#can’t imagine being stuck like that forever

[yestrday]

— YANDERE! MALEWIFE! GENSHIN AU part one | two | three | four | five

⇢ neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, freminet + baizhu

introducing ! fontaine is the country of romance, and what could be the peak of romance but marriage? you have sworn your eternal love and fealty to your partner and fontainians are anything but dispassionate lovers! if you're scared that your partner will get too passionate, well.... qui vivra verra.

[ happy new year! is yestr actually being productive?! i did not do mika bc... gasp! yestr is lazy?! who wouldve known! ]

warning ! yandere behavior, bIackma1l, múrder, i feel like im getting lost by own aus so i have to say it again: this is modern teyvat!, hints at poison, jealousy, child assássins?!

— ORDAINER OF INEXORABLE JUDGMENT. neuvillette | ヌヴィレット

[ “clearly, your workplace is not complying with multiple clauses of the Code du Travail, i should—” ]

⇢ before meeting you, neuvillette couldn’t have imagined getting married and settling down for a domestic life. he’d always thought that he’d forever be swamped with trials and paperworks until he hit retirement age. he had no ideal life in mind, only work and justice to occupy his thoughts, until you came along and he found himself exchanging vows with you in a fontainian church.

⇢ he wouldn’t call his current life ‘retirement’ per se, but rather a change of occupation. tending to the house while you left for your job appealed to him more than working day in and day out in courthouses. he had taken up baking and cooking, something to treat the visiting melusines with as they dropped by to check on their father and his partner. neuvillette and a party of chatty melusines having tea and homemade cookies is a common sight to return home to. the melusines are pretty friendly with you, having seen how enamored their father figure is with you. their innocent smiles and cute lil bodies are stress relievers, though not more so than your husband’s gentle smile and firm hands massaging the knots from your shoulders.

⇢ he busies himself with various hobbies once all the chores are out of the way. flip through a book and read out loud to the melusines snuggled on top of him, attempt a baking recipe one of the girls begged him to try, or stroll through the neighborhood to clear his mind. he doesn’t even know he’s so so lonely until he hears your car pull up in the driveway and he immediately jumps up from whatever he’s doing and rushes over to greet you. the first thing you see is your husband peering through the window with a cool composure, but you can see straight through that facade. you see his brows knitted together in worry, his fingers nervously adjusting the hems of his robe, and his eyes eagerly drinking your tired body in as you make it up the steps. you can’t help but smile as you bring him down to your level and kiss him, your big, awkward oaf of a husband.

⇢ is very particular about the water in your household. taps are all filtered, the water dispenser is stocked with only the best brands, and he is oh-so-meticulous when it comes to drawing your baths! he makes sure that the water is at the right temperature, filters out any impurities no matter how minuscule of an atom by his hand, and uses salts and bath bombs according to what he assumes will be your liking for the day. the both of you prioritized the bathroom when building your house, so the bathtub and the surrounding atmosphere is juuust right for a little cuddle time in the bath.

⇢ dragon-born that he is, you have to forgive neuvillette’s tendencies of being a tad too possessive. well, ‘tad’ is a bit underselling it, but you have to understand. the whiskey scent stuck to your wrinkled laundry, the nauseating aroma of another one’s perfume… something dark and guttural creeps from within his depths that he forces himself to repress. you know he’s not one for perfumes, but if you did wear one it would be one that he liked— crisp, fresh, aquatic. not this scent-numbing sweetness that cloys his senses. he’d like to burn the top and its offensive scent away but… he remembers how damn good you look in this v-neck and decides that it’s nothing a lil spin the wash can’t fix.

⇢ luckily, your husband is still on the saner side, so you’re one of the lucky few who might never come across your husband’s violent tendencies. but they still come out, just a bit more… subtly. he massages your stiff shoulders late at night as he puts on a record on the gramophone for you, listening to you rant about your terrible boss. there are a few details that make him pause, and for a second there you thought he was going to pop your arms from their sockets. but he composes himself so quickly that you think you just imagined it. he inquires a bit more, rubbing your back with a generous helping of lavender oil, and you tell it all to him because… why wouldn’t you? this is your sweet, worried husband who is oh-so-wise and amazing!

⇢ the very next day, not your boss but your upper management gets a visit from the maison gardiennage. they’re all in upheaval now that they’ve got the police on them, but neuvillette is sitting at home contently, sipping tea with you in the garden after your office has suddenly called off work for the day. he’s taking glances from his oh-so-interesting novel to watch your face as you reach for another cookie the girls baked, rambling about how miraculous it for your company to generously allow all of you a day-off. he just chuckles and goes back to his book, gratefully accepting a cookie a melusine’s reaches towards his mouth.

“oh, it hardly feels real!” you gush over a cup of rose tea, lounging in the shade of your backyard’s trees while you, neuvillette, and the melusines enjoy a perfect sunny afternoon. “they called the whole day off, it falls on a friday, i get to have a long weekend, and i get to spend it all with you and the girls!” you sigh dreamily. “pinch me neuvi, it feels like a dream!” your husband, picture-perfect in his chair with a book and melusine in his arms, chuckles at your dramatics. “dear, if one measly day off makes you act this way, maybe it’s time for you to find another job. or…” feeling huffy by the mere implication, you abruptly stand up and slam your hands on the table.  “no, no, neuvi! i love you, but i can’t possibly have you working again! you deserve it after all these years of hard work! i want you to just sit back and relax and have your awesome partner shower you in money, okay?” he takes your face  in his hand, his thumb running along your dark undereyes. you watch as his face, normally so composed yet awkward, contort into a mixture of worry and regret, before finally dissolving into acceptance. “well. that i would allow. so long as you return to by my side at the end of the night.” you giggle and press a kiss into his palm before plopping back down. “so romantic!” you tease. “of course, neuvi! where else would i come back to anyway?” you don’t know it, but the dragon inside him preens at your unknowing admission of ownership as he settles back into his chair and continues his novel with a silent smile on his face.

[ “well girls, that is how marriage ought to be when you are bound to a dragon. ownership of your spouse and in turn, protect your treasure at all times.” ]

— EMISSARY OF SOLITARY INIQUITY. wriothesley | リオセスリ

[ “keep my shirt on, you say? well sure, but you’re the one enjoying the show.” ]

⇢ your darn stud of a husband…! with his cool blue eyes, his large scarred biceps, that cocky smirk when he catches you staring and just… everything about him, he makes you feel like you’re back to the younger you who could only stare yearningly at him from afar. he’s always teasing you, making sure to unbutton the first three buttons just to show off his cleavage… he gets a kick out of seeing you blushing and squeaking when he gets too close wearing nothing but an apron.

⇢ when the two of you moved into the neighborhood, he scared off the neighbors with his cold features and muscled, scarred body, but that’s not quite the case anymore. they quickly got to know him as pretty easygoing and reliable; the community relies on him for a lot of heavy lifting for their projects, and he frequently invites the aunties for tea parties in your backyard. you often come home to the aunties filing out your gate in giggles, slapping you on the shoulder for a job well done securing such a ‘hunk of a man’. you raise your eyebrows at wriothesley, who leans against the door frame with a smug smirk before beckoning you for dinner.

⇢ he’s a little bit hesitant whenever the topic of having kids comes up. he knows he is not his foster parents… and yet the thought of setting these scarred hands on an innocent little life. these hands have ended people— cruel, abusive, and cold-hearted, but people nonetheless. he’s afraid that he might continue the cycle of abuse that he’s been haunted by for so long. wriothesley knows deep down that will never happen; you were there to ground him and keep his wits about him, but his fears still surface whenever the conversation happens. these children would be yours too, and he wants nothing but the best for you and this family.

⇢ when you talk to him about a co-worker hitting on you at work, he isn’t so insecure as to immediately get jealous and possessive. he’s a smug bastard; he knows he’s hot. he’s got aunties telling him, men and women alike eyeing him in the gym, and he’s got you blushing every day like you aren’t married. so he only laughs with you at their meaningless attempts. things get… a bit different when you’re in actual danger. throughout your relationship, wriothesley’s always been the overprotective type. sometimes you think he’s going too far, with the way you’ve seen him throwing hands and crushing skulls at sleazy men trying to grope you in bars. but you haven’t seen anything yet.

⇢ you don’t know. you don’t know his past, don’t know his deeds, don’t know his sins. he’s only ever presented himself as a suave, teasing gentleman. he was as normal as a prison warden could get and he played this role until you said yes to his proposal. you don’t know about life before he was in power. when he was the one behind those bars. you’ve never questioned why he didn’t let you into his workspace or why he was so eager to get away from that life as soon as you two signed the marriage papers.

⇢ and so it sends a shiver down your spine when you see wriothesley so… lifeless. you thought it was a nice surprise, seeing your husband wait for you outside your work, but with the way he’s staring down your co-worker you’re beginning to suspect that he’s not actually there for you. you try pushing him to make him budge, but his muscled body doesn’t move an inch as the slimy rat scampers away from his glare. you call out his name, worriedly, and he blinks a few times before he’s back to his normal, friendly self. you spend the rest of the week in unease, those strangers’ eyes haunting you at the back of your mind.

“look at you,” wriothesley hums, dropping the nearly unconscious person from his grasp. they fall to the alley’s cement ground, heaving and spluttering blood as they try to regain their senses. splotches of black block their vision, the buzz of nightlife so far away and muffled in his ringing ears, and when he tries to prop himself up, the ex-warden’s glare makes them freeze in terror. “i don’t make a habit of hurting people, believe me, but it’s hard to stay calm when i hear some rat is harassing my partner when i’m not there.” he presses a heel into their ruptured throat, indifferent to the ensued coughing and choking. “do you know how long i’ve been waiting for this? to teach you a lesson?” “i don’t— wheeze— don’t know what’re ya talkin’ about—!” at this, wriothesley scowls and he releases them from his heel’s pressure before delivering a swift kick to their shin. they’re sent flying towards a dumpster, their back hitting the metal and sending them back to the concrete. wriothesley approaches them, towering over their bloody figure. they’re ways off from the red district and even if they could scream, their throat is too damaged to even think about it. they can only stare in growing fear as they pray that this… monster before him would spare him. “pleading guilty, huh? too bad.” their eyes roll to the back of their head as his fingers wrap around their throat, crushing their pipe with the eased movements of a murderer. “i’m not some justice system. i’m just here to kill you. plain and simple” he grins at the dying man still weakly struggling to push away his arm. “you understand, right? all’s fair in love and war… or somethin’ like that.”

[ “they said something about me? pay no mind. people like to gossip about handsome people like me.” ]

— SPECTACLE OF PHANTASMAGORIA. lyney | リネ

[ “one moment there is nothing in my palm and the next… tada! roses from the garden! welcome home~” ]

⇢ lyney’s always been the coy, teasing type. he likes to suddenly pull your faces together, breath on your lips as he leans in for a kiss, before his finger slips in a failed cooking and he bounces away laughing as you splutter and gag. he likes to wake up in the morning, innocent stretching as if he doesn’t notice the way his shorts ride up his thighs and your shirt on him hiking up to show his lean physique. he puts on a show— hiding his face as he teases you for being a pervert for enjoying his oh-so-vulnerable body. you blush and finish straightening out your necktie, leaving lyney to laugh as you bolt out the door for work.

