#and i have to wonder if the [starters] are just taking this on the chin or

[nanamiskentos]

GOOD TO ME ☓ ── ( 両面宿儺 , ryomen sukuna ) mdni.

⌗ sukuna really hates boring council meetings, but when you're around? he hates them a little less.

ᯓ starring ─ ﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ the king of curses x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. true form!kuna. heian era. wife!reader. mutual másturbation, teásing, èdging. ríding. cèrvix kissing, brèèding kínk, sukuna ADORES you. wc ⌓. 3.3k. art, clloudgarden.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) there's cousin greg everywhere for those who have the eyes to see

"and, if it is to be said, my lord, so it be, so it is –"

oh, for fuck's sake, sukuna should have known it would have been another useless, dull meeting. the absolute waste of time that left him nostalgic for sticking his head in a fiery kiln, if only to save him from the droning voice of some pathetic subordinate rambling about territorial disputes between lower-grade curses, as if he gave a damn.

these insects, squabbling over scraps, too weak to take what they wanted, too spineless to act without crawling to him for approval. the king of curses can only exhale through his nose, chin propped up on a curled first as he taps fingers against the fine table. patience thinning by the second, maybe he'd kill one of these lowlifes for sport, just to keep things interesting.

"...and so, my lord, we would ask your decision on the matter."

ah, right. this fuckass council couldn't do a damn thing for themselves, can they? two pairs of russet eyes level at the insignificant wretch standing before him, frail-lookin' and wringing his wiry hands like a meek rodent.

"what would you like me to say, hmm?"

the miscreant hesitates, "the...the western border dispute, my lord," he stammers, "do we intervene? or should we let the lesser curses resolve it among themselves? o-only as you see fit, of course."

there must be a thousand other things running through the king of curses's mind at the moment. he's feeling rather peckish, for starters, for it seems the whole, marinated boar that he ravaged through to break his fast was not quite enough to be satiating.

ah, sukuna wonders, there's also that harvest festival looming up, for the cowardly emperor's timid footman did indeed deliver an invitation — lined with gold leaf. and tch', he still needs to replace the bowstring in his yumi, perhaps he would be more inclined to use animal sinew for a more sturdy yield.

all these items of agenda faintly float around in the demon's mind, until he's blinking, remembering the pathetic rogue still shuffling in front of him. sukuna decides to play it safe, falling back to his default answer and favourite philosophy.

"kill them."

"ah, w-who, my lord?"

sukuna sighs, feeling a vague itch on the back of his neck, "all of them. the weaklings who came crying for help. the ones causing the problem. heh, just take out anyone standing within five feet of them while yer' at it," he's waving a large hand dismissively, "if they can't handle their own affairs, i don't wanna' hear about it."

"that doesn't sound very wise now, does it?"

sukuna feels his thick jaw tick, and he needs not even turn his head to see the source of dissent, for he knows your voice, your presence better than he knows himself. he can hear the quiet rhythm of your steps, carrying you behind him, and then towards his side, towards your rightful place.

"the hell are you doing here?" sukuna's tongue clicking behind his teeth, taking in that intoxicating scent of incense and clean silk, and the fresh peaches that you so loved to split open with bare hands when the fruit was in season.

"you said i could sit in your council today," you murmur, sidling closer to his large frame that looms against his grandiose seat of bone and wood.

huh, sukuna does remember making some vague promise like that, some invitation extended towards you, his (mostly) beloved wife — to allow you to sit in on these tedious council meetings. damn shame, how he can't help but make promises in the golden haze of post-coital glow, and how he's obligated to fulfil them later on. whatever, focus.

but it seems that you're already a step ahead of him, smiling at the skittish scoundrel who most certainly does not deserve the privilege of that beauty, "so, what was the matter at hand?"

the wretch seems almost relieved to be conversing with you, rather than the idle terror of the king of curses, and he's shifting on the polished, marble floor, "well, my lady, it was the w-western borders you see. crops had been razed to the ground and —"

now call him a weak-minded fool (or don't, if you sensibly value your life) but sukuna does not even hear nor register the rest of the louse's words.

clawed fingers twitching, shoulders rippling at the sudden sensation of you drawing faint circles over his broad thighs. granted, there is a layer of thick, woven silk between your grazing nails and his flesh, but the sensation of your touch — even through his ivory martial pants, makes sukuna's ears ring.

what sort of game do you think you're playing?

but you're not even looking at him, "now, that is most unfortunate. i assume imperial troops have not been able to intervene?" not even batting your lashes once towards sukuna's flushing face, when your hand is drifting to low centre of his chiselled abdomen, further down so your dizzying touch finds home on his clothed groin.

sukuna only watches with a honed, terrible interest as you shift slightly and the movement parts the fine-lined edges of your robe. the sight sending tendrils of searing flames down his spine, for fuck, if he didn't know any better, you're entirely bare underneath the thin silk of your summer yukata.

and sukuna wagers, he swears, that a single claw tugging at the flimsy fabric would unravel the robes so deliciously before him, delighting him with his favourite vision in the entire world. mouth watering, fangs slipping past the corners of his red lips at the thought of laving pleasurable bruises over your chest, and lower.

fuck all this, border disputes over crops, maggots with their problems, imperial soldiers.

"out." patience snapping like brittle bone, fingers flexed against the edges of his seat at the head of the council. a subtle motion, one that sends every pathetic soul in the room scrambling to their feet. no second chances, no hesitations at his orders for they knew better.

how satisfying then, when the massive chamber doors groan open. the rustle of fabric, the hurried shuffle of sandals, all of them scurrying out like rats. not daring to look back. all except you.

still seated beside him, still watching him. as though you knew exactly what sort of effect your little stunt would have on him. he needs not even look to sense that insufferable curve of your shapely lips, the faint glint of amusement in your eyes.

and sukuna heaves heady air through his lungs, forcing indifferent into every inch of his body — not quite willing to indulge you yet. pretending like the heat licking at his veins wasn't due to you, like his pulse did not thicken, darken and quicken the very moment you walked in. as though there's not hot blood rushing through his stiff cocks at this very moment.

"why the temper today?" you tease, tone as light as a blossom in the spring, "i thought y'were tired, all these dull meetings, my love, they must be getting to you."

"tsk', don't got any attitude, woman." but your hands are on him again, gripping thick, dual shafts that are still draped in silk. and sukuna does his best not to rumble, to purr when the delicious friction of your gliding hands sets him alight, "now, what is it that my queen wants?"

you're tilting your head, giving him those distracting hazy eyes that makes his groin tense, as though your stroking fingers aren't enough to make his wide hips buck, "what exactly do you think i want, 'kuna?"

not lord sukuna, not any other simpering title that the others threw his way. just his name falling from your sweet lips, and it's enough to allow a silent snarl curl at the edges of his lips, because right now? sukuna wasn't thinking about his estate, nor any other ambition save for you. and how easily he could wipe that smug look off your face. how easily he could pleasure you so that your cheeks would flush, and your jaw would drop slack in beautiful squeals of his name, pleas for more.

dark-stained nails shooting out, yanking at your waist. sukuna revels in the sharp gasp that leaves your lips as he yanks you forward, gripping at your flesh and pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. no hesitation, no warning and no mercy for sukuna either, it seems. for your robes part and sukuna has to bite back a low, rumbling groan at the feeling of your bare cunt against his thigh. minx.

he has no doubt that you can feel his pulse beat up against you, heavy and thrumming. like war drums beneath his skin but he cares not, for you have only ever been the sole being alive that could undo him like this. aw, cute, how your eyes widen at the sight of his second mouth curling into a sharp, lazy grin.

"well," sukuna presses his lips to the juncture of your neck, amusement laced with something more lustful, "you have my full attention now, don't you? heh, i mean this is what ya' wanted, wasn't it?"

and sukuna, for all his idle threats and vague promises of suffering, cannot help himself. already leaning in, with heat, pressure and teeth. crimson mouth slanted over yours, crushing and demanding, no patience nor hesitation. just hunger.

your soft moan is swallowed by him, for he's greedy, gluttonous for the sight, the sound and the feel of you, and he drinks it all in. devouring the way that you melt against the broad planes of his chest, rocking your hips gently against the stiff tips of his aching cocks that prick through the silk.

blush-pink lashes flickering against creamy, roughened skin, savouring the way you respond. the way your hands slide up, grasping at his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere on your husband that you can touch.

there's a sharp growl lingering in sukuna's bobbing throat, deep and pleased, because this what what he had been waiting for. for you to realise that there was only ever one way that teasing the king of curses could end. and it was right here, with you splayed out for him, in his grasp.

and of course, he knows exactly what you're trying to achieve like this — chasing a sweet and easy relief against his hips. the damp wetness between your thighs crying out for any friction that made your own hips stutter but sukuna's having none of that. gripping at your waist with enough force that leaves you frozen, unable to buck yourself up against him.

"ah, 'kuna," you're whining so beautifully, sukuna has to steel his resolve, "was s-so close." huffing, pouting at your lack of trembling release as sukuna presses a gentle kiss to your jaw.

"ya' really thought i was gonna' let you have it that easy?" sukuna laughs, a deep and wicked chuckle thick with satisfaction, "mmh, i have a better idea, hah."

a broad, wide hand splays itself against your lower abdomen. arching your spine just so, pushing you slightly back so sukuna can drag his hungry gaze to the shimmering, swollen folds that he aches for. already creating such a filthy mess over his lap as he ghosts the very tips of his nails around your mound, "did ya' come in here drippin' just for me, wife? wanted to interrupt all my kingly duties?"

feisty thing you are, for you don't dignify him with a verbal answer. already reaching past the woven band of his martial pants, dipping into his trousers to wrap your sweet hands around his hard cocks. sukuna hisses, doing his best to not just spill translucent seed right then and there. bucking his hips back, slapping your hands away, "you don't get to touch."

and oh, how he loves the frown marring at your kiss-stung pout, the adorable jut of your lower lip scowling at being deprived at the chance of feeling the king of curses unravel under your touch.

"c'mon, wife, how about somethin' better?" sukuna smiles, though it is not a smile that offers reprieve, as he gently presses a soft kiss to your wrist, guiding your hand to your own core, "show me jus' how badly you wanted me."

your whines are delicious, the music of creation to his ears, as you bristle and grumble. rolling your eyes skywards, but eager to chase your own pleasure nevertheless. sukuna watches with greedy eyes, taking in at how you dip two fingers right over your glistening cunt, gently brushing them against your clit so you shiver in his lap.

sukuna is watching you, concentric-ringed eyes fixed on you with the quiet intensity of a god surveying his offerings. but it's clear that you don't have it in you to become self-conscious, already mewling at your own touch. deliciously swabbing the pads of your fingers through your soaking heat, rocking sharper against the numbing pleasure of your own motions.

he's hissing, realising that he may need to take, heh, matters into his own hands as well. matters being the thick, dual shafts that stiffly spring into the air, demanding his attention. angry pink-bulbed tips that leak small spurts of pre already, and sukuna grips at the uppermost cock, fisting a thick hand over his length. keeping his eyes fixed on how your fingers draw gentle circles over your clit (well, of course, he already knew just how you liked it, you're his wife, after all).

"g-good?" there must be a faint cherry flush painting the back of sukuna's neck, doing his very best to pretend he's not stuttering and stammering over his words. but his breath hitches, low and guttural, more growl than a gasp. like a beast caught between restraint and desire.

he's not even sure where the filthy, glorious sounds are coming from. the sopping pap! pap! pap! of skin against skin, of sukuna's thick, muscled fist tugging at his cock, or the slick slide of your fingers in your cunt, teasing at your entrance and your inner walls.

