#THIS HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD FOR A WHILE. finally drew it. get real

[doctordoombignaturals]

this is like basically how that arc went if you squint

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[springtyme]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Arthur Morgan x afab!reader || Masterlist || Arthur playlist

summary: Since joining the Van der Linde gang, you have felt yourself gravitate toward Arthur Morgan. Like a moth to a flame, this rugged yet kind man has captured your attention. On an unusually cold night, your infatuation finally comes to a head.

word count: 5.3k

warning/tags: Smut! (18+, mdni!) Fluff. Grinding. Cunnilingus. Unprotected p in v. Arthur is a gentleman. This is my first time writing for Arthur and it's been a while since I played the game, so I hope I captured him okay.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎) 𝐇𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡

The moon hangs high in the star-speckled sky, casting a silvery glow on the encampment of the Van der Linde gang, with the biting chill of the night air settling in like a thick blanket. The crackling of the campfire fills the air, chasing off the chill that has settled in once the sun dipped below the horizon. Arthur sits across from the flames, his usual bravado softened by the flickering light. He gazes into the fire, lost in thought, the shadows dancing across his strong features.

You sit a short distance away, bundled in a blanket, and you shiver despite the flames dancing before you. Your eyes flickering between him and the fire. The chill in the night is more biting than you had expected, and it has settled right into your bones. You glance at Arthur, his shoulders broad and inviting; an idea sparked in your mind.

Since you joined the Van der Linde gang, you have felt pulled towards him. Like a magnet to a magnetic field, strong and irresistible. You couldn’t even fight it, not that you would want to. There is something about Arthur—a mix of strength and vulnerability—that drew you in like a moth to a flame. And, despite his immediate ruggedness, he has been so kind to you, a much gentler man than his reputation would let on. 

It had all accumulated within you about a week ago, when you saw him by the river, you hadn’t meant to stumble upon him. You hadn’t seen much, you left almost immediately, not wanting to invade his space, but the view of his bare backside had been burned into your memory ever since. 

There was a rawness to him in those moments of solitude, something unguarded, something real. It left you breathless and a little envious of the water that cascaded over his skin, the way it dripped and glistened under the sun. That day, you realized your feelings for him went deeper than mere admiration.

Now, amidst the crackling flames and the pull of the night, you find yourself sorting through those emotions like kindling. You wrap the blanket tighter around you, contemplating your next move. The fire pops, sending a small spray of embers into the air, momentarily illuminating the dark before they vanish into the vastness above.

“Arthur?” you call softly, hesitating for a moment.

“Yeah?” he replies, glances up from the tin cup he is nursing, his eyes sparkling with the firelight. 

“Do you think… maybe I could sit closer? It’s getting pretty cold,” you say, the honesty spilling easily from your lips.

He raises an eyebrow but nods. “Sure…” You move closer, feeling a bit shy but determined to warm up. As you settle next to him, the warmth from the fire is immediately replaced by the heat radiating from his body.

“You’re freezing,” he comments, noticing how you hug your arms around yourself, still not quite warm enough. 

“Yeah… I guess I underestimated how cold it would get,” you admit with a shy smile.

Silence envelopes you for a moment, but it isn’t uncomfortable. The crackling of wood and the distant calls of the night echo around you, creating a serene backdrop. Arthur shuffles a little closer, his eyes flicking toward yours, as if assessing the situation.

“Here,” he says, leaning in a bit more and draping his arm across your shoulders. “That should help.”

Your breath is caught in your throat as his warmth seeps into you, a protective barrier against the cold. You stiffen for a moment at the sudden intimacy, but his presence is steady and comforting. It feels right.

“Thanks,” you mumble, leaning into him, instinctively seeking the heat the flames couldn’t provide.

“You’re really cold,” he murmurs, his breath trailing over your ear, making you shiver for an entirely different reason. “You shoulda said somethin’ sooner.”

You nod, reveling in the closeness, a soft warmth spreading in contrast to the chill of the evening. “I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed… deep in thought,” you say, glancing up at him sideways.

Arthur chuckles quietly, the sound deep and rumbling. “Not that deep… Just thinkin’ ‘bout what’s next. You know how it is,” he replies, his gaze returning to the flames. There’s an unspoken weight in his voice, a hint of the burdens he carries. You don’t push him for more; you know better than to pry. Instead, you shift slightly, fitting into the curve of his side, embracing the warmth he offers.

“I get it,” you say softly, looking into the fire. The flames crackle and pop, sending sparks dancing into the night. You steal A glance at him, but just as you look up, he looks down at you, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he caught you in the act of admiring him. It makes your heart skip just a little and heat creeping up your cheeks. You quickly return your gaze to the fire, feigning indifference.

The atmosphere shifts slightly, the warmth between you growing with each passing moment, and you can almost feel the magnetic pull of his gaze. Arthur doesn’t need to say anything; the silence is filled with everything unspoken, the tension hanging like the starry sky overhead.

“Cold as it is, it sure is peaceful tonight,” he remarks, glancing up at the stars for a brief moment before his gaze slips back to you. You nod, the serenity of the night cloaking you, but it’s the closeness with him that makes the stars shine brighter. There’s something intimate about sharing a moment like this amidst the chaos of the world, just the two of you, together under the vast expanse of stars.

“Yeah, it is,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. A warmth blooms in your chest, and you allow yourself to lean a little further into his side, breathing in the scent of him—leather, smoke, and something distinctly Arthur.

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder how we ended up here,” he says, his tone contemplative, stirring your curiosity. “This life… it ain’t pretty, but it’s moments like this that keep us going, I reckon.”

You turn to look at him, noting the way the firelight casts shadows across his face, highlighting the rugged lines that tell stories of hardship and resilience. “It is,” you respond, then add playfully, “I guess it beats freezing alone out here.”

He chuckles softly, and the sound vibrates through you. You can’t help but study him closer, the way his mouth curves when he smiles, the tenderness that lies beneath his hardened exterior. “You got a point. Just don’t go gettin’ too used to me keepin’ you warm,” he teases, his tone playful but his eyes betraying something deeper.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply, attempting to sound nonchalant, though your heartbeat quickens at the thought of sharing more than just warmth.

A moment passes, and the atmosphere shifts again, charged with an electric tension. You feel his breath against your skin, each inhale igniting a flicker of desire deep within you. Tentatively, you glance up again, catching his eyes locked onto yours, and your heart races.

You look up at him, wanting to reach out and bridge the unspoken gaps between you and In that moment, as the warmth of the fire flickers and the world outside of your little bubble fades away, something shifts. Arthur’s fingers brush against your arm, a gentle caress that sends shivers down your spine. The air feels thick with unspoken words, an invitation hanging between you both.

“Y’know… I actually wouldn’t mind if you got used to me keepin’ you warm,” Arthur murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, laced with an undeniable sincerity that makes your breath hitch in your throat. The shift in his demeanor—more serious, more vulnerable—sends a rush of heat through you.

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you can’t tell if it’s from the warmth of his body or the pull of desire igniting between the two of you. “Arthur…,” you start, but the words escape you as his gaze drops to your lips.

Without fully realizing how it happens, you shift closer, your breath mingling with his. In the space of a heartbeat, he closes the gap, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss. It’s soft at first, a gentle exploration filled with a sweet urgency, but soon turns more fervent, fueled by a longing that has been building unnoticed until this very moment.

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the surprisingly soft strands as you deepen the kiss, leaning into him, feeling the heat radiating off of his body. Arthur responds in kind, wrapping his arm tighter around you, pulling you against him, as if he never wants to let you go.

The world around you fades away, leaving only the warmth of the fire and the heat of each other. You lose yourself in the sensation—his lips moving against yours, his fingers skimming over your back, igniting every nerve in your body. 

As the world outside dims, it feels like nothing else exists but the two of you. You feel his body against yours, the roughness of his hands juxtaposed with the fire’s warmth. The chill of the night fades completely, leaving only the heat that surges between you.

“Arthur,” you breathe, pulling back slightly to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His eyes are dark and intense, a mixture of longing and something deeper.

“Yeah?” he replies, that low rumble of his voice sending tingles down your spine. His gaze stays locked on you, filled with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt about how he feels.

“Are you gonna keep me warm tonight?”

Arthur’s breath hitches slightly at your question, a playful spark lighting in his eyes. He searches your gaze as if looking for the truth behind your inquiry, the shadows of the fire dancing across both your faces, bathing you in its warm light.

“I reckon I can manage that,” he answers, his voice low and full of promise, steadying himself as he leans even closer. The intensity of the moment is electric, wrapping around you like the embrace of the night.

With a slow deliberation, he shifts his body, creating a more intimate cocoon around you. His hand runs gently down your arm, sending waves of warmth pulsing through your skin. You feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy yet inviting, as he moves slightly, his lips brushing past your ear.

“Why don’t we head to my tent, then?” you suggest, a nervous thrill coursing through you at the thought of such proximity. The air hangs between you, thick with possibilities.

“Lead the way, darlin’,” his voice gravelly and coaxing, a hint of mischief threaded through his words. The intimacy of the proposition sends a shiver down your spine—not from the cold this time, but from excitement.

You stand, heart racing, and reach for Arthur’s hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the warmth of the fire and the potential curious eyes of the camp. The chill of the night air bites against your skin, but Arthur’s presence is a comforting blanket around you. The way he moves beside you, the strength of his hand enveloping yours, intensifies the fluttering in your stomach.

As you approach your tent, the world outside fades into silence, just the two of you amidst the stillness of the night. You pause just outside, your pulse quickening as you glance back at him. His gaze is dark, heated, full of expectation, and it sends a thrilling rush through you.

Without thinking, you lean in slightly, brushing your lips against his, a teasing caress filled with anticipation. He responds instantly, his hand moving to cradle your face, deepening the kiss as his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him.

“Let’s not waste any more time,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and mingling with yours as he nudges you into the tent. You stumble in, laughter spilling from your lips as he follows, his gaze intensely focused on you.

Inside, the dim light casts a cozy glow, illuminating the space where your bodies stand mere inches apart. The air is thick with tension, the scent of leather and smoke surrounding you as Arthur steps closer, a predatory glint in his eye. It sends another wave of excitement coursing through you.

“Closer,” he says, voice low and commanding, and you obey instinctively, stepping into his personal space. You can feel the heat radiating from him, and the electric spark between you intensifies.

His hands find your waist, gripping you firmly as he leans down, capturing your lips again with a fierce need. This kiss is different—hungry and demanding. You melt against him, losing yourself in the taste of him, the warmth of his body enveloping you. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Arthur’s hands roam your back, gently urging you towards the edge of the small cot amid the tent. You gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to explore further, trailing kisses down your neck as you tilt your head back in delight.

“Damn,” he murmurs, his voice ragged with desire. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” His breath is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as you pull him back up to you, crashing your lips together again.

The feeling of him—his rough hands, the weight of his body—intensifies the urge coursing through you, the desire to surrender to this moment. You tug at his shirt, muscles straining beneath your fingertips. With deft hands, he works it free, his shirt falling to the ground as your hands roam over his bare skin, feeling the heat radiate off of him.

“You’re incredible,” he breathes out as you touch him, exploring every inch of his toned torso as he leans over you, the power dynamic propelling your heart rate even higher. His lips find your collarbone, brushing over the sensitive skin, making you gasp.

“Arthur,” you murmur, your voice a combination of need and admiration. He pulls back slightly, his blue eyes dark and full of intent as he studies you. There’s a possessive heat in his gaze that makes your insides curl with anticipation.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his breath hovering over your lips. The way he speaks sends a ripple of excitement through you, the possibilities stretching out like the night sky above.

“I want you,” you admit, surprise mingling with clarity. The words tumble from your lips, bold and unguarded. “I want all of you.”

Arthur grins, a slow, wicked smile that sends a rush of heat through you. “Then you’ll have me,” he declares, and in an instant, he’s on you, capturing your mouth again, deepening the kiss as he pushes you back onto the cot.

The world around you fades away, engulfed in the warmth of the moment as his body presses against yours, igniting every nerve with a fervor you hadn’t anticipated. Your breath quickens as he trails kisses down your jaw, over your neck, and back to your lips, again and again, each exploration sending electrifying sparks shooting through you.

His hands roam freely, brushing against your skin while his lips do their own wandering, every touch stirring a primal need in you that’s impossible to ignore.

“Arthur,” you breathe, tugging him closer as you arch against him, the heat between you both rising like wildfire. “Please,” you beg. You need him, need him to touch you without anything between you, no clothes, no barriers.

He pauses for a fraction of a second to meet your gaze, seeking confirmation—desire laced with care—and in this moment it is as if can read your thoughts. You don’t need to voice your wish, only to confirm to him that it is okay. 

“Please, Arthur,” you repeat. It is all he needs to hear. Calloused hands start to undress you, helping you shred your garments and expose your skin to the chill air of the night.  

The cool air rushes over your bare skin, contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from Arthur as he leans over you, his breath warm and steady. A shiver runs through you, not from the cold, but from the heady anticipation swirling in the air. With every piece of clothing that falls away, a new layer of vulnerability is revealed, but instead of feeling exposed, you feel a sense of liberation, a boldness surging from within.

Arthur’s gaze is intense, roaming over your body as if committing every curve, every scar, and every inch to memory. His exploration is slow, deliberate, full of reverence, and it ignites a fire within you that dances just below the surface. You watch as the flickering light from the fire outside casts warm shadows across his rugged features, illuminating the desire etched in his expression.

In one swift motion, he discards your last garment, and a heat flushes through you, both from exposure and the rawness of the moment. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that tugs at your heartstrings. There’s an honesty in his eyes that makes you feel cherished in a way you never expected.

“Arthur, I—” you begin, but he silences you with a kiss, capturing your words and folding them into the intensity of the moment. His lips move over yours with a tender ferocity, igniting a hunger that spreads like wildfire throughout your body. You respond eagerly, your hands pulling him closer, craving his touch against every inch of your skin.

He breaks the kiss, leaning down to press his lips against your collarbone, trailing soft kisses down to the swell of your breasts, his breath warm against your skin. Each movement sends jolts of pleasure coursing through you, every kiss igniting a spark that sets your nerves alight.