⇢ even before you were married, the two of you already enjoy all the stresses and joys that come with being parents. lyney, after all, is the successor of the same orphanage he grew up in. the children there call him ‘father’ and when he introduced you to them, you found yourself taking up the same parent role as your partner. lyney is overjoyed to see you take to the children so well, fondly dropping by the orphanage next door and taking time out of your busy schedule to play with them. when you’re finall off the clock, you see lyney in an apron waving you from the porch surrounded by children leaning over to greet you two. you always have to tighten your grip on the steering wheel whenever you see the sight. it’s like… it’s like… gah, you can’t explain it, but something about this domestic bliss lights up a fire in your loins.

⇢ has a habit of rewarding you after a long day’s work. once he makes sure that all the orphans are settled in for the night, the two of you move to your abode next door so he can soothe the stress from your body. poor thing, he murmurs, finger tickling the shell of your ear as he sets down your plate in front of you. his pretty partner, being bullied by their big, mean boss and their pushy co-workers. lucky for you, you’ve got such an adoring husband ready to take care of you for the rest of the night, huh?

⇢ family. family. he’s had lynette, but to have parents by his side to coddle and cherish him? he’s never grown to know such a feeling. so when he sees you playing with the kids, begrudging in indulging their outlandish requests yet smiling with such fondness… something inside him burns so passionately he thinks it might consume him. by blood, these kids were not his but this must be it. to have a whole and complete family. and to have this family with you, the love of his life! were it not for the tight feeling in his chest, he would’ve thought that this would be a fantastical dream.

⇢ the house of the hearth is just a government recruitment agency under the guise of a loving orphanage, and everyone but you is privy to that information. you don’t recognize your own children following you in the streets or peering into your office windows. the cctvs don’t catch them rustling through your boss’ drawers for black market transactions. why would you, when you come home to them smiling and hugging your legs, begging you for a bedtime story? when you retire for the night, they report to their boss— their Father— and it’s just another day of keeping their family whole and happy.

⇢ you are, after all, are lyney’s weakness. you remain blissfully aware of the many people after your head, hoping to cut deep into snezhnayan government by gaining the upper hand with lyney. so you don’t know how much blood has been shed in your name by the same innocent kids you’ve grown to care for as your own… or the fact that it has been all commanded by your loving and faithful husband, who kisses you on the lips so sweetly every night that you would never know they’ve been long tainted by poison.

“father,” one of his children kneel on the ground, cloaked in black as they ready to deliver their report for the day. “nothing unusual has happened today in the office.” “that’s good news then!” ‘Father’ claps happily as he lounges lazily on his mahogany office desk. despite the smile in his voice and his cheery demeanor, his child doesn’t have to look up to see the cold-hearted eyes of an experienced agency and killer. “nice to know that the new boss has been behaving himself. it took so many of them before they realized what was actually going on!” “yes, father, this new one has been behaving himself but…” his child pauses, cautious to speak what they were about to say. “have you not considered asking mama to move jobs?” lyney sighs and puts a hand on his cheek. “oh dear, believe me i have. in fact, i even said that they didn’t need this job! but, well, you know how stubborn your mama can be. they wouldn’t even hear of it! i hope you and the other children can persuade them but… before that time comes, let’s just support your mama in whatever they want.” the child nods in understanding. they are, after all, the shining example of all their children. they remind him of himself back when he was still under the previous father’s care. “i will try, father. mama has promised to bring cake and have tea time with us when they get off their job so… maybe.” “hehe, your mama really loves you all so. have fun then, dear~”

[ “what do you mean the children have been acting strangely? maybe you’re tired from all that work you’re doing…” ]

— YEARNING FOR UNSEEN DEPTHS. freminet | フレミネ

[ “even though i am the way that i am… i hope i can always make you happy, like you make me.” ]

⇢ your sweet, sweet husband! he’s always hiding those shy blue eyes behind his pale blonde hair, head hunched over some mechanical device or seeking respite in his diving helmet. even after all these years together and eventually getting married, he’s still so shy when it comes to initiating physical contact. someone in this relationship has to, and so it seems to fall on your shoulders to get the hugs and kisses the two of you deserve. it’s not like you’re complaining, not when you can hear that precious squeak when you wrap your arms around his delicate waist and press a giggle-kiss onto his neck while he’s cooking up breakfast.

⇢ he’s a bit insecure about his role in your marriage. it has nothing to do with being a housewife, really! it’s just that… once you’re gone, he’s just so totally lost. at least when you’re there with him he can feel human again instead of some clockwork puppet rusting at home. you would guide him and tell him on what to do instead of him alone fretting and fussing over what he should do and if he would even get it right. you would never hurt him, and yet you get a bit concerned whenever you arrive home and freminet is there waiting for you with his hands nervously wrung together. you have to assure him that you would never get mad at such a sweet and dutiful housewife! only a monster would! and freminet knows that you’re anything but a monster.

⇢ you wouldn’t be able to tell by his face, but whenever you show him off to your co-workers and friends, he’s so over the moon that it’s a wonder he can contain himself. hearing you call him by such sicky-sweet names like ‘honey, dearie, baby, lovely’ while bragging about him has him hiding his face, but it’s only because he feels like the smile on his face looks so stupid! the others gag while you drone on and on about how pretty and amazing your partner is and freminet can only look down on his lap and clenched fists as he squirms in his seat. knowing that you adore him as much as he adores you… it makes his heart beat a mile per minute, something he thought would never happen before he met you.

⇢ he’s deathly scared of losing you. without you, he fears that he’ll revert back to his old self— that soulless, emotionless human more akin to a robot than a person. all his life he thought he would be better off unfeeling and wishing to be born with gears than a heart, but you came by and showed him how colorful life could be with the right person. he doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s so incompetent, so clumsy, so socially inept… how could he ever compare to the wonderful brilliant you?

⇢ he hopes you don’t hate him when he gets rid of these better, more amazing people. they’re usually your co-workers, sometimes strangers who’ve caught your eye, rarely ever your friends (he doesn’t want to make you unhappy). killing is rare for him and something he doesn’t do on a whim, but he fears that once you surround yourself with so many brilliant people you’ll see him for the failure that he is. so, even if it is only a temporary solution, he dons the diving mask and takes them out at the perfect timing. he was raised to be the perfect assassin, so in theory, he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught—

⇢ — except that you know him better than he knows himself. you have a talent for seeing through him that he gets scared that you’ll immediately sus out what he’s done the moment he walks through the door. on these days, he gets clingy and more affectionate, trying to make up for what he’s done. it’s a pleasant surprise to see your taciturn husband fling himself at you and nuzzle his head in your chest without further explanation. usually, people would demand an explanation for the sudden change of behavior… but why would you? you’re not going to complain if freminet decides to shower you with love out of nowhere! freminet in turn is just glad that you’re the way you are. you’ve invested so much love and resources into him… he doesn’t want to waste all of that and throw it all away.

“you’re so cute!” you giggle as you spin freminet around, still cuddled into your chest and pale arms around your torso. “what’s with the sudden love bomb? gosh, how were you born so cute! it doesn’t make sense!” you pepper kisses onto his face as you press him against the sofa, delighting in the way he tries to cover the blush on his freckled cheeks at your over-affectionate behavior. “n-nothing, really…” he mumbles, peeking at you through his fingers as you continue to shower him with pecks. you’ve loosened your tie and your white button-down has been wrinkled thoroughly by this sudden love fest. “i just… i love you, [your name]. i love you a lot.” you hum happily at his confession. this was nothing that you didn’t know, but it was still delightful to hear. you hear him suck in a breath, hesitating, before finally letting it out, “do– do you love me too…?” you cease your incessant kissing just to raise a brow at him, an incredulous look on your face. he reddens even further. he knows it’s a stupid question. how could anyone with two eyes ever question your love for your blonde husband? but still… he wants to hear it. even if he’s heard it from you this morning, and the day before, and every day before that… he wants to hear it now. “i love you, silly.” you boop him on the nose, flopping yourself beside him on the couch. he turns to look at you, his ice-blue eyes peering up at you through long lashes. “always have, always will.” you thread your fingers together. his hands, unlike the rest of him, are calloused and rough. hardened by those years of diving, perhaps? or something else? nevertheless, you press his hand to your lips and look at him. “i’ll say it as many times as you want.” you watch as those eyes, usually so taciturn and shy, tear up at your confession. you were so loving, so wonderful… he could hardly believe that you were his. “thank you… thank you, [your name], i just…”  he lets out a choked laugh, a rare smile breaking out on those delicate features. “i don’t know… i just feel stupid today.” you hum in understanding, pressing another kiss to each of his fingers while he watches you. “rough day?” you ask, and he simply nods, not wanting to elaborate further. it’s okay. more than okay. you could guess by the metallic tang blooming on your lips on how exactly his day went.

[ “please… please don’t hate me… you don’t deserve this but i… but i don’t want them to realize what kind of person i am!” ]

— BEYOND MORTALITY. baizhu | 白术

[ “look at those dark circles… don’t prioritize your career over your health, okay? do it for me?” ]

⇢ baizhu is always fussing over your health despite being the sickly one, but you suppose that’s in line with him being a doctor. your pretty husband has relocated his clinic to your new home together and continues to enjoy a steady stream of his loyal customers. you worry about baizhu overworking himself while you’re at work, but him being at home puts you at ease. at least changsheng will be able to quickly guide him to bed whenever his chronic illness flares up and he has little qiqi with him… actually, you think you’re more worried about qiqi.

⇢ being married to baizhu comes with the benefit of welcoming qiqi and changsheng into your family. he treats qiqi like his own child despite being an amnesiac girl that he picked off his streets that you’ve grown to also care for her like she was your own daughter. baizhu tells you that you needn’t spoil her so much; she’ll probably forget to put on the new dress you bought for her, but he can’t tell you what to do! baizhu enjoys seeing you fawn over the child, watching in amusement as you desperately try to make her remember your name. it’s been a tough journey, but you are over the moon once she calls you mama/papa. that does make baizhu a tad jealous, something that changsheng teases him about. after all, he’s been with qiqi longer!

⇢ the two of you enjoy your quiet moments together. when night has fallen and qiqi has retired to her room, the two of you sit in the living room as you prepare for another day’s work. only his rustling of prescription papers and your hurried tapping on the keyboard can be heard; not a single conversation passes between you two. even changsheng has drifted off to sleep in the midst of this silence. finishing the last email for the day, you stretch and look to see how baizhu is doing. as always, he’s always so pretty focused on the task before him. his hair is still braided in its usual fashion, and you settle behind him and slowly detangle his locks. he doesn’t glance at you, but he hums in appreciation. his hair, oiled and trimmed at changsheng’s insistence, is soft and glossy as you brush it while you wait for him to finish up.

