#but also reblogs are allowed if you like!!

[alexi-was-not-here]

Hey everyone... I saw the other reblogs and the were beautiful and I love them and you should go show them love and support BUT this story has been floating in my head and I would like to write my version {which will be extremely similar to the others BUT I love Janus and would like him to not be the bad guy... so think of this of an au of this hc I guess}

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Thomas had just woken up, which meant it was time for Virgil to go help Thomas make it through the day. Virgil left his room and began to make his way downstairs when all of a sudden he heard a yell, he turned towards the noise and saw a shocked formal looking side.

"Uh h-" Virgil went to greet him before he was cut off by a different voice

"Who. Are. You?" Said a side who looked like they were closet cosplaying every Disney prince combined, who was dawning a samurai sword strangely enough.

"I- I'm anxiety" Virgil responded nervously

"Why the hell are you here, Thomas doesn't need you, no one does" Virgil felt taken aback, he's a bit nervous to talk back considering the sword, but he's supposed to be there just as much as the rest of them, right?

"I- b-but-" Virgil is trying to get a sentence out but his mind is racing and his throat is starting to close.

"But what? Spit it out or," The "prince" 's grip tightens on the sword he's holding, though he stands his ground infront of two other sides, the one with a cardigan around his neck grips Roman's jacket, "get lost."

Virgil tried to get any words out of throat but instead all he got was his own racing thoughts and stinging behind his eyes. He walks back up the stairs and hears the other sides breathe a breath of relief and return to their happy banter they were having before he walked in. Virgil collapsed on his bed and finally he let muffled sobs escape his chest. He wasn't trying to scare anyone, he just- he was helpful right? Maybe he wasn't helpful after all, just like he had feared. Maybe he truly was there to cause distress. He fell asleep crying.

---

Time and time again he tried going downstairs but he would go back up to his room after being berated by the Prince guy, or freaking out the light blue side, or getting nervous and watchful glares from the formal side. He eventually stopped trying to help the three of them as he mostly seemed to be an annoyance, and favoring staying in his room instead and allowing his thoughts to consume him.

The only time he was able to not be a nuisance to the other sides was at night when Thomas was about to fall asleep, it was the only time he was able to talk to him. Though, he did occasionally get thrown out when Princey couldn't sleep either.

One thing Virgil enjoyed doing though, was sitting at the top of the stairs and eavesdrop on athe three other side who he found out were Morality, Logic, and Creativity. He enjoyed listening to them talk, and pretending that they talked to him too.

---

One day when Virgil was listening to Logic explain something he found intresting he was pulled out his thoughts by an unfamiliar voice.

"Hey, you seem cool. You wanna come hang out with us?" Virgil turned to see a side dressed similarly to Creativity except he seems to like black and green, bent over towards Virgil {a little too close} with a wide grin on his face.

"U-us?" Virgil asked confused considering he only saw green creativity{?}.

"Hello" Virgil heard a voice from the shadows {Totally not creepy} and a yellow gloved hand wave to him.

"Oh oh by the way, I'm creativity" Also Creativity said as he stood up straight and extended his hand to Virgil. "So what do you say wanna come with us?" Virgil glanced down at Logic remembering how apprehensive he was around him, at Morality who was so scared he would hide behind Princey and hold his jacket, and finally at Princey who when they first met had told him "Thomas doesn't need you, no one does" and those words still haunted him everytime he closed his eyes.

And then he looked at Creativity who said he was cool and seem eager to get to know him, and the not-at-all-creepy shadow figure in the hallway who smiled at him too, and he took Creativity's hand.

"I'm anxiety"

"Ooooo, well anxiety do you like Dance Dance Revolution?"

-------

It had been several months since Virgil decided to follow Creativity into their hangout. He learned that this Creativity's name is Remus and is essentially thoughts doesn't want to have, and while he never learned the other sides name, he did tell Virgil he has the role of Deceit though.

Living with them especially Remus had been... stressful to say the least but it was also the first time he felt wanted and, Deceit had even told him how cool it was he was anxiety and that Thomas is lucky to have him.

Unfortunately though despite all this he wanted so desperately to go back to the other sides. He was tired of being ignored and thanks to his time with "The Dark Sides" {it's what Remus called them} he had learned not to take crap. And it was time that Thomas finally heard him.

So, he went back to his room upstairs away from Deceit and Remus in the middle of the night, knowing he'd be able to talk to Thomas unbothered.

And he went downstairs in the morning, and didn't leave even after the groans or fears exclamations, and Princey didn't seem to be as eager with his sword so he stuck around. And FINALLY the sides would listen to him, even if they didn't particularly always like what he was saying.

--

Thanks for reading everyone!! I will make a part two if there is demand for it but I think I closed it up pretty okay :}

Angst idea

During Thomas’ preteen years everytime Virgil got near Patton or Logan, Roman would stand between them and draw his sword. They were a lot younger then and they didn’t understand each other like they do now. Anxiety scared them all even though he was just trying to help in his own way, partially because of the way he went about it, partially cause no one wants to be anxious and they were kids.

Logan would always tell Roman he was being excessive but he would screech Roman’s name if Anxiety was there and Roman wasn’t.

Patton always told Roman not to be mean when he started insulting Anxiety, but he did cower behind the creative side while he did it.

Virgil would put on a tough guy act “You think I’m scared of a sword Princey?” and he was, but more than that it hurt to watch the rest of Thomas hating him so much.

[rootedinrevisions]

Where the Night Ends

SUMMARY: After an evening in the spotlight, Glen Powell’s biggest night of the year is more than just red carpets and bright lights—it’s a celebration of his career and a test of his resilience. Through the glamour and chaos, you’re by his side, offering him a safe space to share the highs and the inevitable disappointments. In the quiet hours after the applause fades, the two of you find strength in each other, proving that true connection shines brighter than any award.

A/N: This story was inspired by the idea for a story I've had for a while for Glen that even the most charismatic and confident people, like Glen Powell, have quieter, more vulnerable sides they don’t often show the world. While Glen’s charm and upbeat personality make him shine in the public eye, I wanted to imagine what those quiet, intimate moments might look like—the ones where he allows himself to relax and let his guard down with someone he trusts completely. And I thought tonight with the Golden Globes and him not winning would be a perfect way to explore this idea I've had. Also I don't know why but Glen low key gives me golden retriever boyfriend vibes so there's some of that in here as well!

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Your Likes, Comments, and Reblogs mean the world to me and help me continue creating stories like this one.

WARNINGS: Nudity (No Smut, just non-sexual but intimate nudity).

TAGS: In comments.

You glance at your reflection one last time, running your hands down the smooth fabric of your gown. The luxurious satin hugs your body in all the right places, the deep color shimmering subtly under the bathroom light. The rich hue perfectly complements Glen’s sharp, classic black ensemble, and you can't help but imagine how great the two of you will look together tonight. The gold accents on your bracelet catch the light with every movement, adding a hint of warmth to the otherwise cool tones of the dress. It feels like magic—elegant, understated, and yet striking in its own quiet way. The gown pools slightly at your feet, as if it were made for you.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have settled in the pit of your stomach. This is your first time attending such an event with Glen, despite the time you’ve been together. You won’t be walking the red carpet beside him, and the idea of staying in the background, on the sidelines, makes you both excited and slightly anxious. You're not used to this kind of attention, and tonight, all eyes will be on him.

Before you can let the nerves fully settle in, you hear Glen's voice. His warm, familiar tone breaks through the quiet of the hotel room.

"Damn," he murmurs from the doorway, his voice a little breathless. "I thought the Golden Globes were supposed to be the main event tonight, but now I’m not so sure."

You turn toward him, your heart skipping a beat. He’s standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a grin, his velvet jacket catching the light. His eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in them—a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper.

He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving yours, and wraps his arms around you from behind. His chest presses into your back, warm and solid, grounding you in the moment. His breath brushes against your ear, soft and gentle.

"You look incredible," he says, voice low and reverent, before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, a small smile tugging at your lips. The warmth of his embrace settles your nerves, and the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding begins to melt away.

His presence is like a balm, soothing your anxieties. You lean back into him, the soft beat of his heart against your back comforting you. It’s a moment of quiet intimacy before the whirlwind of the night begins.

"You sure I’m not going to embarrass you in front of all those cameras?" you tease, glancing back at him with a playful smile.

Glen chuckles softly, tightening his arms around you just a little. "You couldn’t embarrass me if you tried," he murmurs, his voice steady. "Besides I think my mom and dad have the embarrassing moments covered."

You both laugh softly, but the smile that stretches across his face is real—genuine, almost vulnerable in a way that only you get to see. It’s a rare, quiet moment that makes you feel all the more certain of the love you share.

You take a deep breath, your nerves settling as you feel the warmth of his body surrounding you. His embrace is a reminder of the calm you’ve come to rely on in the chaos of this world—his, and now yours.

"Alright, I think it’s time to get going," you say softly, turning slightly to grab your coat from the chair.