"s-so good, 'kuna," you're sighing, and sukuna loves you all the more for how you blush, jaw falling in honeyed whispers of his name, eyes hazy with the pleasure that is so close to you now, panting over and over.

and because, naturally, sukuna is a greedy and lecherous individual for his wife only, he keeps his lower set of eyes trained on how you're dipping the very tips of your fingers into your cunt, stretching the pad of your thumb up to flick and tug at your clit. a mimicry of what he bestows upon you, and he can see that you're truly that close to a finishing release. eyes droopy and lovesick as you rut at a sharp, staccato pace against him.

close, closer and right on the very edge when sukuna realises that he is a starved man (no, a starved curse? uh, not quite. these are all just semantics) and he's about to —

you're sputtering, tears springing to the very corners of your angelic eyes. crystalline lashes pooling on the very edges of your angry, reddened gaze, "i was so close, what the fuck!"

sukuna nips at your lips, drinking in your huffs and sighs, pulling your hand away from your sodden cunt, "must i ask my wife's forgiveness?" low and husky, rock-salt rasp as he jostles your hips in his powerful hold.

"now, how 'bout i keep ya' hands busy with this?" and he gently guides your slick-stranded hand to his upper cock, shuddering at the pressure of your fingertips against his aching, painful shaft. laving at your collarbone as he pulls you right over the lower shaft, brushing your swollen pussy folds over the cock, soaking him in your sweet, sweet arousal.

"hah, s-stop teasing," you grouse, already beginning a steady and pumping pace with your hands once more that makes sukuna's iron-willed concentration waver. fuck, you're too good at that, despite being barely able to wrap your hand around the sheer girth of the demon's cock.

sukuna does decide to take some small pity on you (see! he's generous!) by pressing soothing circles to your clit, easing you up, "big stretch, hah. jus' take a deep breath for me, wife." slowly lowering you down on his cock, already swabbing turgid veins against your innermost walls, and truthfully? losing his fucking mind at how the feeling your pussy wrapped around him shatters whatever dignity he had left.

"f-fuck me," sukuna breathes, "ohh, 's the sweetest thing in the world." already determined to kiss his weeping tip against your sweet spot as soon as he finds it, already swivelling your hips against the faint curl of pink hairs on his groin. determined to hit that roughened patch of heightened sensitivity.

and because sukuna does have a reputation to keep up, he would not ever admit this to another living soul, lest he be left with little choice but to flay that poor soul alive. but it's barely been half a minute of sukuna's cock being sucked in by your cunt, and he feels as though he may already burst.

it certainly doesn't help that your mouth is pressing sharp kisses to his pectorals, right over the darkened tattoos that brand his chest and the way that your hand is pumping his upper cock, the tip weakly spurting and so close to release.

pleasurable slap! after slap! of his mushroom-tip against your cervix, pressing as deep as he can, as sukuna slowly lifts your hips up and down his shaft. he loves you, he really does adore you and he fears that he may genuinely have to verbalise this sentiment more often, because he feels as though his ragged, dark heart may burst at the sight of you so ethereal, glistening in his hold.

if he were a less jealous, selfish husband, he may have commissioned the court sculptor to get in here, to capture your writhing form and prop it up in the temple for all lesser beings to leave offerings and candles at your image.

but this sight? it's for sukuna to worship alone, to capture in his memory, the image of you gasping and panting for sweet, candied breath, with your cunt drooling in his lap and spitting down his shaft.

"m-more, more, 'kuna," you sweetly murmur, with the edges of your robes slipping off your shoulder so sukuna can nip his fangs into the sweet flesh.

but the king of curses can only smile, a genuine grin that never bodes well for your endurance, splaying five fingers against the thick, bulging tip that presses against your abdomen, "more? better h-hold on, wife, then. 'cause, this?" he prods at the thick tip that is just visible through your womb, "this is where 'm gonna be, maybe give this wretched place an heir? what'dya say?"

having his wife's slippery cunt tacking against his groin, slapping all so nasty and sticky — all while scheming for an heir to finally bring down that wretched emperor in heian-kyō? to see you glowing and round with his child? sukuna's a multitasker, what can he say?

[yummyrevivalfluid]

And If You Think I’m In Love With You

Senku x Reader

Summary: You heard a rather interesting rumor. A rumor that when you confront Senku, has him analyzing his interactions with you.  

WC: 1369

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song. Enamorado Tuyo by El Cuarteto de Nos. The lyrics are a bit contradicting so it can get confusing! But it conveys the message of being in denial of love! Downplaying feelings. I incoporated some lyrics of the song into the fic :)

“I heard an interesting theory today,” Your voice, briefly pulling Senku’s attention away from a research article.

“Theory?” He pushed back against his chair and turned to look at you, his brow raised in a questioning manner. Looking at you over his shoulder, you laid sprawled on his bed as you messed with a rubix cube.

“Theory…. rumor, same thing.” You reasoned, drawing out your words and shrugging your shoulders. Senku rolled his eyes, not entirely amused you broke his concentration for something he would consider trivial.

“They are not the same. Theories are explanations for phenomenon, made through logical reasoning and thinking.” Senku explained, his back to you once again, “Rumors can be true or false, made up…usually not backed by logical reasoning.”

“Whatever Dr. Know-it-all” you mumbled under your breath. By now you’re sitting on the edge of his bed, you glance at Senku’s form. You hesitate. Wondering if now a good time is to challenge the dynamics between the two of you. You almost regretted bringing up what you’ve heard.

“Well, I usually don’t pay attention to rumors,” you said quietly, yet Senku still heard you. Even snickering at your words and you responded with a playful glare. “But this one got my attention,” you walked to where Senku was sitting and placed your hands on his shoulders. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. You leaned over his shoulder and whispered into his ear, teasingly, “I heard you have feelings for me…”

Senku’s eyes jolted open. His relaxed demeanor now stiffened under your touch. A light blush graces his face, burning the tips of ears. “Where the hell did that crazy ass rumor come from!?”

“The grape vine…” you pulled back.

“And how did this grapevine come to this theory?” he asked. Curious as to know what others saw between the two of you. Is there something that he is missing?

“Oh man where to begin!” you exclaimed dramatically, launching yourself onto his bed once again. “They gave so many examples! For starters your lock screen…. they said your clingy…” you snickered. You continue to state a few other reasons, and for every reason Senku began to analyze. Deep in thought, your voice began to fade, not catching your own question at the end.

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“Pleaseeeee Senkuuuuu!” you whined as you dragged him closer to the telescope. “Look at the lighting, it’s perfect! Just one photo please!”

“One photo.” Senku sighed. You let out a gasp, letting go of his arm and quickly ran to the front of the large telescope.  Senku snickered at your excitement, pulling out his phone, getting ready to take the one photo.

“Do I look okay?” you asked, looking over yourselves. Senku walked closer to you, eyeing you up and down.

“You have something right there…” he muttered as he pointed at your shirt, you looked down just to have his finger flick your chin. “Kidding….” He cackled as you pouted that you had fallen for one of his lame tricks.

“Stop messing around, you said I only get one photo”, you swatted his arm to get him to stop laughing. Senku moved further back, positioning his camera.

“3…2…1.”

He took the picture and examined it. You were standing in front of the large telescope, the ceiling of the observatory showcased the night sky, the moonlight landing on you. He had to agree, the lighting was good. The way the moonlight hit your figure, you were practically glowing. You looked like a goddess… angel…He didn’t hear you approaching, too mesmerized by the photo he had taken of you. He didn’t have time to stop you from swiping his phone.  

“Hey!”

“Relax, I just wanted to see how good I look.” He watched as you zoomed in and out of the screen, and then you were clicking buttons. “And BAM! Now you have me as your lockscreen. Just don’t go around and telling people that we’re dating.” You snickered as you handed him back his phone. You begin to walk away from him, going to the next spot in your exploration of the observatory. Leaving Senku to check his lockscreen and sure enough, your face was smiling back at him.

Not like it means anything he reasons with himself

I almost rarely see your photo on my phone

Even though the photo was his lockscreen, it’s not like he pays much attention to the photo. It’s not like he examines your photo every time he unlocks his phone. Maybe for like 5 seconds, rarely does he examine it for more than 10 seconds. It’s not like every time he checks for the time, he’s smiling back at your smile. It’s not his fault your smile is contagious.  Weeks after the photo was taken, when confronted why he hasn’t changed it, “I only keep your photo on my phone because I don’t have the time to delete it. Too many buttons to click…”

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Clingy?  It’s not like I’m desperate to have you by my side…

 All the time you keep him company while Byakuya is away, all the hours you spend with him huddled in his room. In Senku’s mind, sure he’s the one that invites you, even luring you with food and sweets, but you’re the one that accepts his invitation. You’re the one that clings to him.

Once again, you found yourself helping Senku with his research paper. Lured in with the promise of some chocolates. You sat at one end of his desk, reviewing his work, scanning for any grammatical errors, sipping coffee as you do so. Senku on the other hand is yet again planning another experiment. A loud yawn escaped you, catching Senku’s attention.

“Tired?” Senku commented. You glanced at the time on your phone, you stretched your arms, purposely invading into Senku’s area.

“How can I not be? You’re overworking me! Not to mention you forgot my chocolates.” You complained, you closed your laptop as you began to collect your stuff. “Anyways, it’s late. I got to get going…” you looked out his window, the sun had set a long time ago.

“Stay the night. It’s too late for you to be out anyways…” Senku got up from his seat and stood beside you, acknowledging the night sky.  

“Why not walk me home?” you asked, already knowing his answer.

“Too much work…There should be an extra toothbrush in the restroom” Senku rubbed at the back of neck, thinking of what else you might need for the night. “Do you need pajamas?”  

“If I knew better, I would think you wanted me to stay…” you teased, slightly leaning into his shoulder. Senku laughed at your comment.

“Ohhh sureee yeah,” Senku sarcastically agreed, “Part of my plan to get you into bed.”

“Perv”

And when I am, desperate to have you by my side…

Even though he had no plans to share a bed with you, that’s how the night ended. You lay beside him, wearing his old clothes. Your back pressed against him. He did a lot of explaining when Byakuya arrived home to surprise him, surprised to see Senku sleeping with you, his arms embracing your form.

…That doesn’t mean it has a deeper meaning…

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Senku wasn’t sure how long he was analyzing these reasons. He wasn’t sure why he was analyzing them like it was something he was supposed to rationalize, something he was supposed to counter. Clearly this was a rumor. Something made up. Something that both of you two shouldn’t acknowledge. If you’ve given him a day, he could write out all the reasons why this theory can be disproved, but you didn’t. You spoke again, trying to get his attention. You repeated your question. The same question that was lost to Senku’s ear when he began to get lost in thought.

“So, do you?” you ask again. Waiting in silence for what felt like eternity. Watching as the gears turn in Senku’s head. Dying to know if the rumors are just rumors. If there’s truth to what’ve heard. You watched him, your eyes almost pleading.  “Do you have feelings for me…”

And if you think I’m in love with you, please don’t make a fuss

“It’s just a rumor…”

 I think…

[glowettee]

✧・゜ how to radiate confidence in social situations (even when you're screaming inside) ゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✧

let's be honest - we've all been there. standing in a room full of people, smile plastered on, while our internal monologue is having a complete meltdown. that was literally me last weekend at this networking event where i knew absolutely no one and spent the first 15 minutes hiding in the bathroom (classic me behavior).

but over time i've collected some little tricks that help me appear confident even when my insides are doing gymnastics. thought i'd share in case any of you are fellow social anxiety girlies too!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the body language hack ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

our bodies can actually trick our minds into feeling confident. before entering any intimidating social situation, i find a private spot (usually the bathroom, let's be real) and stand in a "power pose" for two minutes. arms on hips, shoulders back, chin up. it feels silly but it genuinely changes my nervous system.

another tiny thing: keep your hands visible, not crossed or hidden in pockets. something about this signals confidence to others and eventually to yourself.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ prepare your conversation toolkit ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

nothing makes me panic more than awkward silence, so i always have a mental list of conversation starters ready. not just "what do you do?" but questions that actually lead somewhere interesting:

"what's been keeping you busy outside of work lately?"