⇢ although he’s lauded by his patients as kind and selfless, those who don’t know him would think that he has an odd air about him. maybe it’s because his eyes contain a hidden cunning that the people you introduce him to becomes rather wary of him. or is it the way that he talks all politely but with a subtle bite to them? you don’t know why he becomes rather passive-aggressive when you invite someone over to your home, but you’re so enthralled by this change of behavior that you forget to scold him for it. your friends complain about the way baizhu looks at them from head to toe like he’s assessing them. you have to explain that it’s actually a doctor’s habit, some sort of medical procedure… or so baizhu explained once.

⇢ physical ailments are his expertise, mental illnesses he can refer his patients to another doctor, but stupdity is a disease that unfortunately cannot be cured. before he married you, he abhorred the disgusting feelings that stirred inside him whenever he sees you smile at another person. but now that he has married you and you have proclaimed yourself as his, he’s thrown away all self-disgust now that his jealousy has been justified. it’s human nature to feel possessive over someone that is his by right. for your sake, he tries to be as civil as possible… though it becomes impossible whenever he hears them complain about him to you whenever they think he’s out of earshot.

⇢ if they refuse to give the two of you some space, then baizhu surmises that he will have to do it himself. herbal concoctions are his thing, after all. who said it needed to be medicine? changsheng hisses in amusement as he mashes herbs together out in the lawn while you’re snoring away in bed. her eyes flicker to baizhu, face shadowed by the dark of night. before you, he’s always been so civil and logical. aside from his frail constitution, changsheng thinks that his marriage to you might have given her partner another malady.

“hey, baizhu, something’s up with guanxi,” is the first thing you sat when you come back from work. changsheng watches as the doctor’s eye twitches before he forces his lips to smile warmly to greet you. you peck your husband on the cheek. “he’s been coughing and hacking blood since yesterday.” “oh my,” he says in a tone that’s supposed to sound concerned. “that is concerning. go contact him to see when he’s available and i’ll squeeze him into my schedule tomorrow.” you start tp dial his number on your phone, before you stop and after a few seconds of thinking, shake your head. “nah… that wouldn’t work. he gets very awkward around you. says you give him the creeps. i don’t get it! you’re like, the most perfect being to exist.” baizhu giggles when you cup his head into your palms as you admire the beauty that is your husband. you slyly smile and whisper. “don’t tell him, but just for that, i gave him twice more work than he had to do.” and people think he’s sly. they should see you! baizhu laughs at your show of devotion and presses a kiss into one of your palms. “now, now. you can’t make all your friends like me the way you adore me so. but, well… call it coincidence, but i did make your favorite today.” you gasp in delight. “is this my gift for avenging my darling wife?!” he rolls his eyes at your dramatic antics and pinch your cheeks fondly. “mmm, call it a… hm, a celebration feast.”

[ “oh my, and i just had the prescription for that as well. people should trust their local doctors more.” ]

[manynarrators]

Thinking about Armand getting sick— sick enough to have a noticeable change in his body and how in some ways it makes him more tragic.

In the books he’s turned quite young, at 17, before he’s properly grown into what he would look like as a man.

But for show!Armand who was turned at 27, he absolutely would have seen that whole development. And then, through this wasting illness, lost parts of it. That no matter what he does or how much he eats his body will always show these ravages of illness.

Armand being doomed to look in the mirror with a slight disconnect in what he sees and knows as his body and what he knows as what it could be.

The sickness also helps tie into the rule about not turning the weak, instead of the young. In either case, it helps parallel Claudia in that, logically, neither of them should have been made. Both of them have a disconnect between who they are and what they look like. But that, just like in the books, Armand’s is less severe and thus easier to live with.

[apathyfairy]

if i read through my old notes or my old posts from like 3 years ago i’m like. who is that like that person is dead. who even am i anymore like i have lost all sense of self at this point

[aliencatwafers]

Beside Myself With Worry

[luna-azzurra]

Some Tips for writing internal conflict

Wanting Two Things at Once Imagine your character really wants to chase after something big, like a dream school, a major opportunity, or maybe even moving to a new city. But at the same time, they’re terrified of leaving behind everything they’ve ever known. Or maybe they’re in a relationship that’s holding them back, but they can’t bring themselves to let go. Show them getting pulled in two directions, torn between their ambition and their fear of losing the people or places that ground them.

Right vs. Wrong Sometimes, your character will know deep down what the right choice is, but it’s the most difficult one to make. Like, maybe they see someone getting bullied and know they should stand up, but doing so could make them a target. Or maybe they have to decide between helping a friend and doing something that could ruin their own future. These moral dilemmas create intense internal conflict because it forces them to question who they are and what they stand for.

Doubting Themselves We all have moments where we wonder if we’re enough, smart enough, strong enough, brave enough. Let your character wrestle with that same doubt. Maybe they’re the kid who has always been told they’re special, but now they’re in a place where everyone is just as good, and they start to wonder if they even belong. Or maybe they’ve been through something tough, and they’re not sure if they can bounce back. These moments of insecurity make your character feel human, like they’re trying to figure it all out, just like everyone else.

Dreams vs. Fears Show your character dreaming big but getting frozen by their own fears. It’s like wanting to ask someone out but being terrified of rejection, or wanting to move away for college but being scared to leave home. Let them imagine all the things that could go wrong , that moment when fear makes them doubt if they should even try. But also show their desire burning just as strong, making it impossible to ignore. That’s the heart of internal conflict: they’re stuck between wanting something so bad and being afraid of what it’ll cost to go after it.

Beliefs Being Challenged As your character grows, the world will start challenging their beliefs. Maybe they grew up in a family that drilled certain values into them, and now they’re meeting people who see things differently. Or maybe they’re experiencing something new, and it’s changing their perspective. It’s like when you think you have everything figured out, and then life throws something at you that makes you go, "Wait, maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time." This kind of internal conflict is powerful because it forces the character to question who they’ve always been.

Keeping Secrets If your character is hiding something, like a mistake they made, feelings they’re afraid to admit, or a truth they don’t want to face, that secret becomes a huge part of their internal conflict. The fear of being found out or of dealing with the consequences can create a constant pressure in their mind. Maybe they’re scared they’ll lose their friends if the truth comes out, or maybe they’re dealing with guilt they can’t shake. The tension comes from their battle to keep it hidden while knowing they can’t keep it locked away forever.

Pressure from Everyone Your character might feel like they’re trapped between what they want for themselves and what everyone else wants from them. It could be pressure from parents, who have their whole future planned out, or pressure from friends to fit in or follow the crowd. Maybe your character wants to be true to themselves, but they’re scared of disappointing people or standing out too much. This kind of internal conflict is super relatable because, at some point, everyone feels like they’re stuck between living for themselves and living for others.

Fear of Failing Sometimes the biggest obstacle isn’t the external challenge but the internal fear of failure. Your character might have big dreams, but they’re paralyzed by the thought of messing up. Whether it’s competing in a sport, performing on stage, or just trying something new, the fear of not being good enough can be overwhelming. Maybe they’re afraid that if they fail, everyone will see them differently, or worse, that they’ll see themselves differently. The internal conflict comes from their desire to succeed battling against their crippling fear of failure.

[choslut]

plug!vi + her pretty pink sorority bitch | nsfw, mdni

plug!vi who has her eye on her newest client. you’re just such a pretty, pink girl, never the type to be buying drugs, especially not off of someone like vi. hell, you would never even dare be seen in public with someone like vi, but as a sorority sister, someone has to do the job of getting weed for every party.

plug!vi who actually hates you when she first meets you. you’re the epitome of the stuck up rich prick stereotype, in a pink tesla with perfectly painted nails and makeup that’s never out of place. she wonders what you’re like when you’re high, because she can never imagine seeing you with even a hair out of place.

plug!vi who is surprised when you roll up to the usual meeting spot one day, this time with mascara flooding down your cheeks and enough money for only one preroll. you’re blubbering to her like you’ve known her forever, about how your boyfriend cheated on you with your own sorority sister, and how you can never trust guys with your heart ever again because it’s too delicate to be broken…

plug!vi who sits in the back of your car with you to smoke the preroll you just bought. she discovers you’re a total ditz when greened out, giggling and pushing and play fighting her, with pupils wide enough to make your irises turn black. you’re so far gone you don’t even notice her sly hand beginning to slide up your skirt…

plug!vi who fingers you in the back of your baby pink tesla, just to prove a point that you don’t need a boyfriend to feel good. all the while, she’s shotgunning joint smoke into your mouth, her lips fighting not to press against yours until you fist your hands in her shirt and pull her in for a kiss.

plug!vi who then goes on to eat you out, your stockinged legs thrown over her shoulders as she goes to town on your overstimulated cunt. and you’re absolutely loving it, whining out her name and apologising to her for being such a damn brat every time you met up with her.

she forgives you, of course, but only because the next time she sees you, she’ll be doing the same thing; smoking a joint with you and getting you high enough to let her eat you out in your very own backseat. and eventually, she starts supplying you for free. not because she likes you (because she still doesn’t), but because she likes the taste of your cunt on her lips, and can’t see herself giving it up any time soon.

plug!vi who very easily becomes addicted. not to drugs, but to you.

© choslut — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission • attending a gala with vi || masterlist

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny Fenton is so damn sick of rich fruit loops. It’s worse now, since he’s one of them.

It’s not Vlad that he’s with, thank the Ancients, but Danny isn’t sure that this is better.

Because he’s Timothy Drake, a baby, and he’s been reincarnated after the Ancient of Reincarnation accidentally drank too much wine.

He’s going to kick their ass so hard when he gets back.

Danny huffs. He rolls over, ignoring the silent manor. Sure, he’s read the comics. Sure, he laughed and imagined being adopted by Batman- come on, Danny had black hair and blue eyes even back then, he was totally adoption bait- when his parents gave him reason to lose trust in their love. But that’s it, that’s all he thought it was. A day dream, a wish for a universe that didn’t exist.

Danny hadn’t understood the reality of the whole Infinite Realms thing, a place he was now the King of. Batman? Real. Danny? Reincarnated. Hotel? Trivago.

Like, this wasn’t what he meant, dammit.

And now he’s stuck as Timothy Drake, and Ancients, he was starting to see parallels.

——

Danny tried photography. He really did. He wanted to at least stick to the source material. But that’s not who he is. Even with the shiny new brain that memorized, catalogued, and put together clues at the snap of his fingers, but Danny’s never been one to take photos. It’s a respectable art, for sure, but Danny preferred to live in the moment instead of capturing it to remember forever. It’s just-

He watched the Graysons fall. He watched Dick Grayson turn into Robin. And Danny can’t and won’t ever betray his Obsession like that, ever again. He can’t let Jason die for his “story” to begin. That’s not how Danny works.

He’s there to protect.

Danny hasn’t ever been just Tim. Danny was also Tim and the Ghost King without a haunt. But now? Gotham is his haunt. He, in lieu of an actual city spirit, is Gotham. He’s also a Drake. And Drakes were meant to hoard.

Batman and Robin? They are his.

He claimed them, as a Drake. But that claim is weak. So he claimed them as their city, and that is a claim that will never be able to be challenged.

