#everything about this game are just amazing

[fisheadz]

If I may reblog with my own thoughts, sorry but I really love this hypothetical game—

There could be more specific stats, be it buff or debuff, for Stan and Ford. It’s less that they’re exclusive to one boy, but more that they’re more common to get depending on who you’re playing as.

For instance, Stan can easily become Irrational. This makes him more likely to end up with miscellaneous and unavoidable missions like stealing or whatever. It also makes him more likely to accidentally cause game-changing or even ending events. Like, a classmate could sneak up on him to say hi while his Irrational status is full, and even if you fail the qte to hit them out of instinct and/or fear, he’d still damage something and Filbrick would get very mad, possibly causing a game over.

For Ford, it would make him take bigger risks for littler rewards; not studying so he could do something else that he doesn’t necessarily have to, or getting in trouble with Filbrick instead of simply distracting him because he’s overconfident in his lying. But it’s not as bad as would be with Stan, nor is it as common.

Irrationality would occur because of poor sleep, paranoia, being low on lives, making risky choices, being unsure about a vision, etc etc. Despite all the things that can cause it, it’s relatively uncommon especially in the early game, and on more cautious runs.

It can lead to new cutscenes and stuff, but it usually cuts a run short if you don’t take care of it. To do that, you can try and get more sleep, spend some time alone, do something the Pine you’re playing as enjoys, stuff like that. But it’s hard to shake because of the unavoidable missions that can lead to game ending decisions and how it usually comes later into the game, with everything becoming unstable and your missions becoming more and more complicated.

Not sure about a specific debuff for Ford, tho… maybe Distress? With similar effects as Irrationality but with unique consequences and events and stuff. I’m also not sure about specific buffs, but maybe things like Surety or something. Obviously all these buff and debuffs would come with their own pros and cons, but that’s the gist of it ig.

That’s just my two cents tho. This is an amazing game idea!!! Something about the psychological dread with a side of the Dark Horrors and survival elements just makes me so excited and gives me the brainworms.

Had a dream last night about a gravity falls game where you play as young Stanley having to sneak around and lie to stay out of trouble with Filbrick. It wasn't really a horror game but it had a lot of horror game-like mechanics and there was a general sense of discomfort the entire time.

The only quest I can remember is one where Stanley gets a bad report card while Stanford gets a good one. Filbrick is out doing business until tomorrow so you have until the morning to try and make it look like you got good grades. There's an option to use white out on Stanford's card while he sleeps and write your name instead.

You could also get future readings from mom, who would give hints on what will happen to you next so you can start setting up lies and stealing in advance instead of scrambling to cover yourself last minute. (If you could figure out what the readings were hinting at. They got progressively more vague as the game went on, going from "I hear" and "I see", to "I feel")

You didn't get to see what happened when Filbrick caught him, it just cut to a game over screen. You could be caught and sent to your room three times before this happens (which ends the quest you're on. Because you failed to lie well enough). There is no way to win. The game would just keep going with scenarios until you lost or gave up

There was a vending machine on the board walk that had warped reflections in the glass that corrected itself when you looked at it head-on

[amywritesthings]

your only, hopefully.

pairing: caleb x f!reader (love and deepspace) word count: 4.3k summary: You get stood up on your very first Valentine's Day date. Caleb, as always, manages to save the day.

rated mature // pre-main story, valentine's day fluff, psuedo-incest, use of 'gege' (big brother), unresolved romantic tension, a sprinkle of angst, a ton of yearning, first kiss, foot massage, virgin!caleb credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics

( READ ON AO3. )

  [INCOMING MESSAGE] : Sry, can’t make it tonight :( 

You’ve read the text message at least a dozen times.

The thirteenth still has yet to register in your mind, though the belated anger, the confusion — the shame — creeps in like a cold sweat on the back of your neck.

Everything was almost perfect. You’d just set your makeup with a misting spray. One foot remains in a nude-colored high heel while the other foot remains on the fuzzy rectangular rug below, slanting you at an uncomfortable angle.

What once fit you perfectly now feels too tight.

Gran said buying a Valentine’s Day dress was special, that it could carry a lot of sweet memories, yet you find yourself disgusted by the crimson red hugging your body.

(Should you have known? Did you miss a sign between the lines?)

There is a knock on your door, but your brain doesn’t register the gentle wraps.

Jazzy saxophone and gentle drums, your romantic pre-game ambience, now croons morosely on your laptop; songs about love and finding the one and all that—

All that bullshit.

Hours.

You spent hours getting ready for a romantic evening that wasn't even happening now.

Your nostrils flare with the settling irritation in your belly when you grit your teeth, the feeling so overwhelming that you act without thinking:

Shrieking silently behind your pressed red lips, the sound muffled, you kick to launch your unsecured heel towards the door—

“Whoa!”

As if by divine fate (or misfortune) you watch in budding horror as Caleb darts out of the way of the offending shoe, crouching to the floor with his hands over his head.

Gege — formerly the most popular boy at school, now the golden wonder boy of the skies. Every person who has ever met him has wanted to know him, let alone date him, and you cannot blame them.

He's effortlessly kind, funny in his own right, and the type of classically handsome people think about when they dream up a hot-shot pilot with a bright future ahead of him.

He’s supposed to be out by wining and dining all of the amazing girls he’s met while away from home, yet he’s somehow standing — no, crumpled — at your bedroom door in a casual muscle tank-top and gray sweatpants.

“Caleb!” you exhale in shock.

(The text is forgotten, if only for one precious second.)

Remaining crouched, he continues to keep his eyes closed. 

“Could’ve warned me with a think fast, pipsqueak.”

 “I’m — shit, I’m so sorry,” you rasp as you rush over to him. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

With that cocky smirk tugging at his lips, Caleb reveals a playful violet eye before freezing.

The other eye opens slowly, the confidence all but wiped off of his face when he stares at you.

The facade erases as fast as a passing cloud.

“...whoa.”

Stopping in your tracks, your brows knit. “What?”

“Where’d you get that?” he asks after a beat, voice a little tighter than before.

His gaze flicks down, then up to the crown of your head, then only a fraction lower as if willing himself to keep his eyes focused on your face and your face alone.

“I don’t remember that being in your closet.”

“That’s because I bought it earlier this week,” you state, matter of fact. You look down at the sparkling red dress with disdain. “Not that it matters now.”

Finally standing at full height, you watch Caleb’s throat bob before he steps into the threshold of your bedroom.

“Uh… why? Your friends cancelling for a night in? Makes sense. Saves money.”

Giving him a knowing glare, you cross your arms over your chest and sigh away the creeping embarrassment. “Not quite.”

“Cancelling in general?” he tries again, mirroring his arms over his broad chest. The motion accentuates his naked biceps.

(Huh. They look bigger since he last visited.)

“Worse,” you conclude. 

“Worse?”

“I got stood up by a guy in my hunter class, so that’ll be awesome to kick off Monday with.”

Before he can hide it, you see it: his jaw clenches, tight, and a dark shadow passes over his expression.

The playful boy you’ve grown up with disappears in a flash.

“Who’s the asshole?” he asks flatly. “Does he live nearby?”

“Caleb.”

“Was he going to come pick you up?”

“Caleb.”

“I have privileges now, pipsqueak. You point me in the right direction and I’ll—”

“Gege! Enough."

The old name of endearment you’ve retired when he turned eighteen, buried with the rest of your bizarre family memorabilia — one that’s only stayed in your mind and never exited your mouth ever since — slips.

Caleb’s eyes flash with discontent until you reach for his face, sandwiching his cheeks between your palms.

In an instant the heat is snuffed out, and he relaxes without any further debate.

You know how he gets.

Not quite jealousy, not entirely overprotection.

I’d fly to the sun and back for you, pipsqueak, you know that.

(You do. You know he would.)

Caleb will blindly step out of this home to go find whatever man scorned you on Valentine’s Day and take whatever repercussions arrive, no questions asked.

His affection for you has always run deeper than the familial title Gran suggested when you were both so very small.

Caleb, you protect your mei mei by any means necessary.

He took that vow seriously, even now when you’re both adults.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him — and yourself. “It’s stupid anyway. Valentine’s Day is barely a holiday.”

Brows furrowed, Caleb raises his hand to meet you, eclipsing your own. His skin is always so warm, soft despite the callouses from his vigorous workouts.

The softness of this gesture melts away the rest of your rage into an evaporating puddle at your feet.

“It’s not stupid,” he states. “You were excited about going out, and some punk took for granted the best girl in Linkon City.”

His eyes widen briefly before his fingers curl over yours.

“Nope. Uh-uh. The night has barely begun.”

When he tugs you towards your bedroom door, your first step stumbles. “Wait, what?”

“We’re going out.”

Are you hearing things?

“We — huh?”

“Go wait for me in the living room, alright?” he states, briefly kissing the back of your hand before letting go. “I’m sure Gran kept some of my presentable stuff hung up in my closet. Shouldn’t take me that long to get ready. A buddy of mine’s brother owns a restaurant in the shopping district.”

“But Caleb—”

“Ah-ah, nope.”  

His lips pop the ‘p’ purposefully.

Caleb turns in a semi-circle to you, his boyish black hair skating over his eyes as the cockiness returns in a grin. 

“Actually — might wanna grab your that shoe you tried attacking me with and its twin, then go wait for me in the living room. Can’t have you runnin’ barefoot on the sidewalk. You catch colds too easily.”

.

.

.

.

.

In true Caleb fashion, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But you have better things to do than placate me!

(It isn’t placating if I want to do it, pipsqueak.)

But you probably have to return super early in the morning!

(Don’t care. I’ve pulled all-nighters worse than this.)

Caleb, you really don’t have to—

(Don’t finish that sentence.)

So you don’t.

Words cease to exist the minute you see Caleb walk out of his bedroom wearing his original Deepspace Aviation Administration dress uniform. You’ve only seen it once before at his graduation, all buttoned up in properly pressed olives and golds.

He walks towards you with that signature smirk of his, the one that makes just about everyone in Linkon City — and now Skyhaven — swoon no matter where he goes.

He looks beautiful.

(He should be out spending this holiday with a proper girlfriend, not you.)

It’s the mantra on your mind the entire way to the restaurant.

The way he holds the door open for you.

The way he pulls your chair out and makes sure you’re properly situated at a candlelit table.

The way he reaches across the table to squeeze your hand as if to reassure you—

Or himself—

That it’s not weird.

It isn’t, right?

Being here with the person who knows you best after all these years when you were meant to be sitting across from a damn near stranger; it isn’t like anyone in this restaurant knows your unusual upbringing, what you mean to one another.

So you squeeze back, and you see it: the tension in Caleb’s shoulders fades away.

For what it’s worth, his friend’s restaurant is far better than whatever you were going to have with your ghost.

The two of you share a bottle of wine and have the longest conversations you’ve held since he left for the academy.

Like the old days.

The ones where you’d spend countless hours in the summer heat enjoying the fireflies. 

The night skies littered with stars and swallowed by light pollution — that never stopped Caleb from telling you all about the planes passing over your heads.

Infectious; the sheer excitement to think of a new tomorrow waiting at the end of today.

And like two kids who didn’t know any better, you fell victim to speaking like the other would be an important part of that very tomorrow.

Video calls nightly, reduced to phone calls.

Phone calls weekly, reduced to texts.

Texts to… well, surprises like this.

Now, in the present, he’s still important. He’s still your gege, even if that title is a square piece trying to fit in a circular hole. 

No person will ever fill the Caleb-sized hole left in his absence as he reaches for the stars he so desperately wished to seek.

(And the wine’s beginning to taste like he needs to know that.)

.

.

.

.

.

“C’mon. Hop up.”

You’re several blocks from the restaurant walking in silence when Caleb is the first to break through the silence. 

Ordering any and all desserts off the menu that your heart desires, demanding the check to pay completely on his own dime — he’s spoiled you and then some tonight. 

I’ll take care of you, remember? That was my promise.

Except this is Valentine’s Day.

(Don’t you understand the importance of Valentine’s Day, gege?)

The question lingers on your tongue with venomous self hatred. Caleb has always been quick to act as your savior, putting your needs above all else, but this was the one night where you wanted something special. 

You can’t be special to the man walking beside you, not in the way the holiday suggests.

Too many problems.

Too many implications.

(We’re not joined by blood, only wine.)

That very wine turns sour the longer your heels irritate your feet in this slow, silent trek back to Gran’s house.

It’s when his melodic voice snaps you out of your mental spiral, causing your eyes to meet a softening violet gaze.

Winking, he assumes position: the taller man playfully squats with his hands low and at the ready to catch you mid-flight.

“What?” you finally blurt, trying to catch up to where this came from.

“C’mon, you’ve been wobbling on those heels for two blocks,” Caleb states, nodding once and nearly knocking his aviation cap. “Get on up here.”

“You want to carry me?”

“Does it look like I’m proposing anything else?” he retorts. “Don’t get big and brave. Big and brave means we’ll be dealing with blisters.” 

When you hesitate a second more, his voice drops to a gentler tone. 

“You’re overthinking, pipsqueak. I don’t want you hurting your feet. You got a city to keep safe in the morning, remember?”

Damn it.

He’s not wrong.

Relentling as you sling your small purse over your shoulder, you assume position with your arms wrapped around his neck.

When you hop up, Caleb effortlessly catches you without so much as a grunt from the added weight.

“Thatta girl. See, was that so hard?”

“I don’t have my hunter’s license yet,” you answer instead, combating his earlier sentiment as you relax against his back. He’s always been strong, but you're surprised by the sheer muscle nestled against your chest. “I’m not saving any lives right now.”

“You never know,” he states as he easily maneuvers across the street to stay the course leading to Gran’s house. “You’re smart. Capable. Strong. Who’s to say you don’t graduate early?”

“Oh, har-har,” you grumble as you drop your cheek against his back. Even if you can’t see it, the low chuckle he emits helps you envision a growing grin. “I won’t be graduating tomorrow. Early, maybe, but definitely not tomorrow.”

