was taunting you in a way, as if it knew that you were scared. 

It was dumb, really—a mere helmet causing such unease—but here you were, voice wavering as you mumbled, “There’s absolutely no way I’m getting on that bike.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, the sound teasing but warm. And as much as Wonwoo wanted to tease you about this, he knew it would only make you resist riding the bike with him. So for now, he planned to calm you down and make fun of you later.

“Yn, come on,” he said, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. The comforting weight of it anchored you, even as you felt your nerves spiraling all over the place. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that was almost disarming. “We’ll just ride through the streets,” he assured, “and I’ll go slow.”

His thumb moved in gentle circles as he spoke, a small, mindless motion that shouldn’t have been so calming but somehow was. You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself under his touch.

There was a pause as you studied him. Wonwoo’s expression was earnest, his words reassuring. As much as your cautious side screamed at you to refuse, another part of you—the part that, unfortunately, trusted him—nudged you forward. Maybe this could actually be fun?

“Promise you’ll be careful?” you asked again, needing to hear it one more time.

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation, his voice firm.

With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed his backpack. It was heavier than expected, filled with a mix of his and your belongings, but it was manageable. “Let’s hope this thing even fits me,” you muttered, reaching for the helmet.

Sliding it on took more effort than you’d anticipated. The snug fit surprised you, given how helmets aren’t exactly one-size-fits-all. Probably just pure luck, you thought.

Wonwoo stepped closer to help secure the straps. His hands worked deftly, and before you realized it, his face was mere inches from yours. Heat crept up your cheeks, and you silently thanked the helmet for concealing your embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was to feed his already-inflated ego.

But as he adjusted the straps, you noticed the smaller details of his face—the faint blemishes, the tiny imperfections that only seemed to make him more human. More real.

“Having fun?” His voice broke through your thoughts. 

You blinked, refocusing on his smirking face. That smirk—arrogant yet endearing—should be trademarked at this point.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, attempting to salvage your pride. “I can still back out, you know.”

Wonwoo chuckled, clearly unimpressed by your empty threat. “And yet, here you are.”

You rolled your eyes, choosing silence instead of fighting back. You distracted yourself with the weather. The air carried a light warmth, a preview of spring’s arrival. Clouds lingered from last night’s rain, their soft edges catching hints of sunlight. It was, admittedly, a perfect day for a ride.

The growl of the engine pulled your attention back to the present. Wonwoo glanced at you, his helmet obscuring most of his face but not the playful tilt of his head.

“Ynnn,” he drawled, motioning for you to get on.

“Uh,” you hesitated, awkwardly gesturing at the bike. “How do I…?”

He laughed, the sound low and easy. “Okay, first, stand on the left side. Put your foot here.” He tapped the footpeg. “Then swing your other leg over.”

You followed his instructions, pausing halfway. God, this was nerve-wracking. 

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I’m keeping the bike steady. Just hold onto me if you need to.”

Summoning your courage, you followed his instructions and managed to climb onto the bike. It wasn’t as bad as you’d imagined.

“Good,” Wonwoo praised. “Now, scoot closer to me so we can balance better.”

Your arms hovered uncertainly around his waist.

With a light chuckle, he reached back and pulled your arms firmly around him. “Like this,” he said, tapping your hands lightly.

The closeness made your heart race even more. You prayed he couldn’t feel it through his jacket.

Wonwoo adjusted his helmet and then turned slightly to playfully bump it against yours. He gave you a double thumbs-up, silently asking if you were ready.

Well, you’ve come this far, you thought. No turning back now.

With a deep sigh, you returned the gesture.

The bike jerked forward gently, easing into motion. Wonwoo kept the speed low at first, giving you time to adjust. As he twisted the accelerator, the wind began to rush past, carrying your nerves with it. 

The city unfolded around you, familiar streets taking on a new perspective. The freedom of the ride was exhilarating, the hum of the engine a steady reassurance to your being. Despite your initial hesitance, you felt… safe.

You tightened your hold on Wonwoo as the bike picked up speed, your heart pounding—not just from the ride but from his proximity and the warmth radiating through his jacket.

For the duration of the ride, neither of you spoke. Well, it’s not like you could, anyway. The world blurred in a rush of motion and colors, leaving you breathless in the best way.

And… when the bike finally came to a stop, you almost wished it hadn’t.

Wonwoo set the kickstand down and turned off the engine. He glanced back at you, smirking as he noticed your arms still wrapped tightly around him.

“Enjoying yourself, huh?”

Flustered, you quickly let go and tried to dismount without his help, only to stumble halfway.

“Careful,” he said, steadying you with a hand on your waist, “don’t want you getting hurt now, do we?” And with that, he hopped off the bike with ease, extending his hand like it was second nature.

Taking his hand, you let him guide you off the bike; your legs felt wobbly, but you managed to stand nonetheless.

“How was the ride?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled through the helmet.

“It was…” you said as you both pulled off your helmets, the sound of the world rushing back to your ears. “…it was actually kind of fun.”

Wonwoo grinned, happy with your response. “Told you so.”

There was a beat or two where you just looked at each other, not knowing what else to say. 

With little reluctance, you held out the helmet with both hands, feeling oddly shy. “Here. Thanks for letting me borrow it,” you said softly.

He took the helmet, his fingers briefly brushing yours. “You kind of needed it.” 

Ugh, there he goes!

“I regret ever saying anything,” you groaned out, already making your way past him.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything as he trailed behind you, too busy basking in his victory 

As you made your way inside the elevator, you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him back. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

He shrugged casually. “Just following my backpack,” he murmured, giving a light tug on the grab handle of his backpack—the one that you forgot you had on.