"have you read/watched anything good recently?"

"what's something you're looking forward to this year?"

the secret is asking questions that you genuinely want to hear answers to. people can sense authentic curiosity, and it takes pressure off you to be "interesting" when you're focused on being interested.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the "i belong here" mindset shift ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this one changed everything for me. i used to walk into rooms thinking "i hope they like me" which immediately put me in a position of seeking approval. now i try to shift to "i wonder if i'll like them."

it's such a subtle change but it puts you in the position of the observer rather than the observed. suddenly you're not auditioning for acceptance - you're just seeing if this person/group is your vibe.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ embrace the awkward ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the biggest confidence killer is trying to be perfect. there's actually something magnetic about someone who can laugh at themselves when they trip over a word or spill their drink.

i've started just naming the awkwardness when it happens: "well that came out completely wrong, let me try again!" people actually connect more with your humanity than your perfection.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the 5-second reset ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

when i feel myself spiraling into overthinking, i use this tiny reset: i take a deep breath, count to 5, and remind myself that most people are too worried about themselves to be analyzing me.

seriously, the same insecurity that makes you worry about what others think is the exact thing that prevents others from thinking about you as much as you fear!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ aftercare is essential ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

confidence isn't just about how you act in the moment - it's also about how you treat yourself after. i used to dissect every interaction, cringing at everything i said.

now i have a rule: no social autopsies. instead, i celebrate that i showed up at all. sometimes i'll even buy myself a little treat on the way home as a "well done for being brave" gift.

remember, true confidence isn't the absence of fear - it's just the decision that something else is more important than that fear. and with practice, those screaming-inside moments get quieter and less frequent.

what about you? any confidence hacks that help you in social situations?

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[ssahotchnerr]

hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

[hawkinsbnbg]

sweet tooth

prompt: stuff | word count: 483 | rated: M | tags: established relationship, bad innuendos, fluff | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

“Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie glanced up from his sketchbook. “I thought everyone already knew about that?”

“I didn't, obviously,” Dustin let out a self-righteous huff. “I just found out recently because you keep running late to Hellfire's meeting.”

Eddie was confused at first, but then he remembered those bad innuendos he had told Dustin as a joke.

“Were those cakes that good?” The kid asked curiously.

“What cakes were good?” Steve returned from the kitchen with a tray of snacks.

Eager to be helpful, Dustin launched into telling Steve the tale about Eddie’s tardiness and the reason behind it.

Poor Steve was bright red by the time Dustin finished.

“Yup, those cakes were tasty, man,” he nodded sagely and winked at Steve’s not-so-subtle glare. “They were soft, sweet, and stuffed with cream cheese. Needed to take my time ‘cause high-quality goodness like that deserved to be appreciated.”

“And where did you find them?” Dustin squinted suspiciously. “If they're as good as you said, then I must've heard about them before. But I haven't,” a finger wiggled at Eddie, “ergo, you're either lying to me, or just talking out of your ass.”

Aha, what a nosy little shit. No wonder he was Eddie's favorite.

Ignoring Steve’s Don't you dare look, he grinned slyly.

“Why don't you go ask your mother, Dusty Bun? ‘Cause he made all of ‘em for me.”

And watched on in amusement as Dustin whirled around to pester a mortified Steve.

Once the kid left for the Wheeler house, Steve immediately rounded on him.

“Creampied cakes? Seriously, Eds?” Steve scowled, adorably flustered and irritated with Eddie's antics.

“My bad,” he chuckled and coaxed a pouting Steve into his lap. “Let me make it up to you, sweetheart.”

“How?” Steve arched a brow at him.

“For starter, I can help you stuff your cake with my–”

“–dick?”

“I was gonna say ‘with my love’–”

“Try again when you're not having a boner, babe,” Steve snorted in mirth.

“To be fair, I’m always horny for you, baby boy,” Eddie pecked his boyfriend’s chin with an impish grin. “Emotionally and physically.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, “You're such a dork.”

“But I’m yourrrr dork,” Eddie sing-songed, and smiled in triumphant when he was silenced by those pretty lips.

Once they eventually parted, Steve traced Eddie's cheekbones and jawline with gentle fingers as if cherishing something precious, something worthy of love and tenderness.

“Yeah, you're mine,” Steve said softly.

God, Eddie was so in love that it hurt.

“And you're mine,” he gazed at his sweetheart and felt his chest swell with adoration. “What d’you want, my darling boy?”

And like a dream, Steve smiled at him sweetly. “Wanna be stuffed with your love, Chief.”

As their lips melted together—like cotton candies and marshmallows—Eddie knew he would burn down the whole world if it meant he could keep his baby forever.

[perfinn]

you're out of touch, i'm out of time

aegon ii targaryen x reader

wc: 3.3k

summary: you have a tendency to pick up strays, but when you pick up the king of westeros (who was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago), things begin to get a little complicated

cw: NSFW, f!reader, aegon being a creep (shocker), aegon being deeply pathetic (also shocker), aegon is drunk or possibly hung over, attempted sex (aegon begs for a handjob but doesn't get one)

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

You’ve always been too nice. You’re aware of this unfortunate fact, though you staunchly refuse to admit it’s a weakness. Has this trait left you without necessities from time to time because you gave them to someone who needed them more? Yes, but you sleep better at night knowing that that homeless girl had sturdy new shoes, even if you had to walk home barefoot. You can always handle a bit of discomfort if it means improving someone’s day marginally. It’s not as though you’re without any sense of self preservation– you know when to say no, or when to walk away. When someone is out for their own self interest, or just plain dangerous. 

You’re smart about it. Mostly. Sometimes, though, your sympathy gene takes over, and you approach the danger because you feel there’s more beneath the surface. So far, it hasn’t put you in any troubling positions. Still, first time for everything. And as you stand on the edge of the pavement, toes of your shoes swinging down into the gutter as you sway back and forth, you wonder if you’re about to break your successful streak.

There’s a man in the busy city street, raving and desperately trying to get someone’s attention. Usually, he’s the type you’d regretfully ignore for your own safety, but he seems different. He doesn’t seem like the usual King’s Landing crackheads. He’s dressed too nice, for starters. Strange, yes, but still nice. In fact, it looks to be better quality than anything you own. And he’s young– which isn't uncommon in this situation, but it always makes your heart ache when they’re young. 

He looks desperate, terrified, and as another person ducks their head and walks past him, you feel yourself moving toward him. You don't know why. Maybe because you know if you leave now, you’ll not sleep tonight for the sheer guilt of passing him by. He spots you making your way over and turns to you, seeming to hope against hope that you’re going to acknowledge him. 

“Hi,” you say in a calm, even voice. It's a tone you’ve gotten quite good at. You’re not professionally trained by any means, but these things generally come with the territory. “Let's get you out of the road, okay? You could get hurt.”

“What the fuck are those things?” He demands of you as a car stops to let you take him across. You wave your thanks to the driver, who looks mildly disgruntled, and take the young man gently by the arms to get him onto the pavement. “Where are the horses?”

You know he must be confused, so you’re gentle with him. “There's no horses,” you say, still holding his arms as he finally looks away from the disappearing car and into your eyes. He looks so deeply afraid, but you notice he does take a moment to look you over. You let him, trying to see the best in him and hoping it's just curiosity. It doesn't matter right now anyway, you tell yourself. “Are you okay?”

“No!” He snaps. “Course I’m not bloody okay! Where am I?!”

“You’re in King’s Landing,” you say. “Let's get you somewhere quiet, okay? Are you hungry?”

“This,” he laughs in disbelief, looking around. “Is not King’s Landing, I know what King’s Landing looks like!”

“Okay,” you nod. “I believe you. Let's go sit down, I’ll buy you something to eat.”

The man looks at you with what you think is an offended scowl, but the offer of food does seem to intrigue him. “And wine?”

“No,” you say, and he deflates. 

He scratches at his chin, but nods in agreement. “Yes, fine.”

You smile, a bit of relief easing the worry in your ribs. Sometimes people won't cooperate, or they’ll turn you away when you say you won't buy them booze or give them money outright. This young man seems to be content enough without wine, so you wave your hand and lead him down the road toward the nearest fast food joint. 

He follows behind you, panicked eyes still looking around as though he's never seen the world before. It's not wonder, but something close to anger, indignation maybe. You make it to a diner you like, opening the door for him. He's clearly astounded by the ugly cacophony of colours inside, but you can't blame him. You don't come here for the aesthetics. 

“Go sit down?” You tell him gently, framing it like a suggestion as you point to your favourite booth. He scowls, but does as bid. 

The teen behind the counter takes little notice of your strange company. It's King’s Landing, he's probably seen something ten times as strange already today. Once you’ve paid, you join your new stray, sitting down across from him and folding your hands on the table. 

“So, what's your name?” You ask him, and he looks away from the bustling street outside the window to stare at you in what you assume is disbelief. 

“What’s my name?” He echoes, leaning slightly over the table. “Are you serious?”

You blink. That’s… not a question anyone’s ever been mad at you for. You learned quickly which questions to steer clear of to avoid pissing people off.

He scoffs, leaning back in his seat and tapping a dirtied fingernail against the peeling surface of the table. “Aegon,” he says, almost experimentally. Like he's testing the waters. 

You nod politely, and tell him yours.

He stares at you. “Nothing? Aegon? You’ve not heard the name Aegon?”

“Well, of course I have,” you say, confused smile pulling at your lips. “It's a common enough name. I think I knew a guy in school named Aegon–”

“You have been to school?” Aegon asks, eyebrows shooting up and a laugh spilling from his mouth. He leans back, dragging his hands over his clammy face. “Have I been drugged?!”

You’d put serious money on that being a resounding yes. 

“This is crazy,” he says, leaning forward again. He says your name slowly, glancing around before his eyes land on you. “Can you tell me what's going on?”

You bite your lip, thankful when the cashier calls out your order number. You rush to get up and get it, fearing you may be way out of your depth this time. He talks like he’s never seen the world before, and his comment about you having gone to school… none of it makes any sense. You’ve never even had the thought of dropping someone off with someone who’s better equipped to handle problems of this magnitude, but Aegon has you really considering it. When you return with the tray of food and set it down, Aegon has the specials menu in hand and is squinting at it. 

“I got you what I usually get,” you say, setting the tray down and placing his wrapped burger in front of him, leaving the fries on the tray. “Aegon, I want to help you, but I’m at a bit of a loss.”

“That certainly makes two of us,” Aegon says, unwrapping the burger curiously. “What meat is this?”

“It’s beef,” you tell him, unwrapping your own. He watches as you take a bite of yours, and he nods as though in satisfaction before taking a hefty bite of his. “Aegon, I want to understand what’s going on in your head. Can you just…”

You’re not sure how to say it, really. It’s invasive, and you don’t want him to feel like you believe he’s crazy, or lying.

“What’s your deal?”