“Arthur…” you breathe, arching your back instinctively, wanting more of him, needing him to explore every inch of you. His hands roam freely, caressing your curves, memorizing the way your body responds to him.

“Easy, darlin’,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rich with warmth and desire. “I got you.” There’s a sweetness to the way he speaks, a reassurance that only deepens the connection between you. He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and in that moment, the world outside, the gang, the chaos of life fades entirely. All that matters is the quiet, intimate space you’ve created together.

With a gentle touch, his hands guide you back down towards the cot, his body following, pressing against you, enveloping you in his warmth. You feel the weight of him against you, the sensation almost overwhelming in its intensity as he leans down, kissing you deeply once more. The kiss deepens, both of you lost in the surge of desire that envelops you.

You pull him closer, your hands exploring the muscles of his back, tracing the lines of his form. He moves with a mix of urgency and reverence as he grinds against you, cultivating a rhythm that makes your pulse race. You feel every press of his body against yours, the heat soaring higher with each passing moment. you gasp as you feel the curve of his hardened cock through the rough denim of his jeans.

“Darlin’, I want to taste you,” he murmurs, the growl of his voice promising things that make your breath hitch. The implication sends a thrill up your spine, desire surging through you like fire. You can hardly respond, only nodding breathlessly, caught up in the intensity of his gaze and the heat radiating from his body.

“Please,” you manage to whisper, the plea escaping your lips with a mix of eagerness and urgency.

With skilled hands, he begins to move lower, trailing kisses along your body, down the gentle curve of your waist, following the soft dips of your hips. Each kiss sends ripples of anticipation coursing through you, and you arch towards him, craving more. Arthur moves with deliberate slowness, taking his time, savoring every moment, the intent in his eyes making you feel cherished and desired.

“Trust me,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin, and you can hardly muster a reply as he reaches your thighs, the heat of him only intensifying your longing. You can feel the weight of his gaze as he looks at your body, and a breathless shiver runs through you; he's memorizing you, relishing each curve.

His hands part your thighs gently, and you feel an exhilarating rush of vulnerability and excitement. With a teasing touch, he trails his fingers along your inner thigh, barely brushing against your skin, igniting sparks of electric sensation. The anticipation builds within you, a tantalizing chord strumming tighter and tighter, waiting for him to play the melody that will make it snap.

“Arthur,” you breathe, the urgency of your need unmistakable now.

“Gotcha,” he replies, the smirk evident in his voice before he dips his head. As soon as his lips make contact, you let out a soft gasp, your body responding instinctively to his mouth. His warm, firm lips explore and tease – deliberate, unhurried – and the world outside the tent melts into nothing.

Every flick of his tongue sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you feel yourself lose track of everything—the camp, the stars, the night—nothing matters but this moment, this connection. He revels in the taste of you, eyes locked onto yours as if wanting to drink you in not just physically, but soulfully.

“Just relax, darlin’,” he murmurs against you, and the sound vibrates through you, only adding to the swirling sum of sensations. You feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, knowing just how responsive you are to him, and that realization sends a ripple of heat coursing through you.

His movements become more fervent, focused on every inch of you, and as his tongue works its magic, you feel your body tighten, shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he’s drawing from you. “Arthur…,” you gasp again, surrendering completely to the waves of ecstasy that just keep rising and rising.

“Feel good?” he teases, glancing up briefly, and the rogue glimmer in his eyes tells you he knows just how much you're enjoying this.

“More than good,” you reply, your voice trembling with need. “Don’t stop.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” he promises, and his focus returns, deepening the intimacy of this moment. He immerses himself fully, your body moving instinctively in rhythm with his expert ministrations. The sensation becomes addictive, and with each flick, each pull of his lips, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to leap.

You can feel the tension building, each wave of pleasure rolling higher within you, and you fight to hold on, pleading with him through moans and gasps. With a final, deliberate stroke against your most sensitive spot, you shatter, the world erupting in a shocking brilliance as you crest over the edge and fall into bliss.

“Arthur!” you cry out his name, your body trembling, stars exploding behind your eyes, and you lose yourself completely in the overwhelming pleasure. The waves of ecstasy roll through you, and it feels like everything fades away—nothing but you and him, anchored together in this intimate cocoon.

He continues to tease and coax you through your high, savoring every moment, every sound you make. The connection between you both deepens in this exquisite stillness—passionate and primal, a sweet collision of souls in an unforgiving world.

When the tremors finally subside, you pull him back up to your lips, hunger evident as you kiss him deeply, tasting yourself mixed with the warmth of his breath. Arthur responds, diving into the embrace, arms wrapping around you, pulling you close as you share this sacred moment.

“Goddamn,” he breathes into your mouth when you finally part, his voice rich with both awe and hunger, the need between you still pulsing like a living thing. “You’re incredible.”

You manage a breathless laugh. “I could say the same about you.”

He smirks, brushing a palm gently over your cheek, his thumb lingering against your cheekbone. “And trust me, darlin’, I’m just gettin’ started.”

Your heart races again at his words, the promise of more sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. As you pull him closer once more, ready to explore every depth of this connection, nothing seems daunting anymore—just the two of you, the embers of the fire outside, the stars above, and the wild world fading beyond the complexities of your shared intimacy.

“Then get out of those boots, and those jeans, and take me, Arthur.” Your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, a daring challenge laced with vulnerability. Something primal glints in his eyes as he gaze down at you, igniting a spark that sends butterflies swirling in your stomach

With a swift motion, he frees himself from the restraints of his jeans, the sound of the fabric falling to the earth blending into the chaos of your racing hearts. You glance down, taking in the sight of him, and a rush of lust surges through you. He’s strong, and rugged, the embodiment of passion entwined with a rugged charm that makes your pulse quicken.

Arthur positions himself between your legs, leaning forward to kiss you deeply again, his body pressing against yours, reminding you of the heat that you both share. His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour, igniting sparks wherever he touches.

“Damn, you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need as he trails kisses down your body, savoring every taste, every gasp that escapes your lips. The way his lips move on your skin makes it nearly impossible to hold back, your body arching and twisting beneath him as you crave more of his touch.

“Arthur, please…” you whimper, the urgency in your voice unmistakable. You need him, need him to fill the void; you crave the connection that you both share. He meets your pleading gaze, and the sincerity in his eyes sends warmth flooding through you.

With a steady, commanding hand, he guides himself to your entrance, hesitating for only a moment as he seeks your permission. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of concern and desire lacing his words.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you reply, breathless, your heart racing as you nod fervently. The moment stretches, the tension palpable as the air between you thickens with promise and anticipation. Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice.

In one fluid motion, he fills you, pushing deep within with a slow, deliberate intensity that leaves you gasping. Every nerve in your body ignites, overwhelmed by the sensation of him surrounding you, overwhelming you with pleasure. You feel fullness, desire, and unyielding connection as your bodies meld together as one.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice strained as he begins to move within you, the rhythm developing as he finds a pace that balances urgency and sweetness. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure erupting inside you, a blissful spiral that pulls you closer to the edge.

You dig your nails into his back, urging him on, pushing him deeper as waves of delight crash over you with every plunge, every grind of his hips against yours, the sounds of skin meeting skin echoing in the quiet tent. Your breaths mingle, chaotic and desperate, amplifying the heat that races between your bodies.

“God, you feel incredible,” Arthur gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he moves, each thrust igniting your senses, the pressure building within you. You can feel the heat between you boiling over, a feral need surging through you, driving you closer to the precipice.

“Arthur, I’m so close…” you cry out, the urgency of your release bubbling over as you cling to him, urging him on. With each powerful thrust, he drives you higher, pushing you toward the brink of ecstasy.

“Let go for me, darlin’,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Let it all happen.”

That encouragement is all it takes. With one final thrust, your body shatters in bliss, waves of passion crash over you as you cry out his name, the world around you dimming into nothing but pleasure and warmth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans. He pulls out at the last minute, spilling rope upon rope of warm, white cum over your skin, his own ecstasy evident in the way his body tensed against yours. The two of you crashing together in a flurry of shared ecstasy that sends both of you spiraling into pure delight. 

As the waves of pleasure ebb away, you both lie tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and elated. The world outside fades into an echoing silence as the fire crackles softly, illuminating the tenderness of the moment shared between you.

Arthur holds you tightly, your bodies entwined beneath the warmth of the blankets and the remnants of the heat you’ve both created. In the aftermath, an intimate silence settles between you, the sound of your breathing mingling with the gentle crackle of the fire outside, a calming cadence that feels sacred in its intimacy.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of concern and tenderness as he brushes his fingers along your skin. He grabs his shirt, his long, strong arm reaching it with ease, and gently wipes his cum from your thigh and stomach, the gesture both intimate and caring.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips, feeling cherished in this vulnerable moment. “Yeah, I’m more than alright,” you reply softly, your heart swelling with a warmth that eclipses even the fire’s glow. You glance up to meet his piercing blue eyes, shimmering with sincerity and a hint of vulnerability that makes your chest tighten. It’s a contrast to the fierce man you had known; in this moment, he’s not just rugged and wild, but tender, caring.

A shy smile breaks upon his lips, and you can’t help but mirror it. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. The sweetness of the gesture sends a wave of warmth flooding through you, solidifying the bond that had cemented itself in the fiery passion of just a few moments ago.

The quiet feels different now—less charged with tension and more filled with understanding—a blank canvas where something beautiful can unfold. The shadows in the tent off the flickering light dance around you both, echoing the intricate tapestry of emotions woven from the intimacy you just shared.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss that speaks of more than just passion; this was special, it meant something. You both share a lingering smile before settling into the quiet once more, a sense of peace enveloping you amidst the chaos of the outside world.

As time drifts lazily onward, you let your eyes wander deeper into the safe haven of his presence, the warmth of your intertwined bodies gradually creating a sanctuary against the chilling night air. The crackle of the fire outside serves as a soothing soundtrack to the warmth surrounding you, and you revel in this moment—a blissful interlude that feels entirely yours.

“Let’s rest,” Arthur murmurs, stealing another kiss before pulling you closer, cocooning you in his embrace. You nod against him, content to let the exhaustion of reality slip away for a while.

As sleep intertwines with the serenity of the night, you feel his heartbeat against your cheek—a steady reminder that, for now, you have everything you need. Together, you drift into dreams, the warmth of each other’s presence cocooning you as the chill of the world outside feels light years away.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ♡

[drewstarkeysring]

She did what?- Drew Starkey

˚⋆ ୧ ‎ ࣪ Warnings Cheating , Odessa , swearing Summary Hollywood is so overrated, but when Larissa finds out what our beloved Drew is up to, shit hits the fan 💋

The windows are open and the breeze couldn't feel any better.

The past few months have felt way too long. Drew is away filming Queer, and interviews for my new movie Anora have kept us away from each other. Every day felt like agony. I miss my boyfriend.

Calls were answered, Facetimed was longly awaited, and text messages were delivered for hours. You needed date nights in the apartment you bought with wine and your hand and pizza you bought from down the street from both you and Drew's favorite spot.

Your head snaps away from the thought when your phone starts ringing.

"hello," you say, The familiar voice echos in your apartment.

The voice you miss, and want all over you.

"Hi, beautiful," Drew responds, his sweet voice blessing the lonely voice in your apartment. Giggles are filled in the background of the hotel he is staying at, but you ignore it and continue your talking.

"I miss you so much; it hurts," I say while twisting my hair and looking out the window of my apartment. "who are you with," you say nervously.

"No one, it's the TV you hear, I miss you more, baby," He says. He lying; she is in his room, and he staring at her. " I fly back tomorrow night, I can't wait to see you, pretty girl." He says.

You get up and go to the mirror in your room. "I am so excited to see your face and kiss you again, I hate being far away from you". you say. Throwing your hair in a bun and going back to your bed. You feel something going on with him but do not want to ruin the moment you miss his voice.

The girl in his room he knew forever, and rumors always went around with them, Odessa. She was always with Drew. Pogulandia was with him, Paris for Loewe, Disney for her birthday, and New York. And now she is in his bed in Rome. You hated her but how could you express that to Drew when he and her were best friends before you had a relationship with him.

You had your doubts, but you're a people pleaser, you never wanted to upset anyone. You trusted Drew and thought of him highly. Plus, when did he have time for cheating when he was so busy filming.

After 20 minutes, you and Drew ended the call with exchanges with "I love you."

Drew ended the call, " Finally done with her yet, her voice is exhausting," Odessa said. "Stop," Drew expresses. She climbs on him and kisses him. "make me feel good," she says.

9:32 in the morning, Drew woke up and packed for his flight. Odessa left an hour ago to go back to her house. He did feel shame, but in his stupid boy head, he needed familiarity. He had always had a thing with her in secret.

In LA, it's 12:32, 13 more hours to go, and you get to see the love of your life. I missed waking up to him with his bed head and the smell that filled the room, and I missed him in general. 2 months away from him was the longest time they had been separated. 2 months he wasted with her. his free time would be with her.

13 hours later 1:32 pm

At the airport, waiting, counting down the minutes. "He told me 1:30," you whispered to yourself. You see him, and he sees you. you get out of your car and run to him.

"I missed you so much, baby," you say while hugging him. Felt like the world was so silent, and it was only him and you that existed.

He kissed me and whispered in my ear "Miss you more pretty girl" he says. It feels like you are you again, him being with you and you cannot wait to get him home.

The drive home felt like an eternity; it didn't feel real that he was with you. He has been away so long that you could only feel him so far away. He landed his hand on your thigh, and you laid your head on his shoulder.

After he settled in, it's been a couple hours. He was lying down in bed, saying he was jet-lagged.

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

His phone was on the nightstand next to you. Do or do not look at his phone. You never look through a boy's phone before. Yes, you trusted Drew, but you have your doubts. What could you possibly find, little did you know...

The contact said Odessa, This fucking bitch. You looked over at Drew. Sleeping Tight, you knew you had time to look at what she said. The Devil is telling me to do it.

"I miss you how you made me feel last night"

"When can you leave her house already, I need you"

You're Gut feeling all your friends talked about having when they have gotten cheated on. You said to yourself you would never feel that. Drew was good to you, no signs, no evidence. Until now, you can't breathe. heartbroken is the feeling you felt.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I'm so sorry to bring up the recent Silver card again, but I would like to get my love for it out of my system. As someone who has had, quite literally, a lifelong love for Sleeping Beauty, this Silver card is like my perfect card.