Oh.

“If you just wanted to invite me over, you could have said so.” You didn’t need to look at him to know he was thoroughly amused with himself.

You huffed in annoyance, there was no winning when it came to him. “Just shut up.”

You shrugged off his backpack, taking your squished tote from its confines. “Here you go! Now you can go on your way.”

Wonwoo laughed at your little attitude. “Well, now that I’m here… it would be rude to just have you walk alone, wouldn’t it?”

While you would be more strict on letting a guy walk you to your apartment—more for privacy and safety reasons—you couldn’t help but be more lenient for Wonwoo. Part of you thinks that it’s due to knowing him for many years, but you know that wouldn’t be the complete truth.

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. 

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Cat got your tongue?”

You didn’t say anything, only opting to flip him off as a response.

The elevator finally dinged, and you stepped out, leading him down the hallway. When you reached your door, you turned to face him fiddling with the handle. “Well, this is me. Thanks again for today, Wonwoo. Really.”

He leaned casually against the wall, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Anytime.”

And just as you were about to respond to him, the sound of an apartment door—more specifically yours—creaked wide open. 

The sight of Yubin standing in the doorway startled you, and you stepped aside just as Sohee appeared behind her, holding a cup of coffee.

The pair froze at the sight of Wonwoo by the door.

“Oh,” Yubin said slowly, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Didn’t realize you were… busy.”

“Oh—I’m not!” you managed to blurt out. “I mean, we’re not. We just…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely toward nothing.

“Right,” Yubin said, her tone neutral but laced with that teasing tone you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You groaned inwardly, knowing they wanted an introduction. “This is Wonwoo,” you mumbled, motioning toward him. “He’s an old friend.”

“Old friend?” Yubin repeated, her tone still teasing. “And I was beginning to think that you didn’t have any friends besides us…”

You shot her a glare. “Well, we only knew each other back then—”

Sohee’s eyes widened as she continued to look at you and Wonwoo. “Oh my god! Yubin, it’s that Wonwoo!” She said as she violently shook Yubin’s shoulders.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh at the cute dynamic between the three of you. He also couldn’t help but feel more interested to know about what you may have told them about him.

“Didn’t know you spoke about me, birdy,” he piped in, looking directly into your eyes.

“She actua—” Sohee started, but you quickly covered her mouth with your hands, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.

“Relax. We’re just messing with you,” Yubin said, giving you a playful nudge. Her attention turned back to Wonwoo. “Well, we’d love to stay and chat, but we were actually heading to the library. Don’t have too much fun, you two.”

“Yubin!” you hissed as she sauntered past, Sohee close behind.

“See you later, Yn. Don’t let the rain get to you, Wonwoo!” Sohee called over her shoulder, shooting you one last knowing grin before disappearing down the hallway. Rain?

As the door softly clicked shut, you were left in an almost suffocating silence. You exhaled heavily, your cheeks still burning from the encounter.

“Your roommates seem fun,” Wonwoo said, his lips twitching with amusement.

“Very,” you agreed almost instantly.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You know,” he said casually, “I don’t mind being teased, especially if it’s about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fumbled for a response. “That’s… I mean… they’re just—”

“Glad to know that you talk about me, though,” he said, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

You blinked, your breath catching. 

His smile deepened, and for a moment, you thought he was going to say something else. But instead, he straightened himself and stepped back. “Although, what’s this about rain?… Wasn’t it just sunny when we got here?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure either, I was kind of confused by that too.”

Wonwoo only hummed. “Well, a little rain never hurt anyone.”

Maybe he was right, a little rain wasn’t the end of the world. If anything, it should be sprinkling at most right now. The weather can’t change that fast.

“I’ll see you on Sunday?” he said, ruffling your hair a bit.

You swatted at his hand only to reply with a meek, “Sure.”

With that, he turned on his heel, slipping out into the hallway. You watched as he walked back to the elevator, hands in his pockets, before finally shutting your apartment door. 

A little bit after Wonwoo had left, you decided to change into something more comfortable, opting for sweats and an oversized shirt. You put on one of your favorite shows for background noise only to notice how loud the it was outside. 

Wanting to see, you went over to the window near the kitchen, peeling back the curtain slightly—the sky was considerably darker than before. 

Your brows furrowed. Huh?

The rain was coming down in thick sheets now, the wind faintly whistling as it rattled the nearby street signs. That was weird. It hadn’t even been a full thirty minutes since you came in with Wonwoo, and now it was pouring? The sight of it made your stomach churn in concern. 

“A little rain never hurt anyone.”

You sighed. What an idiot. 

Still, he was an adult. He could take care of himself. You turned away from the window, trying to ignore the pit growing in your stomach. He’ll be fine.

To take your mind off of him, you decided to pull out some of your favorite candles—to help boost that rainy day ambiance, at least.

While lighting them up, you heard a loud knock at your door. 

Then another. The second knock was a lot louder this time. Frantic, if anything. 

Hesitant, you made your way to the door, checking to see who it was through the peephole, only for it to be Wonwoo. Ha.

Opening the door, you immediately burst into a fit of laughter—he was completely drenched. His black jacket clung to him, rainwater dripping from the ends of his hair, strands plastered to his forehead. His face was set in a deadpan expression, unamused by your amusement.

“Oh my God,” you wheezed, covering your mouth. “What happened to ‘a little rain never hurt anyone’?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, peeling his wet jacket off. “Are you going to keep laughing, or are you going to let me in?”