He chews slowly on his burger, eyeing you suspiciously. “My deal,” he echoes, lips turned down in a scowl. “Is that I’m the King of Westeros.”

You nod slowly, biting into your burger so you don’t have to answer right away. You hope if you stay silent long enough, he’ll feel compelled to keep talking. 

“King Aegon,” he says slowly, like you’re the deluded one. “Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Protector of the Realm, all the rest. Are you serious?”

You swallow your mouthful and nod. You’re not particularly well versed in history, but the titles ring a bell. It’s some sort of messiah complex, you’d wager. Trying your best not to seem dismissive, you pull out your phone. “Let me see,” you say. 

“What’s that?” He asks, leaning forward and trying to snatch it from you. You move it out of his way, yelping softly in contrition. 

“My phone!” You say. “I’m just looking you up, Aegon.”

“You’re what?” He says, looking horrified. “Give me that!”

“Dude, no! Let me just–” You stand up from your seat to be out of his reach, hurriedly typing the name he’d told you into the search bar. “Look, I know the name Targaryen, that’s the Conqueror's name!”

“Yes! Aegon the Conqueror!” He cries. “You’re finally making sense!”

“What? No, I mean Daenerys!”

“Who!?”

“Aegon, sit back down!” You snap, and he pauses in his pursuit of your phone, stunned into silence by your firm tone. Slowly, he returns to his seat, picking up a fry to eat it. 

“Only because I want to,” he says childishly. 

You frown at him, shaking your head before looking back at your phone as it pulls up the results for your search. 

‘Aegon II Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Elder, was the sixth Targaryen king to sit the Iron Throne, succeeding his father, Viserys I Targaryen, as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.’

The search pulls up a picture as well, one of those terribly done paintings from the dark ages. It’s hard to say whether the Aegon in front of you looks much like the one in the painting, but he does have the same pale blonde hair and violet eyes. He’s a lot more pathetic than the portrait, too. He has the qualities of a wet cat, and you hate that it’s somewhat endearing. When you keep scrolling, you find a painting that can’t have been contemporary. This is a more detailed portrait, likely from half a century ago, where Aegon is covered in burns and lies dead in a carriage. 

You look up, meeting the wary eyes of the confused but un-burned man before you, and slowly sit back down. You know that he isn’t actually the king from nearly a millennium ago, but there’s an uncanny quality about him that makes you want to doubt the logical truth. His clothes, for one. You don’t know many homeless guys with such fine embroidery on their clothes. And there’s his features… you know them to be Valyrian, but rarely does anyone still pop up with the stark blond and violet irises. You remember well enough from your high school history classes that the Targaryen dynasty had those features.

“What does your little brick do?”

You blink, looking down at it and pulling up the contemporary portrait – part of you tells you not to show him the other. He scowls at it, but nods. “Seven hells, that’s not flattering. Where did you get this miniature? You have this and yet claim not to know me? What game do you play?”

You sigh. He truly doesn’t understand, does he? 

“Aegon, what year do you think it is?”

He rears back and regards you with more suspicion. “129 AC,” he says.

“And what were you doing before this?” 

“I will not tell you that,” he says. “You’re one of Rhaenyra’s spies, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know who Rhaenyra is,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, Aegon, I’m not a history buff.”

“History–” He stops, and goes deathly silent for a long moment, as though the whole situation is finally processing for him. You wonder if it’s the stench of wine that hangs off him explains his slow processing. “What year do you think it is?”

You tell him the year, even tack today’s date on for him. He stares are you, and you can see his brain buffering yet again. 

“Seven hells,” he murmurs. You find you share a similar sentiment. 

He picks up his burger and begins to eat it slowly. He’s silent for a long while, eyes seeming far away as he contemplates. You try not to stare at him, but it's no easy task. 

“This is going to sound crazy,” he says after a long while. “But I believe I may have travelled… through time.”

“I’d say so, yeah,” you respond. At this point, it's the only explanation. You’d usually say something about eliminating all the impossible options, but that just doesn't work here. Time travel is impossible, or it should be. And it's possible Aegon is just suffering from a deeply intense messiah complex. But that doesn't seem right. Your instincts haven't led you wrong before, you’re not about to ignore them now. 

“What am I going to do?” asks Aegon.

You want to tell him you’re going to try to find a way to get him back to his own time, but you’re struck once more with the image of him burned and twisted, dead in a carriage. How can you send him back to his fate knowing his grisly end?

You take in the man in front of you, this historical figure you’d never heard of until five minutes ago, and bite your lip. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise him. “You… can stay with me until we do.”

That’s probably dumb, and you’ll probably regret it. But not more than you would regret leaving him out on the streets.

“I suppose,” sighs Aegon like he’s spoiled for choice. You get up to ask for a bag for your food, glancing back as Aegon chews sadly on his burger. 

You get Aegon back to your place, and he wanders into the flat ahead of you. You watch him go with a soft huff, rolling your eyes. If everything else hadn’t convinced you, his attitude is proof positive that he’s from the past. He has all the entitlement of a prince and none of the consideration of those around him that modern men have (sometimes) gained. 

Your flat isn't much, two bedrooms and mostly paid for by your university. You had a flatmate for a time, but their sudden withdrawal left you without anyone and the school doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aegon can stay in the empty room until you figure him out. 

Aegon’s standing in your living room, staring in wonder at the decor you’ve collected over the course of your degree, at your television, maybe he’s just looking at all of it. He’s turning in a slow circle, eyes narrowed. 

“This is very nice for a commoner. Very strange, but it is not… disgusting.” He pauses in his assessing, looking between you and the ridiculous tapestry you purchased one night after far too many drinks. “Who is this man?”

“Oh, he’s this guy from a movie,” you say, not really processing that he won’t understand what a movie is. He stands there, dumbstruck, while you go to put your leftover food in the fridge. 

“A what?”

“Just… don’t worry about it. There’s going to be a lot for you to take in, but with any luck you won’t be here too long.” You come back over to him, taking him in. He looks out of place standing here in his king’s threads. “Let me get you something to wear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” he says, shifting and taking in your clothes. “Where is your father? Your husband?”

“My father is in my hometown, and I don’t have a husband.”

“You live without a man?” He eyes you suspiciously. “A whore?”

“Okay,” you say, gently grabbing him by the shoulders and walking him over to the sofa. “Sit here, I have some men’s clothes lying around. Do not move.”

Aegon huffs, rolling his eyes and sitting back with folded arms. You wonder, as you go into your room to find something for him, if he’s heard the word ‘no’ very much in his life. It wouldn’t seem that way, but sometimes the way he reacts to you telling him off leaves you thinking otherwise. He’s a bigger mystery than you’ve ever faced, but something tells you he’s worth it.

You emerge after a while to see him flicking through the book you’d left on your coffee table, frowning. He looks up when you enter, setting the book down. “Your home is peculiar,” he informs you. 

“I know,” you say, handing him the soft clothes you’d found. “Student housing is kind of a lottery. You can get changed in the spare room, if you want. I’m going to go shower. If you get hungry, your leftovers are in that big white box there, okay?”

“Yes, yes, whatever.” 

You watch him enter the near-empty bedroom and shut the door, heaving a heavy sigh before you go off to your own room. You don't shower. Instead, you pull out your computer and set out to learn all that you possibly can about Aegon. 

What you learn twists your stomach into knots so tight you feel that they would trap the nausea that grips your throat from escaping. Aegon was no saint, no, but what you find is that his life is steeped in tragedy. If he believes himself to be king now but remains unburned by his cousin’s dragon, he must be near the end of his life; but the worst of his troubles have yet to begin. 

It is strange to think of the pathetic and bratty man in your flat as growing into the role of a king, if one could say he ever did. He seems nothing but a lost young man, unloved but for the power he afforded his Hightower family. 

The reports on him are so extensive and exhaustive that an hour has passed before you realise you haven’t been disturbed. You get up from your desk, wondering if Aegon has somehow wandered out of your flat and back onto the street.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your kitchen cabinets strewn open, and your cheap bottle of vodka now empty on the counter. Aegon is sprawled on your sofa, cradling a novelty ceramic beer mug you won in a pub quiz in your first year. 

“Seven hells,” you mumble, going over to him and snatching the cup from him to be met with his whining protests. You sniff the cup, nose scrunching in disgust at the acetone-y smell. “Not even a mixer…”

Aegon looks up at you, trying to reach for the cup and whining your name. At least he changed into the sweats. The King’s Landing University jumper rather suits him, actually. 

“Please,” he says, looking even more closely akin to a wet cat. He seems on the verge of tears. “You’re pretty, do you know?”

“I’ve heard,” you say, setting the cup down on the coffee table and turning to him.

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer with surprising strength considering how sloshed he is. “You’re so pretty,” he whispers. He almost sings your name. “Will you get me off?”

“Wh- Aegon!” You snap, tearing your wrist away. “No!”

“Please! Just your hand, you’ve got such soft hands!”

“Aegon,” you hiss. “No. You’re drunk. Even if I wanted to, that wouldn't be okay. You don't know what you're saying.”

Aegon pouts at you, falling back against the sofa and letting out a soft hiccup. “That doesn't make sense.”

“Maybe not in your time,” you say, grabbing him a blanket and laying it over him. “Gods- just- just try to get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning when you're fully sober.”

“I’ll die before that,” he says, snuggling up to the soft blanket with a ridiculous cartoon of a wolf on it. Another of your decor purchases you thought would be hilarious in the moment. You grab his cup and pour what’s left of the vodka into the sink before gathering up your remaining bottles and vowing to take them to the cabinet in your room with a lock. 

“Maybe. But if you vomit on my carpet, you’ll be paying the cleaning bill, your grace.”

part ii

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ jack harlow x fem!black!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.0k

DESCRIPTION when you start feeling insecure about your pregnancy, jack reassures you that you'd always be beautiful in his eyes.

CONTENT insecurities on gaining weight ꣑ pregnancy ꣑ insecurities on stretch marks ꣑ crying, ꣑ doubts about jack falling out of love ꣑ hurt ꣑ comfort.

THOUGHTS this is a repost from my jack harlow blog, i think this one was my favorite fic i ever wrote for him.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. taglist

JACK BALANCES THE BAG OF FOOD WITH ONE HAND AS HE STICKS THE KEY IN THE DOOR, turning the key, and pushing the door open. “Babe, I’m home!” he shouts as he makes his way to the kitchen setting the food and the keys on the counter. “Babe?” he looks around confused as he takes out his phone to see if you had texted him that you were going somewhere.

It’s not like you to not greet him when he came home, he’s used to you running into his arms with a huge smile on your face as you told him about your day and he would put his hand over your belly as he rubs it slightly as he talks to his baby boy. When he sees no text from you, he assumes you’re just in the bedroom and didn’t hear him.

He sets his phone on the counter before heading upstairs when he walks up to the door, he goes to knock but before he can, he hears you crying and a worried expression takes over his face as you might have hurt yourself and he rushes in to see you standing in front of the mirror with your hands on your stomach in nothing but your underwear, noticing the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?’ he questions as he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your stomach, rubbing it slightly. “Babe, I want you to be honest with me,” you sniffle as you lazily made eye contact with him in the mirror. “Yes baby, of course, I’m always honest with you.”

“Am I still attractive to you?” you look down at your feet not wanting to see his reaction. Jack is surprised at your question, surprised at the fact that you would even think that there’s a possibility for him not to be attracted to you. It makes him start to wonder if he wasn’t showing it enough to you and if he was in the studio too much. “Of course baby, why would you ever think that?” 

“Well for starters, none of my clothes fit me anymore now that I’m getting bigger. The maternity clothes are probably not sexy enough for you,” you fidget with your wedding ring as you talk.