Glen kisses your cheek before you both head for the door, his hand brushing yours as you step into the next phase of the night.

You and Glen step out of the hotel room, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin as the door clicks shut behind you. Glen’s hand finds yours almost instinctively, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding you once again. You give him a small smile, feeling the shift from the quiet intimacy of the room to the bustle of the world outside.

"Ready?" he asks, his voice warm but laced with a hint of excitement. His eyes twinkle, full of that effortless charm he seems to carry with him no matter where he goes.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," you reply, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

The elevator ride down to the lobby is quick, but the silence between you is comfortable. Glen’s thumb brushes lightly against your hand as you both stand side by side, the sound of the elevator music almost drowned out by the rush of adrenaline you both share. Tonight is big—for him, for both of you—but in this moment, it’s just the two of you, sharing a quiet space before the chaos begins.

The elevator dings as it reaches the lobby floor, and you step out into the bright, bustling space. The lobby is abuzz with activity—people in tuxedos and gowns chatting, last-minute preparations happening all around. You spot the entrance to the event area, where a stream of reporters and photographers are lined up, their cameras ready to catch the next big arrival.

Glen’s parents, Cyndy and Glen Sr., are already waiting by the elevators, talking to a few other familiar faces. The moment they see you both, Cyndy’s warm, motherly smile lights up her face.

"There they are!" she says, walking over to give Glen a hug. "Glen, you look so handsome!"

Glen returns her embrace with a chuckle, his broad shoulders relaxing in her hug. "Thanks, Mom. You look amazing, too."

Cyndy pulls back, giving you a quick once-over with approving eyes. "And you, sweetheart, look just breathtaking."

"Thank you," you say, smiling softly, feeling a wave of warmth at her words.

Glen Sr. gives you a small nod of approval before turning his attention to the growing crowd. “Ready to go, son?” he asks, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the bright excitement in the air.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Glen replies, squeezing your hand once more before stepping forward.

As you step toward the doors, the weight of the night becomes palpable, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Glen’s hand slips from yours, but not before he gives it one last, reassuring squeeze. His gaze meets yours for a moment, his eyes soft with affection despite the flurry of activity around you.

He leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of warmth through your body. 

"Stay close to my parents," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, a mixture of affection and quiet command. "I’ll talk to you after the red carpet, okay?"

You nod, the reassurance in his words settling your nerves just slightly. His presence, even in these small moments, brings you an unexpected sense of calm. You watch as he straightens up, giving you a final, comforting smile before turning to head towards the first section of the red carpet. The flashing lights of the cameras immediately focus on him, the buzz of voices rising as they call out his name.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight isn’t about the spotlight on you—it’s about being there for him, supporting him as he steps into this moment.

Before you can fully process the next rush of energy, you feel a light nudge at your elbow. Glen’s dad, with his ever-so-gracious demeanor, offers you his arm. 

"Shall we?" he asks with a warm smile, a glint of pride in his eyes as he looks toward his son, now posing for the cameras ahead.

You slip your arm through his, the two of you walking in step with Glen’s mother beside you. The hum of the red carpet fills the air, the cameras flashing in bursts like strobe lights as people call out names, photographers jockeying for the best shot. It feels surreal, watching Glen move through the chaos so effortlessly, a magnet for attention, while you remain just behind him, tucked safely in the background.

The red carpet is a world of its own—a whirlwind of lights, flashing cameras, and excited chatter. You stand a few feet behind Glen, walking with his parents as you watch him effortlessly navigate the chaos. From the moment he steps onto the carpet, he’s in his element, greeting reporters, posing for the cameras, and smiling with a confidence that seems almost innate.

He moves with such ease, each step deliberate, his velvet jacket catching the light with every turn. The photographers call out his name, the clicks of the cameras almost deafening, but Glen is unfazed. He’s a natural—tilting his head slightly, flashing that signature smile that’s made him a favorite among fans and critics alike. Each pose is perfectly executed, like he’s done this a thousand times, and yet you know it’s all real, all part of the moment.

Glen interacts with the reporters as though they’re old friends. He laughs at their jokes, asks how their evening is going, and never misses a beat. It’s impossible not to feel proud as you watch him—this man you love, who has worked so hard to get to this point in his career, now being recognized for his talents. The genuine warmth in his smile, the way he listens to each person, makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room.

You catch snippets of conversations, little flashes of Glen’s humor and grace as he talks to the interviewers. “It’s an honor just to be here with such incredible talent,” he says to one, giving a humble but genuine answer that makes the reporter smile brightly. The cameras click furiously as he poses once more, a wink in your direction as if he’s sharing a private joke with you amidst all the attention.

He walks past you briefly, pausing to stop and chat with one of the other nominees. The other actor greets him warmly, their handshake firm and friendly. Glen’s laughter rings out, the two of them talking animatedly. It’s clear they’re both enjoying the interaction, and you feel a swell of pride as you watch him effortlessly charm everyone around him.

As Glen continues walking down the carpet, interacting with other actors and actresses, you steal quick glances at him, noticing the way his eyes flicker toward you, checking in even amidst the chaos. Every so often, he pauses—just for a moment—and looks back to where you’re standing with his parents, catching your gaze in a fleeting moment of connection.

It happens once when he’s posing for a photographer. He turns just enough to meet your eyes, his smile softening, just for you. Then, as he moves toward the next group of reporters, he sends a quick wink your way—casual but filled with meaning.

As he’s walking towards the interview section, he reaches out briefly, brushing his hand against yours. It’s so subtle, so quick, but the warmth of it lingers, making your heart skip a beat. You smile to yourself, feeling like you’re the only one in the crowd who understands the quiet moments between the flashes.

Every now and then, he checks in with his parents, his dad offering a gentle nod or a pat on the back, and his mom giving him a quick hug, congratulating him on the moment. As he walks past you again, he places his hand lightly on your lower back, the touch firm but gentle, like a silent reassurance. He leans in, his voice low but carrying just enough for you to hear, “I’m almost done, I promise.” You smile softly, nodding, grateful for the little check-ins.

With each moment, you feel more in awe of him—his ability to navigate this world with such grace, his kindness, and his generosity toward everyone he meets. You’ve always known how hard he’s worked for this, but seeing him shine like this, being recognized for his talent, makes your heart swell with pride. The man standing before you, talking to the crowd, was once just a guy with a dream—and now, he’s living it.

As Glen steps off the red carpet, the flurry of flashing cameras and excited shouts start to fade away. The soft hum of conversation inside the venue fills the air, and for a brief moment, you feel like the world slows down. You catch his eye just as he spots you standing at the edge of the carpet, watching him. His smile lights up his face—genuine and warm—and your heart flutters just a little bit at the sight of it.

Without a second thought, Glen strides over to you, his presence commanding yet soft, as though the spotlight of the red carpet hasn’t followed him. He leans in, pressing a quick, simple kiss to your lips—one that might be so brief to anyone watching that they’d miss it, but to you, it feels like a promise. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers just enough to remind you that you’re still in his thoughts, even in the whirlwind of the evening.

Pulling back, Glen smiles at you, his eyes soft but intense. Without missing a beat, he reaches down and takes your hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of everything. His parents, ever gracious, follow behind as Glen begins to lead you into the venue.

As you step inside, the atmosphere changes. The venue is filled with a sea of familiar, and very recognizable, faces. A sea of stars, each more dazzling than the last. You glance around, and your nerves spike just a little—this is the world Glen belongs to, and even though you’re used to being by his side, it feels a little more overwhelming now. The glitzy chandeliers above, the hum of voices, the clicking of glasses... all of it is a far cry from the quieter, more intimate moments you’ve shared together.

Instinctively, you bring your free hand up and curl it around Glen’s arm, drawing just a little closer to him. It’s subtle, a small gesture, but it makes you feel grounded in a room full of people you don’t quite know. Glen notices immediately, his eyes flicking down to you as if checking in to see how you're holding up.

“You alright?” he murmurs under his breath, his voice low but caring.

You give him a small smile, nodding, but he can tell there’s a flicker of nervousness in your eyes. Glen squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, reassuring rhythm. 

“We’ve got this,” he says with a quiet confidence that you know is meant as much for you as it is for himself.

His smile is enough to settle your nerves, if only for a moment. You take a deep breath, and as the two of you move further into the room, the sight of the grand tables, the gleaming crystal glasses, and the fancy place settings begin to feel more familiar. Glen leads you with an easy grace, guiding you toward your assigned table with a worker who’s waiting to escort you.

The worker gestures toward your seats, and Glen holds out his hand as you approach. With a flourish, he pulls your chair out for you, a small yet thoughtful gesture that makes you feel like the most important person in the room. You smile at him, grateful for his quiet care in a setting that could easily feel overwhelming.