Any time Twst leans into the movies design wise or atmosphere wise, I'm immediately reminded of what drew me into the game in the first place, and Silver's brought up all my love for Sleeping Beauty all over again. AND THE GROOVIED VERSION?! THE PINK AND THE BLUE!! I can never really put into words how much I absolutely adore that movie and now I can't even put into words how much I love this card. I feel like it just really brings everything together, like this is the kind of thing I would expect a movie poster for Sleeping Beauty to look like.

Sorry this is kind of all over the place!

I don’t have an attachment to Sleeping Beauty myself, but it’s great that book 7 brought you joy in the form of it ^^

Silver’s Dawn Armor initial illustration and its groovy are for real works of art!! Twst usually has this issue where the groovy is “off” in some way, but this one was such a slam dunk 😭 The gleaming armor, Silver’s determined expression, the looming threat of the dragon in the distance… contrasted with his gentle and teary-eyed smile, his fluttering cape shifting from blue to pink and back, the dreamy colors of the ballroom—and!! His friends and family surrounding him, rather than the desolate, doomed battlefield of the initial artwork. (I still can't get over Sebek crying in the background while Grim's chilling on his head??)

It feels like a perfect encapsulation of the climax of the Sleeping Beauty story but also a showcase of the happy ending that results thanks to his heroic efforts.

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 finale here!]

YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONE 😭 I feel like I've been seeing this sentiment floating around a lot on socials and even in my own smaller Twst circles. The pre-book 7 "He's okay but sort of boring!" to the post-book 7 "He wrung all the tears out of me and left me emotionally devastated but I thanked him for it." is pretty wild. I'm happy that many more Twst fans are discovering his charms through book 7 and his character arc in it.

I'll admit that I wasn't a fan of him for most of the main story myself, but it was still so satisfying seeing him formally adopt Lilia's surname with all his peers in attendance, and Malleus officiating it. Silver had to work so hard to accept his father's love for him, and to realize that he is someone worthy of love... and you can tell he cares so much about having this thing to call his. Not something tangible that glitters like armor or a medal, but a name forever bound to his identity for as long as he shall live, and much, much longer after he is no longer here. A surname that once existed to mark a blood-stained warrior is now granted to the one that restored peace, at last bringing father and son together. (The official in-game character profile also reflects this change:)

[boldlyvoid]

Falling For You.

[REQUEST] spencer reid x BAU!reader but they're in a secret relationship, and basically she gets him to watch all these romcoms, so when he makes a reference to something like Notting Hill or You've Got Mail and then the whole secret is blown.

warnings: mentions of lila archer, spoilers for 90s/2000s rom-coms, co-workers to lovers, love confessions, implied smut, secret relationships.

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that the newest team member had a thing for romantic comedies. From the little jokes she made with Penelope to the quote from Pretty Woman on her travel mug, she was a walking Rom-Com reference.

Hotch understood some of the references, JJ would talk her ear off about her favourites, and even Emily and Derek would jokingly re-enact that scene from When Harry Met Sally every time they had a team lunch. It was only Spencer who didn’t get the jokes, and after having to explain them all to him 1 too many times, she finally invited him over to watch some. 

The first one they watched together was Can’t Buy Me Love. Patrick Dempsey, a loveable nerd has been saving up all summer to buy the telescope of his dreams when the girl next door accidentally ruins her mom's favourite dress and needs to buy a replacement… he ends up buying it for her on the condition that she pretends to date him so his Senior Year can be his best year yet. Spencer likes the movie overall, he wishes someone in his high school took enough pity on him to make him popular. But his favourite scene is when they go to the abandoned airplane graveyard and watch the stars in his homemade telescope. 

“I can make one of those,” Spencer whispers to her. 

“Really?” 

He nods, “It would be pretty easy… maybe we could go star gazing someday too?” He asks, biting the bullet and making this movie date the first of many dates they’d go on. 

—

The next movie they watch is Never Been Kissed. Drew Barrymore is a nerdy reporter who goes undercover at a high school and gets to relive her teen years while falling in love for the first time. Spencer likes this one because he can relate, he never had his first kiss until well into his 20s… and she was an actress, too. When he explains that to Y/N she can’t believe it, but he has the magazine photos of them saying goodbye after the case to prove it. 

“Have you kissed many people since then?” She asks, wishing he’d move a little closer to her and steal one. 

He nods, “a few.” 

“anyone good?” 

He shakes his head, “no, I’m saving the best kiss for last.” 

She looks puzzled? “What?” 

“My best kiss will be from the girl I end up marrying,” he gives her a smile and moves his hand over to hold hers. 

“Oh,” she bites back a smile and looks down at their interlocked fingers. “Have you at least met her yet?” 

“I think so…” 

“Well, then shouldn’t you kiss her to find out if she’s the right one?” She teases, leaning into his space even more. 

“I suppose you’re right,” he teases, he cups her face with his free hand and rubs his thumb over her cheek, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” 

She nods and leans in all the way this time. Effectively pressing their lips together. And even for a first kiss, it sure does feel different. It feels like her last first kiss ever. 

—

Keeping it a secret at work is hard when all they want to do is stare at each other with googly-eyes, they’ve fallen head over heels for each other and not told a single soul. No one knows about their movie dates or their real dates either. No one knows they’ve spent a whole night kissing or that they really, really, don’t mind sharing the hotel room with the two queen beds. And they definitely don’t know that they only slept in the one. Together. The whole week they were away. 

After the case ends, they head back to her apartment for their mandated 48 hours off with the pan to watch as many movies as they can. 

The third movie they watch is You’ve Got Mail. 

“Rival bookstore owners hate each other in real life, yet on the internet manage to fall madly in love with one another. Based on an older movie called The Shop Around The Corner, it’s a beloved story brought to life once again by the one and only Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.” 

She explains every movie like this before they put it on. He’s honestly only watching them because he loves listening to her talk about them. 

“You see, they both have partners in real life but they email each other every day, as friends… but you know what it's like in movies like these,” she smirks. “Best friends who have a lot in common find it easy to fall in love.” 

“That they do,” he agrees. 

He raises his arm over the back of the couch and she sits back, leaning into his side just as his hand lands on her shoulder. They snuggle up close, she hits play and he watches with glee, not knowing this was going to become his favourite movie by the time it’s over. 

His favourite line is when two cars honk at each other and their drivers get out to argue, followed by Meg Ryan saying “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” Which is something Tom Hanks says to her in an email earlier that morning.

He loves the way the old man recalls a woman of his past and called her “enchanting” because what a wonderful thing to say about a woman.

He giggles when Tom Hanks tosses aside Pride and Prejudice cause he just doesn’t get it the way Meg's character does. But ultimately, he picks it back up because he wants to get to know her through her reading history. 

“I sympathize with Frank,” Spencer whispers as he brings out a typewriter when they have a perfectly good computer at her house. 

“I know,” she laughs. “I love the tablets at work, I can’t believe you still have Penny paint the files out for you.” 

You are a lone reed standing tall, waving boldly in the curet sands of commerce. Frank compliments Kathleen, or at least he tries to. 

Spencer giggles again. “I remember what it was like being a lone Reid,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

She gets all flustered, so madly in love with him that she wants to scream it from the rooftops but it feels way too soon. They’re only 3 movies into their relationship. Maybe at 10, she’ll tell him. Till then, she looks over at him and steals a real kiss. 

Kathleen is so passionate about her books in the same way that Y/N loves her movies. Spencer sees so many similarities between them that it’s really no wonder that Tom Hanks��� character falls in love with her. Passionate, kind, beautiful women will always have a place in Spencer's heart. 

Their 4th movie is another Meg Ryan classic; When Harry Met Sally, and now Spencer understands why Derek pretends to have an orgasm when he eats a good salad… 

Their 5th movie is Notting Hill and Y/N can tell he doesn’t like it very much because unlike William Tucker, the actress who kissed Spencer never talked to him again after that. 

Their 6th movie, however, is Pretty Woman. And while they shared a bed all through the last case, they’ve never really slept together. So watching a movie all about sex and falling in love really didn’t help the frustration they were both feelings. By the time the movie ended, it was almost midnight and they should’ve been getting ready for bed. 

She gets up and heads to her room, expecting him to follow but he just stands in her doorway, watching with a bit of anxiety in his gut. 

“So…” Spencer asks. “What happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” 

She stills, her heart fills with love and she quickly makes his way to him. She cups his face in her hands, staring up at him. “She rescues him right back.” 

“Indeed you have,” he leans in and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “You know what all these movies have in common?” 

“What?” She has no idea where he’s going with this.

“They all fell in love pretty quickly, I mean just look at Vivian and Edward, it took them less than a week,” he explains. “So I don’t feel too crazy when I say… I love you, Y/N. I love you so very much.” 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers between kisses. 

They kiss and kiss and he walks with her, leading her toward the bed where they fall in and make love for the first time. It's hot and close and emotional. It's slow and steady and perfect. It’s everything both of them have dreamed of when they finally met the one. 

— 

On their second day off they watch How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, 13 Going On 30, 50 First Dates, A Walk to Remember, 10 Things I Hate About You, and The Holiday. They would’ve gotten to more if they weren’t so wrapped up in one another. By the time they go back to work, they’ve gotten through half of her list of favourite movies. 

He’s not sure if it’s luck or coincidence or what… but their next case happens to be in New York. 

When they land, they get into their Bureau-issued SUVs and weave in and out of traffic on their way to the scene. They’re honked at multiple times and Spencer just smirks to himself. It’s not until they get out and they’re honked at once again, with some guy yelling at them to get out of his way, that Spencer turns to her and says. “Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

She giggles and shoves him, “Shut up.” 

“It’s not the fall?” JJ remarks, not knowing why he’d say such a thing or why she’d react like that. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” Emily thinks it over for a second. “That’s a line from you’ve got mail!” 

“How would Spencer know that movie?” JJ laughs it off. 

Spencer turns to beat red with embarrassment. “I’ve seen it…” 

“You’ve seen you’ve got mail?” Derek even rides him for this slip-up. “And when do you have time to watch rom-coms?” 

“I’ve seen the original,” he lies. “It’s based on The Shop Around The Corner. My mom liked it before she got sick.” 

“Okay,” they drop it there. 

Thankfully. 

And by the time the case ends, 3 days have passed, the unsub has been booked into Jail at 9am and they’re free to go home. If they want to. Derek suggests they all go out for breakfast, and Hotch says he rather go home and sleep. JJ wants to go shopping and Emily’s right there with her. 

Spencer on the other hand, he opens his phone and sends Y/N a message. 

“There’s a place in Riverside Park at 91st street where the path curves and there’s a garden. I’ll be waiting there for you.” 

She digs her phone out of her pocket seconds later and smiles, a small sigh leaves her as her shoulders slump. She’s so in love with him it's unreal. 

“What about you, Y/N?” Emily asks her. “Do you want to come with us?” 

“No… no, I have a friend in town I want to meet up with.” 

“Looks like it’s just me and you for breakfast, pretty boy,” Derek teased, wrapping his arm around Spencer. 

He shakes his head, “Actually, I was thinking about going on a little sightseeing adventure, you know I only come to new york for work.” 

“Fine then,” Derek drops it and he, Emily and JJ watch as Spencer and Y/N head off, out of the precinct and in different directions. “I bet you ten bucks they’re meeting up.” 

“Hold on,” JJ says as she calls up Penelope. “Hey, yeah, can you tell me where Spencer and Y/N’s GPS pings in 20 minutes?” 

“I can… why?” Penny asks nervously. 

“No reason. Just a hunch.” 

When Penelope eventually calls her back all she has to say is Riverside Park at 91st Street and they know. 

—

Y/N gets there first, she’s never seen this place in person before. The flowers are even more vibrant than in the movie. There are bees dancing around every other flower, couples walking around hand in hand, people on dog walks and moms with their strollers. It’s just an average early morning in New York. 

And then she sees him. He comes rounding the corner, he’s carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in newspaper… at least she thinks they’re flowers. 

What they don’t notice is their friends on the other side of the garden, watching them get closer and closer until they’re chest to chest. He wraps his free hand around her waist, she cups his face in her own hands, and she stares up at him like he hung the stars just for her.  

“I wanted it to be you,” Spencer whispers what was originally Meg Ryan's line. “I wanted it to be you so badly.” 

“You sure did save the best for last,” she knows exactly what he means. 

Just as they lean in to kiss, as his lips meet hers, they hear it. Someone is playing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” just for them. They smile into the kiss, shocked that their life is playing out like a perfectly written movie and then they see them.

It’s their own friends who played it. They’re clapping in the distance, “Woo!!” Emily cheers.

“We knew this would happen!” Derek throws in for good measure. 

They can’t help but laugh, Spencer pulls her in for another kiss, a longer, more hearty kiss. He loves her and he wants everyone to know. 

When she pulls back, she looks as though she could cry, so he extends the bouquet to her. It’s a bunch of yellow, newly sharpened number 2 pencils tied up with string. 

“Don’t you love New York in the fall?” 

“Not as much as I love you,” she says as she takes them, gladly. “Not even close.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

[igorluvr]

' MIROTIC

PAIRING: kwon jiyong (gdragon) x reader

SYNOPSIS: “You're crazy about me, you can't escape me—I got you under my skin” After hopelessly falling for a member of the group you dance for, you try tirelessly to reject the feelings only to find out he’s well aware (and won’t let it go.) INSPIRED BY:: MIROTIC- TVXQ!

CONTENT: fluff as always, lots of pet names i’m sorryyy, pda

AUTHORS NOTE: can u guys tell im obsessed w 2nd gen boy groups ??? anywayssss first fic in a couple months i hope u enjoyyyy!!

word count: [2.7k]

IT had officially been 7 months since you started as a backup dancer for Bigbang, and it was everything you ever dreamed of. You made core memories with people you never even imagined meeting, got to tour all around the world while getting paid for it, and best of all, did all of this with the man you found yourself infatuated with.

Usually, you don’t believe in love at first sight, but that all went out the window the second you saw GD. Everything about him drew you in like a magnet. His style, the way he carried himself, the love he showed everyone— it all melted your heart.