“How’s it going, by the way?”

“Mm?”

“Hunter school, duh.”

“Oh, you’re asking now?”

Caleb turns a corner, giving him a momentary pause. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it at dinner.”

No, you didn’t.

(It’s so irritating, being seen sometimes.)

“Besides getting ditched for a date?” you inquire. “Not bad.”

Biceps tense against your sides.

“You didn’t get ditched,” he corrects, airier than before. “You made better plans.”

“Technically you told me to grab my shoes, so I didn’t make anything,” you argue in return, the wine adding a boldness to your tongue. “I just followed your orders.”

With a tsk, tsk, tsk under his breath, the fingers around your thighs squeeze the bare flesh as a teasing warning to knock it off.

Caleb finally crosses the street to Gran’s front door, only setting you down to fish the front door key from his uniform pocket.

As soon as he has the door opened, however, he props it with his knee and loops an arm around your back.

Using the hand curled around your upper arm, he pushes you backwards and straight into his arms. He scoops just under your knees in a bridal style carry through the threshold of the house.

Your shriek twists into a bewildered cackle at the abruptness of his gentlemanly reprise, your arms scrambling to hold his neck for dear life.

He carefully maneuvers you both into your bedroom. “What?” he asks with amusement peppering his tone. “Something up?”

“Yes!” you laugh as he gingerly sets you down on your bed. “Or — I guess not anymore.”

Caleb grins as he drops to a knee, his slender fingers deftly working on the loops of your heels.

“Haven’t heard you laugh like that since high school.”

“No?”

“Nah,” he states, sliding the shoe off with caution — avoiding any possible blisters they may have caused while simultaneously searching your heel and toes for blemishes. When satisfied, he starts on the second heel. “It’s nice.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’m being serious, pipsqueak,” he replies, brows knit together with another huff of amusement. “I was afraid hunter school would’ve wiped off your sense of humor or something. The pros in the field always seem so… serious.”

His fingers absently rub along the arch of your foot, pressing into the tender muscle with the pads of his thumbs.

Your eyelids flutter from the sheer pleasure of such a simple movement.

Just as you’d hoped that maybe he’d continue tending to the weary soles of your feet, Caleb freezes.

His hands remain where they are, but his eyes drop to your lap to avoid yours.

Something feels… off.

Like there’s something on the tip of his tongue — something maybe lingering on yours as well — but the silence engulfs the telepathic conversation warring in your minds.

So you break it, skirting past the tension.

“This is the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” you admit under your breath, earnest and appreciative.

Caleb’s chin lifts without hesitation this time, his violet eyes wider.

The muscles in his cheeks twitch, suppressing a smile before it can fully surface, before speaking just as softly.

“Your only — hopefully.”

“Not my only, no.”

When his face falls, you cheekily follow up with a growing smile of your own.

“Technically you used to always be my Valentine, back in the day, so I've had Valentine's Days to remember before. Don’t think I forgot the baskets you used to make up for me so easily.”

It takes a second, but life eventually returns to his face in screaming color.

If the room wasn’t so dark, you’d swear the man kneeling before you was blushing.

“Damn, you remember those crappy things?”

“Do you seriously think I’d forget my after school Valentine’s Day baskets, Caleb? Really?”

“It’s been a while,” he argues, letting go of your foot to rest both palms on the ruffled sheets on either side of your hips. “We were just kids.”

“Yeah, but it meant something.”

Just like tonight.

Caleb has always gone above and beyond for your comfort.

(Your praise.)

Always putting your needs before his; always sorting out solutions that benefit you the most; always coming in last for eating, for sleeping, for taking showers, for…

Everything.

Even tonight, so long as it means it makes you happy.

Yet even if the wine loosens your secrets, you don’t expect him to confess why he spent so much of his waking hours catering to you and you alone.

(Square space, meet circular abyss.)

His eyes crinkle as he smiles up at you, admiring what sits in front of him.

The look makes your stomach somersault, heart yearning to reach for him — to touch the warmth of his skin and bask in an endless summer —

“You look deep in thought, pipsqueak.”

Caleb’s voice takes you from the dreamlike fantasy, short-circuiting the directive to never speak about what’s right in front you.

“You said this was a date, right?”

The question falls out of your mouth faster than intended.

Still all smiles, you note the furrow in Caleb’s brow.

“Sure, why?”

“And it was good?”

“I mean, I thought so,” he states. “We didn’t even come home with leftovers, so I can’t imagine you’re gonna tell me that you hated the restaur—”

“Don’t good dates usually end with a kiss?”

Every ounce of heat in this room vanishes in a flash.

The playful smile remains, but the intent shifts from earnest to disingenuous in a flinch. 

A mask; micro-movements in the muscles of his face show a new story about the night, one not as innocent as his knight in shining armor may have originally displayed.

You can only hope you aren’t reading between the wrong lines.

When your question isn’t met with an answer, rejection squeezes your stomach mercilessly.

You didn’t read between the lines, no — you crossed them, possibly to a degree you may never recover from.

“It’s fine,” you blurt immediately, waving your hands wildly in front of your chest. 

Caleb’s face falls in worried despair, and you find that this new onslaught of adrenaline is making you nauseous.

“Wait—”

“Forget I said that. Whoops, the wine—”

“Hey, no, don’t hide from me.”

Before you can press your palm to your forehead, those same warm hands curl around your fingers to tug it down. 

“C’mon.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

In an attempt to create some distance, you push yourself back onto your bed and swing your bare feet out of Caleb’s orbit, side-stepping him completely.

Standing to take to a pace, you don’t have the willpower to ask him to leave.

“It’s fine, seriously. Thank you for the nice night,” you keep going, trying to talk yourself out of the panic you feel eroding your belly.

Crying would just make this worse.

“Pipsqueak, don’t.”

“You said you had an early morning, right?”

Finally turning to face him, his image is watery at best.

You blink as fast as you can to eliminate the tears brewing in your eyes, but they seem to be working faster.

Caleb’s eyes grow impossibly wide at the sight of your struggles, as though your confliction hurts his very goddamn soul.

His long legs take one stride, another, a final until his large hands imprison your face to stare right into his.

You realize too late that he’s leaning in.

Dipping down.

—and a pause.

What was once covered in ice is thawed, and soon the warmth — the heat — of the most important man of your life returns. 

Those violet eyes stare down at your nose, dipping lower, cursed to stall.

You don’t move.

Couldn’t, not when your lungs have seized with confusion; anticipation.

“Tell me not to.”

His voice doesn’t sound the same — once cocky and confident, walking through life with everyone adoring his Midas touch, now withers and dies as a broken plea.

His breath mixes with yours.

You can still smell the red wine on his tongue.

“...Caleb?”

The pinkish flecks of his eyes flicker when he raises his attention.

In the dim light of the window, he looks boyish here.

Scared.

“Tell me not to,” he weakly repeats. “Just tell me not to and I won’t.”

Oh.

Now you’re the one at a loss for words.

“If you didn’t mean to ask,” he clarifies, tone trembling, “if you want to rewind to five minutes ago, then I’ll go to my room. I’ll leave in the morning, but if you —”

Stopping himself, the man looks physically pained when his eyes close, inhaling slowly as if to settle his budding nerves.

The tension in his jaw bubbles, clenches, until he exhales through his nose as steadily as he can.

“But if you say yes, I won’t be—” 

“Please?”

The word — the request, the plea — escapes faster than intended.

So does Caleb’s restraint.

Both hands holding your face drag you forward, your bare feet sliding along the floor, until you feel a gentle pressure on your lips.

Your hands grab the front of his uniform, balling the fabric between your fists as you decidedly press back.

His makes a noise of surprise against your mouth, melting into the reciprocation.

You notice as you both exhale, parting for only a moment before pressing lips against lips once more, that his hands are shaking.

Maybe you’re shaking, too.

Because it should feel wrong. Every time you’ve fantasized about being the girl he takes to a formal, the woman his eyes linger on for too long from across the bar, you’ve been struck with the immense shame in the back of your mind. 

Wrong, like he was ever truly blood.

Wrong, like the fates laughed in the face of undeniable desire.

Wrong, like you would ever love anyone more than Caleb. 

Nothing has ever felt more right.

All you can focus on is the way he smells, like woodsy cologne and red wine; the way he touches you so preciously, his thumb absently running along your cheekbone the longer you kiss in the middle of your bedroom; the way he sounds with every press and pull, gutted with pure arousal and want.

Your name, fluttering against his tongue, before it glides along your lower lip.

You don’t deny him.

He groans as if your refusal to stop could ruin him, but there is a sharp inhale before a chill passes against your glistening lips.

Caleb pulls away to find a purchase of air, violet eyes as dark as deepspace while regarding the haze of affection he’s met by your fluttering eyes. 

“Hey.”

The greeting is shy.

Small.

Swallowing to coat your dry throat, you weakly reply. “Hey.”

“You good?” he murmurs, petting the crown of your head affectionately.

A dam has broken — for the next few minutes, you have Caleb at his most raw.

Gone is the guarded expression you’ve learned to live with, replaced with radiating affection.

Despite yourself, you nod.

“Should I ask where you learned to kiss like that?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

Wait.

Your expression smooths with recognition. “What do you mean—?”

A smile, euphoric and unabashed, breaks out.

“What, you think I’m busy kissing aliens or something when I’m out flying?”

Scorned by his playfulness, you bump your fist against his broad chest.

“Caleb.”

“What?” he teases. “You asked — but, ah… no. That was—”

His brow knits for a moment, a blush creeping up his neck to his ears.

“My best effort at my first. Why, couldn’t tell?”

You.

His first kiss happened with you.

Your lips tingle with the shock — the sheer satisfaction — of holding that title.

“Don’t go back to your room tonight,” you softly state instead, reaching for his hand to squeeze it. The blush on his face only intensifies, so you let out a tiny scoff. “To cuddle, genius. I’m not looking to check off all of the boxes in one night.”

Caleb makes a tsk sound with his tongue before tilting his head.

“Preserving my honor, I see.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Even if you’ve gone past the point of no return—-

Even if you’re crossed the line—

Somehow he’s still Caleb, and you’re still you.

You thought that if one day you both took the impossible, forbidden leap of faith, that it would destroy the very foundation of what you’ve been since you were children.

Yet it feels like it was meant to always be this way — as if it’s as catastrophic as a rogue breeze on a summer night.

Taking his hand, you pull him back to your bed. 

As you slide onto the mattress to get comfortable, Caleb shrugs out of his uniform jacket, leaving him in a white tee.

He crawls alongside you the way he used to during thunderstorms, scooping you close to his chest while his heavy arm settles around your waist.

Protective.

You settle against him just as you always have, eyes closed.

Only the feel of his heart racing against your back remains.

For a moment you both lay here, basking in what’s happened — what will never be the same — before his voice murmurs against your neck.

“If you ever wanted to check off all of the boxes—”

His nose nuzzles your skin, humming at its scent.

“—they’ve always been yours to take.”

.

author's note: caleb gripped me tight and raised me from season depression perdition and i owe him my life (dramatic but true). this is my first ever lads fic despite being a week one player so tysm for reading !! i hope to write more in the very near future. happy valentine's day, tumblr friends. xoxo amy

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 731.

Well, after two long years of posting, I’m finally taking a break.

Thank you guys for everything for the past two years. It’s genuinely been so fun making daily doodles. But all good things must come to an end eventually. I’m tired.

What are the plans moving forward?

read below the cut if you’d like to know!!

Taking a break:

Life in general has been really rough lately. Tons of family drama, personal medical issues making it impossible to function some days, and my childhood dog recently passed away a few days after Christmas last year. So it was a real challenge to “keep up appearances” if you know what I mean.

I’ve said this plenty of times in the past already, however I’ll repeat it since there’s surprisingly a lot more new people that have followed since then. I’m taking a whole month off from posting entirely. So I won’t be active on Silksongeveryday until about March 14th. Why? Hopefully it’s obvious but posting daily content for two years straight really does something to you. I’ve grown tired of this blog just a little bit, and I feel stepping away from it for a month will help me reconnect. I still love the game and its community, and I’d hate for my disinterest in a single blog to ruin that. If a month long break could fix that then so be it.

I’m also taking a somewhat indefinite break from daily doodles. I WILL still be posting doodles occasionally every once in a while after I come back from my month long break. However I won’t be doing daily doodles.

So no daily doodles ever again?

There is only one condition that has to be met for me to return to daily doodles.

A Silksong release date is announced.

Which is…let’s face it, a release date might not happen any time soon. 6 years of near radio silence from TC? I’m not expecting much, especially not in a month.

But WHEN a release date is announced I’ll definitely return to daily doodles and do a sort of daily “countdown” until Silksong is officially out.

Will doodle requests still be open?

Yes! Even if I will no longer be doing daily posts I will still occasionally post every once in a while with doodles! So if there’s a specific doodle you’d like to request and you have an extra $1 hanging around, hornet doodle requests are open on my ko-fi!!

What about the current projects that were happening on Silksongeveryday?

I’m still working on them! Just as mentioned before, a lot of stuff happened irl so it’s kind of on the back burner.

For the Hornet Journal Series: I plan to post the remaining entries after I come back from my month long break. Whether I work on them during that month long break totally depends on how I’m feeling. But there may be a likely chance I work on a few here and there on my own time! But regardless, I do plan to finish this project. So no worries!

For Hornet’s Strange adventures: I know it’s been ages since this particular project finished on the blog. Development for the free game is slow going since I’m working on this project entirely by myself with a game engine I’ve never used before. Progress is being made but it’s unfortunately slow thanks for irl conflicts. But, just like the journal series, I do plan to finish this project so I promise it won’t be abandoned!! I just need a break first lol.

___________

I think that’s all I have to say?? But if anyone has any questions, asks are always open and I’m more than happy to answer just about anything!

Thanks again for the wonderful experience, it’s been an amazing journey with you guys <3

See you all in a month!!