Danny’ll be damned before he allows some lanky starved clown beat the life out of one of his Robins. So, for the first time in his nine years on this planet, Tim-Danny goes ghost and flies.

“Who- who. Are you?” Robin slurred from his place in Danny’s hold. He is broken, yes. But not dead. Danny infuses some of his vitality, his ecto, into Jason’s injuries to help them heal.

“Gotham.” Danny replied, layering his ghostly voice with those of the city.

“Goth’m?”

“Gotham. Sleep, little bird. Your city has got you.”

When Robin, Jason, settled with a sense of trust that tugs at Danny’s core, Danny carried him to Batman, whose eyes were wild and manic. He glared menacingly at the green and white ghost in front of him, who was holding his broken and beaten son-

Well, it’d be menacing if Danny hadn’t watched him eat bricks and mortar, crashing into a building while using his grappling gun.

“You-”

“I am Gotham.” Danny cut him off. Despite his wary nature and natural paranoia, Batman settled at his city’s gaze rested on him. Danny knew that Batman recognized his city. Batman’s head bowed, but his eyes stayed on Robin. “You were supposed to take care of Robin.”

“I- I know.” And that voice was all Bruce Wayne the Dad instead of Batman the Vigilante. Danny gently placed Robin in Batman’s arms, taking in the tremors as he held his son close.

“Go back, Bruce. And make sure Jason knows how much you love him.”

He laughed as Bruce whipped his head upwards. “I am your city. You are mine as much as I am yours. I’ve known of you before you were born.”

Technically? Not untrue. But Bruce will chalk it up to weird magic shit. It’s not like it’s a secret that Gotham’s kind of curse. Besides, this way, Danny will be able to help out more often. And Bruce won’t be able to connect Tim Drake to the “Spirit of Gotham.”

“Return, my knight. This is not your city. I can not protect you as well as I can in Gotham.”

“Thank you… Gotham.”

Danny sighed. He wondered when he’ll have to field questions from a John Constantine. He’s pretty sure Bruce will call in magical help, even if it was his own city he was investigating.

Batman’s lucky Danny liked him enough to allow it.

[emmyrosee]

Okay okay hear me out.

Sukuna and reader visiting little brother Yuji at school for whatever reason.

I can imagine people would prob find Sukuna super scary and intimidating and try to move away from him but he doesn’t rlly mind it.

And imagine Sukuna carrying a tiny Yuji and playing around with him at the play ground oml 🤭🤭🤭

GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHDDDDDD

There’s just this mammoth of a man, ducking through school hallways and bearing his teeth at anyone who dares look his way. He’s blanketed in tattoos, he’s in a tank and sweats, completely inappropriate attire for a guardian-teacher conference. But hey, it ain’t his fault his Ma couldn’t make it in.

In his ring clad left hand, is your right. In his bent right arm and perched on his hip, is Yuuji. You and Yuuji, naturally, are smiling and waving at everyone while Sukuna guides you both through the halls, and he looks like a ferocious beast barely able to be tamed enough to be there. People quite literally part the halls to let you all pass, and it makes you turn your head to him.

“Why is everyone looking at us?” You ask, he flicks his gaze down to you briefly before looking back down the hall.

“Because you’re too hot to not look at,” he says, and when you giggle and press a kiss to the back of his hand, he smirks.

Yuuji starts to squirm and paw outwards at a classroom, and inside a kind looking teacher waves, calling the three of you in.

The conference goes as planned, Yuuji is learning on track, not great with his alphabet yet but superb with counting, he gets along with all the kids but has one special friend named Fushiguro that he spends all his time with, and he’s just the happiest boy to be around in class.

“Nothing like you, huh babe?” You tease Sukuna, and he nods while the teacher laughs.

“Jokes on you,” he begins. “I’m great at the alphabet.”

After being dismissed, you once again walk through the halls of parted guardians before making your way outside, where Yuuji once again starts to paw at the playground. Sukuna rolls his eyes, “come on, ma’ll kill me if you’re late for nap time.”

“But!” Yuuji whines.

You coo at sukuna, “a few minutes won’t kill him. It’ll tucker him out even more, no?” You flash your own pair of puppy eyes at him, “please, sukuna?”

“Fuck, are you asking for you or for him?” He scoffs, passing you the small child. You two squeal and make your way to the playground, making a beeline for the slide. Yuuji eagerly climbs up the ladder while sukuna trails behind.

“Su’kna!” He calls to his brother. “Catch!”

“I’m not catching-“

He can’t finish his sentence before yuuji starts to slide down on his bottom, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna move so fast in your entire relationship, than to catch his little brother at the base of the slide to catch him in his big arms. The little boy giggles as he’s caught and hauled back into the air by his brother, “you’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Yuuji simply laughs as he squirms from his brothers grip and runs off, leaving you and sukuna to watch.

“He’s such a good boy,” you hum.

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, “he’s just okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” you snort, resting your head against him. He goes quiet, and you look up at him lovingly, “what’re you thinking about in that big melon head of yours?”

He glares down at you briefly before sighing and shaking his head, “he’s just… he’s so big.”

“I know,” you agree.

“And… I want him… to stay this way. Forever.” He chuckles, “don’t want him to grow up and one day be stuck with a brat like you.”

“I’m not a brat,” you scoff. But you turn your head up to him to press a kiss to his jawline, “but he’ll always be little, to you. And hey- if he does meet a brat, he knows you’ll be there to take care of him.”

He hums and watches as his brother climbs to the top of the jungle gym, calling Sukuna’s name proudly. “I gotta go make sure he doesn’t break his arm. Want to go to the truck?”

You chuckle and nod, “sure. I’ll see you both in a bit.”

[bunnwich]

This is altogether random, but I feel you might appreciate the idea: since Leona is doing his internship with a mining company in Sunset Savanna, I like to think if he were to propose to his partner, any ring would have a stone he found himself (then or years later) that made him think of them, because they’re worth the effort.

No, I love this so much and this actually inspired to think of some HC for Leona and Yuu's engagement!! So pardon me as I use this as an excuse to yap/draw.

🧡Leona x Yuu Proposal

🧡Engagement:

I picture Leona and Yuu would be together a while time before he worrys about marriage. Leona as we know is not traditional by any means. And the two are so used to just…being there for each other, lives intertwined like a braid. 

At this time after NRC I see Leona having his hands in a few things, but mostly just there as support for Yuu and even Ruggie as they navigate graduating. After his internship he currently sits as a member of the Board of Environmental Utilization.

I think they would already live together in a somewhat isolated place near the edge of the Outlands and Sunrise City. Leona originally helped get it for Yuu to have a forever home but now he finds himself there more and more. It's a bit of a fixer-upper, reminding Yuu of the Ramshackle.

I imagine their house has a revolving door policy and often has uninvited guests, Ruggie comes to visit a lot and uses it as a place to crash when he's in town to see his Granny. And then there's Cheka (who is now a teen rebelling against his parents.)

Often the two take late-night drives in Leona’s jeep to get away from the craziness of all. Leona struggles trying to adapt to a more humble living situation and lifestyle. (he still can't work the microwave for a damn), but he tries enjoying the quiet life he has with Yuu. Yuu is still figuring out how they will fit in in their new homeland as a Sunset Savanna citizen.

I feel Leona’s family would be hassling them about marriage for years but neither are too keen on the idea of it liking their private life. However, Leona knows it’s the easiest way to protect Yuu and make sure they always have a home and inherit the house they fixed up together. (Should anything ever happen to him.) Plus, it would give them full citizenship in his homeland. 

So one day, he decides that it's time to make it legal. Of course, he already knew a long time ago that they belonged to one another, this is so cemented in his mind and he’s not even that nervous about it. At this point, they’ve been through so much together they live together, they are one. So, he does it in his Leona way.

On one of their sunset drives together he pulls out a special ring his sister-in-law helped him design with Yuu's three favorite stones that he’d sent them in their time apart. He had two requests when he had it made: it had to have a moon for Yuu and a stone for both of them.

Leona during his internship would often collect stones he would find in the mines, finding some to send to Yuu. He knew that they liked that sorta stuff even if he didn't care for it. And he didn’t mind writing down little geological facts for them. 

“So…ya wanna be married to me?”

Yuu would honestly not expect it. And he said it so casually too! Smug bastard. But as usual, he was…right, their lives were so connected they couldn't imagine not seeing his cocky face every day or hearing his soft words of encouragement then loud ass snores every night.

“Okay.” They say with a shrug, and Yuu would be crying for both them. He was right, it just made sense. Besides, what would the lion do without them?

After putting the ring on their finger he'd wrap his arms around them, intending to never let go after that. He can’t help but get teary too. He never thought that he’d have someone like his brother did, to be by his side always.

“Well, now, yer stuck with me.”

“That’s okay.”

🧡Wedding:

As for a wedding, I KNOW Falena and Sis-in-law would press for a big, fat traditional Sunset Savanna wedding. There is a bit of controversy among some old-fashioned council members that Leona is marrying an outsider and a few murmuring that Yuu is a human too. But Leona’s favorability in the kingdom has always been so divided that some take an apathetic view, expecting this behavior from the second prince anyway.

Being a “spare heir” works in Leona’s favor this time, as there is not as much pressure for an arranged marriage for him as his brother had. Though there’s still some pushback. They were fine viewing Yuuta as a fling but it’s tradition for royal family members to have political marriages.

It’s a bit of strain on their relationship during this time with the stress of the capital’s spotlight on them. Since Leona told no one about it until after he proposed to Yuu. But, because a few on the council are fond of Yuu already, (as well as the queen regent), it all works out eventually! (Leona threatens to take Yuu and run away so many times.)

It is an…adjustment getting this much attention for Yuu. But, because the house they chose is already out of the prying eyes, the two compromise by agreeing to a true royal wedding…

This doesn’t last long. The two get fed up and…elope a few months later in the middle of the night. Cheka/Ruggie sneak out to be witnesses. Falena and the queen are pissed and make them promise to get married again in a few years publicly.

🧡Traditions:

Rings are a bit more of a modern marriage tradition in the Sunset Savanna as other countries' cultures melded with theirs over the years. Leona has never been one for traditions anyway and he liked the idea of matching rings, made out of the same ore and gems.

An old tradition of Sunset Savanna marriages is that of permanent bracelets, braided by hand by the officiating party. They are meant to stay on til death. Often colored beads are added to represent each personality. The braided hemp itself represents an eternity together in this life and the next. Through the circle of life, they are connected from then on out. 

[jadeactuallysucks]

Idc what people say I loved seeing him a terrorist. He’s exactly how I would’ve imagined someone outside of his perspective seeing him

Also doing research on Azrael Angel of Death I can’t tell if he’s supposed to be a fallen Angel or just an Angel but I don’t know religion that well

More stuff I wanna say

With all of you chosen defenders out there saying it was dark who killed mitsi, nahhh we need A train Chosen, I’m calling him over during valentines. Ruin some relationships. Including yours. How is it not a surprise he kills people?He’s quite literally made to be a weapon with all the powers and violent tendencies.