As you sit down, Glen takes the seat beside you, his presence as steady and comforting as it has always been. He straightens his jacket and settles into his seat, and for the first time in hours, the two of you share a quiet moment, just the two of you. The world outside might be full of glamour, fame, and recognition, but here, in this little bubble you’ve found together, it’s just Glen—being the perfect gentleman, just as he always is.

The award show begins with a grand flourish. The host steps onto the stage, the lights dimming just slightly as the audience settles into their seats. You glance around, taking in the bustling room—famous actors, actresses, and directors sitting nearby, the whispers of excitement as the event officially kicks off.

Glen’s hand rests lightly on the back of your chair. The touch is small, but it anchors you in the midst of all the grandeur surrounding you. Without thinking, you lean into him just slightly, your head tipping toward his. The warmth of his body is a comfort, grounding you as the opening monologue begins.

The host captures the crowd’s attention with a series of jokes, and the sound of laughter ripples across the room. Glen smiles at the moment, but his attention is mostly on you. Every now and then, his fingers gently tap the back of your chair as if offering his quiet reassurance. You can feel his eyes on you, checking in with a glance when he thinks you’re not looking, making sure you’re comfortable in your seat.

The first few awards pass by quickly, the names of the nominees and winners announced with the usual anticipation, but you can feel the clock ticking in your mind, each passing moment heightening the tension in your chest. Glen is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture—Musical or Comedy, and the weight of the moment is starting to sink in.

You can feel your nerves rising with each passing category. With each announcement, the tightness in your chest grows as you anxiously glance down at your program, running your fingers over the pages in a distracted rhythm. Every now and then, Glen’s hand brushes against yours, either adjusting his position or offering an unspoken gesture of comfort. When his fingers meet yours, it’s as if the connection between you both is the only thing that grounds you amidst the flashing lights and the build-up.

The host’s voice rings out again, announcing the next presenters. You force yourself to take a slow breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves that’s started to settle deep in your stomach. You can’t help but glance up at Glen, who, despite the chaos and the nerves building up inside him, is still looking at you with that same steady calmness. His eyes meet yours, soft but intense, and he gives you a small, quiet smile.

“You good?” he asks under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of the audience.

You nod, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. “Yeah, just a little anxious,” you admit quietly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your program.

Glen gives you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder and leans in closer. “You’re doing great,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember I’m right here.”

His voice is a steady comfort, and for a moment, you let yourself relax into it, but the closer you get to the moment of the award announcement, the harder it is to ignore the nerves prickling in your chest. You try not to let it show, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact that your whole body seems to tense with every name called.

The tension is almost unbearable as the next award category is announced. You can feel your heart beating faster as the presenter walks to the podium, the lights dimming slightly on the stage as the camera pans over the audience. You glance at Glen, your hand still lightly resting on his knee, both of you anxiously waiting for the moment to unfold.

The announcer opens the envelope, a brief pause lingering in the air, and then the name is spoken.

“Sebastian Stan.”

The name hit you like a soft punch to the gut. You’d been hoping, praying that Glen’s name would be called. But it’s not.

You exhale, the breath you’d been holding escaping in a slow, almost deflated sigh as the applause fills the room. Everyone around you begins clapping, but you feel a heavy weight settle in the pit of your stomach. You try to join in, your hands moving in sync with the crowd, but it feels automatic, hollow.

Glen’s gaze shifts downward as he claps politely, a professional smile plastered on his face. The joy that had been there moments ago, when he’d been watching others celebrate, is now gone. You notice the subtle slump of his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens just slightly. It’s so faint, but you see it—his disappointment, quiet and swift.

Without hesitation, you place a gentle hand on his knee, your fingers curling softly around the fabric of his suit. It’s a quiet gesture, one that says everything without words.

Leaning in closer, you whisper just for him. “I’m still so proud of you,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “This doesn’t change anything. You’ve had an incredible year.”

His eyes flicker to you for a moment, and though his smile is still warm, there’s a shadow of something behind it. He nods, as if trying to convince himself. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, voice carrying the faintest hint of regret. “It’s all right.”

The cameras still hover near your table, and Glen turns slightly, giving his trademark charm for the audience, though you can see the subtle strain in the movement. It’s a mask, and you know it.

But then, just as quickly as the moment of disappointment had settled in, he shrugs it off, the professional smile back in place. He straightens his shoulders and waves at the camera as if nothing’s wrong.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand, offering him one more piece of quiet support. “You’ve worked so hard. This is just the beginning.”

Glen looks at you, his eyes softening, and he offers a genuine, albeit faint, smile. “I know. It’s just... I’ve wanted this for so long.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and in that instant, you both share a fleeting connection—one of understanding, of being on the same page. You see past the façade, knowing the true weight of his disappointment.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of applause, speeches, and glimmering smiles, but the air feels different now. Glen seems to slip back into his polished, charming self, laughing with others and posing for photos as if nothing had happened. But you know him too well. Every now and then, when the laughter dies down or when the lights shift in a way that makes everything feel softer, you catch glimpses of that quiet vulnerability he’s tried to hide.

You continue to offer him your presence, your unwavering support. Your hand resting on the top of his hand which rests on his thigh, fingers gently tracing the skin on the back of his hand during the dull moments between awards. You don’t need to say anything—he knows you’re there. And though he’s the one in the spotlight, it’s in these moments when you share the unspoken strength that makes you feel so connected.

The show drags on, the anticipation building as the categories shift, and eventually, the evening winds down to its final moments. You barely notice the presenter’s voice over the soft murmur of your own thoughts, a quiet hum of gratitude settling in your chest. Glen may not have won tonight, but you know—this isn’t the end for him. Not even close.

When the final award is presented, everyone stands in applause, their excitement contagious, but you find yourself leaning back into the comfort of the moment. Glen’s hand, warm and steady on your back, guides you as you both move toward the exit, his parents trailing behind you.

You glance over at him—his face now a perfect mask of grace and poise. His earlier disappointment seems to have faded into the evening's glow. And though you know it might still sting for him later, for now, you’re here. Together. And that’s all that matters.

After the award show ends, Glen gives you a small, reassuring smile as you both make your way toward his parents, who are chatting with a few other guests near the exit. You and Glen share a brief exchange of looks—silent understanding passing between you before you approach them.

“Well, I think it’s time to say goodnight,” Glen says, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of exhaustion as he hugs his mom first, then his dad.

You follow his lead, offering a warm hug to Cyndy and Glen Sr., both of whom have been incredibly supportive all night. You exchange a few words, with his mom offering you a knowing smile and his dad patting Glen on the back, offering him a quiet “You did good, son. We're proud of you.”

Once the goodbyes are said, Glen takes your hand, leading you away from his parents to a quieter corner.

“Let’s get this night wrapped up,” he says with a grin, pulling you gently toward the after-party.

The after-party is lively but not too overbearing. The usual crowd of actors, producers, and influencers circulate the room, laughing and enjoying the last moments of the night. Glen and you share a few casual conversations with some of his industry friends, but the two of you stay close, mostly content in each other's presence.

You don’t stay long. Glen’s energy is starting to dip, and you can see the weight of the night catching up to him. When he whispers that he’s ready to leave, you’re more than ready to head back to the hotel as well.

As the elevator doors close behind you, the sounds of the bustling venue fade, replaced by the soft hum of the ride up. You catch Glen glancing at you from the corner of your eye, a soft smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“You were great tonight,” you say quietly, your voice a soft reassurance.

He shrugs, but the smile never fades. “It’s just part of the job.”

As you and Glen exit the elevator, the hallway feels quieter, almost like a contrast to the energy of the evening. The weight of the night—of the red carpet, the award show, the after-party—seems to melt away as you make your way down the hall toward your hotel room.

Glen’s hand is warm around yours, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling in now that the cameras are no longer flashing and the attention is no longer on him. His smile, though still present, is more tired than it had been earlier. You can tell he’s ready to unwind, just the two of you.

Reaching the door, Glen digs into his pocket for the room key, the soft click of the lock echoing in the quiet hallway. As the door swings open, the familiar scent of the room hits you—slightly musty, but comforting, like the feeling of stepping back into a private space after a long, public day.

He holds the door open for you, letting you walk in first, before following closely behind. The room is dimly lit, the night sky outside casting a soft glow through the windows. You drop your clutch on the bed, watching as Glen kicks off his shoes with a tired sigh.

You turn to face him, standing there for a moment, both of you silently taking in the quiet that fills the room. Glen moves toward you, his hands finding yours, pulling you gently toward him.

“I’m glad you were here tonight,” he says softly, his voice filled with sincerity.

You smile up at him, the flicker of pride you feel for him still alive in your chest. “I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

Glen’s lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he steps closer, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, as if silently thanking you for being his anchor. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s finally allowing himself to relax fully. The warmth of his breath against your temple sends a shiver through you.

Then, he lifts his head and looks at you, his hazel eyes holding something deeper. He reaches up, tilting your chin with his thumb and forefinger so you meet his gaze fully.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll say no.