[alwaysobsessed777]

Ooo you could do one with Nika coming back to UConn the other day, maybe her gf is still in school (doesn’t have to be on the team) so they get to visit and go to the game together, just a fluffy one :)

BACK HOME - N.M.

Back on my shit....imma write my Nika fluff so enjoy

"I TOLD YOU!" Paige's voice echoed through the gym. Rolling my eyes, I chased after the ball.

"Next time....you're getting the ball yourself," throwing the ball a little harder than intended, it bounced off the blonde's head.

"BRO....WATCH THE BRAIDS!"

"Shut up, P," Azzi screamed from the bench, earning a stuck out tounge in return.

"Yeah, Twin. Shut up."

The voice stopped me in my tracks. Everyone's eyes landed on me. Slowly turning around, I was meet with the girl I had been missing for months.

Nika.

"Hey, baby," even before both words could fall from her lips, my arms wrapped around her. My head nuzzled itself into her neck. Words couldn't describe how much I've missed her.

"I see that I've been missed..." one of her hands gently rubbed my back, the other softly combing through my hair.

My head shot up, looking at the Croatian, "how...hie are you here?"

She pretended to think, "A plane...a car...anything really that moves would help me get here."

I chuckle, "shut up, smartass."

"you've missed it....i know it."

She wasn't wrong. I did miss it. I missed everything about her. Her smile, her eyes, her charm, her voice. You name it, I've missed it.

"Can we get going, bruh," the blonde's hand gripped onto my shoulder, but nothing adverted my attention from my girlfriend. "We have a game to warm up for...earth to y/n?"

"shut up, I'm with my girlfriend." Paige huffed, stomping off somewhere.

Nika separated us enough to intertwine our hands, walking is to the bench. Her waves of brown flowed over her shoulders, bouncing a little with each step.

"I wanna talk ...catch up on things," nervousness laced her voice. The small sound to her tone made her cute, the same voice she used to ask me out.

"that's sounds like an amazing idea," the seats being comfortable enough, we sat down. "I've missed you a lot, Nika."

"I've missed you too, y/n."

A silence fell between us, our eyes locking, before a comfortable laughter escaped both of us. The awkward tension being from not seeing each other for months, but you could feel it slowly dissipating.

"So...basketball season?"

I groaned, "don't get me started on it....like why are we good...but not like last year good."

"you don't have me..." she waited for my reaction, a smirk playing on her lips.

"you know....i know you're joking...but we truly need a get you back in a UConn jersey," laughing it out, Nika snickered.

"only if I could," a sadness contorted on her perfect features. I instantly felt bad.

"I'm sorry."

"hey...don't be. I'll eventually be able to get back on the court."

I nodded, "....are you excited to watch us tonight?"

"I'm excited to watch you!" Her hands clasped around my face, a smile stretched on her lips.

"I love you," she rested her forehead on mine, a small gesture that always made my heart flutter.

"I love you too," she leaned back, looking me straight in the eyes, "also...im wearing your jersey...i better see the best game ever from you."

"yes ma'am," snickering, her hands fell from my face.

She leaned in, capturing my lips in hers. They moved together as if they were a puzzle being pieced together. Her hands landing on my waist, pulling me closer to her. My hands worked towards the back of her neck. My fingers fiddling with her brown hair.

"uh...guy?" A voice broke is out of the small trance we were previously in. "Geno said stop sucking each others faces."

"Paige, shut up."

She held her hands up in surrender, "hey, don't kill the delivery guy."

"I think she said that completely wrong," I looked at the brunette beside me.

"she definitely did," she looked at me again with her brown doe eyes, my favorite sight, "I should let you get to practice...remember....play for me babe"

"I would never play for anyone else."

***********

A/n : sorry if this sucks.....I got the urge to write....and wrote half of this like asleep....don't ask how

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

I LOVE your writing SO MUCH!

It’s been scratching at my head all day, I don’t know if you have done this but how would batfam be if they saw you had a strange fixation on otome games? Or weird random topics like being a history nerd about irrelevant topics (i watch history youtube channels like oversimplified)! Love ur writing once again!

OMG, thank you! (This is a small Valentine's gift.)

Weird neglected black!reader loves dating sims of all kinds; it's like fine dining to them. A group of boys falling in love with you and only you, thinking you're beautiful, smart, amazing, and cool, or a bunch of girls fighting for your attention—reader just can't help it. They'll spend real-life money on in-game currency just to get a spicy scene with the male lead or to pick an action that costs 17 diamonds! But you know what? It's worth it! You'll do it for your anime boyfriends. Whenever reader is about to play one of these games, they lock their room like they're about to do something evil, but instead, they're just swooning over their love interests. It's kind of ironic, but reader really likes yandere relationships. The idea of someone being in love with them so deeply sends reader over the moon with joy, even though they know it's toxic and unhealthy; they just can't help but love it. But when Bruce and the others find out, it ruins everything for you. Bruce figures out you've been spending a lot of money on his game and finds out where you're sending the money to. He cuts you off for a month or so, telling you that this kind of stuff is unhealthy and that the people are fictional, but that was the point! No real boy would run after you in the rain just to give you an umbrella. No real boy would bake you food and give it to you, pretending like he had leftovers when he cooked it himself. No real boy would do that! But this makes the Batfam realize something; you're so lonely and desperate for affection that you play dating sims. Even that's not the case now; your schedule is full, which means you won't have enough time to play your game because everyone wants to cuddle, bake, play, and have fun with you. The next thing you know, you can't find any of your saved files or saved games—they're gone (thanks to Tim and Barbara). But now you can hang out with the family! Those pixels have nothing on them, and these psychos will do whatever it takes to make you forget about your game if it means spending more time with them.

[jianwon]

i NEED more se-mi actor x reader mua au. i’m not picky about what about, but preferably just as if not more fluffy. first dates? new show? becoming her official artist? testing out new techniques on her? maybe opposite and she tries to do readers makeup and messes up but it’s cute and sweet

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON YOU — PLAYER 380

sypnosis. as a makeup artist, you’ve always kept things professional, but that changes during se-mi’s latest photoshoot. when her co-star, no-eul, turns up the flirtation and se-mi’s patience wears thin. tension simmers, jealousy sparks, and before you know it, she’s done holding back.

part 1 part 2

content— actress!se-mi x fem!makeupartist!reader. jealous se-mi (again). flirting and romantic tension. no-eul is a tease and reader is oblivious. mentions of squid game characters.

disclaimer. story is entirely fictional and in no way reflects real events, individuals, or their relationships. characters mentioned are fictional representations based on their on-screen personas.

wordcount. 3.7k

the soft sound of rain tapping against the window was soothing, but it couldn’t quite calm your racing heart. you paced around your small apartment, organizing and straightening things. something you always did when you were excited, even if it was a little unnecessary.

today was one of those rare days where you couldn’t contain the thrill in your chest.

your crew had just informed you that they would be styling se-mi for her upcoming elle korea photoshoot. it was such an exciting opportunity, and your heart swelled with pride.

you were so caught up in the anticipation that you almost missed the gentle knock at your door. when you opened it, there she was, se-mi, standing in the doorway, looking effortlessly chic in a cozy hoodie and jeans, her eyes softening when they met yours.

“hey,” se-mi said with that familiar playful smile. “you busy?”

you grinned, stepping aside to let her in. “not really. just... thinking about something,” you said, trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

se-mi stepped inside, immediately making herself comfortable on your couch. you noticed the way her eyes seemed to be searching you, trying to figure out what was on your mind.

"i can tell you’re in one of your excited moods" she teased, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her legs. "what’s got you all worked up?"

you joined her on the couch, and the space between you felt both too close and too far at the same time.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before spilling the news. “my crew’s styling you for the elle korea photoshoot!” you said, your voice nearly trembling from excitement.

se-mi’s eyes widened, and her lips curved into a proud smile. “really? that’s amazing!”

she leaned forward, her hand resting on your knee as she looked at you with fondness. “i’m so proud of you, really. i just know you'll do great.”

your heart fluttered at her words. you had always admired se-mi’s grace and confidence, and the thought of her being styled by you made everything feel surreal. you’d worked with her countless times during her last movie, but this was different. this felt like a big step forward, not just professionally but personally, too.

“i can’t wait to style you again,” you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “you’ll look incredible, as usual.”

se-mi’s eyes softened, and she looked at you with something deeper in her gaze.

“you always know how to make me feel special,” she said quietly, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "i can't wait."

you felt a warm flush on your cheeks, not used to the closeness, though it felt entirely natural with her.

it was moments like these that made everything feel more complicated. those unspoken feelings between the two of you that hadn’t yet found a name. you were content to let things unfold naturally, but you could feel something shifting in the air.

as the evening passed, you and se-mi talked about everything and nothing at all. casual, easygoing conversations that often turned into deeper, meaningful exchanges.

but through it all, there was an undercurrent of something you both were pretending not to acknowledge. the way your glances lingered just a little longer, the subtle touches that could’ve been nothing or everything, and the way you both seemed to gravitate toward each other as though it were fate.

the day of the photoshoot arrived.

you could hardly contain your excitement. the studio was bustling with activity, the crew moving like clockwork to prepare everything. you watched with a sense of pride as your team worked seamlessly, knowing that you were at the center of this whole production.

when se-mi walked into the room, the atmosphere seemed to shift. her presence filled the space, elegant and commanding.

she was dressed in a stunning black outfit, her short hair flowing perfectly, and her bare face gleaming with an almost otherworldly glow. you swallowed hard, feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. she was beyond beautiful, but it was more than that. there was something magnetic about the way she held herself.

“hey, ready for today?” you asked, trying to sound casual, even though your pulse quickened the moment she came closer.

se-mi gave you a smile that made your knees weak. “always, especially when i’m being prepared by you.” her voice was warm, the hint of flirtation there as she leaned in slightly, her gaze softening.

you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. “you’ll look amazing. i’ll make sure of it.”

the two of you exchanged a moment of quiet understanding, an intimate moment that felt like it was just the two of you in the world.

se-mi was seated in the makeup chair, and you were preparing your tools, making sure everything was in place.

you were lost in the details of your work, trying to stay focused, when the door opened, and a new presence filled the room.

no-eul walked in, her tall frame exuding confidence. she had a striking look, sharp features, a smooth complexion, and a height that made her impossible to ignore. the way she moved into the room, her every step calculated, caught your attention in an entirely different way. there was something about her that felt electric, but you couldn’t tell if it was excitement or something else.

she smiled when her gaze met yours. “i’m no-eul,” she said, her voice warm but with an edge of curiosity. “you must be the makeup artist."

you returned her smile, bowing in respect, trying to keep things professional. “yes, i’m the one,” you said, trying to keep things light. “i'm y/n. it's nice to meet you.”

no-eul’s eyes lingered a little longer than necessary on you, and something about her smile made your skin prickle. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was an undeniable sense of playfulness in the way she looked at you.

just as you were about to return your attention to se-mi, no-eul turned towards her. “se-mi sunbae, it’s been a while,” she said, her tone friendly but with a hint of something more layered beneath it.

se-mi glanced up at her, offering a polite but cool smile. “yeah, it’s been a long time,” she replied, keeping her voice professional. “how’s everything going?”

no-eul’s eyes flickered with something, maybe surprise or amusement at se-mi’s neutral tone, but she didn’t push it. “everything’s good. you know how it is with the acting industry, just keeping busy.”

se-mi gave a small nod, and then her gaze shifted back to you, a faint sense of tension still lingering between them.

it was clear they had worked together before, but they weren’t close. se-mi’s response, though polite, lacked the warmth you might expect from someone reconnecting with an old acquaintance.

“let’s get to work,” se-mi said, her tone shifting back to business, as if the pleasantries were over. she turned to you, offering a smile that was far warmer than the one she had just given no-eul.

as you began working on se-mi’s makeup, you could feel her gaze never straying too far from you.

there was a quiet intensity in her eyes, a watchful energy that made your heart race a little faster. despite her calm demeanor, se-mi must have noticed the tension in your posture.

"why do you look so stiff?" se-mi chuckled, her lips curving into a teasing smile. the amusement in her voice was undeniable.

“do i?” you responded with a slight nervous laugh, trying to mask the fluttering in your chest. "probably because there’s a beautiful woman in front of me. i can’t help but be nervous."

at that, se-mi's cheeks flushed, her eyes widening ever so slightly before she recovered. she turned to face you fully, holding your gaze with an unexpected intensity.

"hey, that's not fair—"

but before she could continue, no-eul’s voice cut through the moment like a sharp blade.

“hey, y/n, do you mind blending this out a little more? maybe add some more color here?” no-eul called, her voice smooth, sweet, and undeniably flirtatious.

she was sitting on the makeup chair beside se-mi’s, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“oh, yes, of course!” you replied quickly, trying to maintain professionalism, though you couldn’t help the slight tinge of frustration from the disturbance that rose in you.

"just a minute." you turned toward se-mi for just a moment, meeting her gaze again, her expression now unreadable.

then, reluctantly, you shifted your attention back to no-eul, who was looking at you with an intensity that seemed more than just casual.

se-mi didn’t make a fuss, knowing you were just doing your job.

however, no-eul was persistent, almost annoyingly so. every time you shifted back to se-mi to continue her makeup, no-eul would call for more adjustments, things that weren’t really necessary.

“actually, y/n, could you make this a bit sharper? just here?” she pointed to her cheekbone, leaning forward as if she wanted to make sure you were really paying attention.

with each small request, your focus wavered, and it felt like no-eul was somehow stealing your attention, inching closer with every brushstroke. each time you reached for a sponge or a brush, her hand would intentionally brush against yours, lingering just a moment too long.

at first, you tried to brush it off, telling yourself that you were just doing your job, trying to stay focused.

but you couldn’t ignore the way se-mi’s eyes tracked every interaction between you and no-eul. the air in the room had shifted, the previously light atmosphere now thick with a palpable tension.

se-mi’s jaw tightened as she watched no-eul’s relentless attempts to engage you. her fists were clenched, her fingers digging into the armrests of her chair as if she were trying to ground herself. she didn’t say anything at first, but the quiet simmer of her anger was undeniable.