The first time you met, he treated you with so much class and respect. You knew it was basically the bare minimum, but it was rare to see people doing that nowadays. He always had a smile on his face when approaching you and never hesitated to ask if you needed to go over a step again. Of course, this was how he acted with everyone, but it struck you so much harder for some reason.

Every time the choreography called for the two of you to interact, you felt like a high schooler again. His touch sent volts through your body, and your heart pumped as if you’d just run a marathon. Usually, despite working with him most of the week, Jiyong kept his distance from you. So it surprised you when he suddenly got really close.

It was out of nowhere— a random practice for a track when you two had to dance together. You found yourself forgetting counts and second-guessing your moves. Unexpectedly, a pair of hands grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them gently to calm you down.

“Relax, jagiya, you’re thinking too hard…” he said, smiling at you through the mirror. Your eyebrows furrowed as his words echoed in your mind. Where was this sudden affection coming from? Swiftly, Jiyong grabbed your hand and turned you around. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

As he counted the music out loud, you found that his encouragement actually helped. Occasionally messing up, you worked slowly and eventually got the choreography right.

After running through it a couple of times with the whole group, it was finally time to go home. As much as you wanted to go up to Jiyong and thank him for the help, your mind was clouded with his actions— it was too much for you to face him. Just as you were about to walk out, an arm draped around your shoulder.

“Leavin’ so soon? I wanted to talk to you for a bit. I mean, we’ve been working together all this time and never had a real conversation,” Ji said, turning back to the other members and winking. You took note of this but didn’t say anything.

“Sure. Um, what do you wanna talk about?” you asked, cursing yourself in your head. Who even asks someone what they want to talk about? ‘Just be cool,’ you repeated in your mind, trying to bring yourself back to earth, even though the whole situation confused you.

He laughed seeing you so nervous. Unbeknownst to you, Jiyong was aware of your crush on him. He actually loved it. I mean, come on— who wouldn’t love the idea of someone as gorgeous as you liking someone like him?

To be honest, he didn’t notice at first. He thought you were just naturally shy until Seunghyun said something to him. It was a day when all the members were hanging out over lunch, and the backup dancers got brought up— of course, you were the main topic.

“Have you ever noticed how awkward she is around you? I think she has feelings for you,” Seunghyun admitted, causing Daesung to slam his fist on the table and exclaim.

“I thought I was the only one who noticed! I swear, it’s like she doesn’t know how to function around you.” He laughed. Jiyong furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You acted like that with everyone, right? “Yeah, man, she’s always so upbeat, but when you come in, it’s like she forgets how to speak,” Taeyang added.

“You really think so?” he asked, thinking back to all the times you interacted. Yeah, there was that one time you were alone in the break room when he came in to charge his phone, and you left like he had the plague. Or the other time when he put his hands on your waist during a dance and saw your smile grow in the mirror. But was that because you liked him?

Suddenly, an idea came to mind. He had to see it for himself. He devised this plan to tease you until you admitted it. Usually, he’d leave things like this alone, but you were too perfect for him to let your crush just fizzle away.

So now, he was using every opportunity to talk to you and give small touches. If you expressed any concern, he’d stop and address it directly, but for now, everything seemed to be going smoothly.

“What was going on at practice today? You’re usually so on top of the choreography. Is… something on your mind?” he asked slyly, staring so deeply into your eyes you swore he spaced out.

“Kind of, not really. Never mind, it’s nothing. Just a harder dance, that’s all,” you said, stumbling. Every word you spoke dug you into a deeper hole. He could read you like an open book, and you knew it.

His smirk grew as he came up with an idea. “Let’s see. I’ll give you my number so you can ask me any questions, okay?” His act slipped a little with those last words.

There was no hiding your smile. You pulled your phone out and handed it to him a little too quickly, still trying to convince yourself this was real. As he typed in his number and handed the phone back, you saw that he set the contact as ‘Ji 💕’.

Maybe you were overthinking it, but why the heart? Did he just want his name to stand out, or was it more than that? The possibilities flooded your mind so much that you forgot he was actually right in front of you.

“I’m gonna head out now, but don’t be afraid to text me. I’ll make sure to respond,” he said with a smile before leaving the room. You stood in the same spot for minutes, replaying everything that happened, occasionally catching the boys glancing your way. Why was he acting so different? And why was it affecting you so much?

Over the next week, he continued acting the same way. It sent you into a spiral— why was he acting so different? Each day, you lost your mind a little more. But that Monday was when it really got serious. Groggily, you walked to the break room, freshly woken up and regretting staying up so late. As you prepared to make coffee to wake yourself up, a familiar hand grabbed the cup before you did.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, princess. I got it. Just sit down and relax. It’s early,” Jiyong said with a smirk, rubbing your arm softly. Not enough to intrude, but enough for you to get chills and giggle to yourself.

Wanting to sit back down anyway, you found the couch and relaxed. A few minutes later, Jiyong returned with two coffees, handing you yours before taking a seat beside you.

His actions over the past few days confused you. I mean, it’s not like you were complaining. You’d been crushing on this man for months. Had your feelings finally been reciprocated?

“So, what’s been on your mind, pretty?” His words made your heart flutter as you took a sip of your coffee to hide your smile. He knew exactly how to say things to give you butterflies, and somehow, he even made your drink taste better. Honestly, it might’ve been a little better than what you made yourself.

“Just trying to get everything sorted out,” you said, nervous but feeling more at ease than the previous week.

Jiyong noticed and loved that you were starting to get more comfortable around him. Your body language was less tense, and bits of your personality were shining through. He was getting closer to his goal than he thought.

“Well, I hope I can make it better, darling. How do you like your coffee? I noticed you usually make the same kind every day and decided to give it a try,” he said casually. Was he really that perceptive, or was it just for you? As you calmed your mind, you found the strength to respond. “It’s really good, thank you.”

He chuckled softly, biting his lip slightly. His smile was to die for, always turning you to mush. His arm reached across the top of the couch, causing the veins in his neck and arms to stand out. He knew this would drive you crazy—that’s why he loved doing it.

Somehow, his instincts proved right. As soon as you glanced at him in this position, you found yourself inspecting every part of his body you’d never noticed before. His muscles and arm tattoos stood out more than ever, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“Like what you see? Don’t get too caught up—you’ll see more later,” he said, voice playful. You snapped yourself out of the spell he’d cast. You saw him laughing to himself as if your admiration amused him. He loved making you like this and had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

The rest of the conversation flowed slowly but surely, with him occasionally doing things to catch your attention. You were head over heels for him— there was no denying it anymore.

Matters only got worse later at practice. As you were setting down your things to warm up, you heard a shocked, “Dude, he’s actually doing it,” from Daesung, followed by the others laughing. You turned around, curious, only to be met with a sight burned into your memory forever.

Jiyong stood at the door, shirtless, glistening with sweat, towel draped over his shoulder, water bottle in hand. The way the light reflected off his body made your knees weak. He reached a hand up to his hair, shook it out slightly, giving it a messier look. Before, you thought he couldn’t get any sexier— now you knew for sure he always could.

Walking toward you with a low gaze, Jiyong had that huge smile you loved so much. “You ready, jagiya? Gotta give it all we got today,” he said, taking your hands as you both got into position to dance.

The hours flew by as you practically had the choreography engraved in your mind. Every beat was hit flawlessly as your bodies moved in harmony. The feeling of his bare chest pressed against yours gave you enough serotonin to last days. He wouldn’t admit it yet, but to Jiyong, dancing with you made him feel ten years younger— as if he had no worries, only thinking of you and your safety.

As everyone packed up and prepared to leave, you were once again met by your soon-to-be lover. He looked even better— panting, sweating, leaning on the wall as he caught his breath.

“Hey, sweetie. Y'know, me and the boys are going clubbing tonight. You should come with. I wanna see you all dolled up for me,” he said smoothly, words laced with charm. Of course, you fell for it.

“Yes—I mean, sure. What time do I need to be ready?” No amount of masking could hide your excitement now. He invited you out? There was no passing this up. After he shared all the details, the two of you headed home to prepare for the night.

Both nervous and excited, you tried to get every detail of your outfit just right. Meanwhile, GD was already with the others, “pregaming” and plotting how to make the night even more special.

“Just ask her out already! I’m starting to feel bad for her, and it’s only been a week,” Taeyang exclaimed. When Jiyong told everyone he invited you, you became the main topic for the next few hours.

“We can tell you like her, man. This playboy act isn’t gonna last long,” Seunghyun added, sinking onto the large couch with a sigh. Though he enjoyed teasing, he felt it affecting him more than he let on.

“Okay, fine!” Jiyong finally said. “I’ll tell her how I feel tonight. But you guys have to help me.”

As everyone agreed and started making a plan, you sat at home, putting the finishing touches on your look. Everything looked perfect— hair, outfit, makeup—all coming together effortlessly.

About 45 minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message: they were pulling into your driveway. After spraying enough perfume to rival a Victorian aristocrat, you stepped out, staring at your phone as if you were texting someone. No matter what you wore, nerves were impossible to hide.

Unbeknownst to you, Jiyong felt like he’d fallen in love the moment you sat down beside him in the car. You were gorgeous. At practice, you were beautiful— but here, outside of work, you looked genuinely breathtaking.

He was jolted out of his trance by a tap on his shoulder. “You look beautiful, darling,” he breathed, delicately scooping your hand into his and kissing it. The scent of your perfume on your wrists hit him and made him even weaker.

As you all arrived at the club and exited the car, nerves shot through your body. This was the first time you’d hung out with the members outside of work events— no managers, no business talk, just friends enjoying each other’s company.

The club was packed— an understatement. People flooded every inch, and the music was so loud you could barely hear yourself think. After pushing through crowds for a few minutes, you found an empty booth in a far corner— secluded enough to avoid being swarmed, yet close enough to see everything.

After three shots, you felt yourself sinking into the couch. You sat still for a few minutes, taking in the environment. Suddenly, the cushions shifted beside you as Jiyong took a seat. He watched the crowd for a bit, trying to see things from your perspective, then finally spoke.

“You like it here, pretty?” you smiled and nodded, still gazing into the crowd. You wanted to join in, but nerves held you back. Being surrounded by strangers and the man you had feelings for caused you to retreat into your shell.

He noticed and decided to make sure you had a good time. In a swift move, he took your arm gently and led you into the dance floor.

The music was fast— electrifying. It matched how you felt in his touch. He started dancing first, occasionally striking poses he knew would make you laugh. After all, it’s a club. He wanted you to have fun.

Gradually, you started bouncing to the beat. Your nerves fluttered away, revealing your true personality. Both of your moves eventually synced, creating a chaotic, joyful rhythm. Maybe it was the drinks, or maybe it was him, but you felt more at ease than you had in a long time.

As the song transitioned into a softer, calmer track, Jiyong’s hands found your waist, pulling you closer. He hesitated for a second, gazing into your eyes to ensure you were comfortable. Nodding, you allowed him to pull you in again— this time, even closer.

Now face to face, swaying drunkenly to the gentle music, you looked up at him in awe. His bright hair glowing under the neon lights, shadows accentuating the grooves of his face, his deep brown eyes fixed on yours— there was no denying it. You were in love.

His hands grew heavier, tighter on your waist, as he let out a low chuckle. “Y’know, you’re really bad at hiding your feelings, love,” he said softly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him.

“Oh, don’t play dumb now. I’ve noticed how you act around me. It’s cute—I like it,” he added, a teasing smile on his face. Your eyes widened as realization sank in. He knew you liked him? You replayed all your interactions, trying to figure out when you had made it obvious.

Seeing your panic, he gently placed a hand on your cheek. “Relax, it’s okay,” he said, rubbing his thumb softly on your skin. His gaze flickered between your eyes and lips, eager to finally do what he’d wanted for weeks.

“Can I?” he asked quietly. All he needed was a nod. Gently, he lifted your face with one hand and pressed his lips to yours. Everything around you seemed to slow down. The neon light flickered heavily, mimicking the pounding heartbeat in your chest.

His touch was warm and steady, lips gentle but sure— words couldn’t fully express what he felt. His hands on your waist tightened just a little, pulling you closer, grounding you in the moment. When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on yours with a soft smile, leaving you both breathless and more connected than ever.

You stood there for a moment, soaking in what just happened. You couldn’t believe it— the man you’d been longing for months just kissed you, and it was perfect. Jiyong lowered his head slightly and smirked.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I like you back,” he said softly. You laughed shyly before replying, “Yeah, I got that,” with a smile.

As you made your way back to the booth where the others were, they looked at you both with knowing eyes. Jiyong had successfully won the woman of his dreams, and you had just met your perfect man.

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls

Chapter 12 part 2/2

masterpost

Danny leaned forward. “I am listening.” His grip tightened on his drink unintentionally until the plastic creaked. He withdrew his other hand from the bag of chips fragments and rolled the top of the bag shut.

She lifted a finger. “Option one is pretty selfish, in my opinion. But it would work. You could banish him from the Infinite Realms. Assuming he either never dies or dies and does not become a ghost, there are no consequences for this!” She made a cheerful gesture and crinkled her eyes shut along with a grin.

‘She’s so scary sometimes.’

“Assuming he never dies,” Danny repeated incredulously. He put his hands in his hair without even thinking of how he was seasoning himself with salt and vinegar. “Jazz- bestie, I don’t think we should bet on that one. I guess I could ask him if he feels like he’d be really good at not dying?” His voice lilted up. He touched the phone in his pocket, thinking about texting just that. Then he remembered that he was annoyed with Jason for hunting him down as Danny Fenton. He didn't know how Jason did that, but it was rude!

‘Should I tell her that he knows that?’ Danny absently wondered. ‘I don't know what he thinks. It can't be the right thing. Maybe he thinks I'm possessed or something. Maybe disguised, like Sinestra.’

She shrugged unrepentantly. “I said it was kinda selfish. It would totally solve your issue. No connection to the Infinite Realms would mean no channel for the bond between your souls-”

“Ew!”

“Or- okay, how are souls gross?” Jazz demanded.