You pretended to think for a minute, tapping your chin as if you were in deep thought. “Hmm.”

Annoyed, Wonwoo began to move away from you—only for you to catch his wrist and drag him inside. “Yeah, okay, fine. I’m only doing this because you look pathetic.”

He muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. You shut the door behind him, shaking your head as you turned to look at him again.

“You should’ve just left when you had the chance,” you teased, disappearing into the hallway closet. You returned a moment later with a clean towel, tossing it at him.

He caught it effortlessly, rubbing it over his face and hair before sighing. “It wasn’t that bad at first. But then the wind picked up like crazy, so I just ended up covering my bike.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress another laugh.

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

You grinned back at him. “No, you don’t.”

He didn’t respond, just continued to dry his hair before reaching for the hem of his soaked shirt. You turned away before he pulled it over his head, quickly rummaging through your dresser for something dry. Eventually, you found another oversized t-shirt and sweatpants—courtesy of your ex-boyfriend from many years ago.

“Here,” you said, handing it over without looking. “Change before you get sick.”

He raised a brow. “This yours?”

“No, it’s Casper’s,” you deadpanned. “Yes, of course, it’s mine! The bathroom is the first door to the right. Now go.” He didn’t need to know the truth…

Wonwoo only hummed, clearly amused by your response. He grabbed the set of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom.

As he changed, you busied yourself in the kitchen, setting water to boil for tea. The rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, filling the space with a soothing ambiance.

By the time Wonwoo returned—his hair was still slightly damp, but he looked much warmer—he accepted the mug you handed him without question. You led him towards the couch since the kitchen was too cluttered for your liking. For a few minutes, the two of you simply sat there, comfortably sipping your drinks. 

“That’s a lot better,” he admitted. 

You hummed in agreement. And then, just when you thought the moment would pass without incident—

“So,” he said, setting the mug down on the coffee table. “Your roommates seemed very familiar with me.”

You groaned. “Seriously? We’re back to this again?”

“Uh-huh.” He stretched, letting out a satisfied chuckle. “Any hint to what you have been saying about me?”

You glared at him. “That you’re super annoying.”

He grinned. “And…?”

“I plead the fifth!”

His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened. “Oh, that’s interesting.”

Your face burned. “That’s not—”

Wonwoo shifted closer, fingers grazing yours, his voice dropping ever so slightly. “It’s cute, birdy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

The smirk on Wonwoo’s face lingered, but his eyes darkened slightly, scanning your expression like he was waiting—for you to pull away, for you to say something, for anything that might indicate that you don’t want to explore this with him.

But you didn’t move.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The warmth of his hand near yours suddenly felt scorching, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, setting every nerve on fire.

“Birdy,” he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue softer this time, almost teasing but laced with something else—something heavier.

You swallowed hard. “You’re so—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Wonwoo closed the distance.

His lips pressed against yours—light at first, testing, lingering just long enough to make your stomach flip. But the second you melted into it, his restraint snapped.

Wonwoo moved fast, one hand slipping around your waist while the other cradled the side of your face, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss. He tasted like the tea you had made for him earlier mixed with something distinctly him—something you knew you would crave later. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to make up for all of the times he had almost kissed you but didn’t.

And God, he kissed like he meant it.

Your fingers fisted the fabric of his borrowed shirt, pulling him closer. Wonwoo groaned softly at the movement, the sound low and utterly wrecking. His grip on you tightened as he shifted, guiding you back until your arm met the cushions near the armrest. 

He hovered over you now, his body pressed deliciously close, his weight grounding you in a way that made your head spin. His knee slotted between your legs, just barely brushing against you, the contact sending shivers down your spine.

Wonwoo pulled back for a brief moment, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb traced along your jaw, his eyes flickering between yours, searching. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “and I will.”

That was the last thing you wanted, you needed Wonwoo right now.

Instead of answering him, you surged forward, tugging on the collar of his shirt to bring his lips down to yours again. This time, it was you who deepened the kiss, pressing your body against his in a way that made his breath stutter.

“Shit,” he muttered against your mouth, his hand sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing over the skin of your waist. He wasn’t rushing anything—just feeling, mapping out every reaction, every sharp inhale, every soft noise you let slip past your lips.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and Wonwoo let out a strained curse under his breath before pressing his lips to your neck, trailing heated kisses along your jawline. 

“Didn’t think you’d ever let me get this close,” he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. 

“Felt generous today.” You replied casually, trying to hide your nerves.

His low chuckle vibrated against your throat, and then his teeth grazed against your pulse point, making your fingers dig into his shoulders. “How lucky of me.”

Your mind was sent into a frenzy—you didn’t know where this was leading to. But the way his hands were gripping your waist, combined with the heat of his kisses, you knew that this was something neither of you wanted to stop anytime soon.

And, judging by the way he whispered your name before claiming your lips again, you weren’t going to.

Wonwoo’s lips were relentless, moving against yours like a starved man. Every touch, every press of his fingers against your skin was filled with desire or frustration—one of the two, the weight of whatever had been building between you for far too long taking over.

But then came a sharp knock at the door.

Your entire body tensed. Wonwoo stilled too, his breath fanning against your neck as you both listened—a beat of silence, then muffled voices passing by in the hallway.

Your heart pounded in fear.

Wonwoo exhaled a quiet laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “We should—” He sucked in a breath when you shifted against him, his fingers tightening on your hips. “—probably move this to your room.”

It took a second a second for you to fully process what he was saying, your mind still fogged with the way he was pressed against you. But then reality hit—your roommates. If they came home right now, they’d find you both tangled up on the couch, and you would never hear the end of it.