“does she always do that?” se-mi asked, her voice low, and you could see the sharpness in her eyes as you returned to her after making another adjustment for no-eul.

you were caught off guard by the bite in her tone. "she’s probably just... detail-oriented," you replied, attempting to brush it off, though you could feel the weight of her gaze on you. “nothing to worry about.”

but se-mi’s expression didn’t soften.

in fact, it grew more rigid, the lines of her face hardening with a quiet frustration. “it’s not just that,” she muttered under her breath, though her words were cutting, almost seething with irritation. “she’s trying too hard.”

no-eul’s persistent requests felt almost like an invasion, an attempt to draw your attention in ways that now felt inappropriate. se-mi’s jealousy hung in the air like a storm cloud, pulsing with intensity.

you glanced back at se-mi, trying to gauge where her feelings were headed. “it’s okay, se-mi. it’s no big deal.”

se-mi didn’t respond. instead, she stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed, her jaw still tight. the smallest twitch of her fingers betrayed how much the situation was affecting her, like she was fighting to hold herself together.

the shoot carried on, and though se-mi remained composed, there was a noticeable shift in her demeanor. her responses to no-eul became precise and professional, no warmth, no unnecessary words.

“no-eul, tilt your head slightly.”

“move your arm down.”

“no, that pose doesn't fit the concept.”

her tone was clipped, her gaze impassive. there was no trace of friendly banter lingering in her voice. you could see no-eul raising an eyebrow at the cold treatment, but she didn’t let it show beyond a faint smirk.

“got it, sunbae,” no-eul replied smoothly, unfazed. “anything else?”

se-mi barely looked at her. “no.”

the tension was palpable, but the cameras kept rolling, and everyone played their part. you worked silently, adjusting se-mi’s hair in between takes, but she barely acknowledged you.

then came the break.

no-eul stretched with an exaggerated sigh before making her way toward you, brushing past se-mi without a second glance. she leaned in just enough to make it obvious, her voice dropping into something more intimate.

“you’re really good at what you do,” she murmured, her eyes flicking to yours with that familiar playfulness. “i should sit in your chair more often.”

you let out an awkward laugh, stepping back slightly. “i just—well, i’m just doing my job.”

“mhm well, i like the way you do it." no-eul teased, her smile lingering.

from the corner of your eye, you caught the way se-mi’s expression hardened. she wasn’t watching directly, but you knew she was listening.

her grip tightened around the water bottle in her hands, her posture stiff.

no-eul, of course, noticed too. she tilted her head, the glint in her eyes unmistakable. “i think i’ll come by after the shoot,” she added, voice deliberately slow. “you don’t mind, do you?”

se-mi suddenly stood. “we’re starting soon,” she announced coolly before walking off without another word.

no-eul chuckled under her breath, clearly entertained. “looks like someone’s in a mood,” she mused, then turned back to you with a wink. “i wonder why.”

you swallowed, feeling a whole new level of tension settle between all three of you.

as another break arrived, the tension has never left.

you were cleaning your brushes when no-eul strolled over, her usual confident smirk in place. she leaned on the vanity next to you, just close enough for her perfume to mix with the faint scent of setting spray in the air.

“you look really dedicated,” no-eul mused, watching as you meticulously organized your tools. “it’s cute.”

you blinked, caught off guard. “i mean… it’s my job?”

she chuckled, tilting her head. “and you do it so well. maybe i should have you all to myself as my personal makeup artist next time.”

before you could even process what she meant, a firm hand suddenly gripped your wrist.

“not happening."

se-mi’s voice cut through the air, sharp and final.

before no-eul or you could react, se-mi yanked you away with a force you weren’t used to, her grip like iron. you barely had time to gasp before she pulled you past equipment, past the staff, past the murmurs of curiosity trailing behind you.

you didn’t realize where you were until your back hit the cool wall of a dimly lit dressing room. the door clicked shut behind you, and then—

se-mi’s lips crashed onto yours.

it wasn’t careful. it wasn’t hesitant. it was pure frustration, heated and desperate, as if she had been holding herself back for too long and finally snapped. her hands cupped your face, her thumbs pressing just beneath your jaw, tilting your head up as she kissed you deeper.

you barely had time to breathe, let alone process, before she pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, her voice rough with emotion.

“you can't be with her.”

your heart pounded against your ribs. “w-what?”

she pouted, her forehead pressing against yours, her fingers tightening slightly. “do you even realize what she was doing back there?”

you blinked. “she was just... being nice?”

se-mi exhaled sharply, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. then she kissed you again, harder this time, as if trying to prove a point, as if branding the truth into your very skin.

you felt the heat of her body, the way her breath mingled with yours, the unspoken words in the way her hands wouldn’t let go.

“she was all over you,” se-mi muttered, her lips ghosting over your jaw now, her breath searing. “and you...” she pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. “you’re too damn oblivious.”

your mind was spinning, but something clicked in that moment, the way se-mi had been acting distant, the coldness toward no-eul, the tension every time she so much as looked in your direction.

it wasn’t just frustration. it was jealousy.

and it was because of you.

your breath hitched as realization settled in. “se-mi, are you..." you hesitated, looking into her dark, stormy eyes. “are you jealous?”

she scoffed, but there was no bite to it, only something vulnerable underneath. “are you really asking me that after all this?”

you swallowed, your face heating up. “i… i wasn't sure. i thought you were just—”

se-mi let out a short, disbelieving laugh before cupping your cheek again, softer this time. “i’ve been trying to keep it together, but when i saw her looking at you like that, touching you like that? i couldn’t stand it.” her thumb brushed over your bottom lip, her voice dropping to a whisper. “i can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

your heart clenched at the raw honesty in her words.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured, placing your hand over hers. “i didn’t mean to make you feel that way. i was just so caught up in work that i didn’t realize…” you trailed off before giving her a small, nervous smile. “but if it helps… i don’t want anyone else. just you.”

se-mi’s breath hitched slightly, her grip tightening as if to make sure you were real. “say it again.”

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “i want you, se-mi."

she exhaled, almost in relief, before pulling you into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, carrying everything she couldn’t put into words.

when she pulled away, she rested her forehead against yours, a tiny, satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “you’re mine,” she whispered again, but this time, it wasn’t possessive but it was filled with certainty.

you chuckled softly. “and you’re also mine.”

se-mi let out a small laugh before stealing one last lingering kiss. “good. because i’m never letting you go, dear."

and with the way her arms wrapped around you, holding you close, you believed her.

when you and se-mi stepped back into the styling room, your lips still tingled from her kiss, and your heart was racing for an entirely different reason than before.

you weren’t sure how long you had been gone, but judging by the amused expression on no-eul’s face as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, she had definitely noticed.

“well, well,” she drawled, a smirk curving on her lips as she lazily tilted her head. “that was quite the dramatic exit. i was wondering if i should call for a search party.”

your face heated up immediately, and you glanced at se-mi, only to see her roll her eyes, her jaw tightening. “mind your business, no-eul.”

“oh, but your business is so much more entertaining,” no-eul shot back, biting back a grin. “you should’ve seen the look on your face when you dragged her away. i thought you were about to challenge me to a duel.”

se-mi scoffed, folding her arms. “if i did, you’d lose.”

“oh? territorial, aren’t we?” no-eul teased, raising an eyebrow. she then turned her gaze to you, lips quirking in amusement. “and you, tell me, did you really not realize I was flirting with you?”

you blinked, shifting uncomfortably. “i mean… i just thought you were being friendly?”

no-eul let out a laugh, shaking her head. “wow. you're adorable.” she glanced at se-mi. “no wonder you were about to explode.”

se-mi huffed, looking like she was debating whether to argue or throw something at her.

no-eul, clearly enjoying herself, continued, “you know, i could’ve kept going, but honestly, it was way too easy to get a reaction out of you, sunbae. you wear jealousy like a designer dress. fitted, dramatic, and impossible to ignore.”

se-mi shot her a glare. “do you ever shut up?”

no-eul grinned. “not when I’m having this much fun.” she turned back to you with a mock-serious expression. “i must say, though, you have great taste. i mean, sunbae is a little scary when she’s mad, but it is kind of hot, isn’t it?”

your face practically burst into flames. “w-what?”

se-mi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose before grabbing your wrist again, but this time much gentler. “can you just leave?”

no-eul chuckled, waving as se-mi tugged you towards your make-up table. “have fun, lovebirds!”

but just as she reached for the knob, she stopped at the doorway, glancing back at you with a knowing smirk. “oh, and also y/n, love the lipstick shade. happens to also be the same as se-mi sunbae’s.”

your eyes widened.

se-mi froze.

no-eul winked before sauntering off.

you turned to se-mi, horrified. “do you think anyone else...?”

se-mi sighed. “i don’t want to talk about it.”

you, on the other hand, weren’t sure if you wanted to hide forever or burst out laughing.

the room was quiet, save for the faint sound of your breathing mixing with se-mi’s. her arms were still wrapped around you, as if she was afraid to let go. you felt her heart pounding against your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“so… what now?” you murmured, your fingers lightly tracing patterns on her back.

se-mi pulled back just enough to look at you, her gaze soft yet determined. “we go back out there and finish the shoot,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “but after that… we talk.”

you nodded, understanding the weight of what she meant. whatever this was, whatever it had become, was something that needed to be acknowledged. no more tiptoeing around feelings, no more silent longing.

a small smirk tugged at se-mi’s lips as she ran her thumb over your lower lip. “besides, i still need to make sure no-eul keeps her hands to herself.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, miss top actress.”

se-mi narrowed her eyes but there was no real heat behind it. “say that again, and i just might leave you in here.”

you laughed, nudging her lightly before pulling away. “alright, let’s get back before they start thinking we ran off together.”

se-mi’s expression shifted into something teasing. “but we kind of did, didn’t we?”

you felt warmth creep up your neck but ignored it, turning toward the door. just as you reached for the handle, se-mi grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around.

“wait,” she whispered. before you could ask why, she leaned in, pressing one last slow, lingering kiss against your lips, this one filled with something deeper. something certain.

when she finally pulled away, her eyes held a promise.

“okay. now we can go.”

back in the studio, the atmosphere had shifted. the tension that once hung thick in the air had transformed into something else entirely. no-eul noticed it immediately.

her sharp eyes flickered between you and se-mi as the two of you returned. se-mi, ever composed, simply walked past her, her expression unreadable. but as she took her place in the makeup chair again, you saw it, the subtle smirk, the way she sat just a little closer to you, the way her gaze softened every time it landed on your face.

no-eul caught on. and from the way her lips curved ever so slightly, she was amused.

“so,” no-eul mused, leaning back in her chair. “had a nice break?”

you hesitated, but before you could answer, se-mi beat you to it.

“very,” she said smoothly, meeting no-eul’s gaze with a pointed look. “best one i’ve had in a while.”

no-eul chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “figures.”

you weren’t sure what that meant, but the way no-eul’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer made something stir in your chest. but before you could dwell on it, se-mi reached for your hand under the vanity, giving it a gentle squeeze.

you turned to look at her, and in that moment, everything else faded.

this was real. this was happening and whatever came next, you were ready.

a/n— another actress!semi and makeup artist!reader story ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ im SOOO sorry for updating after so long finals is killing me and i couldn't cut writing in my schedule i've had this in my drafts for a while, thank the heavens i was able to finish it today and in valentines day too! happy valentines day to whoever is reading this !!!

[he3ts]

FOR YOUR LOVE

squid game / masterlist

first chapter: years to grow / series masterlist

pairings: nam gyu x reader, minor thanos x reader

warnings: to be consistent with the plot reader is danish, smut, drugs, alcohol, explicit content, lots of music, for this story i was inspired exclusively by the discography of måneskin. i was inspired by one of their songs for this story. escort = a whore with a more graceful name.

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Music had always been a part of you.

Even before you knew what certain words meant, even before you understood the meaning of the emotions you felt, you recognized the sound of a guitar. It was instinct. The warm wood under your fingers, the metal of the strings vibrating at the slightest touch, the notes etching your ears.

You had started playing when you were just a child, your hands small, your fingers too weak to press well on the frets, but your determination greater than any obstacle. The first guitar was too big for you, too heavy, yet you had fallen in love with it right away. When you picked it up, you felt something inside you take shape, as if every note told you that that would be your path.

You'd spend hours in front of the mirror with the old Stratocaster hanging off your shoulder, imagining you were on a stage, playing in front of a frenzied crowd. No one was watching you, no one was judging you. Just you, your music and a dream growing inside you. Freckles dotted your cheeks, disheveled hair fell over your eyes, your fingernails were always marred by the strings. And you didn't care. You were in your own world, all about music and posters of famous bands. You dabbled with almost every instrument, you had a gift, or so your mother always said amazed at your affinity for instruments.

While the other girls at school talked about fashion, parties, and boys, you spent afternoons locked in your room, headphones over your ears, your fingers trying to decipher guitarist solos too complex for a young girl. You weren't different, you just had different goals. Still, you would not stop, stubborn you always had been. They told you it would just be a hobby, a phase. It wasn't.

Music had given you a purpose. An identity. You had never been the most popular, the most sociable, the one who knew what to say at the right times, but when you picked up your guitar and got on a stage, then yes, you were somebody. The fear disappeared, the doubts melted away, and all that was left was the sound. A powerful sound. Yours. You had found your band, so you could play on rainy afternoons, the ones where a beer for four is enough to be happy. But then at 16 you had to leave everything behind.

Leaving Denmark had never been in your plans; you had grown up in the salty winds of the North Sea and the quiet streets of a city where time seemed to pass more slowly. Gray skies, long winters, days that shortened too soon. But for you, the light had always been in the music.