Danny exaggerated his disgusted face even harder. “Uh, I don’t know, that’s a romantic and unscientific concept that I don’t believe in and feel offended by.” He crossed his arms across his chest to distance himself from that yucky shit. Ugh. Nasty.

“Soul is the literal term used in the reference books, so.” Jazz said dryly, as if that proved a point. Danny rolled his eyes but let it go. “My preferred option is that you marry him properly.”

Danny inhaled once. He steepled his fingers in front of his face.

His sister waited him out patiently, but he could tell that she was internally laughing at him.

“I wouldn't say that's a solution,” Danny finally managed to get out calmly. “Do you see how marrying the guy might be considered an escalation of the unwanted engagement?”

Jazz snickered and held up a hand. “See, that's the thing, you're not engaged. You're fully settled into your current relationship.”

His jaw dropped. “I’m what now?” His stomach lurched violently.

Jazz gave him a little bit of pity but she kept going. “You technically accepted the offering when you took him into your custody.”

Right. He got there and invited Jason into the Specter Speeder. He even took him into the castle. Shit.

‘This is my fault. How can I tell him that?’

He closed his eyes. He took another deep breath and put his hands over his face. “I need a minute,” he managed to get out through his fingers.

‘If I had just left him the fuck alone, I wouldn't have had to deal with this at all. I could have minded my own business. Maybe he would have gotten out of the Ghost Zone on his own, I don't know. I'm not his keeper.’

Oh. Danny winced again and drew his knees up so that he could think his head against it.

He was Jason's keeper. Holy fuckin crap. That weird sacrifice ritual had put Danny in a very real position of both power and stewardship over Jason.

‘I’m missing something,’ Danny realized, and felt like he might throw up. ‘It has to have an impact I don't know about. There's always a catch. But the catch isn't at my expense. What did I do to Jason?’

“Danny?” Jazz had switched to her softest voice. She put a hand on his shoulder. “You've been turtling for a while. What are you thinking?”

Danny bit his lip for a second. He lifted his face a little to watch her face. “There's no way something this messed up doesn't have a serious drawback for Jason. His consent wasn't required at any point. I've got some kind of leverage over him.” He felt a cold dread crawling up his back.

Saying it aloud made him feel like he had a literal rock in his stomach, and he would know! He'd eaten a moon rock before just to see what it was like, and then a few Earth rocks so he could make a useful comparison.

“Oh, Danny.” Jazz tugged him in for a half hug. “Yeah. I know. Do you wanna know the details?”

He drew his shoulders in closer. His chest felt tight. He should say yes. He was a coward for wanting to avoid knowing the details.

“We can come back to that later.” Jazz rubbed at his back. “It's okay.”

“Ahuh,” Danny choked out, thinking about Ember using her hypnotism to make him obsessed with Sam. Thinking about Sam made him think about Freakshow.

He clutched at his chest. It hurt, it felt tight. He swallowed hard. His heart rate started to climb. “I can't do this, Jazz,” he bit out. “I can't- I can't have control over another person like that-”

“Right, right, of course. That's what I mean.” Jazz fully folded him into a hug and pressed hard. He clung to the physical distraction, grounding himself in here and now. “That's what I mean. If you marry him, ghost wise or human side, that upgrades the relationship to one on equal footing. From there, you can dissolve it.”

Danny let out a humorless laugh. “And all I gotta do is get him to marry me, when what he wants is to get away.” He felt a headache coming on. “I think that if I was him, I'd think that was a trick or a trap.”

Jazz winced. “Yeah. Maybe so.”

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Permanent Reminder

note: just a random little fic I came up with this afternoon

warnings: none

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

summary: After years of begging Sihtric, your husband and warrior and artist, he finally agreed to tattoo you.

word count: 1,2k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

'Are you sure?' Sihtric asked.

You looked up at him as he towered over you. His eyes were questioning and his lower lip sucked in between his teeth as he stared down at you. You took his tattooed hands in yours, lightly swaying them as you smiled at him. For ages you've been begging your husband to give you a tattoo on your neck, like he has, but he had always refused up until today. What made him change his mind? You'll never know. But you were delighted when you walked into one of your private rooms and found Sihtric preparing a small wooden box with his tools; a comb with sharpened teeth and a bottle with oak-gall ink, because when you asked him who he was going to tattoo, he simply smiled at you and said, 'I am going to tattoo the most beautiful lady I have ever laid my eyes on. You, my wife.'

You were stunned for a moment, but then couldn't contain your excitement anymore and broke out in a beaming smile, completely forgetting to answer his question.

'Are you sure?' Sihtric asked again as he helped you sit down on the furs he had prepared for you.

'You know I'm sure,' you rolled your eyes, 'but what took you so long to finally agree?'

'What took me so long,' your husband smiled and leaned in, lightly dragging his lips over your neck before pressing a soft kiss to your skin, 'was the fact that I never want to hurt you, my love.'

'Is it really that painful?'

'It's unpleasant,' he said and took your hand, 'you will feel it. But I will try to be as careful as I can.'

You smiled at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

'I trust you will,' you said, 'you still know what I want, right?'

'Yes, darling,' Sihtric chuckled, then mumbled, 'only because you remind me every other day.'

'Hey!' you lightly slapped his arm, 'I heard that.'

Your husband smiled and shrugged, he knew that you were aware of how much you had been nagging about the tattoo. You wanted a norse knot on your neck, like Sihtric had, but a different design and smaller too. He told you that he hadn't wanted to tattoo you before because he didn't want to hurt you, which was partly true, but he didn't tell you that the real reason was the fact that he just hadn't created the perfect design for you. He had made countless sketches on parchment, with charcoal and pieces of burnt wood, but he had never shown you any of them because he felt the images weren't worthy to be a permanent figure on your beautiful skin. But not too long ago he had finally made a subtle norse knot, one that was delicate but still powerful looking, exactly like you were, he thought, and therefore he was finally ready to decorate you.

'I need you to lie down for me,' Sihtric said softly.

He helped you get comfortable, with your head propped up on a thick fur while resting on his lap. You felt a warm and damp rag touch your neck, as Sihtric cleaned your skin before he took a small piece of sharpened kohl. He carefully sketched the design he had come up with on your neck, and you giggled softly as it tickled every now and then, to which he smiled.

'It is an honour to do this,' Sihtric whispered as he drew the faint lines, 'I'm sorry you had to wait this long. I just hope you will like it.'

'I have no doubt that you created something I will love,' you said and took his free hand to kiss the back of it, 'you know me better than anyone, my dearest, so do not worry.'

'I will try,' your husband smiled and then inspected the faint black lines.

He narrowed his eyes and titled his head lightly, biting down on his lip as he made sure he had perfected the art on his most perfect canvas. Sihtric was satisfied, and he held a shiny silver plate up so you could see the design yourself. You gasped softly when you saw the beautiful knot, the dark lines clearly intertwined with slim black flower stems, and you teared up at the sight of it.

'It's perfect, my love,' you whispered.

'Not yet, darling,' Sihtric said softly, and he placed the silver next to you on the floor, 'but I wonder,' he cleared his throat as he took the bottle of ink, 'there are many men who can do this, why did you never let someone else do it?'

'Would you have allowed another man to do this to me?' you asked with a taunting smile.

Sihtric looked at you, fighting a smile of his own, but he didn't answer you with words. And he didn't have to, because you knew his answer already.

'Thought so,' you chuckled, 'but that wasn't the only reason. I wanted a tattoo by your hand because you are my husband, and it will be a piece of you that I will have with me, forever. Too many times I feared you would never return from battle, Sihtric,' you looked up at him, 'too many nights I cried in our bed because I didn't know if I would ever see you again. And everything I have from you, your clothes and your jewelry, I know that all of those things are temporary. Those things could be taken from me or destroyed by accident in the blink of an eye. But this,' you reached for his neck and traced your fingers over his own tattoo, 'ink is not to be just taken from someone, unless my life will be taken from me. So this,' you pointed at your own neck, 'is a piece of you that I will carry with me for as long as I will live.'

Sihtric put the bottle back on the little crate and cupped your cheeks. He leaned in and lifted you up slightly, so he could kiss your lips firmly in response to your words.

'I love you,' he whispered, 'I love you more than I can ever say.'

'And I love you more than you will ever understand,' you smiled and kissed him back.

You then placed your head back on the soft furs in his lap, and you felt his warm fingers carefully move your hair away from the lines on your neck.

'If it hurts too much,' he said as he dipped the sharp comb teeth in the ink, 'you will have to tell me.'

'I will,' you promised, 'but this lasting memory of you will be worth every form of pain I could possibly feel.'

Sihtric smiled at you, and when you flinched faintly at the first sharp sting on your neck, he cooed at you and reassured you the unpleasant feeling was only temporary. And soon you were able to relax, closing your eyes as you heard the fire in the heart crackle while Sihtric hummed softly every now and then, while giving you that permanent reminder and symbol of your love for him. And while he etched the ink on your skin, Sihtric already knew that he wanted a tattoo done by you in return, for all the same reasons.

@mrsarnasdelicious @neonhairspray @sihtricsafin @errruvande @penumbrie @lexeirikrleif @diiickbrainn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @bubblyabs @dixie-elocin @alexagirlie @stupiddarkkside @urmomsgirlfriend1 @gemini-mama @foxyanon @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @thenameswinter99 @m-a-s-h-k-a @superblyzanynight @hernakedmuse @ewanmitchellfanatic @lady-targaryens-world @cosmosnkaz @stronger-than-steel @cheesesandwichsanto

[sweatinghoneybee]

Been reading this x reader fanfic of Epic: the musical and animal crossing called 'Epic: The Fair Maiden' in @kquil's side blog kqutie and I've been loving the premise so much so I've decided to make a new OC based off of the fanfic she has made. And I'm honestly I'm so glad to find another fix it fanfic caus elile as much as I love the musical, it has given me too much angsts like damnit my boy Polites died when he has just finished singing a happy song and my guy Eurylochus wasn't able to get back home to his wife! Like come on! The guy also been loyal for so long like his bro Ody! Get him back to his wifey!

And disclaimer no the what I drew here isn't how reader is said to look like in the fic but it's just my Interpretation since reader is based off of reader themselves.

I named my OC Theo cause the name means miracle and also cause even tho the reader is called fair maiden by everyone in the fic (can I just say that I love how the reader is being referred to by an actual title instead of like y/n or like an "insert name here" cause like I love this part so much cause it makes the story so much more immersive somehow in head, I don't know maybe I just love how the reader is referred to something else after reading so many fanfics that makes you need to insert a name when you read a part of the name) I don't know why but I thought it would be so funny that her real name would rhyme with Calypso since in the story she's basically like the anti-Calypso cause unlike Calypso who wants to keep Odysseus so that he'll be with her forever the second the fair maiden meets the whole crew she does everything she can to get all these grown ass man to finally have some peace while she helps them be tip top shape to get back home and is Odysseus' and by extension Eurylochus' supporter in getting these two loving husbands to get back to their beloved wives (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

For the look I gave her I don't know why but I thought of strawberries when I made her and I thought it'll be so cute cause like she's so sweet in the fic and also she can't talk which added a unintentionally reference to Ariel and basically because she's a disney princess here, so with that I gave her bright red hair with strawberry flowers covering it and I also made her have these cone swirl hairstyles? (What do you call this hairstyles in anime) As abit of a reference to how Eurylochus says that no outfit (which I'm extending to hair here) will stop her from doing any labor work. And I gave her green eyes as like the green leaf on strawberries. And I sorta wanted her to be short and have a plump body type cause like she's being referred shorter then Eurylochus and also being referred to be like a chipmunk when she ran a grabbed every single gold from the money tree in the fic. And I thought the plump body shape would fit since I think if I remember correctly in ancient Greece a woman being more plump is considered beautiful and with how the story literally gave her the title fair maiden I think it fits well! And then I just gave her the dresses that's being described in the fic and done! Honestly the hardest fore to draw is the whale shark, seriously coloring that thing's spots are hard!

Oh and also Hermes’ design is from Zieru in youtube! Pls check out their stuff, they’re amazing!

That's all I'm gonna say, please if any of you all haven't read this fic and are interested here's a link for the master list of this fic

This story has two versions, a platonic version and the not platonic version so if any of you all are not interested on reading romance and just wanted to read a story of you being friends with the whole crew there's a choice for you (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ please give the author some love Kay? She really worked hard to make these story so give her many appreciations she deserves! She even made a poll about whether or not she should make a different ending for the two different versions so please support her in her efforts! Can't wait to so what she'll decide to end this series since the ending is soon! So those who want to join in before it ends, come on quickly and come join reading this cozy fic! ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

[mscryinglighting]

hello, would you do an alex turner x musician reader? she's just as famous with a solid fanbase, and they get a lot of media attention and even called a power couple of some sort. yet behind closed doors they're like any ordinary couple that love each other the most and doesn't care about what other people say about them? basically lots of fluff. i hope this makes sense! <3

Between The Chords

Alex Turner x musician!reader

Word count: 1.1K

a/n: Thank you sm for this request!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The paparazzi's camera flashes momentarily blind you as you exit the airport, arm in arm with Alex, you try to speed walk through attempting to reach the car in one piece, all while the shutterbugs yell things like:

“Do you think you’ll be up for a BRIT this year?

And

“Y/n, any thoughts on the criticism of your new single?”

“These paps seem tame enough, non invasive especially for LA’s standards.” You thought, though their relentless camera flashes were starting to turn your mild headache into a full on migraine. You were fairly new to the scene, your debut album having blown up a little over a year ago, Alex on the other hand was slightly more well versed in the music industry, maybe that was what drew you to him -his experience- he’s become sort of a lighthouse keeping you afloat among the madness.

After what felt like an eternity you finally reach the car. Alex, ever the gentleman, holds the car door open for you, once you’re in he climbs in next to you, his fingers naturally finding yours, intertwining them as the car eases forward.

“God, I have such a headache,” you groan, burying your face against his neck.

“Oh, me poor baby,” Alex teases, smirking. “Need some Aspirin?”

“Shuddup.” You grin despite yourself. It’s like his superpower—making you smile through anything.

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The hum of the engine and the faint rhythm of raindrops against the windshield make the drive almost peaceful. Alex’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of your hand, his warmth lulling you into a half-daze. Before you know it, the car slows to a stop outside your place.