And he was absolutely at fault for making dark a terrorist too no complaint about it. Very hedonistic ideology in which the two of them could do whatever they wanted. In which the world was their sandbox. Up to interpretation

Obviously I view chosen, especially my version of him, different than others. Some of you sickos are treating him nicely!!!!

Low-key mitsi didn’t need to be in the story at all. Just tweak a bit, and also the box would’ve been a lot more callous, instead of agent and victim hating chosen for killing their fridged gf, I would’ve loved the more controversial morals of victim hurting chosen for whatever justification he wanted to come up with. And like there’s too much of a pattern with killing off characters for the sake of plot. I think dark is a good exception cause he was a rabid dog and needed to be put down sorry dark lovers also not sorry cry

I liked that ambiguity, I know most people like stuff spelled out for them with backstories but I like mysteries cause that’s how fanart and fics can be made. Some stuff does need to be explained like how victim escaped and founded rocketcorp which I get.

Oh yeah agent 😛😛😛😛 smash smash smash I see why victim is on the bisexual dance floor he’s amazing. And I don’t need merc backstories, I can just guess he recruited work buddies or just buddies

First part and terrorism parts my favourite scenes, can’t wait for Ava 12 to make or break my interest haha. The box will forever remain my favourite episode the glaze is real

Oh my god victim getting tortured during the first scene. By far the best part (except chosen and dark) in the episode. Kicking and giggling seeing him get revived after being unsaved. I feel like it kinda one ups Chosen’s trauma so I definitely hope that stupid shit gets it worse than victim. Honestly this is the stuff I want left out. I want to imagine the pain he went through rather than see it. Cause even after that he still forgives his tormentor like a dog crawling back to its owner

Uhhh also I have a big complaint about women (sorry women) I don’t like the stereotypes. I don’t need to know they’re a women by the colour pink or long hair. But this is me screaming at a wall cause I watch the same thing kids watch and the main audience is children. I need more characters like blue. Where you can’t tell if they’re a girl or not and you don’t need to care cause they’ll be taking performance enhancing drugs either way

These were all made in the moment so yk agree to disagree. I can’t get myself to hate the episode like how other people manage to do. I guess it’s just cause I stuck around for a year to see this. And I’m sticking around 3 MORE SEASONS BABY

Also like this is a good day for multi fandom me. Al of the stuff I watch is getting new stuff. Like omg Ava, then walten files, then interloper and digital circus and prolly more but I can’t count as you can tell I can only count to four

[maiiuelle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

rafe cameron is not known for giving heartfelt apologies, but after what he had done to you last week, he couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach.

he tried all his usual methods of letting go — starting with more meaningless hook ups, cocaine, and partying. it felt natural to try to move on like you were just another fling, after all you were never officially together. it worked enough to keep him occupied, but ultimately, it only made him feel worse to pretend you meant nothing to him. it serves as a constant reminder of exactly how he made you feel that night — like nothing.

the intrusive memory of what happened haunts him. before the incident, you were really growing on him. he made you his main girl without meaning to, inviting you to the club and out golfing just because he genuinely wanted you there beside him. by the time he realized he had real feelings for you, it felt like everyone else already knew.

you made him feel vulnerable, and it scared him. being so public with you put his emotions out on display. he had to remind himself that you weren’t his girlfriend, you were just supposed to be another girl he had on his roster. he has a big ego and an even bigger reputation, and in an attempt to protect that rather than you, he continued on with his bachelor lifestyle.

he never imagined you’d show up that night — he hoped brushing you off would shoo you away, save you from the inevitable realization he isn’t as great as he makes himself out to be. instead, you made him face you head on, and he would remember the devastated look on your face forever.

the nonchalant mask finally slips when his friends start asking where you went, having noticed your sudden absence. after all that time of trying to suppress his guilt, it struck a nerve just hearing your name. “who’s asking? ‘cause—cause i know it’s none of your fuckin’ business what she’s up to.”

topper lifts his hands in surrender, eyeing kelce. “woah. chill, man. i was just wondering, i thought you were into that chick.”

kelce snickers, taking the chance to finally get payback for every time rafe mocked them for chasing after girls. “what? did she dump you or something?”

rafe just pushes out of his seat, waving them off as he finishes what’s left in his glass. he doesn’t spare his friends another glance despite their boisterous protests, instead just addressing the bartender on his way out. “put it on cameron.”

he can’t handle it anymore, he has to do something.

it’s officially been a week since you last saw rafe. like clockwork the early birds begin to sing songs as they welcome the brand new day, the sun just starting to rise above the horizon. you’re still awake from the night before, unable to sleep with how your mind is racing.

you had been holding it together much better than rafe — to the public, you’re thriving. you go out with your friends every night, looking better than ever at yacht parties and the island club. it’s freeing to spend more time with your girl friends again, but you really can’t stand to spend any time by yourself.

thats why the nights are the worst, when you’re stuck alone in the silent solitude of your bedroom. that’s where you are now, wrapped up in your duvet with puffy eyes from crying all night over him. you just couldn’t wrap your head around the betrayal — after you thought you truly knew him, he turned out to be exactly how everyone said he was. manipulative, slimy, and selfish. your heart aches at your own ignorance, feeling stupid for not seeing the now obvious red flags.

to try to get your mind off of him, even just for a second, you tune into the gentle tapping of morning rain on your windowsill. in an overtired daze, you dream of being a princess locked away in a tower with your heroic lover waiting below, tossing stones at your window to garner your attention.

you don’t let it play on for too long, cutting it off abruptly by pulling your pillow over your face, silently scolding yourself. your infatuation with romance novels is what got you into this mess in the first place, making you delusively believe that rafe cameron was your prince charming. so stupid.

but, the tapping grows louder, your silly fantasy rebelling against you, refusing to disappear. in a fit of exhausted frustration, you grab the pillow off your head and throw it across the room, watching as it lands flat on the floor just short of the window, just in time for one of the shiny stones from your garden to hit the glass. then another, and another.

it couldn’t be. you can’t believe your eyes, especially after a long night of sobbing and zero sleep. you slowly slip out of your bed, walking up to the window cautiously.

“oh, you have to be joking.” you look down from your bedroom window to see none other than rafe standing in your lawn with a hand full of rocks and his truck parked on the curb. he’s clearly had a long night too, swaying on his feet and deflating when he sees you appear in the window.

“baby! baby — please talk to me!” he shouts, and you rush to push your window open. your father already hates the camerons, and you don’t want to deal with that confrontation if he wakes him up this early in the morning.

“shhh!” you press your finger to your lips, practically pushing your whole upper body out the window urgently to whisper-shout at him. “what are you thinking? my dad’s gonna kill you!”

“baby, i—i need to talk to you, please.” rafe whines, dropping the rest of the stones in his hand so he can push his bangs back. desperation looks strange on him, in your state of shock you hold up a hand to silence him and give yourself a second to weigh your options. you could get him back for what he did right now, do exactly what he did to you — you could scream at him to leave, to never speak to you again, and go get your father to handle the rest.

but instead, you just roll your eyes. so stupid. “just.. just wait a second.” you sigh as you shut the window quietly, closing your eyes for a moment of pause. before you change your mind, you march to your bedroom door, grabbing your fluffy robe and slipping it over your shoulders followed by your slippers.

you would never do any of that to him, not with the way you still feel about him, no matter how frustrating that is. you wish he could just be dead to you, but that’s not how you feel. the least you could do is hear out what he has to say for himself, even big bad rafe cameron deserves a second chance.

you take a deep breath as you slip down the stairs quietly, bracing yourself to face him. you open the front door, pulling your robe tighter over your nightgown to fight the cold morning air that bites at your skin as you sneak outside.

rafe rushes toward you, holding his head in anguish. “baby, listen to me. i—i know i screwed up, alright? i—”

“stop!” you thump your foot on the front porch, glaring at him from the top of the wooden steps. just because you’re kind enough to give him the time of day doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. he listens, pausing with wide eyes as he looks you over. he really is a mess, tears falling from his eyes and mixing with the morning rain that’s already soaked his hair and shirt. “god, rafe. what is going on with you?”

“i’m a fuckin’ idiot.” he cries, his face twisting as he sobs. “we had something good, right? and—and i fucked it all up. i did. it’s all my fault.”

you stand there with your arms crossed in front of you like a shield.“how do you think i feel? i thought you cared, meanwhile you’re lying to me and fucking some other girl?” you frown, staring him down. “you.. you humiliated me!”

“i know, i know — trust me, i know!” he grits his teeth, spinning on his heel in frustration before pacing back toward you. “you’ve got no idea, alright? i promise you, i’ve torn myself apart enough over this. just—” he strains, sucking in a shaky deep breath and forcing it out, trying to calm down. “i need you. okay?”

“oh really? how am i supposed to trust you?” you spit, venom in your voice. seeing him grovel at your front steps is oddly satisfying, even though the deep hurt in his voice is twisting your stomach.

“baby, look at me!” rafe drags his hands down his wet shirt, looking at you like a puppy dog stuck out in the rain. “i’m a fuckin’ mess without you. look, i—i took advantage of the situation, alright, i admit that. but i can’t breathe without you.” he stops, fidgeting anxiously as he waits for a response. you’re frozen, equally as shocked as him at his words. the anxiety gets the better of him and he steps forward, moving up the steps toward you. seeing your teary, red eyes stings in his chest. “c’mere, okay? let’s just — let’s just put this all behind us, right?”

“rafe—”

“nah, nah. it’s alright, c’mere.” he coos, and you kick yourself because you don’t back away, instead letting him come up on your porch and put his arms out for you. you blink up at him with your doe eyes, the sympathetic look on his face melting your defense. you just crumble into his arms, having been so desperate for him to comfort you exactly how he his now. “c’mon, there you go. you’re my girl. my girl.”

could you give him another chance?

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[gay-dorito-dust]

After request the kiss on the cheek and gotmany likes, its too joyful for me. Im craving angst

Stans brothers reaction when Bill told them that y/n will and always died in every universe and dimensions like stuck forever as zombie/wood statue/etc, which y/n will die in their own dimension too in matter of time or months, time is ticking, they can’t change destiny (can they?)

Ford

Didn’t like those odds at all.

He and bill had history and who’s to say that this wasn’t just Bill trying another method to get inside his head once more by using you, his beloved, as a cheap tactic to do so.

‘I thought a being would have more tact than this Bill.’ Ford would say as the dream demon only chuckled.

‘Oh Stanford, do you really think I’d bluff about this? You should know me better by now that I do not bluff, I’ll show you instead seeing as how stubborn you are into believing me nowadays.’ Bill said as he then showed Ford of all the infinite ways you died throughout the multiverse:

Drowned

Stabbed

Possessed

Lost in the multiverse

Body snatched

Turned to stone

Went through a curse doorway unknowingly and never returned, etc, etc.

Bill took immense pleasure in the horrified look upon Ford’s face as he gingerly traced your face as though you turned into porcelain and not stone.