Your first connection to South Korea had not been the K-pop everyone knew. Not the perfect choreography, not the glossy melodies, it was the underground rock, the dirty, visceral rock that pulsed in the streets of Hongdae, among tiny clubs, underground venues where bands played late into the night, not giving a damn about being famous. A raw, authentic world where music was everything.

You had discovered it by accident, on one of those sleepless nights spent in front of the computer, clicking on videos of concerts recorded with shaky cameras. It was a thunderbolt. The sound, the energy, the anger, everything had captured you. It seemed so far from your ordered world, yet so close to what you had always felt inside.

And when you had had the chance to move, you had not hesitated.

Your father had not understood. He had looked at you as if you were making the biggest mistake of your life. Your mother had tried to convince you to fly free on your own path.

It had not been easy. You were an outsider. Stranger.

Until, one night, you had taken the stage during an open mic.

You were nervous, more than you wanted to admit. The audience chattered distractedly, and your heart hammered in your chest as you picked up your guitar. But as soon as your fingers had touched the strings, everything else had vanished.

It was you. Your sound.

People had stopped talking, someone had started moving to the beat. And at the end, there had been real applause. And it had been on one of those evenings that you had met Thanos. His lively personality was unmistakable, infectious; he had molded your shy nature with a simple, welcoming smile. He had been staring at you the whole time. Not like others, not with curiosity or skepticism, but like someone studying something interesting.

And when you had come down from the stage, he had approached.

"You play well," he had said as he held out his hand to you "I am Thanos" there you had realized that he was an artist like you, with a stage name almost as fascinating as he was.

And that was how you had entered Saurer Sarg. You had known right away that that was where you belonged. A raw, visceral band that wasn't trying to please anyone. No veneer, no pretense. Just real, dirty, fierce music. You had slipped in with your guitar and your edgy riffs, and you had never come out.

And then there was Se-Mi, the bass player, with a sharp look but a sweet smile. She had christened you "sunshine" just because of your freckles sprinkled carefully on your cheeks.

And then there was Nam Gyu.

The drummer who seemed born to challenge you, to ignite that spark that made you play even louder. Always one step behind you, always one step ahead of you. Your tuning was made up of clashes, sharp jokes, competition. But you were only alive because of the music. Only for yourself, not for him. You didn't get along. If he was fire, you were gasoline. He was chaos, you were a storm. Where he was wrong with drums, you were wonderful in guitar solos. Where writing required concentration, which he didn't have at that time, and he blamed you for your annoyance. You unnerved him, but it was not your fault that Min-su, the old guitarist, had preferred to continue his studies abroad and leave the band.

You unnerved him because he couldn't stay away from you, because you made him miserable, because he was crawling toward you in every possible way, but you only had eyes for Thanos. Your chemistry was unparalleled, singer and guitarist, the sun and the moon, the pinnacle of the band. He was jealous because no one was better on stage than you, no one, not even Min-su, was that good. Your fingertips were tangible proof of how much that passion was wearing you down inside, you have to be perfect, you have to be the best, you just have to do it.

The hum of the amp enveloped you, a familiar sound that made you feel at home. Your fingers slid over the strings, searching for the right sound, the perfect note that could fit into the piece you were rehearsing. Thanos was sitting at the counter, a paper and pen in his hand, writing a song, Se-Mi was sitting next to him.

The venue was small, still empty, but you used it sometimes for rehearsals since you didn't have a fixed location yet. Another night with the Saurer Sarg, more change in your wallet, the usual five drunks who loved to hear you. You hoped someone, some manager would notice you, just now, or maybe in a few months, you needed to make music seriously.

From the drums came a sharp, almost irritating thump that had interrupted your train of thought.

"Too slow, princess," muttered Nam Gyu, as he set up the drum cymbals with his usual air of condescension. Barely lifting your gaze, you were already ready for battle. It was always like that between you.

"Min-su was better than her," "A foreigner? In the group?"

"You're too fast, maybe"

He chuckled, shaking his head, his long hair was in front of his face, his features were sweet but his eyes spat venom.

"You're just too slow to keep up with me"

The pick had slipped almost involuntarily from your fingers, flying in his direction. He parried it on the fly, with the naturalness of one who had already anticipated your reaction. The smile that spread across his face was cocky, defiant, exactly as you expected.

Your usual game. But now you had had enough.

"Thanos chose me for a reason, asshole"

"Thanos needed a replacement" the grin on his face sharpened his eyes even more.

On stage you were in perfect sync, as if your differences did not exist. Nam Gyu's drums are a chaotic, powerful, pulsating metronome, and you would follow him, catch up with him by playing next to him. When you play, you are one. You, Thanos, Nam Gyu and Se-Mi.

But out of there? Well, it was a different story.

You were fighting over every little thing. The set list for the evening, the volume of the guitar, a constant chase of vitriolic banter, eye-rolling, challenges that were never said out loud. Yet the tension between you had always had an all too obvious subtext. When no one is looking, the jokes become taunts.

"Aren't your legs cold in this skirt, fawn?"

Provocations become long looks.

And sometimes, in locked rooms, the stares become something else.

Again, as always, the evening was over, Nam Gyu was drunk, you were awake to mother the rest of the group. It was like that every day, you work just to have your independence in the morning and in the evening you became the rockstar you had always dreamed of being.

Things were going well that afternoon, Thanos had written a new song, and the video of your performance had gone viral on many social networks. It was important to propagandize with the public, you knew, you had opened a YouTube channel specifically just to upload video clips of your songs.

You and Thanos were still slumped on the worn-out couch in the rehearsal room, pencils worn between your fingers, crumpled papers scattered everywhere like the detritus of a creative battle. The neon above you flickered slightly, casting uncertain shadows on the walls papered with faded posters. It was one of those evenings where ideas flashed on and off too quickly, where every word seemed either too weak or too pretentious.

Nam Gyu, on the other hand, had remained aloof. All evening he had tapped his chopsticks, his chin down, his air absorbed. He had not commented, had not huffed, had not thrown any of his usual barbs. But now he cleared his throat, swinging his chopsticks between his fingers with a smile that tasted of defiance.

"I wrote something"

The words fell into silence with a weight you did not expect. You lifted your gaze, meeting his. Nam Gyu did not write songs. Or at least, he didn't share them. Thanos was the mastermind of the group.

Se-Mi, crouched next to her bass, stopped short, stifling a laugh as she tuned a string. "Wait, wait... You wrote a song?"

Nam Gyu cast her a sidelong glance. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Se-Mi raised her hands in surrender, but the amused smile remained glued to her face. Thanos, on the other hand, leaned against the back of the sofa, intrigued. "Yeah? Let us hear it"

Nam Gyu slipped his hand into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out his phone. The title of the file flashed on the screen for a moment before music filled the room.

Escort.

A dark, dirty bass pulsed from the speakers. The drums came in with a brash, pressing rhythm. That was just the base, then the lyrics had to be rehearsed with Thanos's voice. It was a difficult process. Crossing your arms over your chest, you closed your eyes for a moment. The melody was aggressive, the lyrics biting, sharp as a well-hidden knife.

He was talking about a girl. A whore, called in her most graceful way, about a woman who could play with looks, who could keep everyone on their toes, who was shy. And of him who, after a night of passion, had fallen in love with her in the most controversial way. You opened your eyes, finding his already fixed on you. He knew.

Thanos nodded with a crooked smile. "That's cool"

"Who are you talking about?" Your voice came out colder than you would have liked. So he had met a woman?

Nam Gyu raised an eyebrow. "Can't you tell?"

Blood rose to your head. Bastard.

You leaned forward slightly, shaking your head. "I'm not entirely convinced"

Nam Gyu leaned carelessly against the drums, arms crossed. "What's the problem?"

Se-Mi, who had not stopped sneering, lifted her chin toward you. "You don't like the lyrics or you don't like the vulgarity?"

You gave her a sharp look. "I just think we can do better"

Nam Gyu barely tilted his head, studying you. "I tried to write lyrics, you only know how to strum day and night with that damn guitar"

"Shut up, assh—"

"Stop"

You had bitten the inside of your cheek. Bastard twice. Thanos drummed his fingers on his thigh, observing both of you without intervening further. He knew you didn't get along. He just wanted not to fuel the fire.

Nam Gyu stood up slowly, coming toward you with his usual relaxed gait, but there was something fiercer in his eyes. He stopped inches away from you, the scent of his shampoo mixed with the familiar smell of cigarettes and overheated electrical wires.

He lowered his voice, his tone almost confidential. "Let's do this." He leaned just forward, brushing a finger over the guitar you held on your lap. "Let's try it out. If you still think it's no good after that, we'll throw it away"

His look was an open challenge.

He knew very well that you couldn't resist a good song. He knew you were curious. Who was the woman in the song? He was too confidential, too raw, too in love.

He knew that once you picked up the guitar, you would get into the song with every fiber of your body.

And the most frustrating thing? You knew it, too. Even more frustrating? That song had become a resounding success.

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INSTAGRAM

s3mi__: well what are you waiting for?? ESCORT IS OUT NOW!! 🌶️🌶️

lil.yn: who is that little lady?

s3mi__: i'm your little lady

lil.yn: DON'T MAKE YOURSELF TOO PRETTY OR THEN I'LL REGRET IT !!!!!!

namgyuu: escort on spotify at midnight. the devil's night 🌙

thanosxx: brother 🔥🔥

lil.yn: our baby is out now 🌙🌙

s3mi__: what are you doing? 🤨

lil.yn: thanos shared his drink!!!

saurerssarg: ESCORT. OCTOBER 31ST.

lil.yn: 🥳🥳

user1: THANOS AND YN WHAT

user2: THE SECOND PHOTO

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ESCORT ( lyrics )

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MASTERLIST.

[simplysamiblog]

The weight of a perfect goodbye

Before I even begin sharing my thoughts, I need to make one very important thing clear: I am a firm believer in the theory that Jayce and Viktor survived the ending of Arcane. As far as I’m concerned, they were teleported through time and space and are now slowly, painstakingly rebuilding their lives. Together, of course.

I’ve read dozens of (amazing) fanfics where this is exactly how their story unfolds, and some are so well-written that I honestly consider them canon.

That said.

I’ve seen several discussions online about this very topic:

"The creators confirmed it: they’re dead."

"The creators don’t know anything, they’re alive."

"Accept it, they were disintegrated by the Rune."

And so on.

But here’s what I think (not that it matters to anyone or carries any weight at all):

We can’t completely dismiss or outright reject the idea that, yes, Jayce and Viktor are, unfortunately, dead. At some level, we need to accept it—to believe it.

But let me explain why.

Not out of respect for the creators, the canon, the fandom, or anything like that. But out of love for the story, for the essence of their narrative.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do you really think Arcane would have been just as special if Jayce and Viktor had survived? Can you picture the scene? The protagonists recover, the fog of war and chaos clears, and there they are—Jayce and Viktor—standing atop the Hexgates, smiling. Ah, what a happy ending. What a good ending.

Sure. Nice. Nothing more.

Or imagine if we had gotten something like: "And they remained like brothers forever." Ugh.

It’s cruel, it’s unfair, it’s heartbreaking—

But it’s perfect.

The chain of events (cough) that led to that moment, the sacrifice that sealed their fate—

The relationship between Jayce and Viktor would never have been as impactful otherwise. Personally, I don’t think I fully grasped the depth of their bond until their foreheads rested against each other. In that moment of resignation, of acceptance.

Their story, their magic, was beautiful precisely because it ended right then, in that instant.

Jayce asked Viktor, "Why did you ever give me this?"

He could have let him die in the storm. Or, if he wanted to be more merciful, he could have simply saved him without giving him the Rune—

The world would have been safe. The world would have been saved.

But…

The world wasn’t as important as the moments they shared. Their friendship, their collaboration, their bond.

Viktor couldn’t deny another Viktor those moments. That brief but immense joy. Those years in which he had truly lived.

They were stronger than everything—stronger than everyone—

Even stronger than death.

And that’s why, in a way, their death is precisely what makes them so wonderful.

Call it cliché or a bit of a stretch, but the first comparison that comes to mind is Romeo and Juliet. Would it really be the most famous love story if they hadn’t met their tragic end?

"Happily ever after."

Or—

"Never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Sure, they might have survived, somewhere. And it’s absolutely valid to believe that.

But if not for that ending, for that terrible, heartbreaking moment, how much would we have missed out on? How many incredible fanfictions wouldn’t exist? How many fanarts, how many works of art would we have been unknowingly deprived of?

We’ll never know, and I don’t want to know.

Because what we have is amazing.

So yes, I accept the idea that they’re dead—because it makes the fantasy that they’re alive and in love so much sweeter.

But most of all, it makes their relationship a game of fate, something they built around each other. A perfect circle, an inseparable chain binding them as one.

Pulling them together, pushing them apart—only to bring them back to each other again.

Over and over.

Forever.

[prettygirl-gabi]

My Heart Beats For You

Pairing: Jana El Alfy x Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

POV: First-person

Word Count: 1,400+

Summary: Your turn to do the planning

Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a day full of love, cute surprises, and quality time with your person.

But when your person is a D1 basketball player at UConn—who also happens to have a brutal practice schedule—it means adjusting expectations.

Jana and I had been dating for almost a year now, and this was our first Valentine’s Day together. I knew she wanted to do something special, but with practice running late and a game coming up, she hadn’t been able to plan much.

She had apologized at least five times over FaceTime last night.

“Habibti, I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she had said, her accent thick with sleep as she lay in bed, eyes barely open. “Next weekend, I’ll plan something perfect.”

I had laughed, shaking my head. “Babe, it’s fine. We can just spend time together.”

Jana had pouted. “But I want to do something special for you.”

She was adorable when she was frustrated, and I knew she was genuinely upset about it.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

If Jana couldn’t plan something for Valentine’s Day, I would do it for her.

The plan was simple but thoughtful.