“You alive, love?” Alex murmurs, squeezing your hand.

Barely. You just want to crawl into bed—but with him, of course.

Inside, the familiarity of home washes over you. Despite four months of touring, you both fall into your usual routine like no time has passed. Instead of unpacking like a responsible adult, you strip down and slip into a pair of Alex’s boxers and his hoodie—your real post-tour uniform—before heading downstairs.

Alex is already in the kitchen, and you watch him from the couch, your favorite spot for early morning and late-night admiration.

“Whatcha makin’?” you call, arms draped over the back of the couch. The open layout of your home—a design choice you hadn’t realized you’d love so much—means you get a perfect view of him moving around the kitchen, a bonus you fully take advantage of every time he makes breakfast shirtless.

Alex returns from the kitchen, a steaming mug in hand. “Doctor’s orders,” he jokes, handing it over with a lopsided grin. “Drink up before your headache gets worse.”

You take a sip, the warmth spreading through you. “When did you get your medical degree?”

“Oh, love, I’ve been a specialist in you for ages,” he quips, nudging you playfully.

“Stop it.” You blush bashfully, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before reaching behind the couch to pull out his guitar. “Mind if I play some tunes?”

“Now?” You raise a brow, amused. “You just survived an eight-hour flight, and you still have energy for this?”

“Yes, now while I still have my gorgeous muse beside me.” He starts to strum out a tune on his guitar, his fingers moving with practiced ease until he reaches the F Major, the one chord that always seems to trip him up.

You’re playing it wrong,” you say, watching him fumble with the chord.

“I am Alex Turner, y’know.” He says smugly while still trying to perfect the chord.

“Then act like it,” you tease, playfully nudging his shoulder. You set your mug down before briskly taking the guitar to show him how it's done. 

“Look,” you say, shifting closer, “put your index here, and your middle on this string—like this.” You guide his fingers into place, your hands lingering over his.

He looks up at you, his eyes glinting under the warm glow of the lamp. “What would I do without my genius of a girlfriend?”

Alex strums the chord again, this time getting it right transitioning into a melody. It’s slow, almost hypnotic, and then he starts singing—low and soft, just for you.

You rest your head against his shoulder, letting his voice wrap around you like a warm blanket.

“You falling asleep on me already?” Alex murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair.

“M’not,” you mumble, but your body betrays you, melting further into him.

He chuckles. “That’s what they all say before they start drooling on me hoodie.”

You swat at him weakly. “I do not drool.”

“Right. Just like I don’t mess up F Major.”

You groan, hiding your face against his chest. “I regret helping you.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice is warm, teasing. “And you love me.”

You huff, but your sleepy smile gives you away. “Yeah, yeah.”

Fame could be loud. But moments like this? This was what really mattered.

Speaking of fame, the airport paparazzi pictures have already been posted to social media, both your fandoms were going absolutely berserk over the images. Since Alex was a grandpa about social media you had to read out all the comments to him. Well maybe only the nice ones.

“Wanna hear what the internet has to say about us?”

He hums, strumming idly on his guitar. “Oh, go on then. What’s the verdict?”

You clear your throat and read dramatically, “‘Rock’s Most Stylish Couple Spotted in L.A.: Y/N Stuns in Casual Chic While Turner Keeps It Classic.'"You glance down at yourself—his hoodie and boxers, your hair still slightly messy from the flight. “Casual chic, huh?”

Alex looks over, eyes flicking lazily across your outfit. “Yeah, proper high fashion, that.”

You snort, scrolling down. “Oh, this one’s good—‘Alex Turner and Y/N Y/L/N prove once again they’re the definition of couple goals.’” 

Alex smirks but doesn’t look up from his guitar. “Ah, well, hate to break it to ‘em, but we’re actually a disaster behind closed doors.”

You roll your eyes, scrolling further until a tweet makes you burst into laughter. ‘Alex and Y/N are real-life couple goals. If they ever break up, love isn’t real.’

You turn to Alex, raising a brow. “No pressure or anything.”

Alex finally stops strumming and squints at your phone. “They’re putting that much faith in us?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you tease. “Apparently, we’re single-handedly holding the concept of love together.”

Alex sets his guitar aside and tugs you closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Well then, guess we’ve got no choice, love.”

You grin, leaning into him. “Guess not.”

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a/n: Hope I did this amazing request justice! I had so much fun writing this, and I truly appreciate all the love and support. Also, part 2 of ‘The AM Effect’ is in the works—I can’t wait to share it with you all soon!

[mae-lou-ron]

Keeping You Around

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader

Summary: Commander Wolffe's assignment to embark on a reconnaissance mission takes an unexpected turn when he finds himself stranded with you—a development he was far from prepared to deal with.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, canon typical descriptions of violence and mild injury, mando'a nicknames, mutual pining, idiots in love arguing, Wolffe kriffs up, stubborn Wolffe is stubborn, but stubborn reader is stubborn. Fluff and slightly suggestive at the end.

Word Count: 3,700 (it was supposed to be like 500 but again, brevity is not my strength, okay?)

A/N: Real talk I wrote this in about 3 hours last night. Barely proofread bc I’m a dangerous woman trying to stop falling down editing rabbit holes at 3am. Lots of familiar tropes and scenarios ahead, but my goal was to practice writing conflict dialogue and thought Wolffe would be fun to try. Inspired to write this while watching Nick and Jess argue in New Girl S1E22 😜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cyar'ika!" Wolffe's voice boomed through the dilapidated hangar, the sudden sound of it nearly making you drop your spanner. "Cyar- Maker… there you are. What is wrong with you?!" Wolffe demanded as he strode over to you from a room off to the side, angrily trying to get his pauldron to snap back into place.

"Ah, Commander, I see you’ve regained consciousness," you said drily, not looking up from the panel you were rewiring. Your hands were growing tired, just like the rest of you from the tedious task of fixing the power supply in hopes of getting a signal out to the 104th.

"Care to explain why I woke up in a strange room with half my kit off?" Wolffe demanded, his voice a dripping with irritation.

"Because you were much easier to drag without it… and I needed to make sure you weren't bleeding internally while you were unconscious," you said matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry—if I had time to wait for you to come around, I would have asked," you said, your voice losing its edge incrementally as you met his eyes for the first time. “Not like you would have admitted you were injured anyway,” you muttered under your breath.

He regarded you carefully, his expression severe. You could see his mind racing through a hundred scenarios while he’d been unconscious, though thankfully none had come to pass. His ARC trooper instincts kicked in as his eyes scanned the space for potential threats.

"Relax," you sighed. "I cleared the place, there's no one here. By the state of things I don’t think anyone has been here for a long time,” you gestured around to the various consoles and furniture covered in a thick layer of dust and debris. “Except for the scurriers, at least,”

"How… where's the shuttle?" he turned his head towards the closed hangar doors. No shuttle in sight.

"About 5 klicks east where we crashed it…" The panel before you flickered a few times, the power pulsing it to life before it cut out again. "Dank farrik!" you swore and kicked the side of it as the last of your patience with the blasted thing finally left your body. "It's no use, I can't keep the power on long enough to start anything up," you grumbled as you pulled yourself to your feet, wiping your hands on your flight suit in frustration.

When you looked up at Wolffe, he was staring at you with the same unreadable expression. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in your disheveled appearance and the scattered tools around you. His hands perched on his belt, mismatched eyes glittering.

"What?" you shrugged, slightly unnerved by his stern gaze.

"Where we crashed it, Lieutenant?" Wolffe's deep voice thick with implication. "The last thing I remember is you ignoring my direct order to put the ship down in that clearing."

"If I had, the clankers would have advanced on our position, cutting off what looked like the only civilian escape route,” you countered. "Landing further away drew them to us instead…it wasn’t part of the plan to get shot down…" you added as you remembered the chaos of the crash. The impact had been jarring, a barrage of tree branches cracking against the hull like breaking limbs. A second impact threw an already off balance Wolffe into one of the wall panels, knocking him out.

You managed to keep the shuttle in the air long enough to find a patch where the trees thinned out. In all honesty, it wasn't even your worst landing to date. As soon as it stopped moving, you immediately went to Wolffe. The shuttle was trashed, but you thanked the Maker one of the speeders stowed within it had survived. With great difficulty, you dragged Wolffe's unconscious form from the wreck, your muscles screaming in protest as you moved him to a safer distance away. There you were able to quickly assess his injuries, relief washing over you when you found a strong pulse and no signs of severe trauma. A few bruised or broken ribs, maybe, and thankfully he was wearing his helmet in the crash, but you still needed to check him for a concussion.

With Wolffe secured, you turned your attention to finding shelter, knowing that staying put wasn't an option. Your initial scans of the area indicated a hidden structure not too far from your position. So, with even greater difficulty, you heaved him onto the back of the speeder with whatever supplies you could quickly grab, and took off to higher ground.

“We’re both alive, relatively unscathed, gave the civilians a chance to escape, I handled it, Wolffe,” you reasoned, annoyed but not surprised at his reaction. Wolffe was a textbook control freak, but over the last year it had become almost endearing to you. Relishing in the way his eyes widened when he was flustered, or how his gravely tone would elevate ever so slightly when you pissed him off.

Like right now.

"Maybe if you listened to orders for once, you wouldn't have had to," Wolffe retorted, through gritted teeth.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, because you're such a shining example of following protocol?" Referring to all the times Wolffe and General Plo bent protocol to keep their men alive, to secure the mission’s success.

"That's different and you know it," he growled, taking a step closer.

"How? How is it different, Wolffe?" you challenged.

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Because I'm trying to keep you safe, dammit."

"And who's been keeping you safe?" you raised your voice, your frustration bubbling. He bristled, but you could tell your words surprised him when he deflected back to you.

“You can’t just keep running into the fray like that, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Ok, that’s actually kinda hilarious coming from you,” you chuckled sardonically.

“You’re not a soldier…and lately you seem set on going against everything I say trying to keep you alive!” his voice grew louder with every word.

“Wow, Wolffe. Do you even hear yourself?!” the words came out of your mouth, stopping him in his tracks, scowling at his puzzled expression.

“What?" he snapped in a deep voice. His eyes blazed with both anger and confusion, clearly caught off guard by your outburst. The tension in the air was palpable as you both stood there, locked in a silent standoff.

“I can take care of myself, and believe it or not, I always have, with or without you around,” you growled. “And I don’t appreciate you making me out to be this fragile little thing who needs to be taken care of…I volunteered for this mission, and I dragged your heavy ass here away from the droids while you were taking a nap,”

“I wasn’t aware I was responsible for what happened while I was unconscious, cyar’ika,” his tone filled with warning.

"And I certainly wasn't aware that saving your life would piss you off so badly," you spat, your chest heaving with exasperation.

The tension between you simmered, neither willing to yield. Wolffe had been acting strangely ever since he learned you volunteered for this mission. His behavior grew even more peculiar when you were paired to conduct recon scans for command. It made sense—you were a decorated pilot, and he was a decorated commander—yet his unease was obvious.

While Wolffe is a lot of things, he is not someone who will willingly talk about his feelings. So you stood there, glaring at each other, both too stubborn to acquiesce. You were slowly moving towards one another, your determination coming off you in waves.

“When are you going to stop being so stubborn,” he said, chest puffing out slightly.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to do the same,” you hissed.

“Don’t count on it, cyar’ika.” he took another step in your direction. The clones were already formidable in their presence, but Wollfe’s brightly painted armor made his presence even more powerful. It took you gritting your teeth and clenching your fists at your side to quell the impulses that were firing in your brain. You closed the distance, showing you weren’t going to back down. Not on this.

“Well, Commander, next time I’ll be sure to avoid any missions you’re assigned to, then you won’t have to carry my ‘dead weight’ around…” you half regretted the words as soon as they left your tongue, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe— maybe you’d misheard things. But it looked like you were going down this road anyway.

His eyes flashed with anger, but also a realization at your words. For a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a sheepish anger that spoke volumes.

“Yeah Wolffe, I overheard you talking to Rex before we left,” you said as you bit back the fire in your lungs. “Ironic, don’t you think?” you sighed after a few long moments of silence.

Wolffe's conversation with Rex had echoed in your mind, each word a dagger twisting deeper into your heart, fueling your pain. You couldn't shake the feeling, the knowledge that someone you cared for so deeply likely saw you as nothing more than a burden.

His face fell as your words deflated him. “You…” he sighed. “You weren’t supposed to hear that…”

“Clearly. But now that I know how you really feel about my abilities we can stop pretending, so thanks for that I guess,” you looked at the floor, unable to keep the hurt from your voice now.

Wolffe's expression shifted, a sadness crossing his features. He reached out but stopped mid-air, unsure. "That's not... I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. "You have to understand, cyar’ika, the situation is-"

“Will you stop calling me that!?” You nearly screamed, your voice echoing off the bare walls in the hangar. You could have sworn he winced, the only sound being the wind blowing through the cracks in the door. Wolffe opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the right words.

"I would never speak about you like that, Wolffe, especially not to Rex," your voice was uncharacteristically small as you crossed your arms protectively. You had considered dropping the mission, faking an injury—anything to avoid this. But Wolffe was still one of your closest friends in the GAR; he'd have seen right through you. So instead, it lit a fire in you to prove him wrong. You knew it was childish to crave his approval, to want him to be proud of you. But what else could you do when you were desperately in love with the man?

Wolffe's eyes searched your face as he stepped closer, shoulders slumped incrementally, but his voice was low and earnest. "Those words were never meant to hurt you," he softly called you cyar'ika again. You ignored it, waiting for him to continue. "What you heard... it wasn't what you think." He reached out once more, but you stood firm against the pull of his warmth. "Please, let me explain?"

His tone was softer than you'd ever heard from him. A tingle ran down your spine as you glanced at his hand, then back into his tawny eye. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you raised your eyebrows, daring him to continue.

"I'm all ears, Commander."

Wolffe grabbed a nearby stool and pointed at it, which you took only after he took a seat on the stool opposite you. He suppressed another wince with a hand over his ribs, you’d apply more bacta later, you thought to yourself as your knees nearly bumped his, but you ignored that too as he let out a ragged sigh. Running a hand through his cropped hair, he sent a few tendrils astray and you had to avert your gaze to avoid being distracted by the sight.