“I have stretch marks now.” A frown forms on your face as your hands begin to rub against what you saw as problem areas. The marks ranging from your lower to mid stomach which makes you feel insecure about wearing certain clothes around Jack because you didn’t want to amplify them and bring them to his attention. "And they look beautiful on you," you continue to avoid his eye contact, not believing him.

“Hey… you want to know what I see?” he asks with a soothing voice. With a slight nod of your head, he brings a hand to your chin, lifting it gently so you can look at yourself in the mirror, “I see a very beautiful woman whose carrying our little bundle of joy,” he starts slowly tracing over your stretch marks as he continues to speak.

“Babe, you should not be ashamed of your stretch marks whether they stay or disappear, it’ll always be a reminder of you carrying our baby boy who would be happy to have you as his mother.” he wipes the tears away as he looks into your eyes as a small smile forms on your face, the same smile he fell in love with.

His eyes look down at your lips for a moment before looking back into your eyes as he bends down a bit so his lips can connect with yours, his hands still rubbing your swollen belly as your lips explore each other, the kiss is different than how you would normally kiss, it felt more soft and gentle. When you pull away from each other, you continue to look into the other's eyes, and a huge smile forms on his face. 

He gets on his knees and faces your stomach as he lay kisses on each of your stretch marks, all you can do is smile and try to keep the new tears from falling down your face. “I loved your body before but I love it even more now that you’re pregnant and will forever love it for the rest of my life,” he kisses another one of your stretch marks and looks up at your loving smile. 

You haven’t been more in love with him than this moment, you know that whenever you felt insecure about yourself, he’d come in and reassure you that you have nothing to worry about because in his eyes, you’re perfect, you mean the world to him.

“Come on, your food is getting cold,” he says as he gets off his knees, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him as your eyes lit up. “You got me food?” he lets out a chuckle as he leads you downstairs, “Glad to see you back to your usual happy self.” he smiles as he looks down at you and you shoot him a smile back.

“Thanks to you, I love you so much,” once reaching the bottom step, he stops and brings you close to him as he shakes his head, “That’s impossible, I love you so much more.” you let out a chuckle and lean more into his touch.

It’s just something about him that makes you feel safe whether it is his eyes or the smile that always knew how to bring you in, you couldn’t imagine life without him and he’s the best thing to ever happen in your life and now you’re having a baby with him, a dream truly come true.

You just know that the baby will take after him with a father like Jack and a mother like you, he’s going to be in good hands and both of you couldn’t wait for him to make his arrival.

thank you for reading! © stxrrkissed 2025. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, re-post or translate.

[kings-highway]

48 or 43 with ushiten mayhaps<33 i recall u mentioning a pokemon trainer au at some point as well🤭💕

AAHHhhehehe I sure do have a Pokemon AU 😁 and Ushi and Tendou are two of my favourite characters from that AU so this was a delightful excuse to show them and the 'mons off. Did I answer the prompt? Only barely. Hehehehehehehehehe. Do you know I have a many-page google docs with pokemon teams laid out, including levels, moves, natures and other applicable details? I am currently deeply in love with Pokemon. (Sidenote I recently started playing HeartGold and am wondering why they ever got rid of the pokemon running around behind you that is the best feature ever.)

I'm not going to explain the worldbuilding too much but I lean heavily on satirizing and including game mechanics 😁😁

“Satoshi cap, or the black and white one?” Tendou says, swapping between two different ball caps that seemed relatively similar function wise. He’s focused on the mirror, checking himself out and seeming a little bit indecisive. 

“Black and white, it’s more distinctive to you,” Ushijima replied. He, however, is not getting ready to go out. He’s sitting on the floor, with his back against the bunkbed, playing with the paws of his Wigglytuff like a stuffed animal. It seems to enjoy this very much, trilling back at him with a smile. 

“You didn’t even look,” Tendou complains, turning to face him. 

“I don’t need to look, I know what you and both caps look like.” 

“You’re useless.” 

“Mhm.”

“I need a jacket as well,” Tendou says, turning in a circle for a bit before suddenly finding himself getting his usual school jacket thrown in his face. Infernape was a wonderful partner pokemon, and also completely disregarding of his physical safety. Tendou pulls the jacket off his face, looking down at the singed and somewhat destroyed fabric. “You’ve burned this,” he says, glancing up at his pokemon. “Bad monkey.”

Infernape screams back at him, which makes Wigglytuff flinch in alarm, which triggers Ushijima to scowl up at the monkey scoldingly. Infernape has the sense to look embarrassed, and slink back on the top bunk to avoid being looked at by Ushijima.

Tendou stares up at him for a moment, before saying: “Anyhoo, I don’t like wearing my school jacket anyway, it makes me look like a kid. I am not a kid, I need a better jacket.” 

“It is going to be fairly warm today,” Ushijima comments. “Are you sure the jacket will be necessary? I do not like to imagine you overheating.”

“It is necessary,” Tendou says. “The single-battle trainer spots are all in the damn woods and deep in the shade. It’s so chilly. You know, if you came along, the double-battle spots are located across the park and have more direct sunlight. I’d be nice and warm then, and I wouldn’t need a jacket at all.” 

Ushijima frowns. “I am not a trainer,” he says, lifting his hands up to play with Wigglytuff’s ears. “I would not qualify to be a route trainer even if I wanted to."

“Look, I heard Birch is back in the lab, we could walk down there tomorrow and get you signed up, he probably wouldn’t even make you take a starter. Then you could come be a doubles’ trainer with me, and we’d wipe the floor with every wannabe champion that came through our eyeline. And do it somewhere I’m not freezing to death.” 

Ushijima shakes his head, patting down Wigglytuff’s fur. “No, no,” he says. “Wigglytuff doesn’t fight.” The fluffy pokemon makes a trilling noise of agreement, wiggling around to look at Tendou has if offended at the mere insinuation it do any kind of combat. 

“Oh, please,” Tendou says. “You’ve helped me train before. I know you’ve got Solar Beam on that thing, you blasted Slowbrow into Giratina’s dimension.”

Ushijima sets his chin down on top of Wigglytuff, shrugging. “You should not have set up Sunny Day.” 

Tendou scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m just saying, work would be a lot more fun if we could go stand and spin in circles together. In the sun. You know, I hear some days, Sunny Day takes effect in the double trainer spaces no matter what. You could do a lot of damage.”

“This seems like a lot of work to avoid standing in the shade.” 

“It’s cold.”

“You have a fire monkey.”

“We’re not allowed to have our partners out while at work!”

Ushijima stares at him for a moment, before moving Wigglytuff off his lap and pushing himself up to his feet. “Okay,” he says, wandering over to their tiny, shared closet, to pull out his own jacket and offer it to Tendou. “Use this, then.” 

Tendou pouts, then reaches over to snatch the black jacket. “It does fit with the hat,” he says, before adding: “But it’s like three sizes too big, you massive man.”

“It’s a cute look.”

Tendou scowls at him. “I’m not going for cute.”

“Then be cold.” 

Tendou scoffed, before tugging the jacket over his shoulders. “You’re annoying.” 

Ushijima reached forward, adjusting Tendou’s hat on his head and brushing hair back from his eyes to tuck it away properly. 

“I’ll come keep you company after I finish the schoolwork I have,” he says. 

Tendou groaned, but nodded. “Fine. Okay. I’ll hold you to that. But bring lunch.”

“I’ll bring lunch.”

Infernape barks, hanging off the edge of the bunkbed and getting ready to leave with his trainer. 

“Yes I will bring lunch for you too,” Ushijima replies. “Don’t light my bed on fire.”

[nightghoul381]

Once Again, The Evil Cannot Be Undone

Roger & Ring: Chapter 1

This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Roger's End | Ring's End | Roger's Epilogue | Ring's Epilogue

--The day after I lost my memory.

Kate: “…Thank you for the meal.”

As I sat down for breakfast, my mind was filled with thoughts of my lost memories…

In the end, I only had a little fruit and some morning tea before getting up from my seat.

(I wonder how I can get my memories back…)

As I left the dining hall and continued thinking about this method, I heard someone’s footsteps following me.

Roger: “Hold on, little lady.”

Roger: “You had a date with me today, didn’t you? You’ll still go along with it as planned, right?”

(Did I promise that before I lost my memory?)

I instinctively looked at Roger’s face and he reached out and grabbed my chin—

Roger: “……”

Kate: “…Wh-what are you doing!”

Just as our lips were about to touch, I suddenly pushed his thick chest away.

Roger: “Hmm? You were staring at me like you wanted to kiss me…was that not the case?”

Kate: “Of course not!”

(Maybe Roger and I were dating? Even if we were, that was a very selfish way of thinking…!)

(I can’t imagine such an egoistic person being my lover!)

Roger: “Well, a promise is a promise. You’ll have to go on a date with me.”

Seeing my flustered face, the corners of Roger’s lips lifted as he smiled.

(…Whether Roger is my lover or not, it was good that I was able to go out to town.)

Hoping that the sight of the city might remind me of something, I followed Roger towards—

Roger: “It’s nice to have someone to carry my bags.”

Kate: “This isn’t really a date is it!?”

(We’ve been to so many pharmacies to buy various medicines and bandages…this can’t be a date.)

Roger: “This is a date, right? A shopping date.”

Kate: “I can’t see what element of this is a date… “

Roger: “Come on, let’s not give up yet and head to the next store.”

Kate: “You still have things to buy? I’m at my limit, so can we at least take a little break…”

As soon as I said that my stomach started growling, insisting on taking a rest.

Roger: “Pffft, Hahahahahaha!”

Kate: “Why are you laughing? You’re the one who’s dragged me all over the town…”

Roger: “Then, as an apology, I’ll treat you to something you like.”

Kate: “Huh, but…”

(Is it actually okay for me to go that far?)

Roger: “Why are you being so shy? You and I are close. Let’s go.”

Roger: “Here, this is your favorite place.”

Roger: “What’s on the menu…Let’s start with a beer.”

Kate: “Y-yes.”

Roger: “All that’s left is to find a suitable starter and a filling main dish…”

While I was scanning the menu, Roger placed his order with the waiter with an air of ease.

Soon, food was lining the table…

Kate: “Fish and chips, aged meat, salted potatoes, Banbury cakes…!”

Kate: “Aah… Everything that came out is delicious and just what I like.”

Roger: “……I see.”

I felt a little confused… I had imagined him saying “Isn’t that right?” to what I had said.

As Roger narrowed his eyes, as if recalling memories I didn’t know, my heart tightened for no apparent reason.

(Is it possible that we’ve eaten here together before?)

(Maybe that’s why Roger knows what I like on the menu…?)

Roger: “What’s wrong? Your hands have stopped moving, come on, eat up.”

Kate: “Ah, yes…Thank you!”

When I looked, Roger’s face was already smiling again.

I followed his orders and took a bite of the steak, and my instantly lit up at how delicious it was.

Roger: “There’s that smile. If you think too much, you lose your appetite, it’s your down side.”

Roger: “I understand that you have a lot of worries, but please eat, sleep, play, laugh, and keep your energy up.”

Kate: “Yes!”

(…Maybe that’s what today’s shopping was about.)

I’m sure Roger took me out this morning because he was worried about how I was doing.

Although I didn’t know if we had actually made a promise to accompany each other on the shopping trip.

(But, let’s not ask.)

If Roger hadn’t spoken to me, I think I would have continued to worry alone about my memory loss.

Roger: “These mashed potatoes that soaked up the meat juices are so good.”

Roger: “Shall I give you some more? You can eat more, right?”