You hesitated, but Wonwoo tilted his head, watching you carefully. “Unless you’re into that…” he teased, voice lower now, rougher.

You glared at him, but the effect was lost when he playfully nipped at your jaw. “Freak,” you muttered, shoving at his shoulder. “Come on.”

There was a flicker of something dark in his eyes before he pulled away from you, allowing you to grab his wrist and lead him to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Wonwoo had you against it almost immediately.

The kiss that followed was hotter and messier. His hands were a lot bolder now, skimming beneath your shirt, fingers tracing over your heated skin like he was trying to memorize every detail. You gasped against his lips when he grabbed the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist again.

“Fuck,” he muttered, guiding you toward your bed. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

You barely had time to process the words before your back met the mattress, Wonwoo hovering above you, his weight deliciously solid between your thighs, hips rutting up slowly—testing the waters. His lips were on you again in an instant, trailing from your jaw down to your neck, lingering at the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, voice husky.

Your breath hitched when his hands slipped up, thumbs brushing just beneath the curve of your ribs. You weren’t sure if he meant the teasing, the back-and-forth banter, or just the fact that you were here now, beneath him, letting this happen. 

Maybe all of it.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. The sound sent a thrill through your body, heat pooling low in your stomach.

“I guess I could say the same about you,” you managed to whisper in response.

Wonwoo chuckled, his nose brushing against your collarbone before he kissed along the exposed skin, each press of his lips making your pulse stutter.

Minutes blurred together—clothes shifted, touches became more desperate. Heat swirled between the two of you, every movement of his pulling you further into the haze of want.

But just as things started to pick up again, Wonwoo suddenly slowed down.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Wonwoo?”

His fingers skimmed along your arm before stopping at your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Are you sure?”

“About?”

“This.” He exhaled sharply, like he was forcing himself to hold back. “I don’t want to rush you, that’s all.”

Your chest tightened at his words.

Despite the heat of the moment, despite how badly you knew he wanted you, he was still thinking about you.

Your fingers trailed up his spine, grounding yourself in the warmth of him. The intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip, but you found yourself nodding. “Please.”

A flicker of something—relief, maybe—crossed his expression before he kissed you again, slower this time, softer.

He pulled away again, but before you could complain, he was already tugging at your sweats and underwear.

You helped him slide them off by moving your hips upward, anxiously waiting for his next move.

Wonwoo sat up, throwing your clothing to the ground. Feeling overly exposed, you tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. Balance it out, you know?

He let out a low chuckle at your insistence but didn’t hesitate to peel his shirt off, tossing it somewhere near your pile. Your fingers instinctively traced over his toned stomach, feeling the heat radiating beneath your touch.

His lips were on you in an instant—starting at your mouth, then trailing down the column of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He took his time pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, his hands mapping out the curves of your body as he went.

Your breath hitched when he reached your stomach, his lips grazing over sensitive skin. His fingers splayed over your waist, holding you in place as he continued downward, his mouth painting a slow, deliberate path. The anticipation was dizzying, every brush of his lips making you ache for more.

When he finally settled between your thighs, his gaze flickered up to meet yours—searching, waiting for permission.

You quickly nod, needing him now more than ever.

With your approval, he moved his arms down toward your thighs, his fingers gently pressing into the soft flesh, pulling you closer to him. His breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he made sure to take his time with you.

He started off slow, pressing fluttering kisses near your cunt, his lips barely brushing the sensitive skin, his touch featherlight. The softness of his kisses was a gentle reminder of the tenderness between you both, teasing as well as coaxing you into the moment.

As the seconds passed, he grew more confident, his mouth finding its rhythm, draggin a long, slow lick up to your clit, the pressure light at first but just enough to make your breath catch. Your body arched instinctively toward him, a soft moan escaping your lips, and you found yourself pulling him closer, urging him on.

Wonwoo’s movements were deliberate and controlled, but there was an undeniable hunger in the way he continued, each kiss, each lick sending waves of pleasure through your body. His tongue circled around you, experimenting, drawing out every inch of pleasure as you melted into the feeling.

You moaned softly, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moved with purpose, the sensation making your hips instinctively buck upward. Each time his mouth pressed against you, your body trembled, and a heat bloomed deep within you.

Wonwoo’s hands tightened around your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue flicked and teased, bringing you closer to the edge. He was deliberate, each movement calculated, but there was a sense of urgency in the way his lips parted against you, the hunger in his eyes evident as he looked up at you, gauging your reactions.

You could feel the tension building inside of you, coiling tight as he slowly dragged his tongue up again, swirling around your clit before sucking it into his mouth with a steady pull. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pressure mounting, your chest rising and falling with each sharp inhale.

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “Please, more.”

His eyes darkened at your plea. He didn’t need another invitation. His hands moved up your body, pulling you closer, urging you to open yourself to him fully.

The way his mouth devoured you, his movements were more urgent now; he was like a drug, leaving you with no control over your reactions. You clutched at his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he took you higher and higher. 

You were on the brink, so close, your body tense with anticipation. With one final flick of his tongue, your hips jerked as you reached the edge, a breathless cry escaping you as you finally shattered, your body shaking as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

He didn’t stop; instead, he slowed down, licking you gently, helping you ride out the waves. His mouth soft and tender as he continued to kiss and soothe you, his hands never leaving your body.