Your chest tightens at his vulnerability, and you smile softly, shaking your head.

“Of course,” you whisper. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping in your own room anyway.

His shoulders relax slightly at your answer, and his lips curve into a grateful smile. He brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering at your temple.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice still low, intimate. “Let’s take a shower.”

You nod, letting him guide you toward the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on fills the space as Glen leans over to adjust the temperature. Steam begins to curl in the air, softening the edges of the brightly lit room.

Turning back to you, Glen steps closer, his hands finding your waist. His velvet jacket is the first to go. You reach up, your fingers brushing against his shoulders as you slide it off. It drops to the floor in a heap, revealing his silk shirt underneath. Slowly, your hands move to the buttons, undoing each one with care.

As you work, Glen leans down, pressing soft kisses along your lips, jawline and down your neck. The gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver through you, but the moment isn’t rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of closeness he missed earlier.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to touch you all night,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You pause for a moment, your hands resting on his chest, and look up at him with a small smile. “I think I might have an idea,” you tease softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.

Once you’ve finished unbuttoning his shirt, he shrugs it off in one smooth motion, letting it pool on the cool tiled floor beside his jacket. Then, his hands find your hips, and he gently spins you around. His fingers trace the line of the zipper on your dress, slowly sliding it down. The fabric loosens, slipping over your hips and down your body until it gathers at your feet.

Glen wraps his arms around your bare midsection, pulling you back against his chest. He presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion, before moving to press another kiss to your neck. “I love you.”

Your breath catches at his words, and you rest your hands over his where they’re wrapped around you.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

After a moment, he releases you, stepping back so you can both finish undressing. Once you’re both bare, Glen takes your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you into the shower. The warm water cascades over your skin, washing away the remnants of the long evening.

Inside the glass enclosure, it’s just the two of you, cocooned in the sound of the rushing water and the heat that envelopes you both. Glen reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before gently running them through the strands of your hair. His touch is slow and deliberate.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur as he works the product into your scalp further.

He pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks at you. “Not even close,” he replies softly.

You turn your head to look at him, and his eyes hold yours for a long moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to show you how much you mean to me.”

Your throat tightens at his words, and you reach up, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “You already do,” you whisper.

For the rest of the shower, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the quiet, intimate exchange of touch and unspoken promises. By the time you step out and wrap yourselves in the plush hotel robes, the connection between you somehow feels even stronger, solidified by the quiet moments you’ve shared.

Steam still lingers in the air as the two of you step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and relaxed. You pad over to your suitcase, rifling through it for something to wear, but instead of choosing one of your own shirts, you make your way to Glen’s bag. Pulling out one of his well-worn t-shirts, you slip it over your head, the familiar scent of him enveloping you. You pair it with your favorite underwear and turn to see Glen already pulling on a pair of black boxers, his hair still damp and curling slightly at the edges.

He glances at you and his lips curve into a small, tired smile. “Looks better on you,” he murmurs, nodding toward his shirt. You roll your eyes playfully but can’t help the warmth that blooms in your chest. 

The two of you crawl onto the plush mattress, settling in side by side. The headboard provides a comfortable backrest as Glen grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, aimlessly scrolling through channels. The faint glow of the screen fills the otherwise dimly lit room, but neither of you are paying much attention to what’s on.

A comfortable silence settles between you, the kind that only comes with familiarity. Without a word, Glen shifts, leaning over to lay his head on your lap. His strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, anchoring himself to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He exhales deeply, his breath warm against your leg, and you feel the tension in his body begin to melt away.

Instinctively, your fingers find their way to his hair, gently combing through the damp strands. He sighs at the touch, the sound soft and vulnerable, and it makes your chest tighten. You know Glen is always composed in public, but here, in the quiet of the hotel room, he lets his guard down.

For a while, he doesn’t say anything, just holds onto you like he needs the connection to keep himself steady. You can feel the weight of the evening still lingering in the air between you, though. It’s not just physical exhaustion; it’s the emotional toll of the night—the highs and lows, the constant smiling, the conversations that required too much energy.

Finally, Glen breaks the silence, his voice low and raw. “It was a lot, you know?” he murmurs, his face still pressed against your lap. “The whole day… the prep, the red carpet, the cameras… smiling so much my face hurt. And then sitting there, waiting for them to call my name.”

You hum softly in acknowledgment, your fingers never faltering in their soothing motions through his hair. “It’s okay to feel disappointed, you know. You worked so hard. Anyone would feel the same.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

“It’s not even about winning,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think… I think it’s just everything leading up to it. The expectations, the pressure. And then when they didn’t call my name, it was like all of that hit me at once.”

You glance down at him, his face partially hidden in the soft fabric of your borrowed t-shirt.

“It’s okay to feel this way, Glen,” you say softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You don’t always have to be the strong one.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before he buries his face back against you.

“I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. My parents, the team that worked on this movie with me…” His voice trails off, and you can feel the vulnerability in his words.

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your parents are proud of you. I’m proud of you. I know Richard and Adria and the rest of the team that worked on this are proud of you too. Being nominated is a huge accomplishment, and everyone knows how much work you put into this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel him relax a little more against you. Your fingers continue their rhythmic motion through his hair, and the tension in his body seems to dissolve with every gentle stroke. The room is quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV in the background and the even sound of his breathing.

“You make everything better,” he finally whispers, his voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Glen doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you, holding you close like you’re his anchor in the storm. And in that moment, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—right here, grounding him when he needs it most.

[yeomongi]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 — 𐙚

genre: fluff!!!

pairing: hongjoong x you

word count: ~1k

warnings: one or two quick kiss scenes, emotional distress, joongie is hurt :( no proofread

synopsis: hongjoong comes home injured, frustrated and feeling useless. y/n cares for him, offering love and comfort, showing him it’s okay to lean on someone else.

note: this was so cute i’m so happy w how it turned out!! this was also a request, i hope it’s what anon meant but im not fully sure if i understood correctly 😭 reblogs and interactions appreciated! <3

hongjoong had always been the kind of person to push himself too hard. you knew that the moment you met him. his passion burned bright, almost too bright, like a star on the verge of exploding. it’s what you admired about him, but it’s also what worried you the most.

he’d come home after the tour leg, his arm wrapped in a sling and an apologetic smile playing on his lips. “it’s nothing serious,” he said, his voice soft but firm, trying to reassure you before you could even ask. “just a small sprain. i tripped backstage.”

but the way he winced when you gently helped him out of his coat told you otherwise.

“joong, a sprain doesn’t look like this,” you murmured, carefully unbuttoning his sleeve to examine the swelling on his wrist. his skin was an angry shade of purple, the kind that made your chest ache just looking at it. “why didn’t you say something sooner?”

he shrugged with his good shoulder, his eyes avoiding yours. “i didn’t want to worry you. or the members. or… anyone, really.”

you sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and affection. “you’re unbelievable.”

he chuckled weakly, letting you lead him to the couch. “i know.”

from that moment, it was a constant battle to get him to rest. hongjoong was restless by nature, always scribbling in his notebook, tinkering with his music, or running off to meetings. the injury didn’t stop him from trying to do all of it, even with one hand.

“y/n, i can handle it,” he said one evening when you caught him trying to hold his laptop with his injured arm. you didn’t say anything at first, just crossed the room and gently took the device from his hands, setting it aside.

“you can’t handle it if you don’t give yourself time to heal,” you said softly, crouching down in front of him. his lips parted like he wanted to argue, but when he saw the look in your eyes, he deflated.

“i just feel useless,” he admitted quietly, his head hanging low. “there’s so much to do, and i’m just… sitting here.”

your heart broke a little at the way his voice cracked. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. his skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and you felt him lean into your touch almost instinctively.

“you’re not useless, hongjoong,” you said firmly, but your voice softened when his gaze flicked to yours, vulnerable and uncertain. “you’re human. you’re allowed to take a break.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting as if to speak. but then, instead of answering, he leaned forward—tentatively, hesitantly, like he was testing the waters. your breath caught when his lips brushed against yours, featherlight and shy.

it was so un-hongjoong, so unlike the confident man you were used to, but it made your chest ache in the best way. you kissed him back, just as soft, your hands slipping to the nape of his neck as you pulled him closer.

when you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he exhaled shakily. “thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”

—

you made it your mission to take care of him after that. you’d help him with the little things, like tying his shoelaces or pouring his tea, even though he’d grumble about being babied. but he never stopped you. in fact, you’d catch him watching you with this soft, grateful smile that made your heart skip every time.

nights were your favorite, though. hongjoong would let his guard down completely then, curling up beside you on the couch while you ran your fingers through his hair. he’d hum softly, the sound vibrating against your side, and you’d feel the tension slowly leave his body.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled one night, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

“you deserve it,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

he didn’t say anything after that, but the way he clung to you, his fingers curling around the hem of your shirt, said more than words ever could.