‘Sucks doesn’t it knowing they your loved one is bound to die in every single timeline, it’s enough to suck the joy out of everything.’ Bill said as Ford only glares at him. You don’t deserve these fates, none of your alternate selves did and he could only imagine what you could’ve possibly felt before dying alone.

‘Oh and your beloved y/n is on route to die in like five months.’ Bill casually mentions and Ford immediately looks to him again.

‘What do you mean by that? How do they die! How can I stop it!’ Ford exclaimed as he felt his heart race and his blood run cold at the sheer helplessness he felt in the moment, but it only proved to humour bill all the more. ‘Oh you can’t prevent this one Stanford Pines, they’ll die regardless of what you do to try and prevent it they’ll die regardless and you’ll have to live with it.’ Bill says before leaving Ford alone with his rampaging thoughts.

He could send you away to Dimension 52 to stay with Jheselbraum for the time being, just until he figured something out, but what if Bill foresees this move being made and goes after you himself? Ford didn’t know what he could do to protect you and it was driving him mad with Bill’s vague nonsense not helping him in the slightest. He’ll become paranoid of every little thing you did from that point onward to the point that even if you got a paper cut Ford was expecting something unfortunate to happen, but it never did.

Shit like this kept him awake at night as he holds you tightly against his chest, staring at the ceiling as though daring it to try and take you from him, which it didn’t but Ford grew skeptical of everyone you came across in case they were the catalyst for your death and kept himself near you at all times, hand on his gun in the instance he need to use it to keep you safe.

Ford would busy himself down in his lab to the point of exhaustion looking and theorising methods on how he could prevent your death, so much so that you’d have to come down and practically dragging him out because he was worrying you and the rest of the family. But Ford was stubborn as stubborn could be when it came to you and your safety that he tends to drown out your concerns for him, much to your dismay.

Ford believed that Bill was tempting him into making a deal to keep you safe but he knew that even as powerful as Bill was, even he couldn’t prevent something that he himself and told him happened across the entirety of the Multiverse. So Ford stuck to his guns and buried himself in work to keep you safe because he couldn’t and wouldn’t loose you if he could help it.

Stan

Doesn’t believe a thing Bill is saying in the slightest and thinks it’s all a pile of horseshit, up until the triangle demon shows him of all the infinite universes of which you did indeed die did Stan actually start to believe that Bill was actually telling the truth for once.

Zombies made you one of them.

Got turned to stone by a gorgon like creature and wasn’t saved in time.

Possessed by bill and had multiple stab wounds, bruises, scratches and lacerations from his misuse.

Submerged in amber/tree sap, face permanently stuck in horror.

Eaten by the Summerween Trickster.

Replaced by the shapeshifter after you were killed for being the imposter.

So many timelines where you’ve died cruelly or unfairly and it broke Stan’s heart knowing that in all of these universes his other selves might’ve been either too late, or made the wrong choices that he probably regrets as he downs each and every bottle of the hardest liquor in hopes he’d numb the pain.

He was destined to loose you no matter what and things weren’t made any better when Bill tells him that you were on route to die really soon, taunting him with the fact that there was nothing he, Ford or even the Pine Twins and their stupid pet pig could do to stop it; you’re death was an inevitability across the entire multiverse.

Stan hated being told that there was nothing he could do to prevent you from dying, he hated being told what he can’t do in general! So he’ll much rather take his odds with trying any and everything in his power to keep you safe and sound, even if it means dying himself he’ll do it gladly knowing you were okay.

He was already protective of you to begin with but with the added fact that you were bound to die sooner or later had Stan become even more protective of you. So much so that he doesn’t leave the shack without a crossbow or even his brass knuckles to fight off whoever or whatever was going to try and take you from him; hell he might even teach you how to fight should you get into trouble and he’s not there to protect you.

He keeps you by his side almost 24/7 at this point and would shower you in affection as though he was going to run out of time to do so, even going so far as to keep you away from walking under any ladders, tripping over anything and or crossing the street when you shouldn’t. However it got concerning to the point where you’d have to sit him down and ask what was wrong. Stan isn’t one to talk about his emotions nor how he felt about certain things but this was something he knew he had to share with you sooner or later, regardless of whether you believed him or not.

Stan still thought Bill was full of shit and even acted like he didn’t believe him about you dying and everything, but deep down Stan was scared that his best attempts to keep you safe wouldn’t be enough and that you’ll be taken away, regardless of how hard he fought back but Stan wasn’t one to easily give up not when his loved ones are involved.

[miintsprigz]

Mercs x GN! reader who drew them (ALL NINE!)

This goes out to everyone, not just my artists.

But yes, all my fic material is extremely self-serving.

Big thank you to a dear friend of mine for helping me with mercs like Pyro, Engie, Sniper, and Medic when I got stuck.

VERY LONG POST INCOMING

Scout

• Well, he IS an artist himself, that’s probably how the two of you first started talking.

• Ran past one day, only to immediately throw it in reverse and go “hey whoa whoa whoa when were you gonna tell me you could draw?!”

•Naturally…it was only a matter of time.

•He was always so encouraging about your stuff, so…after working up the guts, you showed him.

• “Yo wait a sec…you drew me??? I…” For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been drawn—not even a self-portrait. For as cocky as he seems…well…

•He just…stares for a second. Marveling. Is that…really what I look like?

• “Do you like it?” “Abso-friggin-lutely, (Y/N)!!! You kiddin’? I don’t even look that beautiful in real life! And ya know, that’s sayin’ somethin!”

•You laugh, and he pulls you in so fast to hug you that you weren’t even ready. “But seriously…thank you. I’ve uh…I’ve never been drawn before. You did amazing. …you know I gotta draw you now, right?”

•And he does. He’s a complete perfectionist about it—he feels like he can’t replicate you, you’re one of a kind. (He actually does very well! But he’s so shy showing it to you…d’aww.)

Pyro

•Pyro was more of a doodler than anything. They loved color. And of course, you could resonate with that.

•Sometimes you’d draw designs and let them color it in. They giggled all the while…they just adored how creative you were.

•Being the most secretive about their appearance, they’re hard to nail down…even for you. Pyro is most themself in their full gear. You, out of everyone, know that best.

•So you took a…different approach. Abstraction.

•Their hands, the ones that so often seemed to be magnetically drawn to you.

•Their back, the strong shoulders when they just felt content to sit in the quiet with you.

•The brief glimpses you’d caught of their face—split second instances in shadows—those were easy, yet challenging. Their brief sightings made them easy to be abstract about, and yet, it made them harder to actually nail down.

•Conjuring a rather fittingly smoky composition, it had a dreamlike feel to it. Pure Pyro.

•You were only a bit hesitant to show them, but when they did see…they surprised you a bit.

•You could see them straighten up a bit…surprised. They craned their neck a bit, looking closer, gently curling their fingers over yours to hold the snapshot-like portraits with you.

• “Hmmm…” There was a sort of…tranquility to them. So unlike your little sparky fella.

• “Do you like them?” Immediately, the edge of their mask bumped against your forehead—your own personal way of kissing. That was all the answer you needed.

•They couldn’t verbalize it, but…seeing beauty in images of themself. The same beauty they saw all around them…it made them see themself in a way they never had before.

•And of course, it made them fall even deeper in love with you, the one who cared for them so much that they took the time to look so deeply.

Heavy

•Heavy is a very intelligent man, but he’s never had much gift for creative work. Even his insults were kind of just the same thing repeated, when the other mercs made it an art form.

•So he couldn’t help but be enraptured by your artistic endeavors and how much work you put into them.

•He loved to see you covered in your medium of choice, your passion for it. Made him lovesick. How lovely you were doing what you loved.

•If he could paint, he would have wanted to paint that. So he could look at it forever.

•So of course, imagine his delight when you decided to draw him!

• That roaring laugh you so enjoyed boomed immediately, just elated.

•“Ohhhh…look at that! You captured me perfectly! Beautiful!” You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

•“Can Heavy keep this?” “Of course you can, hon.” This warranted a sudden barrage of kisses to your face, which cracked you up of course.

•“Very happy to have such talented artist as yourself to love. But to me? You are most beautiful. In all the world.” Despite being more eloquent in his native language, Heavy could still get you to turn red. “Oh gosh…” “Is true!”

Demoman

•Tavish had always been a pretty sentimental fellow. He really did enjoy artwork, but didn’t talk about it much.

•Once he discovered that you were an artist, he was over the moon. Finally, he felt, he could talk to someone about art without them possibly poking fun.

•He’d never go in your sketchbook unless you allowed him to, but he always looked with such admiration in his eyes. “That’s bloody brilliant. So long as ya luv it, never stop doin’ this. Cuz I’ll never stop lookin.”

•One day, you told him you had a surprise for it. “I dunno if I like surprises…” “Oh trust me, Demo,” you chirped, “I think you’ll like this one.”

•As you held up the finished product, his mouth went agape. Almost instantly, he began to smile.

•“Well aren’t you just the sweetest!! That’s me there???” “Yes, love. I uh, I hope that you like it.” His gaze shifted over to you, and you could see his eye had grown somewhat misty.

•Demo was at a loss for words. He had never thought of himself as particularly good-looking, certainly not good enough to be drawn. And yet. You had drawn him. Drawn him very well. And he liked how he looked. Was that how you saw him?

•“Aw, Tav…you okay??” He blinked quick, trying to keep composed.“Never better…c’mere, you…”

•Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a kiss, just about taking your breath away.

•“My little artist…ya made me look so good.” You caught him rubbing his eye a bit. “I just drew what I saw.” “Well, ya see a work of art in me. And that? That’s the best surprise of all.”

Engineer

•With how much designing went into his machines, Dell could always appreciate the skills of an artist. So when he learned that you were one, well, that only sweetened an already sweet deal.

•You were a little self-conscious at first about him watching you work. You tended to just work parallel to one another, both lost in your own stuff.

•You’d sometimes stop what you were doing to follow his hands as he put the pieces together, fingers wandering as they looked for the correct tool.

•When the inverse happened though—when Engie watched you work—he admired your spontaneity. You could start off with a total wild card and somehow managed to pull it all together and make it work, in a way he never could have come up with.

•Being rather rigid in his own trade, that was something Dell couldn’t help but be dazzled by. Very smart man for sure, but rather by-the-book. Not like you. He saw genius in the way your mind worked.

•So, one day, as the two of you perused each other’s handiwork a bit, you shyly revealed the piece you’d made of him—hard at work on an updated sentry model.

•His lips parted a little like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

•“I know it’s a little rocky…I’m not the best at drawing machinery.” Gently, he took ahold of the sketchbook and gave it a soft tug, nonverbally asking for permission to hold it. You let him.

•As he looked closer, a warm smile crept across his face. “Well, well…wouldja look at that. That’s me alright.” He chuckled heartily, but you realized it was from admiration, not amusement.

•“Look at you, (Y/N)! Saw me all covered in dirt an’ said ‘yeah, I can make art from that’. I love it…shucks, darlin’, I can hardly get my eyes off of it.”

•He looked back at you, still all aglow, only to find you blushing to the point of near luminescence. “Aw, c’mon now honey…no need to be all shy. You’re incredible, ya know that?”