As you came down from your high, your body still tingling, Wonwoo didn’t move away. Instead, he pressed lingering kisses along your inner thighs, his lips warm and teasing as he worked his way back up. The slow drag of his mouth against your skin sent another shiver through you, anticipation curling in your stomach all over again.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice husky, filled with something smug yet fond. His hands slid up, fingertips ghosting over your waist before settling on your hips. “Didn’t know you could be this sensitive.”

You wanted to fire back with something, but your brain was too mushy to come up with anything, your body still trying to recover from the way he’d completely unraveled you. Instead, you groaned and weakly pushed at his shoulder. “Shut up.”

Wonwoo only chuckled, low and throaty, before he crawled back over you, his weight pressing into you in the best way. His knee slotted between your thighs, his bare chest warm against yours. You barely had a moment to adjust before you felt it—his hard length pressing against your thigh through his sweats.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you shifted slightly, feeling the way he twitched against you. “You’re really worked up, huh?”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his arms bracketing your head as he hovered over you. “What do you think?” His voice was strained, deeper, and it sent a thrill down your spine.

To test him, you shifted your hips ever so slightly, dragging against him. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Yn,” he warned, but there was no real threat behind it—just desperation.

Grinning, you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair. His breath hitched as you gave a small tug, watching the way his eyes fluttered shut for a brief second before snapping open again, darker and hungrier than before.

“You like that?” you mused, your voice teasing.

He didn’t answer, but the way he groaned, pressing his hips down against yours in response, told you enough.

“God,” he muttered, dropping his forehead against yours. “You’re going to kill me.”

You giggled but quickly gasped when he rolled his hips again, this time more deliberately, seeking friction. The warmth of him, the weight, the sheer neediness of it all made your head spin.

His hands found yours, fingers slipping between yours as he pinned them against the mattress. His grip was firm, grounding, like he needed to hold onto you just as much as you needed to hold onto him.

“I should make you pay for teasing me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek before trailing lower, nipping at your jawline.

You hummed, squeezing his hands as he continued to kiss his way down your neck. “I think you’re the one who’s suffering here, not me.”

Wonwoo huffed a soft laugh against your skin. “That so?” His hips rutted against you again, a little more desperate this time, his breath coming out uneven. “Feel that?”

You did. You felt all of him—hot and aching against you, his restraint slipping with each passing second.

“Tell me what you want, Yn,” he rasped, lips brushing against your collarbone.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his hands. “I think you already know.”

Wonwoo groaned, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he rutted against you again, the friction between you both drawing sharp little gasps from you. His hands released yours, only for one to slip under your shirt, fingers toying with your breast as if he was trying to ground himself with it. The other trailed up your thigh, slow and deliberate, before he hooked it around his waist.

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, tugging just enough to make him hiss. He retaliated by rolling his hips down again, sharper this time, making you whimper in response.

“Still want to tease me?” he murmured against your skin.

You bit your lip, barely holding back a whine. “Maybe.”

He scoffed, tightening his grip on your waist as a warning.

Wonwoo shifted again, suddenly sitting back on his heels, dragging you up with him. His arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest as he settled you onto his lap.

“Better,” he mumbled, his hands soothing over your bare thighs as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Easier to hear you like this.” 

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t deny the way your body reacted to his words, the way the need between your legs only grew worse.

His hands slipped under your shirt again, his palms warm against your back, and when he kissed you this time, it was slower, deeper. He let you set the pace, guiding the way your hips moved against his, taking his time with you.

You gasped as his hands roamed, tracing gentle but deliberate patterns along your spine. His kisses grew more languid, as if he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you, every shuddering gasp you gave him.

You moved against him again, chasing that intoxicating friction, and he groaned low in his throat, fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, breath warm against your lips. “You feel so good—”

A shiver wracked through you at his words, the heat between you becoming unbearable. You tugged at his hair again, earning a delicious groan from him as his hips stuttered beneath you.

The rhythm between you both turned desperate, more frantic, your hands clinging to each other as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach. Wonwoo’s forehead dropped against yours, his breaths coming in short, unsteady pants, his grip on you firm as he chased his own high.

“Wonwoo—” his name slipped from your lips, a breathless plea.

“I know,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to your temple, his movements growing more erratic. “I got you, birdy—just let go for me.”

The sound of his voice alone nearly undid you, and when he dipped his hand between you, adding just enough pressure where you needed it most, your body tensed before unraveling completely. A sharp cry left your lips as pleasure crashed over you, your nails biting into his shoulders as you clung to him.

Wonwoo wasn’t far behind. The way you trembled in his arms, the way you moaned his name like it was the only thing you knew—it sent him over the edge, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he buried his face in your neck, riding out his own high. His grip on you tightened before slowly loosening, his breath shaky as he tried to come down from it.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths. Your bodies were still tangled together, skin damp with sweat.

“I’ll be right back,” Wonwoo whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed. You watched as he padded out of your room and toward the bathroom. 

He returned a few minutes later, looking more at ease now that he had cleaned himself off. Then, without warning, he flopped back onto the mattress, draping himself over you dramatically.

“Wonwoo—” you groaned, squirming as he pressed his weight against you.

“Shhh,” he murmured against your neck. “Just let me have this.”

“You smell like sweat,” you deadpanned, but your hand was already threading through his hair.

You sighed; your body was still jittery from the intensity of everything, but the pressure of his body against yours was grounding. Wonwoo shifted slightly, pulling you close. His hand moved up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your cheek.

“You good?” His voice softened, and for a moment, the teasing tone melted away.

You hummed in response, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mhm… just a little tired.”

He chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. “Me too.”

You shifted, nuzzling closer to him, and he responded by pulling you even tighter against him, his warmth lulling you deeper into sleep.