After checking her schedule, I realized she had a rare free evening after practice. So, I set up a small picnic in her dorm—candles (fake ones, because I wasn’t trying to get us kicked out), a blanket on the floor, her favorite takeout from the Mediterranean spot she loved, and a playlist of all the slow R&B songs we played when we cuddled.

I even got her a small gift—a silver chain with a basketball pendant, engraved with our initials on the back.

Now, all I had to do was wait.

By the time Jana finally walked through the door, she looked exhausted, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder, hair still damp from her post-practice shower.

The second she saw the setup, though, she froze.

Her eyes widened as she took in the candles, the food, the cozy setup on the floor.

“Y/N…” she breathed, dropping her bag.

I grinned. “Happy Valentine’s Day, habibti.”

She blinked a few times, as if making sure she wasn’t imagining it. “You did all this… for me?”

I laughed, standing up and walking over to her. “Of course, I did. You’ve been so stressed about not having time to plan anything, so I figured I’d handle it this year.”

Jana shook her head in disbelief, her arms wrapping tightly around my waist. “You’re amazing.”

I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I know.”

She laughed, finally relaxing into my arms.

Once she changed into comfy clothes, we sat on the floor, eating and talking about our days.

“I swear, practice was a nightmare,” Jana groaned, taking a bite of her food. “Coach had us running full-court sprints for what felt like an hour straight.”

I winced. “That sounds awful.”

She nodded, rubbing her sore shoulders. “I was literally ready to collapse.”

I reached over, massaging her arm. “Poor baby.”

She hummed in approval. “Keep doing that, and I might propose right now.”

I smirked. “Oh? Is that all it takes?”

She grinned, leaning in closer. “That, and the fact that you’re literally the best girlfriend ever.”

I rolled my eyes but felt warmth spread through me. “I try.”

Jana’s gaze softened as she looked around the room again. “Seriously, Y/N. This is the best surprise ever. I don’t deserve you.”

I nudged her. “Don’t be ridiculous. You deserve everything and more.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “How did I get so lucky?”

I smirked. “Must be my charm.”

Jana laughed, then suddenly perked up. “Wait. I actually have something for you, too.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She got up, rushing over to her duffel bag. When she came back, she was holding a small, neatly wrapped box.

I blinked in surprise. “Jana… when did you—?”

“I’ve had this for weeks,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just didn’t plan anything big because I didn’t think I’d have time.”

I carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with a small charm in the shape of a heart. On the inside, there was an engraving:

“My heart beats for you.”

I stared at it, my throat tightening.

“Jana…”

She shifted nervously. “Do you like it?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I lunged at her, wrapping my arms around her neck and kissing her deeply.

She made a surprised noise before melting into it, her hands finding my waist.

When we finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against hers, grinning. “I love it. And I love you.”

Jana smiled, her hands gently holding my face. “I love you too, habibti.”

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[ittybxttykxttytxtty]

That author's note....don't listen to the voices. Those are bitch ass liars that are speaking, ignore them.

“Of course it’s bad- how could anything about being soul bonded to a demon be good?”

Matthew, I do not need this kind of negativity in my life. Get it together 😭

“Perhaps, with distance, and devotion to being a better person, you could erase some of the stains on your soul.”

...he's really pushing it huh? The audacity this bitch has.

“I know you didn't just ask me that.”

BITCH, BE A FRIEND FOR LIKE ONCE. DAMN IT 😭😂

“It doesn’t matter if my soul is damned. What’s one more soul in Hell anyway?” You gaze up at him, pressing your emotions into the bond, wanting him to feel exactly what you were. 

Listen, in reality, never do this for a man but in fiction....it's fine, it's fiction hell, you'll be fine 😭😭

The kiss is blisteringly sweet, tongues feverishly hot, you can feel his desire, and he can feel yours and it secures in your mind, that there was no other way for this to be.

Thank god Matt is blind. You don't need to see this. This is between me and him. 😂

“You will do no such thing! That’s our cue to leave- Thank you for everything Matt- Billy no-” You spin him around, pushing him toward the door, stopping him from approaching the priest, currently shaking his head in disbelief.

Omg, this is so brilliant. Even the way she speaks is changing. "No such thing" "cue to leave"....she speaks so formal now. Like she lives in a different time period. Omg omg omg. Hehehehe.

THAT LAST PART...

CHELSEA, THIS UPDATE IS FUCKING AMAZING. I legit teared up when Matt served receipts, it was not a good time. I felt her struggle but ultimately knowing she's going to choose Billy. There's no way this is gonna end in another way. They're end game. Legit made thought of this two:

An Altar For Our Sins

Part 10// Masterlist

Demon! Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence and death, angst, pain, sorrow, torment, delving into Billy's past, mentions of smut, and eventual fluff.

A/N: I was so confident about this and now I am not.

You press the weight of your body against the church doors nervously, stepping in.

There's a sermon happening, Father Matt's gentle voice echoes through the open space, tickling the insides of your ears.

Billy's waiting outside, you told him you wanted to come in alone first and then you'd tug on the bond once Matt accepted.

He's finishing up, one last closing prayer, and though you bow your head and clasp your hands respectfully after sliding into the very last pew, you have no idea if you really want to pray or not.

If you were thankful to God for anything, it would be for allowing Billy and you to meet. The irony wasn't lost on you, thanking God for sending you a demon.

You feel the demon in question send a lingering touch over the bond, like gentle fingers smoothing through the back of your head.

You smile to yourself, pushing him away before he can arouse you in a sacred place of worship, his essence drawing back with a feeling of mirth sticking to the back of your throat.

You try not to think too much of how he makes you feel. You know that the minute you realise the inevitable, he’s going to know it too. So instead of dwelling, you study the wooden pattern of the pew in front of you. You make shapes, and faces, and you drown out the sounds around you until you hear footsteps approach.

Matt, moving stiffly to you as everyone disperses. You sit up, smiling at him politely as he comes within earshot.

“What are you doing here, demon?” He whispers, voice heavy with distaste.

It takes you aback.

“Matt?” You say in confusion.

He pauses, seemingly surprised behind his red-rimmed glasses before giving a small tilt of his head.

He says your name in doubt.

“Yes?” You answer, unsure of what was happening.

He sucks in a deep breath, looks around, before leaning closer.

“I couldn’t recognise you. Your aura- it’s just like his.”

You feel something twist inside of you, a seed of fear planting itself and you don’t really know why, but you’re pretty sure that having the aura of a demon couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

Your eyes widen a little, completely forgetting what you were even here for.

“Is that bad?” You ask him in a small voice.

“Of course it’s bad- how could anything about being soul bonded to a demon be good?”

You shrink back, and at the same moment, Matt realises his mistake.

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“-How else could you have meant it?” You ask helplessly.

He lets out a soft breath, stepping into the row, and taking a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, “I let my emotions get the best of me.”

“Whatever.” You whisper, “My soul is damned and I’m going to rot in Hell it’s fine.”

He takes in a slow breath, and you wait patiently for his priestly wisdom.

“What brings you here?” He asks finally.

You study your hands, observing the little lines and folds, the way some of the curves looked like smiles.

“I was in his head, in his dreams. I could feel so much of him.”

Matt nods in understanding, drawing conclusions from what he can sense and what you've come to him for.

“I don’t know what happens from this point on, I can only assume that his soul will consume yours whole, that you’ll become one, condemning yourself to eternal suffering for the sins he’s committed.”

You remain silent, truly thinking about the consequences.

“What other choice do I have? It's not like I caused this.”

He seems to be lost in as much thought as you are.

“Perhaps, with distance, and devotion to being a better person, you could erase some of the stains on your soul.”

You nod, understanding his point. You didn’t want that though, you wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“Is Hell even that bad?” You protest softly.

“I know you didn't just ask me that.”

It makes you laugh suddenly. Matt angles his head, smiles along with you.

You enjoy laughing with him about the absurdity of your conversation, finally settling after a few moments, going back to your thoughts.

“I keep weighing it in my head, you know? Staying away from him, or spending eternity in suffering, and honestly, I keep thinking that Hell wouldn't be so bad.”

Matt says your name softly, almost apologetically.

“Forever is a very long time.” He utters finally.

“Yeah… but…”

Matt turns to you suddenly, standing and extending his hand in a guiding motion.

“Come, I have something for you to see.”

You stand, following him as he seems to move with purpose, down the aisle of the church and toward the back where his office is. You tug gently on the bond and feel Billy’s responding pull followed by a soothing touch, no doubt trying to ease the tension he'd been feeling from you before.

You feel your trepidation ease, the reminder that he was so close easing your nerves.

Matt opens the door for you, and you step in, turning to watch him shut the door, before he speaks.

“I haven't had a chance to look through everything yet, but I thought I could show you…” Matt doesn't finish the sentence, instead pulling out a large leather bound binder. Some of the pages are marked with little page tabs and you watch him flip to one.

It's an admittance registry for an orphanage dated 1891. You see that Matt has highlighted one name in particular, a William Russo, age 6, his height and weight recorded, followed by some details of his birthmark. Finally, there is some information of how he was found, hungry on the streets after his mother was found dead of narcotics poisoning.

You glance up at Matt, your teeth pressed together in distaste that he would look up these details, as if they were in his right to do so.

If Matt senses any of your anger, he doesn't show it, instead sliding his hand forward and flipping to another page mark.

It's a doctor's report, barely legible on the discolored paper. You squint at Matt suspiciously, wondering how he even read this to know which pages to mark.

You see his name again, William Russo, dated December 8th 1896, aged 12.

It takes you a moment to make out the words, but the doctor reports of severe assault, and damage to his shoulder that will require surgery to fix. They mention his physical state next, pale and shaking, visible signs of distress and a refusal of pain medication.

Your stomach turns, and the pieces fall into place at a bone jarring speed.

He'd been through this, that little boy you'd seen in your dreams, attacked by the very people that should have protected him.

You sink into the chair, pressing your hand to your mouth, flipping the page to see the post surgery report, and the doctor describing how the shoulder was repaired. You feel an aching pain that goes through your whole body, the hurt of knowing what he's been through.

Behind you, the door rattles.

“Call your demon off.” Matt says evenly.

You glance up at him, before turning to look at the door. Glowing sigils as the door shakes, you stand, approaching curiously, reaching a hand up to touch it, before drawing back as the light from the sigil stings you.

“Billy?” You call through the door.

It stops shaking.

“Mistress? Are you alright?”

“I'm okay, I'll be out in a few minutes I promise.” You reach for him down the bond, reassuring him that you were okay.

You feel his hesitation, his power, that the door might hold him temporarily, but not forever. You don't think it's necessary, easing his displeasure with a playful tug on the bond.

It surprises him, eases his concern, he tugs back, so strongly that you feel a physical manifestation of it, stepping forward to catch yourself from tumbling.

You let out a little huff of amusement before turning back to Matt, eyeing his patient disposition with renewed suspicion.

You want to ask him what's the purpose of this, but you already have a general idea that he wants to show you Billy's sins in hopes that you abandon him. 

You sit, flipping through the pages to the next mark.

It's a photo, a man and woman in the center, looking at each other with soft smiles, dressed In wedding attire. You can't see much of the woman's face, but her dress is beautiful, flowing down the length of her body, covered in beading that you can't properly discern with the black and white image.

The man beside her, looks at her as if it's the happiest day of his life and you feel your stomach twists in longing to be looked at like that.

Beside her are her family you assume, an older couple and two younger looking siblings that all hold some resemblance to each other. Standing next to the man, are two men, one you recognize is Billy.

You find yourself smiling, staring at the photo, a sense of warmth washes over you that he had friends, that he'd lived this whole other life that you'd never really seen.

You turn to the back of the photo in hopes that there's a description.

Castle Wedding, April 11th, 1909.

You blink, flipping back to the photo. This was Frank and Maria? The people he-

You let out a soft breath, trying to keep your shock in check so that Billy isn't alarmed.

There's a painful twist inside of you, you almost dread to continue on.

You turn the page, finding a baptism certificate, Lisa Castle not even a year later. You suspect that Maria must have been pregnant at the time of the wedding.

At the very bottom, the certificate names Billy as her godfather.

It hurts in a way you don't realize, a story you already know ends badly. You want to stop, to shut the book and pretend you never saw it, but you needed to know.

After all, if you were going to spend eternity in Hell for him, you should at least know the sins you would be paying for.

You flip through, finding a few mentions of him, another photograph of him at an event beside a beautiful woman, no description on the back. You spare a few moments to study the way he looked, dressed in a fine black suit appropriate for the era. Handsome, as only he could be.

Then, a hospital form catches your eye, for Frank Jr. aged nine, filled out by Billy. His handwriting is scratchy, lots of sharp lines made by a steady hand, describing an accident where the younger Frank had fallen off his bicycle and sustained damage to his shoulder. 

You wonder if this incident had reminded Billy of his own, and the vast differences between the nature of the injuries, and yet the similarity of the injuries themselves. Billy, who hadn’t had someone to protect his childhood, had found a way to protect little Frank’s.

Another photo, Frank, Maria and their two children, with Billy, Lisa’s godfather, and Curtis, Frank Jr.’s godfather. The entire Castle family.

You stop, glancing up at Matt, bringing yourself back into the present for a moment. He sits, examining the rosary caught between his fingers, his thumb gently tracing the crucifix, allowing you all the time you need to go through the information.

“I already know how this ends, Matt, he’s already told me what he did.”

Matt nods, tugs on the collar of his shirt for a moment, a sign of discomfort, though, you’re unsure of why.

“I wanted you to see it from their point of view. To understand the betrayal from their side.”

You swallow, brows furrowing, understanding his point but still not liking it.

You find a deed, partially burned, a house in Manhattan owned by Billy. Next, a car, and then another property on his name.

You realise this must have been at the peak of his service to the man he's never named, reaping all the benefits of shooting whenever this man had asked. You wonder, how many people he'd killed up to this point, how many families he'd destroyed to get ahead in the world.

A mugshot next. It makes you smile to see Billy's stern face, a little younger than he looks now, the corner of his mouth bruised, his knuckles red where they hold up the placard with his name on it. You check the charge- fighting in public. 