•An arm slunk around your shoulders, pulling you fast to his side, quickly pecking the top of your head. “I love it, and I love you.”

Soldier

•Soldier was a brave man, that he was confident in. But even he was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t the sharpest.

•Anything he’d ever drawn looked like kids’ stuff, so to see what you could make? It blew his mind.

•Jane tried not to stare while you drew—you’d gotten all nervous when you’d caught him, and he was trying to be courteous—but he couldn’t deny how it captivated him.

•“Whatcha workin’ on now?” “I’m drawing those two goofs.” You motioned to the Spy and Scout bickering as they often did. “Why them, of all things?” “I just like capturing the moment sometimes.”

•One day, as you sat while he drilled the rest of the team, you started to do just that. You found it hard not to chuckle just a little as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

•Sure, you got their annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be pulled in by Jane’s excitement and hot-bloodedness.

•“Seemed pretty lost in your work there, or I woulda asked you to join in.” A strong hand ruffling your hair snapped you out of your daze. “Capturing the moment again?”

•“Uh-huh. I think this is my best one yet.” You turned the book around to show him, and you saw his lips part slightly in surprise before he suddenly laughed. “Haha! Look at that! It’s me!”

•You laughed with him, just happy to see him so tickled by it. “I think I really captured you.” “I’d say so, kid! I’d say so…wow.” The amusement gave way to what you realized was…almost awe.

•“I look…strong. Proud.” “Yep.” “…I look good.” “Of course you do.” He nudged his helmet down a bit with his hand, chuckling to himself. From what little bit of his face you saw…was he blushing?

•Imitating him playfully—it was something you two tended to do, he found it cute—you joked, in your best impression of him, “‘Are you going soft on me, maggot??? You’re red as a tomato!’” “Noooo…oh, (Y/N), what am I gonna do with you?”

•He caught the side of your face softly and pecked you on the cheek. “But…really. Thank you, sweetheart. I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

Sniper

•Truthfully, Mick had never given a lot of thought to the arts before he’d met you. What really caught his eye was the amount of time you put into it.

•Sniper knew better than anyone that holding still, completely focused on your task, being all but absorbed in it…that was respectable.

•The fact that he could leave for work and come back to find you in the same spot? It was just very attractive to him.

•You stopped by to watch him sometimes, very discreetly, on less busy days, although he wouldn’t lie, it got him nervous. He trusted in his own skills plenty, but…you weren’t just anyone. He couldn’t have you getting hurt.

•So one day, as he finally wrapped up, he saw you, still hard at work. He didn’t want to interrupt you, but if it was time to go, he wanted to go. Giving you a light pat on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Almost done there, darlin? Quittin’ time.”

•“Just a bit more…there. Perfect. Check it out.” You held up what you’d been working on: a full sketch of him invested in his own work.

•It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he couldn’t help but be amazed. Slightly slack-jawed, he looked up at you, the faintest trace of a smile.

•“Never considered myself the modelin’ type, ‘specially not out here, but…wow. Ya really did it. And I look bloody good, too!” “Well duh!” “Oh, stop—” Oh, that got him. The Aussie was surprisingly easy to fluster once he’d fully grown comfortable, and you loved it.

•“Awww, are you blushing?” “Just a little…now c’mon.” Taking your hand, he helped you up, quickly hugging you around the shoulders, catching you somewhat off-guard.

•“But really. Great job there. Thanks…it’s an honor, ya know that? To be drawn by you?” “Gosh—” “Heh, now you’re the one goin’ all red.” “Oh, stop—”

Medic

•The good(?) doctor first learned of your artistic prowess when he caught you trying to draw the charts he had on his wall. “Ooh! Very impressive.”

•Medic could do a lot of things, but drawing wasn’t really one of them. He couldn’t resist watching you work, even though he knew it was a bit touchy.

•“Poetry in motion, Liebe. Really.” Simp. “Oh, come on—” “I mean it! You have such precision, such grace…it’s a sight to behold!”

•So of course, when you were working on something that you absolutely would not let him look at, he wanted to see even more.

•“I promise that whatever it is, I will find it as beautiful as you!” “It’s not that, silly—it’s supposed to be a surprise!” He seemed almost sulky about it…it was kind of cute, although you did feel a bit bad.

•Eventually though, it was done—him, with Archimedes on his shoulder. “Okay, honey, you can look now.”

•One hand comes up over his mouth, audibly gasping. “Is that…? It is!!! Haha!”

•You had never seen him this happy, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N)! Look at that…and Archimedes too!”

•Perhaps unsurprisingly, he brings the bird out to show him too. It’s hard to gauge the response from a dove, but the tranquil cooing seems to suggest that he enjoys it.

•The doctor catches you off-guard as he sweeps you into a kiss. “Oh…danke, Schatz (treasure). May I keep this?” “Of course~”

•Best believe this man is showing your art off to EVERYONE who he treats, going on and on about what an incredible artist and person you are.

Spy

•This guy is a man of culture, he can appreciate good art. And good artists, wink.

•But in all seriousness, your attention to detail was incredibly attractive to him. After you’d been together for a while, the two of you would sit in his smoking room and relax together once the work day was over.

•Sometimes he’d be off to the side just doing his own thing, reading, but other times he’d actually sit beside you and watch. There was an intimacy to it, one you took time to grow fully comfortable with, but he was patient.

•So when you were very secretive one night, it caught his attention. Nothing slipped past him—not even you. You sensed him behind you surprisingly quickly though, and quickly closed the project up.

•“Shy tonight, are we? So unlike you, mon bijou (my jewel)…” “Hehe…be patient, babe, it’s not done yet.”

•His arms wrapped around you from behind briefly…gosh, it was difficult to keep anything secret from this man. “Very well. Keep your secrets…for now.”

•But he respected that you didn’t want him to see it just yet, and so he waited.

•“…Okay, you can look now.” In an instant, he was behind you again. It was hard to even look up at the guy right now, but once you did…there was this sense of wonder in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

•It wasn’t often that Spy looked at himself unmasked for longer than a few seconds—he’d almost forgotten his own face by now. For spies, he reasoned, it was better that way. But the way you had captured every detail of him…

•“Oh, what a handsome devil…wonder who that could be…” Was he trying to brush off his own flustering? Maybe a little.

•You couldn’t help but giggle as he almost hurriedly sat down next to you, quickly drawing you in close as he continued to look. Almost entranced.

•That element of intimacy I mentioned before? It was his turn to feel it now. Not even in a physical way, which is what this Casanova is so used to.

•No, the fact that you had clearly just…looked at his face, so intently. There was something raw and vulnerable to it. And as much as he wanted to look at it even more, his eyes were magnetically drawn to you.

•“I wouldn’t have ever asked it of you, but…I always wondered what it would look like if you drew me. I…”

•Glancing back down, he found that he couldn’t even come up with anything to say. The act of love had rendered him speechless. YOU BROKE HIM OH MY GOSH/j

•“…Do you like it?” Before you could say anything else, you were swiftly kissed, and I mean kissed.

•Spy always looked at you with a sort of passion, but this was different. He had never felt so much love for someone. Felt like a young, hopeless romantic boy all over again.

•“I adore it…and most of all, I adore you, mon cœur (my heart).”

AAAAND IM DONE. WHEW. That was fun!

[gogogodzilla]

peeta mellark being you to let him eat your 🐱

Just a Taste || Peeta Mellark

peeta mellark x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, cunnilingus, porn with plot, panty sniffing, reader is wearing a dress, panty stealing masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩

The stage of the training center under your heels was a familiar feeling. The stage lights shone brightly, and you squinted slightly as you walked out with Peeta hand in hand. The air practically crackled with energy as the booming applause from the audience of Capitol citizens nearly deafened you. 

Caesar Flickerman warmly welcomed both of you. He gave you a good-natured kiss on the cheek and shook Peeta’s hand. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how touchy the Capitol people were. 

Once the crowd settled down, Caesar gave the two of you a beaming smile. “It’s an absolute delight to have the two of you here once again,” he exclaimed and you wondered how he got his teeth to be so white. “The Victory Tour has been a success, wouldn’t you say? What has been the most memorable moment for you both?” 

Peeta squeezed your hand before answering, “As much as I’ve loved spending some time in all of the districts, the most unforgettable part was spending time with the person I love and sharing our love with the districts.” 

You feigned embarrassment at his words and looked away. You couldn’t avoid the heat that flooded your cheeks, which brought a boisterous laugh from Caesar. “You two are adorable. I love it!” he gushed. 

The audience cheered in response, and Peeta kissed your knuckles. After a few moments, Caesar settled the audience down and turned back to the two of you. “I’m sure you both know that we have immensely enjoyed seeing your love blossom in front of us. It’s truly a marvelous sight.” 

“Thank you, Caesar. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to be here with you and the rest of the Capitol citizens,” you give him a dazzling smile before turning to Peeta. “I am also incredibly grateful to be here with the love of my life. I couldn’t ask for anything better,” your gaze softens as you look at Peeta. The audience ‘awws’ and cooed at the two of you while Caesar pressed a hand to his heart. 

“Ugh, we can’t get enough of you two. What does the future look like for the two of you? I’m sure we’re all eager to see more of your love blossoming,” Caesar questioned and the audience buzzed with excitement. 

You shared a glance with Peeta. You gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and he turned to Caesar. 

“The future looks bright as long as I have my love by my side,” he answered, allowing a hush to fall over the crowd. Damn, he was good at this. “And I would like to have my love by my side for as long as we both shall live,” his voice trembled slightly as he pulled out a small velvet box. He got on one knee and looked up at you. Your hand covered your mouth in feigned shock. “My love, you have been my light in the darkest times, and I can’t imagine a future where you’re with me. Will you make me the happiest man in Panem and marry me?” 

Emotions swelled within you. Peeta was laying it on a bit thick, but you didn’t care. You nodded your head, forgetting to speak for a moment. He slightly raised his brow, and you forced yourself to speak. 

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding rapidly. Your voice returned and you spoke louder, “Of course I’ll marry you.” 

Applause and cheers thundered throughout the room as Peeta got to his feet and slid the ring onto your finger. Peeta’s smile was radiant as he pulled you into a kiss which caused the audience to roar even louder. You grinned as you kissed him back. You truly did care for him, and didn’t mind being stuck with him forever. You would’ve been dead without him. 

As you pulled away, Caesar dabbed his eyes theatrically and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Peeta kept his hand around your waist as you curled up against his side.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, a proposal during the Victory Tour! This is certainly a night to remember, wouldn’t you say?” Caesar beamed as he swept an arm out toward the crowd which roared in response. 

Peeta held you close as the interview wrapped up. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and you couldn’t fight the grin that graced your features. Eventually, your time with Caesar was over and you were ushered off the stage. 

Effie met you as you exited and she clapped her hands in excitement. “Wonderful work you two. Now, time to get ready for the reception President Snow offered to throw to celebrate the two of you. It’ll be a party of the ages,” she declared, walking quickly as you returned to your quarters. 