And as the night stretched on, with his steady heartbeat beneath your ear and his arms wrapped securely around you, you let yourself relax completely—safe in his warmth.

Silence settled between you, the heat from his body lulling you toward sleep. And just before you drifted off, you swore you felt him press the softest kiss against your forehead.

When you woke up the following morning, the other side of your bed was empty. 

Your heart dropped at the coldness from it. For a second, a pang of something—disappointment? hurt?—settled in your chest. Was this a mistake?

Before you could even wallow in self-pity, you noticed one of your sticky notes clung to your phone.

Had an early shift today. See you on Sunday :)

And while you were conflicted about last night’s events, you couldn’t help the feeling of relief you felt from the note. 

A sigh escaped you as you sank back into the pillows, only to realize that his scent was now embedded in your bed. Great.

Sunday.

You have no idea what to expect when you see him again, but one thing is certain—there is no going back to how things were before, well, not for you at least.

…

Part Four: Coming Soon…

[☻] hiii! i know i already left a note, but i just wanted to shout out @stendy4life for reminding me that people were actually waiting for part 3! also big thanks to @cherry-zip and @facethesunflower (again) for pushing me to finish this part <333

[corgiss]

I know a lot of you follow me for my DCxDP stuff, but unfortunately I have been having a rough time with writing lately and I haven't made much progress on the next entry.

In the meantime, I thought I would mention some facts about this AU that I haven't been able to touch on yet!

1) Dick has hEDS, which I mentioned in part five. When he got the diagnosis, Tim spent months working to create a suit that worked like a body braid (a type of compression gear made for hypermobile folks) without looking like one. Dick hasn't had a sub-lapse on patrol since Tim finished.

2) Jason has fibromyalgia. He doesn't like to talk about it, because a lot of people consider it an excuse or think it's fake. On particularly bad days, he can't even patrol, because he hurts so bad that his gear touching him is painful. Steph takes over patrolling Crime Alley on these days.

3) Pit madness is essentially ecto-starvation. Being somewhat of a ghost himself, Jason requires a small amount of ectoplasm every once in a great while to function at full capacity. The longer he goes without some sort of source (i.e. the Lazarus Pit, a portal, a ghost, etc.) the worse it gets.

3a) Danny's ectoplasmic radiation is enough to stave off this hunger. Jason has felt a lot calmer since Danny showed up; Jason doesn't quite understand why, but Danny's put the pieces together.

4) Dick made Danny and Jason matching t-shirts. Jason’s shirt says “I died and all I got was this t-shirt”. Danny’s says “I died and all I got was this t-shirt (and superpowers)” Danny thinks it’s a lot funnier than Jason does.

5) Being immunocompromised, Tim is theoretically more susceptible to ectoplasmic radiation than the others. It does make him a little sick to be around Danny for too long, but he’ll never tell anyone, because it’s not Danny’s fault.

6) Vlad, on his end, is trying to get Jack and Maddie’s funding cut and licenses stripped. He’s nothing if not a petty bitch, but he also genuinely cares about Danny and wants him safe.

7) As soon as Jason actually meets Jazz in person, he’s gonna be completely head over heels. They both have the Older Sibling thing going on, and Jazz is probably like a third of Jason’s weight but she still bosses him around like she’s not even a little bit frightened by his presence (spoiler; she’s not even a little bit frightened) and he loves how ready she is to take over a situation and lead everyone through a perfect plan.

7a)He hasn’t had a lot of people he felt this way about, so he promptly flips his shit when he realizes.

That’s all I have to share for now, but I hope y’all enjoy the fun facts 🥰

[a-spicy-reader]

THIRD DATE

Synopsis

All Luana wanted was to go out and relax, have a drink and, who knows, have a good conversation. She just didn't expect that this conversation would be with Mark Lee, a K-pop idol.

Amidst casual encounters, shared laughter and a connection that grows every day, they find themselves caught between the euphoria of what they are experiencing and the uncertainty of what is to come. After all, Mark will soon need to return to Korea Is it worth giving yourself over to something that could end so quickly? Or are some stories worth living, even without guarantees?

First, you crashed into my life and you just broke My roof and my window, girl, you had me shook ♪

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

mark x fem!reader

GENRE — fluff, slowburn, humor, idol au,

English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes.

[1] [2]

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

Luana had already figured out that Mark did nothing conventionally. After their spontaneous second date, she wondered what it’d be like when they actually planned something. The answer came in an unexpected Friday afternoon text.  

Mark: “So I was thinking… since I’m officially the kart champion, how about a new challenge?”  

Luana: “You’re still on that? I thought you’d accepted my competitive superiority by now.”  

Mark: “If that helps you sleep at night, sure.”  

She rolled her eyes, laughing. He knew exactly how to push her buttons.  

Luana: “Fine. What’s the challenge this time?”  

Mark: “Ice skating.”  

Luana stared at her phone.  

Luana: “Ice skating?!”  

Mark: “Yep. Ever skated before?”  

Luana: “Once… and it was a disaster.”  

Mark: “Perfect. This’ll be fun.”  

Luana: “Fun for who? Because I’ll be on the ice floor more than skating.”  

Mark: “I’ll catch you if you fall.”  

Her heart skipped at his reply.  

Luana: “Alright, Lee. Let’s see who wins this round.”  

The outdoor ice rink was busy but not crowded. Groups of people glided under twinkling lights, creating a near-magical scene. Toronto’s cold was biting, but Luana and Mark’s energy kept things warm.  