Kate: “Yes, of course!”

(I’m glad I accepted Roger’s invitation.)

Kate: “Thank you Roger, I feel much better after eating.”

(I always thought Roger was a pushy, egotistical guy who manipulated people, but he’s actually a really kind and reliable person.)

I suddenly thought back to myself before I lost my memory.

(I wonder…Did I know more about this side of Roger?)

Roger: “What’s with you staring at me like that? Have you fallen in love with me?”

(If only this hadn’t happened…!)

Kate: “…It seems I had a past boyfriend. So, I can’t imagine falling in love right now.”

Roger: “A past boyfriend…?”

Roger: “Why don’t you just stop clinging to your ex and choose again?”

Roger: “Be my girlfriend, Kate.”

Kate: “I-I can’t do something dishonest like that, besides…”

(Even though I lost my memory, I can say this for sure.)

Kate: “If I’ve fallen in love with someone once, I’m sure to fall in love with them again.”

Roger: “….in love again?”

I didn’t know what emotion was in his trembling eyes.

But the next moment—

Roger: “Well, if you want me to sleep with you, just tell me any time.”

(Th-This man…!)

I fought the urge to hit Roger as he gulped down his beer while cheerfully saying such horrible things.

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Roger's End | Ring's End | Roger's Epilogue | Ring's Epilogue

[ppenguinpperson]

in wawa and waugh (ao3)

Stardust looks at you with a pleading eye, the rest of their face buried in their cloak. Their utterly exhausted body slumps onto the ground. You're sure you must have misheard them, but then they repeat themselves, the exact same noise from before. Before you can stop yourself, you repeat it back at them.

“Wa…wa?” You squint. It's not the same sound, though it's very similar. “Am I saying that right? Waugh?”

Your Stardust has been visiting you less and less as of late. They’ve been too busy trying to learn more about Wish Craft, following up on every possible lead, no matter how weak. It’s more than you ever did.

Not that you care, obviously.

It doesn’t matter why you’re trapped in this loop. Be it the will of the Universe, the Change God or a secret third thing, you’re here. Forever. That’s what it all comes down to in the end. Still, you can’t help but get your hopes up every now and then. You should know better than that by now. None of these leads will amount to anything. You know this.

Still. Learning about all these useless things – Time Craft, Wish Craft, the King and Stardust’s family – it passes the time. There’s not much to keep you entertained here. Usually, you just nap and watch the clouds pass by. Stars, if it’s night. It’s not exactly entertainment, but it’s what you have. It does leave you awfully bored though.

That’s why Stardust should really be more considerate and just visit you already!! Really, it’s no wonder that Wish Craft is taking up so much of their time. If they just visited you and let you help them, they’d have figured it all out already. Once they do, you can brainstorm more ways to break the loops together. None of them will work, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

You almost miss it, too busy whining, but suddenly, you hear voices.

“Hi Isa, I need to do the Favor Tree thing.”

!!!!!!!

Is it true?? The Universe listened to your pleas?? Stardust will finally take your advice and move on from Wish Craft??? You can already hear their begging so clearly:

“Loop, I’m so deeply sorry I abandoned you for so long! I’ve come to repent my sins and will spend the rest of this loop with you. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me!”

Then, you’d press a finger to your chin and pretend to think. You’d say, “Hmm… I’m not too convinced that you really are sorry, Stardust! How about you prove it to me?” Stardust is always so eager to please, so surely, they’ll ‘prove it’. Would they try and give you one of those gross flowers again, maybe? You might even accept it just this once. Isn’t that nice of you?

… no, more like pathetic. You don’t want that flower!! Ew!!! Blegh!!!! Yucky!!!! And what was that about spending a whole loop with them?? Stop it already!! Look, they’re coming over!!! They can’t suspect a thing, got it?? Act normal!!

Right as Stardust sits down, you say your usual greeting. “How can I help you on this new loop, Stardust?” You pray that they don’t notice the more than usual cheer in your voice.

… wait. That’s not right. It’s ‘wonderful new loop’, isn’t it? Did you already mess up?? Well, that’s just great! You can’t even greet him properly. Stars above, what kind of guide are you?

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to notice either of your mistakes. He seems to be too busy moping. There’s a heavy bag under his eye. Now that you think about it, he did sound a bit out if it when talking to the Fighter – not that you can verify this because he isn’t talking to you. What’s the use of visiting you if he’s just going to stare at the ground the whole time he’s here?

“Stardust, don’t you know it’s rude to ignore someone when they ask you a question? My, must I teach you even basics like these?” Your voice has taken on a teasing tone now. He’s bound to respond eventually if you poke fun at him like this, even if he’ll be upset. “I’ll still help you of course, but I mean, just- Wow! Okay! Let’s get to it!”

“For starters, look someone in the eyes when they’re talking to you. Not at the ground. They might think you’re being a bit mean if you don’t! On that note, you should greet someone when starting a conversation. A simple ‘hi’ or ‘hello’ would do. Ah, no need to thank me for this, by the way! It’s what I’m here for. Helpful Loop, here to help with the loops! And social etiquette now, too, I suppose.”

… no reaction? Still? Really, what’s up with Stardust today? You didn’t miss anything big, did you? No, you wouldn’t. So there’s no need to worry. It’s probably just another mopey visit – you just have to comfort them a bit and then they’ll be good to go back on their way. Where would they be without you?

You raise your hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. Now would be my turn to be ‘sorry’. You’re ‘sorry’ when you say something mean. Then, the person you’re apologising to would say ‘I forgive you’. Do you want to try it out?”

Finally, Stardust does something. They let out a sigh. It sounds like they were holding it in for a long time. You don’t expect them to actually speak, so it’s an understatement to say you’re surprised when they do. Even more so at the fact that you don't hear them. Or, surely, you misheard, because what they said – what you think they said – was absolute and utter nonsense.

It was a wordless jumble of noises. Not a groan or anything like that, but just noises. Or, a noise? You're not sure. That is if you heard them right, and you're sure you didn't.

“I'm sorry, Stardust~ Can you repeat that?”

They look at you with a pleading eye, the rest of their face buried in their cloak. Their utterly exhausted body slumps onto the ground. It must have muffled what they said. But then they repeat themselves, the exact same noise from before. Before you can stop yourself, you repeat it back at them.

“Wa…wa?” You squint. It's not the same sound, though it's very similar. “Am I saying that right? Waugh?”

Once more, your Stardust repeats it, as if encouraging you. It's like they're a wind up doll that only knows how to make this sound. In your surprise, you drop your facade.

“That's- pfft, Stardust!” You snort, “Wagh? Really?? How childish can you get?? I mean, wa-oogh??”

Anyone else would have missed it, but you don't. He cracks a small smile. Then, he makes the noise again, enunciating the part that you're getting wrong. It seems that the student has become the teacher, if only for this loop.

You struggle to replicate the exact noise that he's making, though you get closer each time. You're not sure how long you spend like this, so he doesn't either. Luckily, time's the least of your worries. At some point, you find yourself mirroring him in the way he's sitting, too – on the ground, leaning against your earlier seat. Though, by that point, he was already fully laying on the ground. You'd chide him that he was dirtying his darkless cloak, but you're busy with more important matters.

Again, not that you care!! This is just de-stressing your Stardust. You much prefer it to talking about sappy, yucky feelings. Stars, if he made noises like these every time he came here instead of talking, that'd be perfect.

Anyway, really, this is just a method of comforting him. It's not for your enjoyment, that's certain. You're only doing this so that can let his pent up stress out in a safe, dagger-less manner. That's all there is to it.

Even so, you can't help but wonder how long he'll leave you for this time. Will he visit you the next loop to apologise for his silliness? Or will he avoid you for as long as possible out of shame? It could go either way, really, but you did just teach him about manners, so you hope it's the former.

Just to be sure that your teaching paid off, of course. No other reason.

[kit-williams]

Plague Soup for the Soul

Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@plegg

Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses

Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many

tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT

Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.

Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"

Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.

Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"

"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...

The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.

"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.

"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.

Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.

You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."

"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.

"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.

"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.

"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."

Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.

The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."

You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.

He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."

You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.

"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"

You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.

But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."

You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.

Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.

You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.

You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.

Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.

"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.

"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.

"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.

Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."

You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.

You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.

"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.

"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.

You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.

"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.

"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.

"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.

Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"

"Five years my lord."

"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"

"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.

"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.

As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.

Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.

The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.

His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!

You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.

You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.

Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.

[altis-of-olympia]

Hey! Sorry if this is too intrusive, you don't have to answer. I was just wondering, because I saw you reblogged wayfind-er's post about atheneum-of-you and Acropolises, and I'm pretty sure you were one of the "prominent members" wayfind-er was talking about? Do you have any idea why Lottie is having kind of an online breakdown after a month? And I hope it's not too intrusive to ask, but what exactly happened to Acropolises? You don't have to answer, again. I love your blog, it has helped me learn so much about priests and oaths! I hope you have a great day, even if you don't respond to this. 💖

Hello, Anon.

Do not be sorry for your question - it is natural to have questions about things like this, especially for those who watched me interact in Acropolises and saw how close I was to Lottie before everything happened.

For starters, I do not know why Lottie is having an "online breakdown." I know that she had a friend who sent her screenshots of people venting and sharing less-than-favorable experiences that they've had with her. What do you expect people to do after they've felt as though they could not critique her? On top of this, a wave of people had just left Acropolises due to poor staffing and admins who abused their power. Favoritism was blatant in that server - and it is important that I mention this because I was one of the favorites until things started to crumble. Her friend took screenshots of the conversation and sent them to her, leading Lottie to respond with her post here. Where the things we said were misrepresented.

No one called her names.

Her mental health was discussed out of concern for how it was genuinely declining, and how it impacted those around her.

No one belittled her.

No one talked down her Priestesshood.

These are things that she misrepresented to suit her own narrative that she is a constant victim.

Acropolises got deleted by Lottie because, in my opinion, she couldn't handle the negative backlash it was getting her. And rather than fixing the problems that I can personally say I have pointed out to her several times, she'd rather get rid of it entirely. Because confronting the problems meant confronting her own bias.

This includes the fact that I had to fight tooth and nail to be put on staff because Lottie did not communicate with her admin team about instances where I "acted out of line" with her express permission. Or the fact that she would come to me and a few others and say one thing only to go back to staff and say something else. Or the fact that she would lie to people to their faces and say something else behind their backs.

The big reason why I personally left Acropolises is because Lottie tried using King Zeus against me. She claimed that He was angry with me for something that she personally took issue with. She took issue with me "scaring someone away from Priesthood." When all I did was explain the tougher parts of training and why it isn't for everyone, let alone someone who was just starting out in their practice. She took this and twisted it in a way to make it seem like King Zeus was mad at me. When I asked Him personally, He told me to keep my chin up and stand my ground. He wasn't angry. I told Lottie that I thought her personal biases were clouding her readings and she took it personally and said I was badmouthing her Priestesshood. And I cannot stand to be around people who cannot take criticism.

Within a few days, several people left. Several prominent people in the server. And Lottie told staff that people left because I told them to. When this is 100% false. Shortly after this, when people were starting to wonder why Acropolises was rapidly losing members, Lottie deleted the server with zero warning to members.

I went to bat for Lottie when Acropolises was previously under fire around the New Year. But since then, I have noticed the flaws of Acropolises and I am very happy that it's gone. Some people had a home there, sure. But Lottie is not someone who people should be looking up to.