—

it wasn’t easy, of course. there were days when he was irritable, snapping at you over the smallest things, only to apologize profusely minutes later. “i’m sorry, y/n,” he’d say, his voice small and heavy with guilt. “i’m just… frustrated.”

“i know,” you’d reply, pulling him into a hug despite his initial resistance. “it’s okay. i get it.”

and you did. you understood how much it hurt him to feel like he couldn’t do what he loved, like he was letting everyone down. but you also knew he needed to let himself be vulnerable, to let someone else carry the weight for once.

slowly but surely, he started to heal—not just physically, but emotionally, too. he let you take care of him without protest, and in return, he took care of you in the little ways he could. like leaving you sticky notes on the fridge with messages like “don’t forget to eat <3” or making you playlists filled with songs he knew you’d love.

—

“you’re the best, you know that?” he said one afternoon, his voice warm and genuine as he watched you carefully bandage his wrist.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “you’re just saying that because i’m your personal nurse right now.”

“no, i mean it,” he insisted, his eyes locking onto yours. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

the sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you looked away, focusing on securing the bandage. “well, lucky for you, you don’t have to find out.”

he grinned at that, reaching out with his good hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “lucky for me, indeed.”

and in that moment, with his fingers brushing against your skin and his eyes shining with affection, you realized just how much you meant to each other. no matter how many times life knocked him down, you’d always be there to pick him back up—and he’d do the same for you.

because that’s what love was. it wasn’t perfect or easy, but it was worth it. and with hongjoong, it always would be.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

I Want You Back

This was originally requested by Anon who asked: "Could you make headcanons where you have an established relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters but your ex suddenly tries to win you back?" The links to the other houses are below.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Haru Sagara, Towa Otonashi, Ren Shiranami x gn! Reader (separate)

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

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

You're happily in a relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters. So how will they react when your ex suddenly tries to win you back?

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

Haru’s pretty neutral about all this. Sure, he’s not happy your ex is trying to get you back but he’ll keep a level head and talk to you about things before he does anything rash.

Please, give him permission to tear into your ex though! He’s going to pull out the classic “I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed” look and chastise your ex until they have no choice but to back down.

I think he might be a bit more protective afterwards though. He realises just how close he came to losing you and then he got to thinking about how sad everyone in Jabberwock would be if you left.

So if he’s a bit more clingy than usual or makes more time for you, don’t be surprised. He’s doing his best to show you how much he cares.

Your ex tries to take away Towa’s partner? Oh, jail for your ex! Jail for one thousand years! Seriously though, Towa’s not going to stand for this.

He’s pulling out all the stops to get your ex to leave you alone. Throwing poisonous flowers at them, making angry humming sounds, even calling on the weather to make their day that bit worse.

If you ask him to stop, he will but only while you’re watching. As soon as your back’s turned, Towa’s going straight back to intimidating your ex.

He wants to stay with you and make sure you’re happy with him as well. So he’s also going to double down on his displays of affection towards you. Hope you like flowers.

Ren’s a lot like Kaito in that he doesn’t think he deserves you. So as soon as your ex starts trying to get you back, he’s going to get super self conscious.

But he’s a lot more open with his jealousy than the others. He won’t tell you directly that he’s jealous but it’s super obvious from the way he sulks when your ex is around.

As soon as you tell him you don’t want to be with your ex though, he’s going to play it off as if he was never worried.

Even if you give him permission to tell off your ex, Ren probably won’t do it. He doesn’t like confrontation and would much rather spend that time with you than with your ex. Not that he’ll ever tell you that.

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

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[saphig-iawn]

Building up Momentum

Hello darlings. Posts are going to be somewhat infrequent from me in the coming week or so. The dust has largely settled on my sidejob which means that the queue I had setup while I was busy training has come to an end, and because I was not conducting sessions during that time, wonderful new stories of my sessions aren't really written yet. As I write them and get them to you all, I want to be open and talk about what I do and how I place it in context of my life.

To be brutally honest, I fucking love what I do as a domme and a hypnotist. I have spent so many hours bringing people's fantasies to life and it makes me so happy that people want to support me with their trust, their money, and their kink. The reason why I picked up a sidejob was because I was growing increasingly anxious that things would dry up with my services I provide. Despite having so many lovely people and clients who support me, I was terrified that things were going to abruptly end and I would be in trouble.

The anxious side of me wants to prepare for so many worst case scenarios, but rather than rotate things in my mind endlessly, I figured coming to the people who have been supporting me with questions would be the best thing to do. Below is a poll with a list of things that I could do in order to keep the lights on while also providing the services and experiences I love providing.

One thing for certain, my writing of sessions will remain free. I'm not locking them away. Not only do they function as a means for people to see my services and see what experiences people have, but the people who they are based on get a little pedestal to be displayed on. They add to the community of hypnokink, they allow me to meet so many of you and share our stories and experiences, and I think locking them away behind a paywall would be, quite frankly, shit.

So, please, vote how you feel, vote if you are able to do what they options say, vote if you would if you had the time/money/rsources/spoons. I would love to hear from you!

Lots of love,

Miss Saphi

[gravedigginbbydoll]

Go On, Tiny Dancer

Modern Pianist! Astarion x Ballerina! Reader

Summary: You are a new member of the corps in a production of the Nutcracker, and want to do your very best. A tutor in the form of a mysterious pale piano player comes to help you....

CW: MDNI!, mentions of ballet and dance, stretching, also mentions of vampirism/ allusions to it. Biting, sucking blood, moaning, desire.

AN: I want to actually go deeper into this! I enjoyed writing this and would like to flesh out the intensity more. Also, please be kind. This is my first work for Astarion. Please reblog if you enjoy it!

You were stretching in the wings, trying to ignore the fluttering in your belly. This was your first year in the corps, and it seemed your brain finally realized you would be on stage. You were anxiously pointing and flexing your feet, stretching over your legs, when you heard a clack across the stage of shoes. You sat up immediately, some of your fellow company members doing the same, fearing it being the director. Instead, you saw a glimpse of a lean and pale man with shining silver hair, his form lithe and muscular, like he was an amalgamation of Balanchine's dream dancer himself. He wore a deep blood-red silk button-up tucked into a pair of fitted black pants and polished leather dress shoes on his feet. A pair of sunglasses was pushed to sit atop his head, revealing piercing, deep red eyes. 

Were those contacts?

Curious, You bit your lip as the figure crossed the stage, took his time, and sat at the piano in the front rows.

“He’s the piano player for the orchestra,” stated a feminine voice, the tone sounding almost bored. You looked up, spotting one of the soloists in the wings with you. She was still dressed in somehow fashionable warm-ups, and her long dark hair was in a loose braid rather than the slicked-back bun you were all expected to wear. She was staring at him, hand on a hip and standing nonchalantly as he had before. She swirled her iced coffee in her hand before sighing. 

“Just don’t get too close. He has a penchant for…little sweet ballerinas,” She seemed to sneer a bit in his direction before heading to the dressing room without allowing you to ask any further questions. 

You were puzzled but decided to shake off the intrigue and continue through dress rehearsal, hoping the mysterious stranger wouldn’t distract you. 

You were a disaster. Your counts were off; you weren’t over your box enough on pointe…not to mention the significant mishap of your tour jetes when the pianist looked at you, and you felt your heart stop and became mesmerized by his gaze, only to slip on the fake snow and land on the floor. 

Your director had yelled at you for what felt like hours before demanding you come back the next day, actually with your head out of your ass and ready to perform. She threatened to replace you with an understudy, causing your stomach to twist in knots. You agreed, apologizing profusely, tears welling in your eyes as you clenched your fists to keep them at bay. 

This led to you staying after everyone had packed up and left, attempting to practice the steps and focus and trying to figure out what happened. 

You were in the middle of your third attempt to arabesque and not getting your legs tangled in the long and flowing romantic tutu you were beginning to despise when you heard a melodic and sultry voice call out from the seats. 

“You aren’t being purposeful enough in the movement. You move with the skirt, not against it.” 

You nearly fell but stopped yourself, looking over to the seats. 

It was him. Sitting in one of the chairs, reclined back as if it was a throne, demanding attention with his presence. 

You bit your lip, looking around. 

“No one else is here, little snowflake,” He teased, clearly in reference to your role. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up, as if his tone embarrassed you. He stood up, walking over to the piano, sitting at it before looking up at you, his expression almost bored. 

“I-”

He clapped, the loud noise making you jump, which…weirdly enough, made a look of hunger flash across his face before he returned to a charming smile and demeanor. 

“From the top, darling. I will play. Anytime you mess up, I will stop.” 

Your stomach sank at the idea of messing up in front of this handsome artist who knew something about ballet. You played with the idea back and forth before nodding and returning to the wings to begin. 

You needed all the practice you could get. 

It went well, the pale stranger being a strict yet patient tutor. You found out after your first practice together that his name was Astarion, and he was a former ballet dancer. He had stopped after a severe injury and focused on music. 