Mark was already laced up, balancing effortlessly like it was second nature. Luana, meanwhile, sat on a bench, eyeing her skates like they’d betrayed her.  

“I won’t laugh,” Mark said, holding out a hand to help her up.  

“I don’t trust you at all,” she replied but took his hand anyway.  

The moment she tried to step onto the ice, her feet slid wildly.  

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she yelped, death-gripping Mark’s arm.  

He steadied her waist, keeping her upright.  

“Told you,” she hissed, clinging to him like her life depended on it.  

“I’ve got you. Relax,” he chuckled.  

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Ice Prince,” she grumbled.  

He guided her slowly, never letting go of her hand. Gradually, Luana found her balance.  

“See? You’re getting better,” Mark praised.  

“Still think this was a trap to laugh at me,” she teased.  

“Maybe a little.”  

She playfully shoved him, lost her footing, and crashed onto her knees.  

Mark’s eyes widened before he burst out laughing.  

“I knew it! You wanted to see me fall!”  

“Sorry, sorry! Here—” he reached out.  

When she grabbed his hand, he “slipped” and landed beside her.  

Now it was Luana’s turn to laugh.  

“Instant karma!”  

They sat there on the ice, laughing like fools as people skated around them.  

After an hour of skating (and several tumbles), they headed to a nearby café. The cozy spot had a fireplace, warm lighting, and the smell of chocolate and cinnamon.  

Mark tugged off his gloves, rubbing his hands to warm them.  

“Okay, I admit it. You did better than I expected.”  

“You thought I’d fall ten times, didn’t you?”  

“Yep,” he grinned. “But it was only five. So, congrats.”  

“Thanks. I feel so victorious.”  

They sipped hot chocolates by the window.  

“So, Luana. I know you’re Brazilian, but how’d you end up in Canada?”  

She blew on her drink. “Came to study. Always wanted to explore, so I took the chance.”  

Mark leaned forward. “What do you study?”  

“Biological sciences, focused on research and innovation.”  

His eyes lit up. “That’s cool. Like developing new medicines?”  

“Exactly. Among other things.”  

“Wow, so you’re basically a scientist.”  

She laughed. “In training.”  

“Still awesome. What do you miss most about Brazil?”  

She smiled wistfully. “The food. I like it here, but nothing beats arroz, feijão, and churrasco.”  

“Barbecue! Agreed,” he said.  

“Wait—you’ve had Brazilian barbecue?”  

“Of course! Been to Brazil a few times.”  

“Hmm… so you already know how we treat guests?”  

“Oh yeah. First time there, I thought I’d roll home after eating so much.”  

“Does that mean you’ve tried pão de queijo?”  

He nodded. “And brigadeiro. And coxinha. And churrasco.”  

“Okay, I’ll accept your Brazilian food credentials.”  

“What about you?” she prodded. “What do you do?”  

Mark smirked. “Well… I kinda sing and dance for a living.”  

Luana snorted. “Kinda?”  

“Yep. Sometimes I write songs and pretend I’m good at sports.”  

“Right. And millions of fans watch you do it.”  

He scratched his neck. “Uh… that part’s true.”  

She raised an eyebrow. “Wait—are you serious?”  

Mark pulled up his Instagram—a profile with millions of followers, packed with concert and tour photos.  

Luana blinked, processing.  

“Okay… so you’re actually famous.”  

“A bit,” he shrugged.  

“How have I never heard of you?”  

“You don’t follow K-pop, do you?”  

She shook her head. “Just the basics. So… you’re in a group?”  

“Yeah. But let’s save that for later.”  

She sensed he didn’t want to dwell and let it go.  

“Alright, superstar,” she teased, making him laugh.  

They lingered over lighter topics before heading out. When the cold bit harder, Mark unwrapped his scarf and draped it around her neck.  

“Hey! You’ll freeze.”  

“I’ll survive,” he winked.  

They held each other’s gaze for a beat.  

“I had fun today,” she said.  

“Me too. So… can I see you again?”  

Luana smirked. “Is that a rhetorical question?”  

Mark laughed. “Maybe.”  

On her way home, her phone buzzed.  

Mark: “Think I lost another challenge today.”  

Luana: “Yeah, you fell on the ice. Literally.”  

Mark: “I meant something else.”  

Luana stared at her screen, heart racing.  

She didn’t know where this was going. But she definitely wanted to find out.  

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed: Izzy, Izzy, Izzy… Look out there. Those clouds. Do they look like Frankfurters to you?

Izzy: They look like clouds, Boss? Can we just focus on…?

Ed: Yes, yes, they look like clouds because they are indeed clouds, but if you just put some fucking imagination into it, man!

Izzy: [long pause] I suppose they look like sausages…

Ed: Frankfurters, yes! Exactly. It’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes, man.

Izzy has worked with Ed for years and still doesn’t understand his mind works best in simile or metaphor; that he needs a certain level of creative social interaction to keep him sane, that the bouncing of an idea helps consolidate things in Ed’s mind.

Yet we see Ed give Izzy every opportunity to interact. Ed already knows the answer really, and the significance. He’s trying to build rapport, include Izzy; but also feel this is a team effort, that Ed’s not carrying the safety of everyone alone. He’s trying quite naturally to share the load with his First Mate.

Unfortunately, Ed’s met with barely-veiled disdain - ‘They look like clouds, Boss.’ Even if Izzy can’t understand what’s being asked of him, he could ask questions for clarification, or even, I dunno, just agree and trust Ed’s judgement. But he’s not bothered because he wants to focus on his plan, the one that’s better than his boss’s who he says rather contrarily, is ‘the most brilliant sailor [he’s] ever met.’