This time, I will make comments about her Priestesshood. She uses it to hold over peoples' heads. She uses it and Lord Hermes' name as a tool for power and influence. People believe her because she puts herself on a pedestal using Priestesshood as a foundation for it. She's used it as a fear tactic. She told me that she had "King Zeus scolding Altis" on her 2025 bingo card as if she was an Oracle and not a Messenger. She pretends she has authority over who is and is not a Priestx, and only her friends can claim the title. That is no way for a Priestess to act. And I am incredibly disappointed to see her refusal to acknowledge a single thing that has been brought up against her. She runs from criticism rather than confronting it. She is not a figurehead who the community should look up to.

TL;DR: Lottie is running from criticism and refuses to face her own flaws and the flaws of the community she made despite them being pointed out time and time again. She uses her title as a way to gain power, and the attention she gets only adds to it. Lottie has repeatedly treated those closest to her poorly - though, I can only speak on my experiences. Please do not harrass Lottie or her friends, or anyone who you know was in Acropolises. That is counterproductive.

And, Lottie, if you do decide to read this, I hope that you do reflect. And I hope that you do improve and work through your issues and whatever it is that keeps you from taking criticism. And even if you do that, I do not want to be friends with you. I do not want to make up. I want you to take a step back from your platforms and genuinely reflect. I implore you to do so.

Thank you for your question, Anon.

Xaire, Altis.

[dozing-marshmallow]

OTHER FRANKIE X READER ONE SHOT: PHILOSOPHY

You diligently hovered your highlighter over the grid of jumbled letters, a word search you found in the bin. There were twenty two words, and so far, you found seven of them. Currently, you were trying to find "Anselm".

“Enjoying yourself, contestant?”

You nearly jumped and had to take a second to pull yourself together when you saw it was just Frankie, the “rational” one,"You need to stop doing that."

“Life has no warnings! I’m simply preparing your adrenaline for next season!” he chirped, before peering over your shoulder,“You know, you ought to be training your limb muscles, not brain muscles.”

“What’s the problem? Can’t the star of your show take a break to complete a scrunched up word search that probably has more germs than the dollars you promised?” your voice was rich in sarcasm. You went back to concentrating on the word search, hearing Frankie scoff in return.

“Very funny, contestant. Say, you don’t appear puzzled by the terminology in this particular word search.”

“Well yeah, because it’s philosophy. I used to love it when I was younger.” you shared, finding the word “contingent” (it was vertical on the bottom left corner).

“Is that so? So you dictate about the pointless meaning of life?”

You shrugged,“I just share whatever bits of information I still have stored and, it’s always enough to get people to think.”

“Well, I want to think! Go on, lucky contestant. Let that brain be put to use before it’s splattered across the ground.” he commanded morbidly cheerfully.

At this point, you’re desensitised to the concept of your death,“What, you want to be a fellow consumer on this?” you asked, not quite believing it and instead thought he was joking, steering your attention back on the rabbit,“You?”

“Why not? I know so little about the world you come from.” his tone held a childlike field.

You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to show off some of your old knowledge,"Well...” you got done with highlighting another word (Existence, centre bottom),“Okay, it’ll be a lot easier to start with theories on the existence of God. For starters, there's Paley’s Design Argument." you cleared your throat,"He basically argued that if you were walking outside and scratched your foot against a rock, you wouldn't think much of it, but if you saw a watch, you would know instantly it was made by someone with high intelligence. So, in the same way, he thinks the world had to be designed by someone with high intelligence, which would be God."

Frankie rested his chin on his red palm, seeming to contemplate, before speaking up,"I see. It's a clever analogy, but uh, I can already detect many faults with it."

You nod,"Yeah, there are a lot of flaws with this argument. There are the strengths like how it’s easy to understand and makes sense, but what did you think initially?"

"Why would someone be walking outside without shoes on?" You don’t know what you were expecting from a sentimental robot.

"That's...not the point.” you voiced with slight disappointment,“How about going along the lines of "why would it assume I wouldn't question the creator of the rock too?" "

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed,"But I wouldn't."

"Do you even know what a rock looks like?" you asked jokingly.

"Of course I do!" he huffed, thumping his foot.

"Just checking.” you chuckled, finding amusement from how defensive he got,”What else did you think of?"

"Uh...” he gestured his hand around,“I know from running these wonderful gameshows that even they didn’t start off as the great successes they are now, so with that in mind, contestant, there’s...always room for improvement?”

You nodded again, impressed by how he was applying his own notoriety to make a valid criticism,"That's a good point. Making a watch would mean a lot of trial and error, so it defeats the analogy if we suggest that God had to make mistakes to make the world. Besides, a watchmaker isn't born with the skills to actually make a watch, they had to be taught, so that would imply someone else has greater wisdom. There's also the idea that it can’t confirm any of God's traditional characteristics from any religion."

“Huh? What can’t?” Frankie asked, his inexplicable disconcertion making you tilt your head.

“The Design argument...?” you reminded the animatronic. You might have been saying too much at once.

“Oh, right! Hm...”

You waited five seconds to allow him to catch up,“There's also the idea that whenever we think of intelligent minds, we attatch them to mortal bodies, so the creator of the world could have been mortal and died-"

He interrupted you with inevitable laughter.

You couldn’t help but contribute to the loud expression of amusement, mildly at best,"I know, it's ridiculous."

"Are you sure you’re not just making these up, contestant?” Frankie asked, in the middle of composing himself.

“No no, I swear, these are legitimate flaws.” you clarified.

“Then the other theories must be as terrible!” he dramatically assumed,”How about this one, cosmological? Isn’t that related to space?"

"Oh, yeah." you looked at where he pointed at on the wordsearch and highlighted “Cosmological” (it was vertical, at the top), cheekily pretending he didn’t just give it to you,"The Cosmological argument is basically the idea that all motion in the world is a result of a cause and effect relationship. So, the galaxies, moons, seasons change infinitely, which means there has to be an external agent that causes it all."

He rubs a finger against the side of his head,"That's uh...a pretty big stretch. Couldn’t it control itself? Why try involve a separate entity? Seems desperate."

"Good criticism.” approval left your lips again,“The idea that the universe is its own uncaused necessary being. Aquinas was willing to accept that, since the whole thing is based on sense experiment, not necessary proof."

Somehow, by the end of your sentence, Frankie was grinning wider,"Look at my contestant being all articulate!"

You scoffed,"I’m always articulate, the hell you mean?"

He waved his hand encouragingly, refusing to explain,"Go on."

"Okay well uh, I kinda forgot now." you admitted annoyed, highlighting “Inductive” and “Posteriori” (they were both backwards). Oh, now you remembered,"Ah yeah, flaws. Well, it’s basically the same as the Design Argument, you know, it doesn’t prove that it was just one God that made the universe, let alone a God of any specific religion. One guy would even say that the universe is just a brute fact and there is no way to describe it, which if we claim that everything is a brute fact, what is the point of science?”

The odd silence enabled you to look at him- he was frozen again, so you would wait.

“I...I must say, it’s quite challenging to wrap my head around all these theories.” Frankie commented, spinning his head at 360 degrees on “wrap”,”What is the obsession with theorising whether there’s a God or not? It’s just a waste of time! And there’s certainly no cash in that.”

“There clearly is if there’s one more main argument, if you’re interested.” you chuckled.

“Another one? There you are, just proving my point!” he groaned, comedically tugging on the edges of his ears.

"I’ll keep it short, it’s called the ontological argument and hah, it’s wacky.” you clarified before you went on explaining, finding the name “Anselm” (diagonal in the middle),"It basically argues that anything you think of in your mind, has to be greater in real life since you can think of it.”

Frankie let go off his ears,"Really now?" His face was physically limited to that smile, but his tone molded suggestively as he kept his sight on you.

You scoffed flustered,"Shut the fuck up, Frankie." your highlighter squeaked when you violently pressed it across the letters that formed “necessary” (vertical in the left centre),"But yeah. Obviously, this one is iffy. There was one guy who said something about how the existence of something can’t describe it, so it also links back to how it fails to prove any characteristics of God. There's also the invisible gardener analogy."

"Yes?" he wasn’t looking at you so lewdly anymore so you felt comfortable to explain:

"So these two dudes come to their garden after being away for a long period of time and see how everything is still so tidied. One of the guys suggests it must have been a gardener. So the two wait and wait and wait, and nobody shows up. So the same guy goes aha! The gardener must be invisible. So the two put bear traps, dogs, whatever you could think of, to supposedly catch this invisible gardener. Again, nothing. So the same guy goes aha! There is a gardener, the gardener is just invisible, odorless and intangible! The second person finally replies with well, is there a difference between an invisible, absolutely undetectable gardener to no gardener at all?"

“Hm!” he had the contemplative pose again. You thought he was engaged, until he asked,"Do you like gardens, contestant?"

"Uh...they're okay, I guess?" what were you meant to say?

“Just okay?” this was apparently very important to him,“But don’t gardens grow flowers?”

“Yeah?” Where was he going with this?

He leaned his head close,“And don’t people like flowers to give to their beloved?”

“Uh...” you looked down at your word search and quickly highlighted the remaining words, cheating your way out of escaping Frankie’s elaboration on whatever the hell he was alluding to with that,“Oh no, looks like I finished this one. You wouldn’t happen to have another available, would you?”

[moonlitmontana]

closed starter / tanny & huck & miles location: pure valley farm

The cicadas are out by the time Tanny and Miles close up the shop, all buzzing and humming and ready for the heat of summer to be thrust upon them. The air is warm, thick with the scent of wildgrass and wood – someone likely cooking up an outdoor barbecued meal on a coal-fire grill. It makes Tanny's mouth water a bit, hoping that Frankie is nearly done whipping up his signature chicken and dumplings back home.

She always shows up a bit later in the morning or early afternoon, the shop being her second love to her family's farm. Huck never gives more than a grumbled "See y'later, Tweedy," and sends her on her way. It's nice to have something to do besides what she's always done – tend the farm, meet up with Josie or take Logan out, end the day with some watercolors.

It's new, yet somehow familiar all at once. She reckons she has Miles to thank for that, and of course –

Almost on cue, she hears a little snort and feels a tiny presence by her feet. "C'mere, you," she drawls, scooping Woofster up into her arms like her own human child. Her fingers gently scratch under his chin as she turns to see Miles leaving the store, locking the door as the last bell-ring of the day echoes from the shop. "Ready?" she asks, eyes bright and twinkling like little stars.

It's been forever since Tanny herself has invited a dinner guest – while the Buchanans are known to host, it's normally friends of Frankie's, of her mother's, even old connections of Huck's. The most exciting person she invites is Josie, and while she's the most special guest in the world to Tanny, she isn't exactly a rare sight on the farm. This, Miles, is special.

She can't help the equally affectionate and nostalgic pang that rips through her bones as she holds her hands out, offering to help Miles carry whatever he plans to bring to family dinner. It's something she did a thousand times with her father – sit, arms open and waiting, ready to help him lug the latest load to their next destination.

"They're gonna love you," she says as she begins walking, Woofster and goods in her arms. The pug is of course the most precious cargo – while a bottle of wine can tumble to the grass, she'll be damned if her canine companion does. "Momma's been talkin' 'bout it all week. I told her that she just has t'tell 'ya the mermaid story – she's callin' 'ya 'Miles the mermaid man' every chance she gets." It's no surprise that's the little tidbit that Loretta sticks on out of everything – coupled with the mermaid motif itself, the gifted spoon was an act of true kindness towards Tanny.