"You’re right, I didn't want you to come here with me," he said quietly. When he felt you bristle and open your mouth to protest, he touched his fingertips to your knee, seeking permission before he continued. “But then you volunteered- and what was I supposed to tell you- tell them?”

“You didn’t think I could handle it,” you said softly shaking your head and shifting in your seat with your eyes still on the floor.

"It's not that," Wolffe said, his voice low. He leaned forward, his knuckle gently nudging your chin. When you looked up he was gazing at you with an intensity that made your heart thrum. You could feel the weight of what he was trying to say in his long pause. “I didn’t think that I could handle it,” he confessed, eyes guarded as he gauged your response.

Wolffe's confession caught you off guard, revealing a rare vulnerability beneath his gruff exterior. The bands around your heart loosened as understanding dawned, pieces falling into place. His overprotective nature, steely demeanor, and reluctance to have you on this mission suddenly made sense. Gently, you placed your fingertips over his where they rest on your knee, a silent acknowledgment of this newfound insight. But still, what he said to Rex still had its bitter sting.

“Anything would have been better than you letting Rex think I was a liability, Wolffe,”

“I know…I’m…sorry, I can’t even imagine how angry I’d have been if I were you." He paused, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m still angry,” you said quietly, but a glimmer of your softening resolve shone through, he saw it making his posture relaxing incrementally.

“And I deserve it,” he turned his hand over beneath yours, wrapping his gloved fingers around your palm. The gesture surprising both of you. “I’ll talk to Rex as soon as we get out of here- but I don’t even think I’ll need to once he reads our mission report,” he mused.

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your conversation hanging between you. The anger that had fueled your argument earlier had dissipated, replaced by a different kind of tension. Wolffe's thumb traced gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“I won’t make this mistake again, I promise you,” he said before he brought your hand to his lips, gently pressing them to your knuckles. You felt his breath fan over your skin, making your own breath stop in your throat at this unfamiliar, but not unwelcome side of Wolffe.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you moved your hand from his lips to his cheek. "We've always been quite the team," your eyes locked with his mismatched gaze. “We can protect one another. Together. I don’t need a savior, I just need to know you’ve got my back, as I have yours. I always will…”

Wolffe's eyes softened, a mix of gratitude and admiration shining through. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours in a gentle Keldabe kiss. "Always, cyar’ika," he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. "Together.”

You chuckled softly at his pet name for you. "Wolffe, why do you keep calling me that?" The question had been on your mind for a while, but you'd never asked before. Truthfully, you were afraid to know the answer. You'd always assumed it was some kind of teasing nickname, especially given how his brothers snickered whenever it slipped from his lips around them.

Wolffe shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. A strange and unfamiliar site, but you couldn’t help but smile internally at your ability to unearth this side of him. After a moment, Wolffe seemed to find some resolve. His gloved hand reached up and brushed a stray hair from your eyes. When you looked at his face again you swore you saw pink in the man’s cheeks.

Wolffe can blush? You thought to yourself, eyes growing wide at this information. “It’s mando’a…there are words in basic that would cover it, but it’s…it’s more like a feeling. A sentiment…” he trailed off. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "The closest thing I can think of is…darling, beloved," Wolffe swallowed, his voice low and tender.

The realization dawned on you like a class two Venator crashing down, and between all the tension from the mission and trying to survive on this rock, you could help but burst into a fit of soft laughter.

“What?” Wolffe looked confused.

“So it doesn’t mean ‘idiot’?” You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your giggles.

Wolffe chuckled, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "No, cyar'ika. It definitely doesn't mean 'idiot'." He paused, his eyes crinkling as they met yours.

“I sure feel like one right now,” you murmured, your eyes distant thinking back to some of the times it slipped out in conversation.

“I’m the dik’ut in this case, cyar’ika,” he gazed at you softly, hand brushing another stray hair from your face.

“Well…” you said, leaning in closer. Your skin flushed with the renewed electricity between you. “I suppose it’s alright, now that I know why your brothers have been laughing when you say it…”

Wolffe slapped his forehead. "Kriff," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'll need to have a word with them when we get back." His eyes softened as they met yours again, a hint of amusement dancing in them. "But right now, I'd rather focus on you, cyar'ika." His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing gently across your skin as he leaned in closer. "Have you any idea how long I've wanted to kiss that scowl off your face?" he said softly, his nose brushing against yours. He paused there, giving you time to pull away.

You scowled at him for good measure, “So, what are you going to do about it, Commander?” You whispered, eyes locked on his.

Wolffe's eyes narrowed, something swirling in their depths. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a tentative kiss. His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he poured all his unspoken emotions into the gesture. When you finally parted, breathless and redfaced, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Believe me now, cyar’ika?”

"Yes..." you murmured dreamily, your eyes still closed. "But I think I could use a little more convincing," you added, savoring his taste as your tongue grazed your bottom lip. He grinned and leaned in again, this time with more fervor, eager to kiss you properly—to kiss you the way he'd always longed to but never thought he could.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips.

You swallowed thickly, your eyebrows knitting together slightly. “What for?”

He put both of his hands on your cheeks, thumbs caressing your skin lightly. You found your eyes fluttering closed at his touch.

“For saving my life,” he whispered.

Your eyes snapped open. The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but smile, your hand coming up to cover his on your cheek.

“Don’t mention it,” you grinned. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance to repay the favor before we get out of here,” you chuckled.

“At least once, I reckon,” he huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching. “and about ‘cyar’ika’— I won’t call you that anymore, not if you don’t want me to. It just sort of…slips out…”

You interrupted him by ghosting your lips over his. “Don’t you ever stop calling me that…”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in to kiss you again. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself melting into his embrace. As you pulled apart, breathless and giddy, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this insane mission had been worth all the trouble after all.

“Now,” he said, reluctantly pulling away. “As much as I’d like to see where this goes, cyar’ika, we should probably get back to finding a way to contact General Plo,” he said with the faintest edge of regret in his voice.

“I would have gotten it working if you hadn’t interrupted me,” you teased.

Wolffe chuckled, shaking his head. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we'll never know now." He stood up, offering you his hand. "Come on, let's see if I can get that comm working while you get some rest. I can tell you haven’t slept since the crash," His eyes sparkled with a new affection and familiar determination, reminding you why you'd fallen for this gruff commander in the first place.

“I still need to check you for a concussion…” you pointed your finger into his chest plate as he guided you towards the room he’d just left.

“Oh I think it’s safe to say I am— so you’re just going to have to figure out a way to keep me awake tonight I guess, Lieutenant,” he said ominously, but his face gave nothing away.

You couldn't help but laugh. "Is that an order, Commander?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow at him. Wolffe's lips curled up in a rare, mischievous smirk as he pulled you closer, his voice low and husky as he murmured close to your ear. "Consider it a personal request, cyar'ika."

[sonicboomrevisited]

THE WEEKLY CHECK-IN

Issue 2 Updates:

12/22 Pages have been fully inked!

Pages 11-12 are really cool. They also mark the point where I can start to share some WIPS without anything being too spoiler-ish.

Deep behind the scenes, I have been working to reformat the scripts Qwerty and I share. They were a mess before. Now they are neat and tidy!

Working on Page 13 today. It has a troublesome background shot in its first panel. Wish me luck!

Holiday WIPS:

Our holiday short story "I'll Be Home for Christmas" started when I began developing the Team Sonic Christmas Card to celebrate the holidays. I thought it would cute to show Robo-Sonic participating in the holiday activities. As I was drawing, though, a story started developing in my head around the little gift sticker I had put on Robo-Sonic's visor (which you may notice was altered in the final version!) I threw the idea of Eggman "gifting" Robo-Sonic back to the team for the holidays to Qwerty. I usually do a lot of the writing on SBR while Qwerty pitches in for brainstorming and dialogue improvement (you can thank her for Robo-Sonic 2.0's line of dialogue in issue 1!) I was NOT going to have time to write and work on Issue 2, though, so we tag-teamed. I gave her a general idea of what I thought would be cool, we brain-stormed, then she got to work writing while I drew and drew and drew.

I actually got to watch Qwerty write it in real time which was a lot of fun. I remember a long writing pause during the scene where Knuckles asks Amy if she wants him to "deck Eggman's halls". The final version has Knuckles also ask if she wants him to leave a, "knuckle sandwich" in Eggman's stocking. However, for the briefest of moments, Qwerty had put down, "want me to jingle..." before backspacing. I later asked her if she was going to type, "want me to jingle his bells." We both thought better of it...

Issue 2 WIPS

Alright guys, because it's the day after Christmas I've decided I'm going to be SUPER nice and leaf you guys with a really good Issue 2 WIP. I know I just said we're getting into non-spoilerly WIP territory but, like I also said, I'm SUPER nice; viewer discretion is advised.

*wink* *wink*

Alright, alright! I'll see myself out...

[h50europe]

BUCK / TOMMY - HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A FANDOM SCORNED!

I did some thinking. Never good, but my brain can't wrap around the breakup that came out of the left field.

Recently, it was announced that a spin-off of "9-1-1" is in the works. While no locations have been finalized, Hawaii and Las Vegas have been suggested as potential settings. The showrunner is already working on the project, with filming set to begin in March 2025.

However, one of my biggest fears has come true: the focus of the showrunners is being diverted from the current show to concentrate on this new spin-off. All the energy runs in the new project. Also, at this point, we don't know if the mothership will be renewed. Without an early renewal, we must wait until May for the announcement. That is another reason why they are focusing on the new show. I wonder if this is why the plots feel rushed and repetitive. It's nice to revisit the past, but not ad nauseam. 9-1-1 does it too often lately. What's the point in bringing back Gerard and turning him into the butt end of a joke? What's the point in digging out Abby's Tommy and hanging it around Tommy Kinard's neck when nothing was ever mentioned in the past. The focus is clearly not on the current show. It feels like Tim abandoned the ship to board a new one. It's fresh, it's crisp, it leaves room for a lot of things. Even if the breakup was meant as a shocker. If your focus is somewhere else, you don't see it. Right now, the mothership is leaking and starting to sink. If Tim keeps his focus on the new project and isn't invested in the current show, the lights will go out sooner rather than later.

Bringing in an established character was probably the biggest mistake Tim could have made if he wasn't meant to stick around. Bring in Mary Sue or Marty Stu to be a LI but not a character with a history that connects to so many people on the show. You can't sideline them forever. Especially as Buck's bi-arc was announced as something big. And it was big. A bit too big to be treated the way it was. The fanbase that had built around TEVAN, or BUCKTOMMY, within weeks, was massive. It drew so many members of the queer community into the show. Suddenly, many of them felt seen. Tommy and Buck were different from the other queer characters out there. Different from what was represented on any other show. People were willing to watch to get the slightest glimpse of them. Because they felt real. Their chemistry shot into the stratosphere.

And then you go and end it on such a horrible note? I don't care if the haters call Tommy a plot device. Everyone on the show is one at some point—even Christopher, Eddie, or anyone else from the main or recurrent cast, Karen, for instance, the Wilson kids. You name it. Tommy Kinard came, saw and conquered. So why not give him more room? They did it with Taylor (yes, I know JLH was pregnant then, but that's reason enough? I doubt it). As I said in my other long post, you could cut in a sequence of 5 minutes and show a summary of Tommy's and Buck's life.

Tim makes the same mistake as many showrunners do. Cramming a shitload of plots into 42 minutes of airtime. Is it really necessary to tell that many stories in such a short amount of time? That feels like speed dating. You blink, and you miss an important scene. Every episode, you jump from plot A to B to A to C to B. We didn't have this fast pacing in season 1 or 2. Stop it. Make Quality plots over quantity stuff.

In Tommy's voice: And for God's sake, clean up that mess you created with that shitty breakup, or the audience will wither away.

I'm sorry. I could write a book about what is happening in my head. You'd get Super Brownie points if you made it here.

[telekinetic-electronica]

bendy, "ink demon", and trauma responses

I've recently got back into Bendy. (tbh this shit is never gonna be going away this has been my special interest for 7 years FDKJNDSJKFD) and I did some thinking on him again. It's crazy to me on how... dehumanized Bendy was. While, yes, he's not an actual human, but he's still, y'know a person. He has feelings, he's conscious. He just doesn't have a soul. Which brings me to this post. The Ink Demon has never been called by Bendy. Which, you're all like "well, duh. That's his ink form. His other form is his toon form, just to tell which forms apart." I know that's possible the case. But I do wanna look into this attitude a bit more. When Bendy was first created, Joey literally called Bendy a THING, and for him to lock him away because he wasn't what he wanted. His literal crime was looking scary. So, Thomas Connor and Gent by the request of Joey, locked Bendy away for... God knows how long. Tbh, it's never clear on how Bendy ever acts, but Bendy was probably scared out of his mind. Can you imagine you're finally made and some people are talking. You have no idea what's going on, but this Joey dude says that you're wrong. You came out wrong. You are a mistake. You're suppose to be loveable, silent, and small. But you're not that. You're tall, empowering, posing, and not even a real chance to prove you're not as scary as you look. You aren't even called by your name, nor the title you would gain via your infamy. You are a thing. You are not someone who has emotions or needs, a thing. You are a monster. Now, you're locked away, probably terrified, and calling for help but people around you are too scared of you to help or don't wanna face the wrath of this Joey Drew.

I think Alice said this best back in Chapter 4 of the original game. At the studio, you were in someone's pocket, or someone was in yours. The studio was a disaster pit. Even if not everything happened was "real" or w/e, Joey was still a dickhead to everyone around him. Bendy was no exception. I think Bendy probably learned the best way to survive the studio, and the harsh reality around him was to manipulate. Bendy is a pretty good manipulator, he can get into someone's head, mess with them, and still taunt them. No one is born or created evil. That's a learned method.

In extreme cases of trauma, many people are in survival mode and thinking about themselves to survive, and how they can get by. This is because their safety, wants, and needs weren't being met. Not to mention, Joey and Gent just threw Bendy into the cartoon world, probably to just lock him away forever. Joey locked Bendy up for God knows how long, and now he's in this like- cartoon world version of the studio. He goes from nothing to everything in one fell swoop. This just made Bendy retreat more into himself. It just made his coping mechanism of always having to be on top, always being in control, the one everyone needs to fear. Because, fuck it.