Cinna intercepted you as you stepped off the elevator. You clung onto Peeta’s hand until the last possible second. 

Cinna grinned as he led you away, “Don’t worry, you’ll have some time to catch up before we leave.” 

“Can’t I just wear what  I have on?” you thumbed the fabric of your dress as you walked, frowning slightly. 

He chuckled, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He led you to your room and helped you onto your podium in front of the mirror. Cinna got to work almost immediately, fluttering around you with practiced movements. The soft rustle of fabric accompanied his steps as he brought the dress over to you. He quickly got you changed, his gentle hands working wonders as the fabric draped over your body. Cinna’s hands danced delicately over your hair, weaving it into an elegant style perfect for the celebration tonight. 

“You look radiant,” Cinna complimented as he stepped back to admire his work in the mirror. 

You met his gaze in the mirror, a grateful smile on your lips, “It’s all because of you.” 

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and a knock sounded at your door. You both turned and Peeta poked his head in.  A soft smile made its way onto your features as he stepped into the room and finally got a good look at you. His eyes widened as they raked over your form, and your cheeks flushed. 

“You look…” Peeta’s words faltered as his gaze remained on you. “Wow,” was all he managed to come up with as he took a few steps toward you. 

Cinna chuckled, “I’ll let you two have a moment. You have 15 minutes before Effie’s going to come knocking.” 

He gave you a suggestive look as he left, and the flush of your cheeks spread. Peeta held out his hand so he could help you down, and you graciously took it. 

You ran your fingers over his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his suit. “Portia outdid herself… You look amazing,” you grinned, tugging him closer. 

His hands wrapped around your waist, enveloping you like they had done so many times before. This time it was different though. The soft scent of his cologne engulfed you as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, but there was something more to it. Something hungry. 

“Is it bad that I’m glad we’re stuck together forever?” you whispered as you pulled away to catch your breath. 

He grinned, “You make marriage sound so pleasant.” 

You chuckled in response and pulled him into another, deeper kiss. You tugged him by the lapels toward your bed, acutely aware of the seconds ticking by before Effie would be knocking. 

His hands wandered across your hips as the backs of your thighs hit the edge of your bed and you slowly fell back. You parted for long enough to scoot back and Peeta eagerly followed you. His lips were back to devouring you within moments. You let out a small noise as he slotted his knee between your legs, the smooth fabric of his slacks brushing against your inner thighs. 

 You pulled away, attempting to catch your breath. Something shifted between you, and your entire body seemed to hum with need. Peeta caged your head between his forearms and his nose bumped against yours. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” you trailed off as Peeta scattered kisses across your neck. 

He grinned against your collarbone, “I’m sure they’ll understand if I want to take a few minutes to ravish my fiancée.” 

Your cheeks flared at his words. There had been rumors going around all tour that Peeta’s nightly visits to your room were far from innocent cuddling. You did little to dispel them, though. You couldn’t deny that this was the first time you’d felt this hunger for Peeta. 

He ran his hands up the bare skin of your thighs, and your heart fluttered. 

“Just a taste,” he murmured as he scattered kisses across your covered breasts and moved down your body. “Please, my love. I just need a taste.” 

He ran his fingertips over your thighs as he situated himself between them. You craned your head to look down at him, and the sight of him had heat pooling between your legs. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes you couldn’t resist, begging for permission to ruin you. With the slight inclination of your head, he was sliding the fabric of your skirt to the side, letting his hands wander across your hips and thighs. 

He pressed featherlight kisses across your inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin there. He wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them in place. His breath fanned over the thin fabric of your panties, and you instinctively clenched them together. His grip held you in place as you squirmed, aching for more. 

He hooked his fingers in the sides of your under and tugged them down and off your body. Your eyes widened as he brought your panties to his nose and inhaled your scent. He let out a noise that was something like a whimper combined with a groan, and you flushed. 

He set your panties to the side and settled between your thighs. A gasp escaped you as he swiped his tongue through your folds. His grip tightened on your thighs as he desperately pulled you closer to his eager mouth. His tongue worked relentlessly against your sopping core, circling your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance. 

You wanted desperately to tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, but you settled for the blanket below you. You were sure that Peeta’s prep team might have your head if you messed up his hair. 

You slapped one hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate pleas and whines that escaped your lipstick-covered lips. Peeta eagerly lapped up everything you were giving him, and his nose bounced against your clit as he dipped his tongue into your entrance. Peeta reached up to intertwine his fingers with yours, grounding you.

Peeta whined against you, sending vibrations coursing through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your hips jutted against him, grinding against his tongue. Every fiber of your being was tensed and ready to snap. 

Peeta’s tongue circled your clit once more, and your release had you arching against the mattress, pushing you closer to his mouth. Your thighs attempted to clamp around Peeta’s head as you spasmed against him. He helped you to ride out your high, and his fingertips dug into the plush of your thighs. 

After a few moments you stilled, and Peeta pressed comforting kisses against your inner thighs. You lifted your head to look at him, and your cheeks flushed at the sight. Your arousal had covered the bottom half of his face, and a satisfied grin covered his features. 

“You did so good,” he praised as he crawled forward to kiss you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and a groan left you. 

You were able to sneak in a few more lingering kisses before Effie’s knock sounded at your door. Peeta crawled off of you and helped you to the edge of your bed, your skirts only slightly getting in the way. 

He grabbed your panties before you could and shoved them in the front pocket of his suit. 

“For safekeeping,” he murmured with a grin plastered across his face as he leaned down to kiss you. You scowled at him in response but kissed him nonetheless. 

He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the rest of your arousal off his face before neatly tucking it back in its rightful place. You shuffled to the bathroom to clean yourself up, returning moments later looking slightly more put together. 

Effie knocked once again, more insistently this time. You cringed, sensing the inevitable lecture you’d receive later. 

Peeta held his arm out for you to take, and you gladly clung to him. 

“Shall we?”

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s get this over with.”

[moxanji-real]

⚠️This f/o imagine is mainly for Nonsharing Selfshippers/Yumes who struggle with seeing dupes of their partners. If you know anyone who struggles with this recommend them this post.⚠️

Picture this: you’re scrolling through the internet, minding your own business, when—bam! Another dupe of your F/O pops up. Your heart races, but not in that dreamy, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. No, this is rage mode activated. Someone else claiming to be with your love, acting like they’ve got what’s rightfully yours. The audacity! You feel that familiar sting in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of tears—are you sad? Angry? A cocktail of both? Before a single tear escapes, your F/O appears out of nowhere, gently wiping it away.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” they ask, their voice laced with concern.

Wordlessly, you hand them your phone. They scroll through the post with a raised eyebrow before setting the phone down with an exasperated sigh. “Another one dating one of my clones, huh?” they mutter, shaking their head.

They turn to you, their gaze softening as they take your hands in theirs. “Listen, no matter what you see online, no matter what anyone claims, they’ll never be with me. The person they’re dating? That’s just a knockoff, a bargain bin version of the real deal. Probably malfunctioning, too.”

You can’t help but chuckle through your tears as they pull you into their arms. “You’ve got me—the original, the one and only. And you? You’re the one I chose. Always have, always will. Those other people? They’re just confused. They think they’ve won, but they don’t even realize they’re stuck with a cheap imitation.”

You melt into their embrace, their words settling deep in your heart. The noise of the internet fades away, replaced by the warmth of their love. They hold you close, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel completely reassured. You’re the one with the real F/O, the one they’ve loved all along. And those other people? Let them live in their little delusions. You’ve got the original, and that’s something no one else can ever take away.

This is my little method for if I see someone have the same f/o as me. Consider their version “fake” and me with the real one. And if they’re a really bad person I’ll consider their fake version extra malfunctioning and broken. Boom. Yes I know it’s kinda rude but it’s how I cope and maybe some of you guys could use this method to help you cope as well. It’s tough being a non sharer especially one who’s insecure. 🫂

Might make a version with less dialogue in case the way f/o spoke here didn’t match your f/o. You guys can let me know!

[astralis-ortus]

ways to say 'i love you'

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— an awkward phrase for him, so he resorts to showing his affection instead.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. pure fluff because i miss him :( warnings → very minor cussing (is saying ass includes as cussing?), just very domestic chan thingy a.n → again, i'm in my 'missing chan' hours and writing this at 2 in the morning was hopefully enough to lessen some of that feeling (it was not)(also this is absolutely not proofread)(who has the right mind to proofread at 2am AND after a crying sesh?) ⋆ see masterlist

chan’s a busy man—but it was never a problem for him to make time for you.

be it on the days where his schedules were dictated down to the second, or even worse—when he’s constantly away, for weeks on end, performing in cities where your days were the exact opposites of his nights, he would always make it a point that you know the thought of you never once leaves his mind.

captioned ‘was going on a stroll and came across this park, heh’ as he sent you a picture of him going on a swing, or ‘look at this giant ass churro!! hahah you’d definitely love it here’ when he went to an amusent park with his members on his day off, thousands of miles away from you. your gallery easily surpasses the tens of thousands count, and it’s all from the way chan remembers you in his mundane, everyday life.

chan would also make a connection between you and the small things around him.

his chunky chrome hearts beanie? yeah, it’s the one you said turned him into the wolfchan plushy he gifted you. his earbuds? oh, you stuck a glittery star shaped sticker on the case so you wouldn’t take the wrong one. his laptop? it still made him giggle when he remembered how panicked you were when he told you the thing wouldn’t turn on, only for him to then realize he just forgot to charge it (and he had to appease you from leaving him on read by promising to call as soon as his rehearsal ends).

even when everything is technically his, chan couldn’t help but leave traces of you in his memories of those things—because for him, everything is better with a touch of you in it.

chan loves taking care of you, but he can’t decide if he loves it more when you’re the one taking care of him.

don’t get him wrong—he’d still try very hard to be the dependable one in your relationship. it’s in his blood, he can’t help it... but what power does he have when you adorably said that you’ve been learning on how to take care of his curls, and how you wanted to try the products that just came in the mail earlier in the day. he’d have no choice but to obediently sit between your legs, taking glances of your furrowed brows through the mirror across while your fingers were busy making sure his hair finally turned into the glorious curls you’ve always longed it to be.

if by letting you take care of him made your eyes turn into the brightest constellation of stars he’s ever seen in his life, then he will forever allow you to take care of him.

also, let’s not forget how chan loves his dose of physical touch.

constantly being away never made the trips any easier for him. if any, the periods of actually being with you made it harder for him to ever leave. imagine going from constantly having your gentle body heat around him, to not having them for an extended period of time? lord, chan would give anything just to be able to feel the way your fingers absentmindedly trace figures on his palm while you were reading your books away, like that one night when you stubbornly decided to accompany his all-nighter attempt at his studio.

chan direly needs your touch—he direly needs you.

and after everything you’ve done for him,

after everything you’ve went through,

chan finally realizes that there’s one sure way to let you know that he loves you.

so the next time you sleepily said you think you’re going to bed,

or when you text him a random meme along with an ‘i miss you’  text on a regular thursday evening,

he’d make sure he didn’t forget to tell you the line

“i love you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