The affray charge is dropped the day after, and you wonder what the fight was even about in the first place.

You pause for a moment when you flip the page, realising that this was the part you'd been dreading.

A news article, wrinkled and yellow, three killed at the Castle residence. There are individual photos of them, Maria, Lisa, Frank Jr.

It hurts to read it, the article goes into detail of how the bodies were found. No signs of forced entry, someone must have opened the door to let him in. Why wouldn't they? He was family after all.

Maria is found at the base of the stairs, a bullet in her chest from close range, small defensive wounds as though she'd put up a fight. Lisa, in her bedroom, two sets of bloody footprints around her body, Frank Jr. hiding in his sister's closet, shot through the door, found barely alive and rushed to the hospital where he succumbs. 

You shove the book away, rising to your feet. You can feel your body shake with the emotion you feel. The hurt threatens to break you. You can't even imagine the terror that the Castle family went through.

Billy had done that. He'd spread carnage wherever he went and he hadn’t stopped when his own family was in the line of fire.

“I'll tell you how it ends.” Matt says, closing the book, “The next page is an autopsy report for William, face carved beyond recognition, shot several times by Frank Castle, then a news article, reporting on Frank's death, having been mortally injured by Billy in their fight.”

There's a twisting in your chest, you turn, reaching for the door of Matt's office, ignoring the stinging pain as you wrench the door open.

He's leaning against the opposite wall just outside, when you pull the door open, he raises his head to look at you with red eyes.

His face is calm, yet you can feel the hurt, the anger, the self loathing running through him. You can tell that he's just waiting for your rejection.

You consider reaching for him, soothing his pain, but you hesitate, reminded of Lisa's happy face.

“Did you kill your family, Billy?” You ask, your voice unable to rise above a whisper.

He's silent for a very long moment.

“I did.” He finally says, and there's so much finality in his voice that you almost miss the flickering of pain inside of him.

It's an odd kind of pain, one that leads you to believe that he isn't being entirely truthful.

“Did you shoot them all yourself?” You ask, probing into his emotions through the bond.

He swallows.

“I might as well have.”

Your eyebrows draw together.

“Tell me the truth, please.”

He hesitates, you can tell he doesn't want to talk about it, but you need to know.

“It's okay,” you step forward, reaching out to take his hand. You feel the pit in his stomach ease.

“It's my fault. I killed them. It doesn't matter who pulled the trigger. It might as well have been me.”

“Show me the memory.” You plead, reaching up to cup either side of his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head.

“My demon,” you whisper gently, raising onto your toes to rub your nose along his, “Show me.”

He makes a small noise of distress, of defeat, cupping the back of your head, worried that it may be for the last time, his lips meet yours.

It plays like a dream, he faithfully reports to a man named Rawlins, that Frank wants out of their organization. Rawlins informs him that someone's been talking to the police and Frank is the top suspect. He sends Billy to dispatch the Castle family as a last show of loyalty.

Frank isn't home, but Maria is so insistent that he comes inside, offers him a glass of water before he pulls the gun on her.

She thinks it's a joke at first. Why would the man who helped paint her daughter's room blush pink ever pull a gun on her?

But as he goes on, as he explains how terrified he is of being on the streets again, her face falls, and a betrayal so raw fills her expression instead.

Billy is erratic, he’s unfocused, you can tell by the way Maria’s eyes shift side to side as he paces, as he wrestles with the worst decision of his life.

She takes her chance while he’s distracted, throwing a vase so hard at his head that the pain blinds him for a few seconds. He drops the gun and she reaches for it. He grabs her just as her fingers close around it, she scratches his face, he twists her wrist in an attempt to free the gun.

It’s pressed between them when it goes off. Her eyes widen, his steely resolve shatters. He presses a hand to her chest as he lowers them to the floor, he can’t believe what he’s done.

He says her name, tries to figure out how he could have done this to her, the woman that so readily accepted him into her home.

She bleeds out quickly, the bullet having gone straight through her heart. He holds her hand while she dies.

He stands, walks with heavy feet up the stairs to the second floor where her children are no doubt hiding.

He didn’t mean to do it, but he doubts that will save him from Frank’s fury. The only way out of this now, is through.

Lisa’s breathing is shallow, echoing through her room, coming from the closet where she’s hidden. He wrenches the door open, watches her young ashen face. She says his name cautiously.

The gun is cold in his hand. In an instant, he knows can’t do it. He remembers holding her for the very first time, remembers soothing her little cries. He can’t take the life of the little girl he promised to protect.

A noise downstairs catches his ear, the sound of glass crunching under a boot. He knows it’s not Frank, knows by the absence of screaming that this is a stranger to Maria.

He raises his fingers to his lips, before closing the closet door.

Rawlins hadn’t trusted him.

The man he’d put above family itself had sent someone else to make sure the act was done.

Billy tries to find Frank Jr. before the man finds him, but as he’s tugging the boy from under his bed, he hears Lisa’s terrified gasp.

He runs, gets there just in time to shove the man away from his goddaughter. A fight breaks out, and he loses track of the kids. 

He’s winning at first, manages to hold the upper hand, but eventually he falters, doesn’t dodge a right hook, and it disorients him for long enough for the man to grab the gun.

It’s not like the movies, where someone saves them at the last second by sheer luck. The man fires blindly into the room, before running off.

Billy somehow manages nothing more than a graze to his thigh, but as he turns, he realises that he wasn’t the man’s intended target.

Lisa is already dead by the time she hits the floor. Billy can barely breathe as he crawls his way over to her, trying to stop the blood from pouring out of her neck. He whispers her name, crouches over her body, hoping to shield her from any hurt, but she’s already gone, and vengeance is the only thing Billy can see.

He grabs his gun, and races out of the house, past Maria’s still warm body, desperate to fix something irreparably shattered.

You pull back from his mouth, blinking into awareness, realising that not much time had passed at all.

You withdraw, bending over, one hand braced on the wall to catch your breath from what you’ve seen and felt.

“It was all my fault.” Billy murmurs finally, his guilt and shame swelling in the back of your throat.

You straighten, looking up at him. He studies you for a moment before turning away.

“It doesn’t matter who fired. It was my fault.”

“He would have killed all of you either way. He would have found someone else-”

“-I could have saved them, I could have gotten them out. I chose not to. I was a coward, chasing after wealth as if it could ever give me what I already had.”

He turns away from you, his fists curling.

You know he’s right, that he’s not innocent just because he didn’t pull the trigger. Their blood is still in part on his hands.

Matt draws your attention, stepping into the doorway of his office.

You know what he wants. He wants you to cast judgement on Billy and abandon him.

You blink, deep in thought, unsure of how to proceed, unsure of which voice in your head is the right one.

Billy isn’t a good person, has never claimed to be one, has done things so terrible that it hurts you just to think about it.

But you also know that Billy still thinks he’s in Hell, and leaving him would only reinforce that fallacy.

“I won’t do it.” You finally say to Matt.

He responds by saying your name in protest.

“-No,” You interrupt, “He’s paid for his sins, he’s endured torment for what feels like an eternity and he has already been judged.”

You reach for Billy’s hand, tugging him with both your strength and the bond between you until he turns to face you.

“It doesn’t matter if my soul is damned. What’s one more soul in Hell anyway?” You gaze up at him, pressing your emotions into the bond, wanting him to feel exactly what you were. 

“What difference could I possibly make to Heaven?” You question aloud, taunting the universe for an answer.

His eyes settle on you, his hands reach up to cup your face, wonder fills the bond as if he’s seeing you for the very first time, like a familiar breath against a spot deep inside of you that you think might be your soul.

“What does Heaven have, that I can’t find when I reach for you?” You ask him simply.

His shaky breath brushes against your lips.

“I can’t ask this of you.” Billy utters, his lips barely moving.

You smile, a little one filled with amusement and something deeper.

“You don’t have to ask.” You respond, rising onto your toes.

The kiss is blisteringly sweet, tongues feverishly hot, you can feel his desire, and he can feel yours and it secures in your mind, that there was no other way for this to be.

Lost, is an understatement. All you can feel is his mouth and his soul and his unending need for you to be a real person that really wants him.

You giggle into his mouth, tugging playfully on the bond, and when he winds his arms around you to lift you, the clearing of Matt's throat interrupts your tryst. You smile, feeling Billy’s anger at being interrupted, squeezing his bicep to soothe him.

“I respect your decision, even though I disagree. I think I understand, a little bit more than I did before, about the two of you, and how you balance each other out.”

Your smile widens.

“I appreciate that, Matt, and oddly enough, I consider you a friend.” You say, extracting yourself from Billy’s grabby hands to approach the priest in question.

“And,” You relent, “I also appreciate your attempt to show me the truth. If I didn’t know my demon, I might have done what you suggested.”

You feel a slither of delight go over him, hearing you claim him so openly.

“And if she’d let me,” Billy interjects, “I’d pluck those useless eyes from your head in a heartbeat.”

You gasp in horror, spinning to face your demon.

“You will do no such thing! That’s our cue to leave- Thank you for everything Matt- Billy no-” You spin him around, pushing him toward the door, stopping him from approaching the priest, currently shaking his head in disbelief.

Matt listens patiently as you leave, letting out a sigh when the door finally closes, and he turns, stepping into his office, to begin cleansing his church of residual demonic energy.

.

You drag your fingers along the smooth skin of his back, exploring the feeling, committing his skin to memory.

Between your thighs are sore, having begged Billy not ten minutes before to fill you, hoping for his cock, but experiencing some of the dilators instead.

Apparently, one time wasn’t enough, and you had in fact needed more practice in order to be able to take him.

Unfortunately, based on the way your nether regions were pulsing, he was right, and anything bigger might have hurt you.

Still, you wanted his cock, and you could only shiver with excitement everytime you thought about his massive-

“Mistress.” Billy groans, feeling your desire, he turns to face you, one hand wrapping around your waist to tug you closer to his warm body, his tail curling itself more securely around your thigh.

“Have I not satisfied you enough? Would you like my tongue again?”

You laugh softly, resting your palm against his stubbled jaw.

“No, my demon, I was just thinking.”

He exhales, nods in understanding. You move your hand to continue trailing your fingertips over his back. When you brush the edge of his shoulder blade a little too lightly, you feel something stir within him.

You do it again, focusing on that one spot, and when you try a third time, Billy lets out a low groan of protest.

“Ticklish?” You ask, sliding a lone finger between his shoulder blades, smiling when you feel that same feeling again, like a small wave of heat going through you.

You press your hand to his back, soothing over his skin before looking into his eyes.

They're so dark, almost bottomless, glittering occasionally with the light of the Eiffel tower coming through the window behind you.

“There was a picture of you, with a woman, short brown hair, pretty eyes, um…” You try to remember anything else about her.

“Dinah. That was Dinah.”

You blink, thinking that even her name was pretty.

“Girlfriend?” You ask, trying your hardest not to feel jealous.

“In a way. We both had our problems.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

He fights a devious smile, the corner of his mouth lifting, he shifts his body to face you.

“Are you?” He teases.

“Yeah,” You say defensively, raising your head off the pillow, “I'm not here just wishing all your relationships were bad.”

“No?”

“No!” You pout, “I hope all your past lovers were nice to you.” 

He chuckles lowly amused by your words.

“And what about my current one?”

You raise your body, a little defensive.

“What about me? Are we even lovers? You haven't even been inside me properly yet-” You pause for a moment, “Holy shit I just realised that other women have taken that monster between your legs.”

He tilts his head back laughing.

“I'm serious! Were the rest of them as bad as me?”

He stops, looking down at you with a semi serious expression.

“First of all, you're not bad, you're different. Good different.” He says, noticing your parted lips and answering your question before you can ask it.

“It's just taking a little bit more effort to get you to take me and I enjoy that.”

He exhales, rolling his eyes when he realises you're not letting this go without an answer.

“The women in my past before had varying degrees of ability in taking me, does that answer your question?”

“Not really- well-” You tilt your head, thinking about it, “Sure. I don't know what answer I expected.”

He pauses, smiles at you.

“You were trying to compare yourself to women in my past, which makes no sense because I'm not that man anymore, and the things I wanted then, I do not want now.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants now but he stops you by pressing a finger to your lips.

“You also asked that question because deep down you were wondering if there was someone I'd prefer over you and while that's your insecurity talking, the answer is still no.”

Wow, he was in in your head.

“You have to say that, you're bonded to me.”

“I think you'd know if I was lying.” He counters.

You press your lips together, looking down at the soft white sheets between you.

“And now,” he says softly, “You're wondering if I'm only saying this because our souls are connected, and my answer to that is also no.”

You feel doubt rise up inside of you.

You hear him exhale sharply.

“Mistress, I'm not just saying these things because I have to. I mean them, every word.”

He moves closer, pushing you back until he's hovering over you. You look up at him calmly, watching his dark eyes shift to a deep red the longer he studies you. He reaches up, brushing the very tips of his fingers along the side of your face, leaving little tingles behind.

“Things are different now, and I'm glad they are, and if I had a chance to break this connection between us, I wouldn't take it. Ever.”

Kiss me, you think toward him.

He smiles, dipping his head.

.

.

.

[obsessedwithfictionalmen01]

Celestial Date

A/N: Hey there! It's been a long time since I've written anything!! This is a little idea I had a few days ago I hope you guys enjoy it and just remember English is not my first language so if there's any mistakes please let me know! 🩷

Pairing: Castiel x Fem!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: Reader has a crush on Castiel and her brothers (Sam and Dean) know about it, more importantly they also know Castiel feels the same way, so they play a little match maker game by setting them up for a Valentine's Day dinner!

Warnings: none? i think?

Castiel stared at the state of the bunker, he didn't know how or why but someone had decorated it with heart balloons, heart shaped paper cuts on the walls, a heart shaped pie laid on the kitchen counter. Why so many hearts? He asked himself as he looked around the bunker. For sure this wasn't Deans’ idea, maybe Sam… but then he herd it, your small giggle echoing the hall. This had to be your idea.