"Frankie's great, but y'know him pretty well," she begins. Maybe Miles doesn't know know him, but he's stopped into the shop often enough to likely ring familiar to the man. Huck, on the other hand? It's always been a mystery to Tanny how he knows as many folks as he does, considering he spends most of his time on Pure Valley. 'Miles' didn't exactly draw recognition from her eldest brother, though, so she figures it'll be a new introduction for the both of them.

"Huck's great too, just...intense." She looks up at the man beside her as they walk, wondering just how the two will get along. Like two rough-around-the-edges peas in a grumbly pod. As they amble closer and closer to the edge of the Pure Valley property, she feels that familiar twinge of excitement seize her heart. "They'll love 'ya," she repeats, her smile evident in her tone of voice.

"Thanks for agreein' t'come. I promise I won't make 'ya do it again."

@brightreddays @vespcrtines

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 16

⚠️ Erm, not sure what to tag this as...fluffy whump angst? Mainly fluffy!

Timeline starts as memory and ends in the present. Hope you enjoy!

💚💛👨‍🏫🚒🐦‍🔥

Night fell on Tracy Island, and Virgil flopped down onto the cool sheets of his bed. Training had gone well today, despite the odd hiccup; Tam taking to the jet-pack like a duck to water. Jonesy...well, he flew with all the finesse of a drunken penguin. Luckily, the med-scanner had reported no injuries, but for a bruised backside. The merciless ribbing (as to be expected from good friends) was decidedly more painful.

Virgil smiled.

Jonesy had just batted the jokes right back. The firefighter had a good sense of humour, and a thick skin - another vital trait in their line of work. It was like having a second Gordon about the place, which was in equal parts a blessing and a curse.

His piano, for starters; having been somewhat neglected since their guests arrived, had acquired a fine layer of dust. Gordon, of course, had wasted no time at all in scribing messages on its hood.

What's the difference between a piano and a fish? You can't tuna fish!

Jonesy had laughed way too hard at that; and just a few short hours later, another dad-joke (of equal cringe-worthiness) followed. Only, this time, the handwriting obviously not Gordon's.

Why did the GDF arrest Virgil?

Because he got into treble!

Virgil sighed.

"EOS, please can you add piano polish to the shopping list?"

*. *. * .

Virgil drew idle angel-patterns in the fresh bed linen; savouring the luxury of being able to starfish in his king-sized bed after training...well, they weren't really recruits anymore. They had all integrated so well with the family, that it was nice to think that he'd been training friends.

Mac...Mac was quite quiet; that was until he and Brains started chin wagging about Star Trek.

I mean, he liked Star Trek as much as the next person, but those two must have mastered the ability of breathing through their ears. He'd never seen Brains talk so much!

And though he often opted out of their tedious-Trek-talks; it was wonderful to see their resident engineer, and friend, so animated.

Virgil was roused from his thoughts by the strumming of a gentle Spanish folk song; the lilting melody drifting through his open balcony doors.

Someone was humming. By process of elimination; he knew it to be Tamara. It was a female voice, and he had heard both Grandma's and Kayo's over Comms enough times to know that it wasn't them. He padded quietly over to the balustrade, taking in the night air as the music played on.

It was a beautiful night; the father stretches of ocean so tranquil; the surface glittered with dark starlight.

Virgil rested his head on folded arms, watching the seafoam gather and fade along the shoreline.

Usually, all this beauty went unseen. After back-to-back rescues; he was lucky to see a glimpse of his pillow before sleep took him. He sighed contentedly, and the music suddenly stopped.

"Oh God! I had no idea anyone could hear me! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you up!" Tam set the guitar aside with a musical thud.

"No, no, please! Play on! I was really enjoying that," Virgil leaned his head over the balcony.

"I'm really not that good. I-"

"How long have you been playing?" Virgil stalled her from disappearing back from her balcony and into her own room.

"Erm...ever since my mum passed, so that's...six years - but it's all self-taught," Tam flustered shyly. It was the first time Virgil had seen her out of her comfort zone.

"That's really impressive. And...I'm sorry about your mom. We lost our mother, Lucy, when we were just boys. Time doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No... but I guess, those who are lucky have, or find others to live for," Tam sighed pensively.

They both stood silently for a moment, lost in memory and deep in thought.

After a moment, Virgil gently cleared his throat.

"Do you like stars?"

"Stars?"

"Mmmm."

"Yes. I mean, especially here. They're so vivid and... ethereal!" Tam enthused.

"Well, if you can spare ten minutes; I'd love to share something with you. You can see it best from the Comms balcony," he gestured.

"Oh...I mean, sure?"

"You don't have to. It's nothing really. I-"

"No, no! I'd love to see," Tam assured, seeing that whatever he was referencing, held a great deal of meaning to him...whatever it was.

"Cool. I'll meet you up there in five."

*. *. *.

Tam found Virgil already waiting outside of the Comms room.

He greeted her with a genuine smile, before turning his face to the tapestry of stars in the near-midnight sky.

“Okay. I'm no John, but you can't have two spacecase brothers without learning a handful of constellations,” Virgil waved vaguely.

“Mmm. I bet.”

"Erm...Do you know many constellations?” he queried, not wanting to patronize another potential spacecase.

“Erm, well...that one over there's the North Star.” Tam pointed to the brightest light gleaming proudly in the sky.

“That's…actually Five. John's obviously overdone his teeth whitening gel.”

Tam snorted as she laughed.

“Spoken like a true brother.”

"Alright...so you'll have to use your imagination...like, a lot..." Virgil smiled.

"Cassiopeia, can you see her?"

Virgil guided Tam's hand up to the constellation.

"Angle your head slightly. It's a..."

"M?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, Auriga - that's your O." He guided her wrist as she traced the shape.

"Bare with me for the next one!"

"Okay."

"This is where you'll have to really use your imagination. You see Gemini - the twins?"

"Erm...yep, got it!"

"Okay, forget their top halves.

"Said no guy ever."

"It's all about their legs." he winked.

"Look..." He guided her hand once more in the final shape of an M.

"Mom."

"Mmm hmm."

Tam hummed appreciatively; the loveliest of smiles forming on her face as she gazed on the astral wonder.

"It really is beautiful," Tam mused.

"Beautiful," Virgil agreed, watching her smile.

Quietly, Tam began humming the melody from earlier, and the palms gently swayed in the light of the moon.

*. *. *

Virgil roused.

Grandma!

He made to move before the rest of his senses had even come back online.

Pain was the elicited result.

He hissed and a gentle hand was felt at his shoulder.

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

The voice was familiar but conscious thought still eluded him.

Everything hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Just then, the voice began humming a familiar tune that filled his darkness with starlight.

[annabethy]

"i won't tell a soul"

There are a lot of things Annabeth had never imagined about her life. 

For starters, she’d never imagined herself making it this far. Twenty years isn’t all that much in the grand scheme of things, but it feels a lifetime away from when she was seven years old, wondering if it would ever get better. Somehow, she’s far from the little girl running from monsters with her tiny fingers wrapped around a hammer. It’s entirely different having the warmth of a home and people to come home to.

She’d also never imagined herself here, lying in the arms of someone who’d walk through hell with a smile if it meant keeping her safe. 

It’s a nice change, she thinks, watching Percy’s rhythmic breathing. It’s dark in the living room, the only light sprinkling in through the icy windows, but it’s just enough for her to make out the shape of him, to analyze the rise and fall of his chest every few seconds and just feel relief that he, too, had made it this far. Annabeth had spent far too many years terrified that each breath she watched him take would be his last. 

Like the snow to the ground, those worries fade away.

Annabeth would drift to sleep, but she finds that she doesn’t want to quite yet, so she watches him some more. They hadn’t intended to fall asleep on his mother’s living room couch, but it turns out watching movies all night is easier said than done when you’re two demigods battling something far more exhausting than monsters: college. She knew he was exhausted that day anyway, and he probably would’ve gone to bed earlier to begin with if it weren’t for her begging for a movie night.

He’s not usually the first to sleep, but she’s not complaining. She’s warm in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest, and she can’t really move without risking waking him up, but there are worse places to be and worse battles to fight. She should know. She’d been running from them longer than she can remember. Until now, anyway. Annabeth hopes it can always be like this, snowy nights in his mom’s apartment. She knows it won’t always be, but maybe that’s okay too. They get to really live now, without fear that each kiss is their last. They get the chance to grow up and have these nights in their own apartment. She imagines there will be marriage, and eventually, a few kids. Sons and daughters.

The thought is bittersweet. As much as she wants that, she doesn’t want to give this up.

For a while longer, she doesn’t have to.

She shifts in closer to Percy, digging her nose into the soft fabric of his sweater, and she just exists. She exists until the world around her fades, until the arms around her back tighten and she feels safer than she ever has. Until she thinks she might drift to sleep, if it weren’t for the warm lips pressing to the curve of her ear, and the sleepy voice that asks, “Are you okay?”

Annabeth smiles softly and lifts her face to catch the eyes that stare back at her. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Percy stretches languidly, but he keeps her gathered close. “Only a little.”

She giggles softly at the nonsensical answer, resuming her place against his chest when he’s done shifting around. It’s the little things she notices, like his index finger tracing shapes into her back beneath her gray crewneck stolen from his closet, light as the feeling flowing through her. It’s the big things she notices too, like the way he moves his hand away from that spot to lift her chin away from his chest so he can give her a proper kiss or two, and one on the nose for good measure.

“We can head to my room,” he suggests quietly, voice still laced with sleep. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” she assures. “Go back to sleep.”

“And miss out on your pretty face?”

“You had no qualms five minutes ago.”

“And I feel awful about it, really.” Percy gives her another sweet kiss. She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Have you been up long?”

“A bit,” she answers vaguely.

“And you didn’t wake me up? Was I not invited?”

“Your lack of sleep is making you delirious,” she tells him. “Go back to sleep, Percy.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Stare at your pretty face,” she mocks.

Percy gasps, and though she can’t see him, she imagines him shooting her an insulted look when he pinches her side.

“It was a compliment!”

“It was not and you know it.” His hand rubs over the spot he’d pinch in apology, not that it had really hurt in the first place. “Seriously, let’s go to bed. I feel bad keeping you up.”

“You’re not keeping me up,” she promises. “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking?” She can hear the grin in his voice. “What about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Well, now you’ve got me on the edge of my seat. I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me.”

“You make a good point,” Annabeth kisses his jaw. “But no.”

“You prick.”

“You love me.”

“I really do,” he laughs. “A shame. I could have anyone I want if I so much as look at them–”

“Sure you can, buddy.”

“But I don’t because you love me too.”

“Who said that?”

“Do you not?”

“I don’t not, but I also didn’t say that,” she points out, snickering. “You’re making assumptions here.”

“Okay, aside from the million times you’ve said it before, yeah, I made some assumptions there.” Percy grabs her face and brings her close. Now, she can see the playful twinkle in his eye, and she can feel the breath that hits her lips with each shallow inhale. “But you do, right?”

Annabeth just laughs in his face. “I have a secret.”

And Percy seems to know where this is going. He squeezes her cheeks twice before letting go. “Please tell me your secret. I’ll die without knowing this secret of which I have no idea what it could possibly be.”

“It’s really embarrassing. You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I will not promise that. Now, tell me.”

“It could destroy my life, Percy. Promise me.”

Percy’s laughing now, and she is too. Their voices are hushed because his mom and sister are a few doors down, and the last thing she’d want to do is risk waking them up. She’d feel guilty if they did, but it would also disturb this carefully balanced peace that is far and few between on nights like these.

His nose nudges hers. “I promise.”

“I love you too.”

It would’ve always come to this. They’ve made it this far. They’ve made it past the worst.

“You can trust me,” he says, pulling her closer. “I won’t tell a soul.”