If he's so horrible, if he's so monstrous, if he's so terrible, than he'll just become it. Minus when Bendy meets Audrey in his toon form, Bendy doesn't have anyone. Bendy has never been shown any warmth, kindness, or love in his entire life. The only thing he does know is pain, suffering, coldness, been abandoned, and been made out to be a monster. Which brings me to this - no one has every called the Ink Demon by his real name.

Even when he's technically no longer being locked away, and ruling the cartoon studio, he's still been dehumanized. Or never seen as a fellow victim of the machine and Joey. Everyone has said to BEWARE the Ink Demon, look out for him, and watch your back. The one rule down there was always beware the Ink Demon. Hell, Bendy calls himself the Ink Demon. Bendy has just embraced the title of being seen as this almighty, opposing figure. People either blindly worshipped him or feared him. They never saw him as someone who was unjustly hurt. Unjustly locked away and abandoned. Unjustly painted as a monster because he didn't turn out the way Joey wanted him to be.

You know who has called Bendy by his name? Someone, for the first time, called him by his real name and not some title?

Audrey.

Audrey is the first person to show Bendy any kindness or warmth. While, yes, it was in his toon form. He actually gets treated like a person. Someone who has emotions, and even APOLOGIZED when she, on accident, hurt him. And Hell, dude accepts it! I really hope, going forward, as a way for Bendy to heal when he's in his Ink Demon form, Audrey shows him the same compassion and kindness in that form of his. But she also calls him by his name. Bendy. Not to mention...

The cycles are interesting to me. It could possibly just being a plot thing. But it could be seen as a continuing of generational trauma and toxicity, and Audrey is the one who stops it. Joey clearly has some shit going on. He hates not being in control and wants to be in control of how other people perceive him. So, he turns out destructive towards everyone. Which is... eerily similar to how Bendy treats his own trauma. Bendy and Joey were physically and emotionally destructive to the people around them. It's also kind of sad because Bendy thinks he's in control of the studio. Dude says it's his domain, when Joey was still in control all along.

Bendy is continuing that toxic cycle. Then Wilson comes along and projects his own trauma, and issues. While the cycle stopped, Wilson didn't make it any better, and probably made the cycle for everyone in the studio just worse. By Audrey having the book now, she's putting a stop to the generational trauma via helping out everyone still trapped and helping Bendy out. That's why I've been calling Ink Demon, Bendy.

Because that's his name, after all.

ADD ON-; I just wanna say that Bendy was HARDCORE self projecting on Audrey near the end. I also wanna touch on Bendy and suffering. Bendy was so miserable, and had nobody he just gave into his own suffering, and became the Ink Demon. If he has to suffer, he's going to make everyone else in the studio suffer. He only found any purpose was in harming others. Also, obvious disclaimer this doesn't justify what he does to the people he has hurt. It explains it, doesn't justify it.

It's just downright depressing that he thinks he had no purpose, his existence was a lie, thought of himself as a mistake, and monster. To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised if Joey called Bendy a monster or a mistake. He did call Bendy a THING after all. I really hope Bendy does get to heal and realize his purpose doesn't need to be him suffering and he can have SOME peace.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! With me focusing on the "Archeologist Merlin" fic on ao3, it's been a while since I posted an au idea! It's good to be back!

Since an au featuring Lancelot won the last poll, here's my Lancelot au that I tried to make somewhat lighthearted, but it ended up being angsty instead. I hope you enjoy this au idea! :D

PS: For optimal reading conditions, go listen to Hozier's song "Like Real People Do", and then come back here. Trust me, it'll be worth it.

This au takes place in the middle of season 4, picking up right after the episode "Servant of Two Masters", which means that "Lancelot du Lac" hasn't happened yet. At that point, Lancelot had died by sacrificing himself to the veil, and everyone believes that he will stay dead. However, while Merlin was in Morgana's hut to kill the fomorroh that she had stuck in his neck, a book on Morgana's shelf caught his eye. He could feel the power oozing from the book, which was drenched in dark magic. Merlin, knowing that Morgana would absolutely be up to no good with such a powerful book dripping with dark magic, steals the book from her hut before killing the fomorroh. To Merlin, taking the book means that Morgana has one less weapon to attack Camelot with, and he would take any advantage that he could get against Morgana.

Merlin was so focused on killing the fomorroh and getting the dark book away from Morgana that he didn't even see the title of the book that he had stolen until he was back in his room in Camelot. As he prepared to hide the dark book underneath a floorboard in his room, he took a peek at the title of the book for the first time: The Arcane Secrets of Necromancy and Thralls.

Yikes. No wonder the book was dripping with dark magic, if that's what it was about. As Merlin hastily dropped the book down on his bed to free up his hands to pry up the floorboard, he noticed that the book had fallen open to a marked page. Merlin sucked in a breath as he recognized Morgana's handwriting on the page, making notes on one particular spell. As much as he wanted nothing to do with such dark magics, Merlin couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn more about Morgana's plans. He could finally be one step ahead of her!

Merlin hesitantly picked up the book and started reading from the marked page. The page itself detailed the ways a powerful sorcerer could raise a dead soul without having access to the deceased person's body and bend that soul to their will. A violent shiver went down Merlin's spine as he read more. These spells and rituals were horrible and cruel, and it seemed like Morgana had every intention of utilizing them against her enemies. Merlin didn't even want to imagine what awful things Morgana wanted to do with these spells, who she wanted to raise from the dead and torture forevermore.

As Merlin turned the page though, he saw something that immediately drew his attention: a ritual that claimed that it could bring someone back to life with their soul intact and not in any pain. Merlin was frozen as soon as he saw it, staring numbly at the page. Could it even be possible? The ritual claimed that, with an animal sacrifice and enough power on the sorcerer's part, the Old Religion's laws would accept the resurrection of the subject without any human's life being taken in return.

The festering pain in his chest, which had been present since Lancelot's death at the hands of the veil and his heart had felt like it had been torn from his body, throbbed once more. Could he... could he actually do it? Could he truly bring Lancelot back as himself, have his dearest friend, his pillar of support, by his side once more?

As soon as that idea had slithered into his head, Merlin's mind refused to let go of it. It followed him everywhere over the following days, never once leaving him alone, until one day he found himself gathering the ingredients for the ritual.

He had to do it. He owed it to Lancelot, who had sacrificed himself not for Arthur, but for him. If there was even the slightest chance of truly bringing Lancelot back, he had to take that risk.

The ritual itself was complicated, but not impossible, certainly not for Emrys. He had to draw a summoning circle on the forest floor under a lightless new moon, place some of Lancelot's belongings in the circle, of which he chose Lancelot's journals and his prized dagger, and then kill the rabbit he had brought as the sacrifice, collect its lifeblood in a blessed chalice, and finally enchant the blood itself and spill it over Lancelot's belongings in the circle.

Merlin could feel the power of the ritual buzzing around the forest as he performed it, but it didn't frighten him, because he could feel it working. As soon as he poured the rabbit's enchanted blood over the journal and dagger, the circle around him started glowing with a harsh light, urging Merlin on. After the chalice was emptied of blood, Merlin started chanting the final spells of the ritual: one to summon Lancelot's intact and healed body, another to draw Lancelot's soul out of Avalon, and a final spell to merge his body and soul, which would leave Lancelot wholly alive and himself again.

Merlin's heart leapt up to his throat as the first spell succeeded, revealing Lancelot's body, still clad in the same cape and armor that he had worn when he walked into the veil. The mere sight of his friend had Merlin faltering, but he needed to continue through the whole ritual. The second spell summoned a glowing blue mist, which sparkled in the light of the circle and hovered over Lancelot's prone form. Merlin felt strangely comforted at the sight of the mist, and he realized with a gasp that the mist itself must be Lancelot's soul, awaiting his return to his body.

At last, all of the pieces were in place, and Merlin performed the final spell: rebinding Lancelot's soul into his body. The spell itself required an immense amount of power, but Merlin could both feel and see that it was working! Lancelot's soul was slowly disappearing into his body. He was almost there!

With the last incantation, Merlin staggered backwards, feeling thoroughly drained from performing such powerful magic. However, his exhaustion melted away into excitement as Lancelot opened his eyes and sat up, looking around.

"Lancelot! You're back!"

Merlin launched himself forwards towards his friend, his joy almost overwhelming. He crashed into Lancelot's side and wrapped him in the tightest hug he could manage.

"What were you thinking, going into the veil?! I thought you'd be gone forever! But enough of that, we need to get you back to Camelot!"

Merlin urged his friend, who still looked rather dazed and disoriented, up to his feet. Lancelot's confusion was petty understandable, Merlin could only imagine how confusing it must have been to suddenly return to the living!

"Lancelot, how are you feeling? You aren't hurt, are you?"

Merlin waited with baited breath as Lancelot opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if trying to get used to having a mouth again. Finally, after several agonizing minutes of silence, Lancelot spoke, his voice rough.

"Mer... Merlin. My... my..."

"Your what, Lancelot? What do you need? Whatever it is, I'm sure that I could get it for you!"

Merlin smiled encouragingly at Lancelot, still helping him stay upright. He waited patiently for Lancelot to find whatever words he was looking for.

"My... my lord. I am at your command."

Merlin's heart dropped to his stomach as Lancelot dropped to his knees, kneeling before Merlin just as he did when he pledged his fealty as a knight to Arthur.

"Lancelot, what are you doing? Get up!"

Lancelot, with a sickening level of obedience, immediately rose to his feet, awaiting further commands. Merlin reeled backwards, away from Lancelot, and doubled over, feeling nauseous. What had he done?

Why had this happened?! He knew that the ritual had worked, he could feel it when Lancelot's soul reentered his body, so how was Lancelot devoid of his own will? What had gone wrong?!

As Merlin spent several minutes bowled over, trying to keep himself from hurling up his dinner all over the ground, a wolf howled in the distance, shocking Merlin back into reality. He took a deep breath and glanced back over to where Lancelot was still standing, wearing a terrifyingly blank expression.

He would fix this. He had to. But right now, they needed to get to safety before they could come up with any plan going forward. Swallowing thickly, Merlin called out to Lancelot.

"Come on, we need to get back to Camelot. Gaius might be able to help us fix whatever's gone wrong with the ritual."

Lancelot nodded without hesitation, and they both set back on the trail towards Camelot. It was slightly harder for Merlin to sneak into the castle with another person with him, but he was able to make it work. Eventually, they made it to Gaius's chambers, who jolted awake at the sound of his door slamming open.

Gaius's annoyance at his rude awakening was terrifying enough for Merlin, but it was completely overshadowed at his fury towards Merlin for performing a necromancy ritual.

"How could you be so stupid?! Of course a ritual from that tome would bring him back as your thrall! Even if he's fully healed and has his soul and all of his memories, he's now bound by your will! Any subject of necromancy sees the magic user who raised them from the dead as their god, regardless of the spell or ritual used!"

A fresh wave of dread and guilt threatened to drown Merlin.

"So, there's no way fully bring him back? No matter what I try, he'll never come back as himself again?"

Gaius slowly shook his head, breaking Merlin's last shards of fragile hope.

Lancelot, on his end, was initially very, very confused. One moment he was floating through an endless darkness, and the next he was laying on the ground in the middle of a glowing circle in the forest.

He looked around, and there he was. Merlin, standing at the edge of the circle. Lancelot smiled, glad beyond words to see his friend again, to know that his sacrifice wasn't in vain

Still, there was some odd, foreign feeling bubbling up inside of him at the sight of Merlin. But he didn't have long to ponder those feelings before Merlin was suddenly wrapping his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

It wasn't until Merlin had helped him to his unsteady feet that the foreign feeling pushed to the surface, taking control of his limbs. The thing taking over was him, but it wasn't him, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to both him and whatever was controlling him to fall to his knees and pledge his fealty to Merlin, as if there was ever a doubt where his devotion lay.

The trip back to Camelot was a blur to Lancelot, feeling like he was both in control of himself and under the control of something else, but he didn't fight against it. No, whatever was now inhabiting his body alongside him seemed to be working with him, not against him.

Despite Merlin's panic and the unknown entity that was now in his mind, Lancelot thoroughly enjoyed the walk back to Camelot. He never thought that he'd enjoy the simply pleasures that came with having a corporeal body again, so he enjoyed everything from feeling the dirt under his boots to the wind on his face.

When they reached Gaius's chamber though, and he revealed the true consequences of Merlin's efforts to bring him back from the dead. Panic, horror, and betrayal washed over Lancelot in a split second, but those feelings dissipated as soon they appeared.

While Lancelot could chalk up his immediate forgiveness towards Merlin as the work of the foreign entity that now resided within his body, Lancelot knew deep down, in a place in his heart where the entity couldn't touch, that his feelings of forgiveness and acceptance towards Merlin was his and his alone.

Because the truth was that, even before Lancelot stepped into the veil, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Merlin.

And this post is getting too long, so I'll cut it off there! From here, the au focuses on people's reactions to Lancelot's return and Merlin's tremendous amounts of guilt for what he's done to Lancelot. Lancelot has some days where he's pretty much his old self again, and other days where he's deeper under the thrall's control.

Because everyone can see the very disturbing sight of Lancelot under the power of the thrall, everyone in the castle (except for Merlin and Gaius) believes that Lancelot was resurrected by an evil sorcerer and enchanted by him to try to destroy Camelot, but they also believe that he's valiantly beating back the sorcerer's enchantment with the power of sheer willpower and friendship and is slowly getting better.

It breaks everyone's heart to see Lancelot's will robbed of him, but it hits especially hard for Gwen, Arthur, and the knights to see the strongest, most noble man they know have to fight every single day for his own free will. Merlin, meanwhile, vows never to give Lancelot any orders, as he will not stoop so low as to bend his dearest friend to his will, but even despite not explicitly giving Lancelot orders, the thrall still sometimes takes over his friend and seeks him out. The only order he ever gives the thrall is to just do whatever Lancelot wants to do, but even that sometimes doesn't work and the thrall just stands there, looking at him blankly.

Well, that's enough angst for today! Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation of this au! Until next time!

And as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D