We hear Ed’s frustration, and the key word ‘imagination’ clarifies much of the issue. Izzy has none, or doesn’t care to cultivate any. Imagination isn’t for real men. Having a plan involving firing canons at a superior vessel is the done thing, apparently.

When Izzy does finally give in to his boss’s Very Silly Game™, I find the answer irritating. He uses ‘sausages’ instead of ‘Frankfurters’. It’s a way of agreeing whilst not agreeing. He’s diminishing Ed’s observation. He won’t use Ed’s word, his more imaginative and precise word, a very particular type of sausage. Izzy’s being blasé, truculent, even. Imagine an AU: ‘Does that look like a car to you?’ / ‘I suppose… it looks… like a vehicle.’ It’s the response of an adolescent. The use of ‘suppose’ has tone as well. Ed’s response reveals years of frustration. ‘Pulling teeth’ is being kind. Feeling you want to bang your (or Izzy’s) head against a wall is a more appropriate response.

— -

Ed: What’s that painting? What is it? A grain tower?

Stede: Oh, it’s a lighthouse. I should’ve been one for my family. And guided them.

Ed: Hmmm… well, technically, you’re supposed to avoid lighthouses, so you don’t crack up on the rocks.

Stede: I never really thought about it that way.

Ed: Hmm… no one does.

Together: We need to be a lighthouse!

I still don’t know what to make of Ed who sees lighthouses possibly daily, and thinks he’s viewing a picture of a grain tower. But it reinforces abstract thought and lateral thinking. Ed often doesn’t see what is there; he sees beyond, creative alternatives, the non-obvious answer.

Stede could’ve given a taciturn response, ‘Oh, it’s a lighthouse.’ If he’d stopped there, they would’ve all died, probably. But because Stede is open and conversational, he goes on to explain why he has that picture, and the symbolic importance of it.

This then allows Ed again, to offer an alternative interpretation - you’re technically supposed to avoid lighthouses. But Ed only gets there through the openness of the interaction, the to-ing and fro-ing.

And Stede’s reaction is important also. He doesn’t dig his heels into a rigid interpretation of what a lighthouse represents. He doesn’t say, ‘I suppose’ or ‘Why are we talking about this when we’re all about to die.’ He says, with genuine surprise and curiosity ‘I never really thought about it that way.’ Stede has an adaptable mind. One willing to learn and see things from a different perspective even in the worst moments. Which is why what happens next happens.

The joint ‘We need to be lighthouse!’ reveals a lot about where these two are already heading. The camerawork is phenomenal, moving between the pair, but also blurring background and foreground, bringing Ed, then Stede into focus. They have an already-developing symbiotic relationship. Furthermore, Stede, the new kid on the block, the one who’s apparently a bit of an imbecile, comes up with the plan the same moment as master-strategist Blackbeard. And that means something. That means a lot actually.

It’s very clear what we are meant to understand about the characters. The juxtaposition of Ed and Izzy’s relationship to that of Ed and Stede’s shows how starved of an intellectual and creative equal Ed has been for years… possibly since forever. They come up with a plan that’s equal parts ridiculous and sublime - a little bit like them, really. And it works! - because of respectful reciprocal conversation. The outcome will always be one of my favourite scenes.

[j3lly-fshhhh]

TROLLHUNTERS OPTIONAL RP SERVER!!

My friends and I run this super awesome TOA AU server.......you should like totally join. RPing is optional, so also join if you just wanna hang out!! If you are interested in RPing, below is the little blurb from Disboard and some concept art made by our Co-Owner!! Owner - @g3ah Co-Owner - @herberwest Admin - @yoshis-island420 Admin - @olizempic on Discord

˖·.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.·˖

In ancient times, dragons ruled the Earth, their paradise of Old Valyria crafted by the Draconic Goddess Tiamat. But Valyria's volcanic foundations doomed it, leaving only a few dragons to escape its fiery destruction. Thousands of years later, in 2021, dragons are rare and hidden, remnants of their once-mighty kingdoms. Trollhunter James Lake Jr. faces a dire threat as primordial wizards Bellroc and Skrael seek to end him and unleash a Divine Reckoning. Despite Nari's hiding, the Order grows impatient and recruits fearsome allies, including the ancient dragon queen, Vhagar. Yet, hope remains as some dragons, like Caraxes and Meleys, join the Trollhunters to fight for the greater good. A war looms that will shake the Earth and skies, as dragons once again take flight in a battle for the ages.

˖·.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.·˖

Hello! This is Trollhunters: The Dance of Dragons, a Tales of Arcadia AU roleplay server! Above was a summary of our lore. It's just TOA with dragons, specifically dragons from the Game of Thrones prequel, House of the Dragon. Now, you may be thinking, "I love Trollhunters, but I don't know a thing about House of the Dragon!" That's ok! YOU DON'T HAVE TO! The lore and plot of HOTD are completely irrelevant to this server. Just think of it as TOA, now with dragons (that talk)!

˖·.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.·˖

In this server, we pride ourselves in…

Being welcoming and inclusive of all members

Being an amazing space for artists to share their work

Having extensive RP channels and being welcoming of OCs

Having cool events!!

Being flexible! You DO NOT have to RP by the lore at all

Being a cool server to just chat in -- you do not have to be a roleplayer to be here!!

We hope you join this server. It was a project that was thought up by our wonderful co-owner, and one that the staff is very proud of. We want to see this fandom active again, we miss it!

˖·.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.·˖

We've already got a few canon character slots claimed, as well as some dragons and OCs! Below is who we have available.......