After that first practice, you and Astarion began practicing every night together, his strict demeanor yet casual tone making you understand the corrections better. 

You began to be allured by the young man's suave smile and witty ways. 

He always lingered his cold touch on you longer than necessary. His eyes trailed your body, and his touch often caressed the most sensitive parts of you.

You continued despite feeling the danger, as you were significantly improving. Your director was impressed with your progress, and you felt pride despite the glares of your fellow company members. 

You thought it all harmless until the rebellious soloist from earlier that week sat beside you while you were putting on makeup, making you puzzled. 

“He’s only in it for one thing, you know,” she said casually, leaning in to apply lipstick, her hair in a perfectly braided bun already. 

You smiled softly but shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat at the mention of him. You had no intention of fooling around with him. After all, it was only a little crush. “Don’t worry, I know he just is flirting. I won’t sleep with him.” 

She continued inspecting her makeup in the mirror, but her gaze was dark and serious. 

“Sex is the least of his desires.” 

She sat up straight, getting up to head out of the dressing room, her head held high as she headed towards the stage, calling out to you. 

“Guard your precious soul, little snowflake.” 

You had one last evening of rehearsing with your mysterious tutor and decided to approach it cautiously. He was consistently calling you beautiful, teasing you, lingering touches, and lowering his voice with that…alluring tone. 

You were exhausted from this latest dress rehearsal. Your director was harsher today, clearly in a sour mood, and made the corps practice last and repeat over and over until you all reached near ‘perfection.’ You were now heaving, sweat dripping down your neck, pulse thrumming in your ear. 

Astarion strode over to you, a hungry look in his eye. His eyes seemed dark in the light, and his pupils expanded. You felt your heart thrum, feeling similar to prey. You didn’t know why, but you wanted to bolt…to flee. 

“C’mon, darling. Show me your arabesque,” He practically purred. 

You felt like you were under a spell as you did so, hearing him inhale deeply and sigh, his ice-cold fingers trailing along your arm and then neck. 

“You are magnificent. A….divine…treat…,” His nose brushed against your neck, your breath catching as you bit your lip. 

He began trailing kisses up your neck as you felt yourself melt into his arms, your knees weak and desire pooling at your core. His lips were ice cold, his arms wrapped around you like vines, growls falling from his lips. 

He kissed your mouth, the contact overwhelming you with his desire, a whimper escaping your lips. You kissed like it was a source of oxygen itself, as Astarion chuckled a bit before pulling away, kissing down your neck. You felt weak and unable to contain moans, feeling the pleasure build as he bit you. The sensation stung sharply before turning into pure ecstasy. You whimpered, feeling light and loose, going limp in his arms as he continued to suck at your neck. Your head was spinning. Your heart leaping in your chest.

He pulled away briefly, his mouth a stained red as you blinked up at him, suddenly aware of the distance in his eyes and how you felt woozy. That sudden sensation of fear crept in again, and you decided to listen to your intuition, despite the draw you felt to him.

You pulled out from his grasp, shaking your head and frowning. “I can’t do this Astarion. I can’t be one of your toys.” 

His brows furrowed as his eyes flashed in what seemed to be concern and fear, his mouth opening and closing like he was at a loss for words. 

You walked away, your back turned to him, and your mind decidedly finished with the pale man once and for all. 

What you didn’t know is that Astarion had a taste for you…a hunger now…and that he didn’t back down so easily. 

to be continued...??

[battleangel]

ISRAEL IS GOING TO KILL DR. HUSSAM!

IOF HAS DENIED DR. HUSSAM THE RIGHT TO AN ATTORNEY!

DR. HUSSAM IS IN GRAVE DANGER!

•FIRST, THE IOF CLAIMED THEY HAD NO INFORMATION ON DR. HUSSAMS WHEREABOUTS DESPITE AL JAZEERA AIRING FOOTAGE OF DR. HUSSAM ENTERING AN ISRAELI MILITARY TANK.

•THEN, THE IOF ADVISED THEY HAD ��ARRESTED” DR. HUSSAM & FALSELY CLAIMED DR. HUSSAM WAS A “HAMAS COLONEL” & “HAMAS OPERATIVE”.

•THEN TWELVE HOURS AGO, THE IOF DENIED DR. HUSSAM THE RIGHT TO AN ATTORNEY & REFUSED TO ALLOW AN ATTORNEY TO CONFIRM HIS CURRENT DETAINED CONDITIONS WERE HUMANE.

•SO, TO RECAP — IN LESS THAN A WEEK, THE IOF TRIED TO “DISAPPEAR” DR. HUSSAM CLAIMING THEY DIDNT KNOW WHERE HE WAS.

•TWO DAYS LATER, IOF REVERSED THEIR STORY & ADVISED THEY HAD “ARRESTED” DR. HUSSAM FOR BEING A “HAMAS COLONEL” & “HAMAS OPERATIVE”.

•THEN 12 HOURS AGO, THE IOF DECLINED DR. HUSSAM AN ATTORNEY & ALSO DENIED AN ATTORNEY THE OPPORTUNITY TO EVALUATE DR. HUSSAMS CURRENT DETAINMENT CONDITIONS TO CONFIRM THEY WERE HUMANE.

DR. HUSSAM WAS LAST CONFIRMED ALIVE BEING TORTURED AT SDE TEIMAN DETENTION CAMP — THEN EYEWITNESSES STATE DR. HUSSAM WAS DRIVEN AWAY FROM THE CAMP —

AND THAT IS THE LITERAL LAST UPDATE THE IOF HAS GIVEN!

THE IOF REFUSES TO SAY WHERE HE IS NOW!

WHERE IS DR. HUSSAM?????????????????

WHERE??????????????????

SDE TEIMAN DETENTION CAMP IS IN AN ISOLATED PART OF NEGEV DESERT!

DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

THE DETENTION CAMP DR. HUSSAM WAS LAST SEEN ALIVE AT BEING BRUTALLY TORTURED IS LITERALLY IN THE MIDDLE OF A DESERT!

I AM AFRAID THEY WILL KILL DR. HUSSAM & DUMP HIM IN THE DESERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASE!

WE HAVE TO TRY TO SAVE HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ISRAEL HAS RAMPED UP THEIR ATROCITIES:

•THE IOF HAS MURDERED 200 PALESTINIANS IN THE PAST 3 DAYS!

•A POGROM WAS JUST ANNOUNCED TODAY IN WEST BANK WHERE ISRAELI ILLEGAL SETTLER TERRORISTS BEAT & ASSAULTED PALESTINIANS & SOLD THEIR LAND!

•THE GLOBAL ELITES ARE USING THIS TIME --

•CHRISTMAS, NEW YEARS, HOLIDAYS, JAN 6TH, TRUMPS INAUGURATION IN 2 WEEKS, TRUDEAUS RESIGNATION, NEW ORLEANS VEHICLE ASSAULT, TESLA EXPLOSION, GERMANY VEHICLE ASSUALT, FIVE PLANE CRASHES IN FOUR DAYS, UFO DRONES, DECLASSIFIED CIA DOCUMENTS, GOLDEN GLOBES, RAW ON NETFLIX --

•TO DISTRACT THE POPULACE FROM ISRAELS GENOCIDE IN PALESTINE!

•ISRAEL HAS COMMITTED TWO HOSPITAL MASSACRES SINCE NOVEMBER 2024 -- AL SHIFA & KAMAL ADWAN -- & JUST THREATENED A THIRD MASSACRE LAST FRIDAY AT AL AWDA!

•IDF KIDNAPPED DR. HUSSAM ON DECEMBER 27TH!

•THEY KEEP DISTRACTING THE PUBLIC FROM EIGHT BABIES FREEZING TO DEATH & DYING IN AGONY OF HYPOTHERMIA!

•FROM CHILDREN WASTING AWAY FROM CACHEXIA NORMALLY ONLY SEEN IN DYING CANCER PATIENTS DYING IN AGONY FROM SEVERE MALNOURISHMENT DUE TO ISRAELS FORCED FAMINE OF INNOCENT PALESTINIAN CIVILIANS!

•FROM JOURNALISTS BURNED ALIVE IN THEIR PRESS VAN OUTSIDE OF A HOSPITAL WHERE ONE OF THEIR WIVES WAS GIVING BIRTH!

STOP LETTING THEM DISTRACT YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WE HAVE TO TRY TO SAVE DR. HUSSAM!

PLEASE DO THE FOLLOWING!

•Call Media: uscpr.org/gazamediacall

•Email Media: uscpr.org/gazamediaemail

•EMAIL government leaders, human rights organizations & non profits to DEMAND the release of Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya!

•Link: https://docs.google.com/document/u/0/d/1ObCSmyoRQd1_DyxWd0biaq-ljYjZpPBR7SCEhwzLW6g/mobilebasic?pli=1

•EMAIL this human rights appeal to legal rights groups in Israel & the UN High Commissioner of Human Rights to release Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya!

•Link: https://forms.office.com/pages/responsepage.aspx?id=tqKkGHF-8UWLA1KRBduBFoGR5X3jr8xImA9STmlcRC5UMzhVMEZVVDZLMFhBU0VXOTIyUUo0VE0zRi4u&route=shorturl

PLEASE BOOST THIS POST!

DR. HUSSAM IS GOING TO DIE IF WE DONT COLLECTIVELY DO SOMETHING TO STOP THEM!

WE HAVE TO TRY!!!!!!

Boost this post:

•REBLOG

•LIKE

•SHARE

•COMMENT

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA...🇵🇸🍉❤️‍🔥

[hyukascampfire]

U JUMPED UP N CLICKED YOUR HEELS WHEN I FOLLOWED, I JUMPED UP AND CLICKED MY HEELS WHEN I SAW THIS REBLOG. omg.

hehe. world building is my favorite part. especially since my fics lean toward fantasy,, i always try to make it all immersive and believable!!

literally was not aware there was even a plural for geas, i had to dance around it while writing. why didn’t i think to look that up…😓 ANYWAY YES taehyun is definitely gravitational right off the bat. for me, at least. he is stiff and cold, but i don’t think that he necessarily falls into the typical fantasy brooding mmc category. especially after part two, i think his character begins to develop those layers that makes him who he is. i can’t say that he’s not brooding or cold, but i think it comes from a different place. i absolutely agree that he really does embody cold. not going to lie, after working on his character for so long, he’s the first thing i associate with him.

AND YES yeonjun as warmth by sunlight is so correct. he’s not necessarily flames, but more like sunlight on your skin after being cold for so long. he’s so gentle with MC in a way that she hasn’t known,, i’d be the same girl. IM SO HAPPY TO SEE SOMEONE ROOTING FOR YEONJUN JUST A LITTLE BIT. not because i’m biased,, cause of course i have two hands,, BUT ITS JUST BEEN SO LONG. this nation is gripped by taehyun. he always destroys yeonjun in the polls 😭

W yeonjun, writing him came so easy. i still vividly remember the moment i wrote the introduction to his character. omg. he just had a personality that STICKJKJS with you. he is magnetic, and i lowkey feel whimsy even while writing him. he’s just so sensual and intimate on so many different levels. i’d probably give up my mf life for him too.

i also really do adore MC. she’s very multi-faceted. she’s not necessarily always strong or upright, but she has her own set of morals and honestly just wants so little. it kinda sucks that what she does finally allow herself to ask for puts her in the situations it does. i feel a great amount of sympathy for her. i also am a person that thinks that emotion and being in touch with it is strong in its own right, and i absolutely get MC for searching for it.

SLOW BURNNN that’s my shit. waiter, pls give me yearning and fleeting touch for a hundred thousand more words! im not stranger to a 5k pwp and i thoroughly enjoy writing those (yum.) but i truly do love the word ‘almost’, and letting characters ache for each other. mmm. i’m a hoe for jealousy, but with taehyun it is especially different. i just do not know how to put it into words except for 😻💦🤲

the people love beomgyu, that silly forest creature. i’ve grown so attached to his character as well. he really is holding up the found family end of this fic all on his own. his power 😭

thank you so much for giving me this beautiful rb to read and giggle over as well. i adore you so much NEXT PART NEXT PART 🍽️

𝓘N WHICH 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 93.3k﹙ and counting! ﹚

genre high fantasy/faerie, smut, angst ˒ ˒

pairings faerie!taehyun x reader, faerie!yeonjun x reader

warnings violence, death, death of animals, smut (specific tags will be listed before each chapter), childhood trauma & mentions of abuse, jealousy, controlling & yandere relationship dynamics, unprotected sex, original characters but they only last for small amounts of time & act as story catalysts, fem! reader

˒ ˒ want a look into the world? here’s the pinterest board !! ༘⋆

﹙ 🪕﹚ playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

: ̗̀﹙❆﹚𝓅arts . : ↘︎

one ˒ two ˒ three ˒ four ˒ five ˒ ...🪶

© hyukascampfire please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost any of my works.

[khaire-traveler]

any tips for being in the broom closet/having to hide your altars

strict parents suckkkk

Khaire, Nonny!

My apologies for the extreme lateness of this ask. 2024 was a horrendous year for me, and I couldn't keep up with asks. ^^;;;

I would recommend taking a look at some subtle ways to worship deities which I have here in this post! It's pretty basic, and you may find some things that are helpful to you. Worship doesn't always have to be a fantastical show of faith or an in-depth ritual; you can show your devotion through "little" actions, such as wearing jewelry you associate with a deity or listening to music that reminds you of them. There's honestly a lot you can do without needing an altar!

If you DO want a physical altar, however, something I've heard of is keeping small altars spaces under the bed and/or in a shoebox - and yes, keeping it in the closet as well. It's discreet and allows for your worship spaces to be safely concealed with your parents being none-the-wiser. You can also keep a journal dedicated to your deity where you write poems, prayers, or draw for them; you could even tape or glue images of their statues, temples, and other things into the journal as an added show of offering. If you're worried your parents will read said journal, someone once suggested writing it like a diary but addressed to the deity (ex: "Dear Aphrodite" instead of "Dear Diary") and claiming it was made as a "fan" of Greek mythology or Greek mythology-based media (you could use this excuse for a shoebox altar as well). It's not the most amazing excuse ever, and it may still incur backlash, but I've been told it's been effective all the same. You could also keep an altar space in nature, or have nature BE your altar. For many people, nature is a great way to connect with deities, especially those with domains in it. Plus, nature is good for our well-being, so that's an added bonus! In the case of having an outdoor altar, however just make sure to never leave this outside that could directly harm the environment or wildlife!

Outside of this, I would recommend giving a digital altar a try. These are altars you maintain online, be it dedicating a Tumblr blog to that deity or creating a Pinterest board for them. I've also heard of artists who have a dedicated digital drawing space for their deity, drawing something new on the page every time they wish to give an offering! You can even hold spaces for your deities in video games, such as in Minecraft or Stardew Valley. I've seen people create altars there for their deities in games before, and they turn out to be pretty cool (one person even had an altar to Haides in The Nether)!

It may feel hopeless at times when you have to hide aspects of yourself, but know that there are solutions and ways to practice your faith in secret effectively. I'm sorry you've found yourself in these circumstances. 🫂 I hope these options are helpful to you and others! If anyone has other suggestions, please feel free to share in the comments and reblogs. I hope your 2024 treated you well, Nonny, and I wish you the best in 2025. Take care! 🧡

[natti-ice]

Would you be willing to do a Steve Harrington bot?? Thx <3

Absolutely!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡

Can also find all my characters on my acc @/ nattiice !

If you would like to request a character please feel free to send me an ask with a prompt! Please note that c.🤖 does not allow nsfw. If you would like a nsfw character it will be put on a different website.

Steve Harrington

Nsfw Steve Harrington (18+ only)

[thekingnerd]

I am sorry for not messaging, but you don't allow messages from those you don't follow.

After reading your other reblog, I noticed a mistake I made in my response: Calling out individual, actual delusions, is not ableism.

However, calling all people of a group delusional, is. Not ableist towards us, but towards those who suffer from delusions.

As for the "traumascum" (ew) slur, I agree that that is a disgusting ableist slur, and I hate it. But also, I see very few endos actually use that. I havent seen any in the past few months, but maybe I'm blessed with a better dash. I feel like calling all endos ableist for a minority of us who made and used that wretched word is akin to saying that all straight people are homophobic for the creation and usage of the word faggot (which I can use because we guys have reclaimed it as our own word)

I too am tired of reblogging this, so if you wish to respond, then please dm me, and I will be making sure that mine are open to all who wish to message me or simply yell hateful things at me.

what actually are endogenic systems?

• Endogenic is an umbrella term that refers to all systems that are not completely traumagenic in origin.

Why are some people claiming to be endo?

• people claiming to be endogenic systems may:

• be misdiagnosed, they may not have DID/OSDD and may have a different disorder.

• may not have researched. Which is not a excuse. You cannot claim to have any disorder without any level of research.

• they may be a traumatic system in denial of there trauma.

• singlets with fractitious disorders [Factitious disorders are conditions in which a person deliberately and consciously acts as if they have a physical or mental illness when they are not really sick.]

•singlets misidentifying normal experiences

• singlets who enjoy "being a system" finding it fun etc

Why can't endos exist?

• as previously stated. DID/OSDD is a TRAUMA RESPONSE DISORDER. you cannot have it without trauma literally.

• OSDD/DID occurs because of childhood trauma between the ages 4-9 (commonly). Because extreme trauma happens when the majority of your "personality" is formed by then. the trauma interferes with your personality development, causing the formation of other alters to help cope with that trauma / deal with the brunt of the trauma and survive day to day life.

• OCDD/DIDs can only be formed through trauma.

Why are endos so harmful?

• they spread very harmful misinformation. (Even the idea of being endogenic, forming without trauma)

they spread dangerous misinformation and stigma (demonising roles (persecutors for example)) impossible beliefs (alter death, sys hopping etc)There growing presence in general on many platforms

• endos trying to say that they have any experience to anything close to the serious trauma that causes DID/ OSDD is so so harmful to actual DID/ OSDD have had to live through and survive.

• WE ARE ALREADY STIGMATISED AND DEMONSIED IN ALL SORTS OF MEDIA AS IS.

• IT IS SO HARMFUL AND HURTFUL TO SYSTEMS WHO HAVE ACTUALLY SURVIVED AND BEEN THROUGH THE HORRORS AND TRAUMA THAT CAUSES DID/OSDD - OUR TRAUMAS ARE NOT BADGES FOR YOU TO WEAR.

- blurred asf

[i-am-not-phoenix-wright]

((also to the creators of this blog: are works like fanart, objection.lol remakes, and stuff like that inspired by this storyline allowed? Credit will be given, of course :D))

OOC:

Hi! Nort here! WE WOULD BE HONORED TO HAVE ANYTHING YOU ARE WILLING TO GIFT US!!!

As long as credit is given i do not mind at all! Infact, please tag me so i can see it and reblog it!!

i’m so glad you guys are enjoying the show so far! it means alot 🥹

[amethystandemma]

Idk what to title this. Percy's Right Hook or something? Idk. I'm bad at titles

This is very dialogue heavy, so be wary of that. It's also like really short.

Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

Word Count: 670

“Did you finish your potions essay?” Victoria Macmillan asked.

Percy Weasley shook his head. “No. Not yet.” He looked down an empty hallway, checking to see if any students were out past curfew then turned back to her. “Between Prefect duties and studying for O.W.L.s I haven’t had the time for Snape’s extra assignments.”

Victoria peered down another corridor before turning back to him. “I could help.” 

“I believe the last time you ‘helped’, we ended up snogging in one of the greenhouses.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Absolutely not.”

Victoria’s laugh echoed through the stone halls as Percy gently kissed her neck. She swatted him away, but not before kissing him on the cheek.

The two Prefects didn’t see any students out after curfew as they walked on their patrol route. Aside from the occasional ghost, they saw no one else.

“Did you hear that?” Percy asked.

From the stairs leading down to the dungeons came the sound of muffled yelling. Victoria took one look at Percy before they both ran down the staircase.

Down in front of the Slytherin Common Room was Oliver Wood and Fred and George Weasley in what could only be described as a brawl with Marcus Flint and three members of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Both the twins were sporting nosebleeds but still fought with a voracity like no other. Oliver Wood had Marcus Flint in a headlock and repeatedly punched him in the face.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Percy shouted.

Oliver looked up, and both Prefects got a good view of his black eye. Flint took the opportunity to wrangle out of his hold and tackle him. The twins didn’t even look up.

“Arresto Momentum!” shouted Victoria.

All seven of the boys were slowed down, their movements becoming sluggish. Percy nodded in thanks to Victoria before walking over to his brothers. He grabbed both of them by an ear and dragged them away from the three Slytherins they were fighting.

“Care to explain what you three are doing out at this hour?” Percy asked, his voice sharp.

Fred winced, his hand going to Percy’s hand. “Perce!”

“I swear, I’m going to write to Mum–”

“Flint is the one that bloodied up Radiant!” George interrupted. 

Percy let their ears go, his hands falling to his side. He looked between them, Flint, and Oliver.

“Is that true?” asked Percy.

Flint sneered. “The wench had it coming.”

“Why you–”

Percy grabbed Oliver’s wrist, yanking him back. 

“No mate, he’s not worth it.” Percy muttered.

Flint grinned.

“Allow me.”

Percy turned, punching Flint directly in the jaw. The burly boy fell to the ground. Fred and George cheered as Percy shook his wrist.

“You’re going to get it Weasley,” one of the Slytherins muttered, helping Flint to his feet.

“Are you threatening a Prefect?” Victoria asked, stepping forward with her wand raised.

The four boys, two of them supporting Flint, stepped back. She raised an eyebrow, taking a short step forward.

The reaction was immediate. All four of them stumbled back and went into the Slytherin Common Room.

“What was that about?” whispered Fred.

“Long story.” Percy muttered. 

“Very long story.” added Oliver.

Both twins looked at each other. “Wicked.”

Victoria stepped back over to Percy, putting an arm on his shoulder. A small smirk was toying on her lips.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen anything Vic, have you?” Percy asked.

“Can’t say I have Perce.” Victoria looked between the three boys. “Though, if we did see any students, I’d suggest they run back to their Common Room before Filch comes and sees them.”

Fred and George grinned. Without a word, they ran back up the stairs. 

Oliver looked between the two, his gaze freezing on Percy’s.

“I won’t tell her,” said Percy. “Don’t worry.”

The Gryffindor Quidditch Captain nodded before heading up the stairs as well. Victoria stared until his black robes faded from view. She turned to Percy.

“You have a very nice right hook. Care to teach me sometime?”

“Anytime.”

[shaynawrites23]

Hiya! We're at 400 followers here, and I want to thank all of you again. I honestly never thought I’d hit anything over 100, so thank you all for following and for sticking around!

It’s time for another celebration! I have no better ideas than an event like this lol so let's go! I will do my best to keep up with any requests, I promise :)

Not here for a request? That's fine! I've got some ask games below, or feel free to send in anything you'd like!

(Small disclaimer: I will be writing requests as fast as my mental health and my life allow! I promise you I see and will write everything that comes in, in no particular order, but you're also always welcome to check in on your request!)

General rules:

- please specify whether you’d like angst or fluff, i can do suggestive too but not if you're a minor so please do follow that guideline 💜

- you don’t have to be following me to participate! feel free to request something, or just join in!

- be respectful! we're all here to have a good time, let's have some fun together 😊

Ask games:

🥰 - Touches

Send in the above emoji together with a prompt from this list and a character listed below, and I'll write you a lil blurb!

❤️ - I Love You

Red heart with one of these prompts plus a character and I’ll write a lil blurb!

👌🏻 - Fic Reblog

Send me this with a link to your fic, I'll read, reblog and comment!

🌅 - Vibe Check

Pop in my inbox with a sunset emoji and I'll compliment your vibes, or you as I know you if we're moots! Off anon please for this one 😄

🆓️ - Anything!

Whether it's random questions, or you just wanna hop in for a chat, or send in a request that doesn't follow the prompt lists, or something else still, go for it!

Characters (for requests)

- Remus Lupin

- Sirius Black

- Bucky Barnes

- Loki Laufeyson

- Peter Parker

- Cary Agos

Tagging some moots:

@kimorna @the-young-and-forgotten @johnmurphyisqueer @naviation-xx

[gomzdrawfr]

hiya darlin'

alt + ref:

inspired by 661ave's Price edit

Pose ref from Transatlantic(2023) | Cory Michael Smith as Varian Fry

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

I Want You Back

This was originally requested by Anon who asked: "Could you make headcanons where you have an established relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters but your ex suddenly tries to win you back?" The links to the other houses are below.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Taiga Hoshibami, Romeo Lucci, Ritsu Shinjo x gn! Reader (separate)

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

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

You're happily in a relationship with the Tokyo Debunker characters. So how will they react when your ex suddenly tries to win you back?

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

Okay, your ex’s first mistake was letting someone as wonderful as you go. His second mistake was trying to get you back now that you’re in a relationship with Taiga.

I hate to tell you, but your ex probably isn’t going to make it out of this one alive. And if they do, they’re going to be recovering for a while.

Even in his clearest moments, Taiga’s still pretty unhinged and if someone tries to take his most treasured possession, things are going to get messy.

Having said that, Taiga will listen to what you have to say. Sure, he might not follow your advice but he’ll at the very least take it into consideration at some level.

Oh, you thought Taiga was bad? Your ex is equally foolish if they’re trying to win you back from Romeo.

While Taiga’s anger at your ex is dangerous in its mindlessness, Romeo is both angry and calmly calculating.

Blackmail is his first port of call but he’s also not above blatantly threatening your ex to get them to back off.

He doesn’t even need to ask you for your opinion on the matter. In his mind, there’s no chance you’d rather be with your ex than him and he’s going to fight for that.

Yeah, your ex isn’t going to have any luck with trying to win you back regardless of who you’re dating from Sinostra.

Ritsu’s certainly going to play things a lot more by the book than his fellow ghouls but he’s also going to fight for your hand with steadfast determination.

He’s also going to ask you if you want him to take care of the situation for you. As soon as you say yes, he’s putting all of his investigation skills into finding as many negative aspects to your ex as possible.

Once he’s gathered intel, he’s confronting your ex directly. They’ll be lucky to walk away from that encounter not in tears because Ritsu’s not holding back. He’s defending you with everything he’s got.

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

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.