“Hey, Cas! You like it?” You asked excitedly, holding pair of scissors and a pink colored paper.

Castiel stared at you for a few seconds confused, that's when it hit you. He didn't now about Valentine's Day. But he knew freaking cupid himself.

“It's Valentine's Day!” you said excitedly as you pointed at the heart shaped balloons around the room. Castiel followed your pointing finger and looked around.

“You do know that's not what hearts look like, right?” He asked with a small soft smile, he didn't mean it in a rude way, he was actually confused.

“I know! But this is much prettier than a real heart” You explained with a gentle tone looking at him, you didn't know why but everytime you stared into his eyes you swore you could get lost in them for hours, a pretty blue color and so many emotions packed in them.

Castiel on the other hand could listen to your voice for eternity, whenever you would start rambling about your newest hyper fixation Cas would be the only one listening, your brothers too used to it dissociated and just nodded. But not Cas, he would listen carefully watching your lips move and voice getting pitchier the more excited you got with the conversation. Like now.

“Valentine's Day is literally the best day of the year, it's the only day we truly celebrate love and friendship, there's hearts everywhere, people buying and receiving flowers… It’s so magical” You said with dreamy eyes as you looked at him.

“Do you like flowers?” He asked.

“Are you kidding? Who doesn't love flowers?”

“Well I understand why humans would find them beautiful but you know they are basically dead, right?”

You looked at him trying not to chuckle, you were amazed by his point of view of life, how he found everything so complex and rare. And he loved how you viewed life, you found beauty in the most simple and small things.

“I'm gonna go and get ready for tonight. Sam and Dean want all of us to have dinner tonight in a nice place near the bunker, they say they are doing it for me but I know they just want to have a drink later and maybe find a desperate girl in the bar” You said with a small grin before you turned around and walked towards your room “See you at dinner, Cas”.

Castiel watched you walk away, his heart skipping a beat when your head turned to look one last tie at him before entering your room. He decided to head into the kitchen where he found Dean and Sam eating a slice of the pie you made, he sat down next to them with a concerned look in his eyes.

“You are going to spoil your appetite for dinner” He said when both brothers looked at each other and then at him. “Oh we are not going out” Dean said with a small grin chuckling. “But I heard we were…” Castiel started before Sam cut him off “No, Dean and I aren't going”

“I don't understand” Castiel said, Dean looked at him and sighed, he stood up from the chair and walked towards him, his hands placed on his shoulders “A little birdie told us you may have a crush on our little sis” He said with a mocking tone “And another birdie told us that maybe our little sister also has a crush on you” Sam continued “So we thought… maybe it's time they both had a chance to have a date, and what better day than Valentine's Day? As you can see he loves it” Sam said with an amused smile.

“She… likes me?” Castiel asked, still shocked. His eyes stared into the table, he would have noticed, right?

“Just one thing…” Dean said before he pressed his angel blade against Castiel's back “One wrong move and I end you” He stated now in a more serious tone. Castiel only stared at Sam worried, this wasn't the first time he felt something like this for a human but this was her it wasn't just any human and of course Sam and Dean's sister which he already knew what it meant.

Castiel took a deep breath and when Dean put the blade away he looked at both brothers with a pleading look “What should I do?”

“Hey man, just be yourself. We know how much you care about her, you’ll be fine” Sam said with a small genuine smile. Castiel nodded and got up from his chair “Thank you” He said to them before he quickly disappeared. Both brothers looked at each other and laughed, they wished they could be there to witness this date.

A few hours later you were all dressed up waiting outside the restaurant for the boys and the angel, you looked at your phone when you felt a presence behind you, turning around quickly you were met with Castiel, he wasn't wearing his usual trench coat and suit. He was wearing a much nicer suit without his tie, the white shirt had a few buttons undone and the black suit jacket fitted his form perfectly. You couldn't help but look at him up and down your eyes taking in how handsome he looked, you were so distracted by it you didn't even notice the hand he was hiding behind his back.

“Hello” He said gently with a small smile, he was nervous but tried his best not to show it. “Hey, Cas. You look very handsome” You said feeling the heat rising up to your cheeks.

Now he was the one taking in your appearance, your outfit hugging the curves of your body perfectly, the color perfectly matching with your eyes which sparkled under the moonlight, Castiel could swear he was in Heaven again. His mouth opened but nothing came out, he was stuck. That's when he remembered the small gift he brought you, his hand finally sticking out holding a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Oh, Cas. You shouldn't have…” You said when you looked at the flowers, your eyebrows arching with a small pout, but a happy one almost endearing. “Well you said that you liked flowers and that that was something people did in Valentine’s Day so I thought…” You stopped him by standing on your tip toes and kissing his cheeks gently

“They're perfect, thank you” You said taking the flowers and smelling them briefly.

Castiel looked at you wondering how was it possible for such a simple creature to be as beautiful and sweet as you, he wondered what he had done to deserve you. His thoughts quickly pushed aside when you took his hand leading him inside the restaurant, you sat at your table placing the flowers on top of it when it hit you, the table was for two, not four. You frowned and looked at Castiel confused “Are the boys coming?”

Castiel looked at you briefly before his hand rubbed the back of his neck “No” He replied nervously, he didn't know how you would react when you found out about your brother's little scheme.

“They had this planned didn't they?” You asked rhetorically. He simply nodded with a shy smile.

“Well since they went through the trouble we should just enjoy, right?” you said with a small grin, the waitress appeared and you both ordered drinks and your food, you knew Cas didn't usually eat or drink but after he became a human he missed savoring food so he tried every now and then.

An hour passed and both of you were having a great evening, you talked about everything instantly connecting in a deeper and more intimate way, you felt your cheeks slightly turning red from the wine you had and Castiel looked more relaxed and happier than usual, he felt like he could listen to your voice for hours and not get tired.

Finally both of you decided to pay and have the last drink at the bunker, he took your hand gently and then walked with you through the streets at night, all restaurants filled with lovers celebrating this day you couldn't help but look subtly at them, which didn't go unnoticed by Castiel.

“You know, angels can feel love, we can fall in love and feel all kinds of emotions but humans… you take it to the next level, you live and love in such a special way. It amazes me” he said, looking at you with a small smile.

“I guess knowing your life has an ending makes everything more special” You replied, squeezing his hand gently. You both remained silent after that admiring the calm night when finally you reached the bunker.

You entered first looking around to see if your brothers were home but no one seemed to be there. You took Castiel’s hand and guided him inside, he sat on the couch while you looked for Dean’s whiskey bottle he hid from everyone. When you finally found it you poured it in two glasses and sat next to Cas on the couch, one of your legs on top of him as you handed him his drink.

“I had a really good time tonight” you said looking into his baby blue eyes, you wanted this night to never end. “Me too.” he replied, placing the glass on top of the table “Dean told me… that you liked me.”

You stared at Castiel blinking for a few seconds, feeling your cheeks turning even more red “That bitch” you replied “Cas, I know it must be weird for you, I don't expect nothing from this you don't have to feel pressured honestly I don't know why he would tell you that I simply…” Castiel kept listening to you when he noticed you rambling nervously he leaned in, finally kissing your lips. You stopped talking instantly and closed your eyes feeling his hand on your cheek gently caressing you, you could taste the whiskey on his lips. You wanted more so you placed your hands on his chest and deepened the kiss slipping your tongue between his lips. A small moan escaped Castiel’s mouth and he took your hips in his hands lifting you up and sitting you down on his lap.

“Is this Ok?” He asked breaking the kiss to look at you, worried you would change your mind. He had his hands now on your hips holding your body against him and your hands were unbuttoning his shirt very slowly “Yes, Cas. This is perfect” you said before attacking his lips again. You both got lost in each other's hands and lips, he was unzipping your dress, his hands caressing your skin, your heart beating loudly and your hands taking his shirt off…

“For the love of God, not on the couch!” Dean yelled, startling both of you.

“Oh my God I’m gonna need therapy after this” Sam said laughing with his hands covering his eyes.

“Get a room!” Dean yelled again.

Castiel and you looked at each other and chuckled, your face hiding in the crook of his neck “I wouldn't mind taking this somewhere more private” he whispered in your ear. And that's how you both ended up entering your room and closing the door behind you. This was gonna be the best Valentine's day ever.

[00valentina-writes00]

Sevika x Butch reader please 🥺 I dunno how to draw flowers, but thank you for your service 😌

The flowers are amazing and I love them.

♡♥︎Sevika x Butch Lesbian Reader Headcanons♥︎♡

♥︎ Sevika’s always been attracted to strength and power in people, and there’s something about your quiet confidence and masculine energy that draws her in. You’re strong in your own way, and it resonates with her. She loves how you own your identity with such ease, especially when you don’t need to explain it to anyone.

♥︎ She doesn’t often show it, but Sevika feels a deep respect for you. Her sharp, often intimidating exterior softens when she’s around you. There’s something about your presence that makes her feel like she can truly relax, that she’s safe in a way she doesn’t usually let herself feel.

♥︎ Sevika loves the way you dress. You have a style all your own—loose shirts, suspenders, boots, and the kind of swagger that tells the world you’re not here to play games. She can’t help but appreciate the way you move through life, unapologetic and full of quiet pride. The way you carry yourself reminds her of her own power.

♥︎ There’s something about the way you talk that gets to Sevika. You’re blunt, direct, and have this no-nonsense attitude that matches her own. When you speak, it’s like you command attention without having to try, and she loves that about you. You don’t need anyone’s approval, least of all hers, but she’s happy to give it.

♥︎ She finds your confidence sexy in a way that makes her heart beat a little faster. When you step into a room, it’s like the whole world pauses, and Sevika admires the way you hold your ground. She doesn’t need you to be delicate or soft, and she loves that you’re just as fierce as she is.

♥︎ Sevika likes the moments when you two get lost in each other’s space. She’s not one for a lot of fluff, but the way you lean into her during those quiet moments, resting your head on her shoulder or pressing your chest to hers, tells her everything she needs to know. You don’t need words to feel connected.

♥︎ Sevika loves how you never back down. If someone challenges you, you meet them head-on with a challenge of your own. She respects that about you. In a world where many people try to soften who they are, you never do, and it makes her proud to stand by your side.

♥︎ When you two are alone, Sevika’s guard comes down completely. You don’t need her to be anything other than herself, and that makes her want to be even more protective of you. She’ll quietly wrap you in her arms, the toughness of her demeanor giving way to something more tender when you’re not looking.

♥︎ She loves when you call her out on her tough exterior. You have no problem reminding her that there’s a difference between being tough and being closed off. You’re one of the few people who can challenge her like that, and she appreciates how you hold her accountable without backing down.

♥︎ Your gender expression is something Sevika admires deeply. She knows how important it is to express yourself authentically, and she loves the way you’ve carved out a space for yourself in a world that often doesn’t make room for people like you. You’re unapologetically you, and that makes her fall harder for you.

♥︎ There are moments when Sevika catches herself watching you, just marveling at how well you navigate the world as a butch. The way you exude confidence, strength, and independence makes her want to protect that side of you, even though you don’t need protecting. Still, she’ll always have your back

♥︎ She can’t help but find your masculinity incredibly attractive, both in the way you dress and in your mannerisms. The way you walk with your shoulders back and your head high, the strength in your voice when you speak—everything about you oozes power, and it pulls her in deeper than she cares to admit.

♥︎ Sevika is proud to be with you, though she doesn’t wear it on her sleeve. There’s a certain possessiveness she feels toward you, but it’s not about control—it’s about pride in the woman you are and the life you’ve built for yourself. With you, she can finally allow herself to feel equal, not superior or inferior, just a pair of strong individuals who are unstoppable together.

[leaderwon]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH SUNOO

Synopsis : Sunoo surprises you with a cozy, glow in the dark movie night that fills the evening with joy and endless giggles.

Warnings : kisses, so much cuteness omfg, mentions of food

Wc : 2.9k

masterlist

Valentine's Day had always been associated with grand gestures and fancy dinners, but Sunoo had a completely different idea in mind. When he sent you a playful text that read, “Get your comfiest pajamas ready, it’s going to be magical” you couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.

As the evening rolled around, you arrived at Sunoo’s place, greeted by the faint glow of string lights lining the living room. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the scent of buttery popcorn wafting through the air. Sunoo stood in the middle of the room, beaming with excitement, dressed in the cutest oversized hoodie.

“Welcome to the ultimate Valentine’s movie night” he declared, spreading his arms dramatically. You laughed, feeling your heart swell at the sight. “You really went all out, didn’t you?” “Only the best for you” he said with a wink.

The living room was transformed into a cozy haven. Plush blankets and pillows were scattered across the floor, and glow in the-dark stars were carefully placed on the ceiling. The lights dimmed slightly, allowing the stars to twinkle faintly above.

“This is amazing,” you whispered, taking it all in. Sunoo grinned. “Wait until you see the movie lineup. I handpicked all your favorites.”

He led you to the blanket covered floor, where a tray of snacks was artfully arranged. There were bowls of popcorn, candy, and even heart-shaped cookies.

“Did you bake these?” you asked, picking up a cookie. “Of course” he said proudly. “I might have eaten a few while baking, but that’s just quality control.” You giggled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “You’re the best.”

As the first movie started, Sunoo pulled a blanket over both of you. His shoulder brushed against yours, and you leaned into him, savoring the closeness. The room was filled with the sound of the movie and occasional bursts of laughter.

Halfway through, Sunoo turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to play a game?” “What kind of game?” you asked, intrigued.

“Guess the next line,” he said. “Whoever gets it wrong has to eat a mystery snack.” You laughed. “That sounds chaotic, but I’m in.”

The game quickly turned competitive, with both of you dramatically guessing lines and reacting with exaggerated groans when you got them wrong. Sunoo’s laughter was infectious, filling the room with pure joy.

“How are you so good at this?” you asked after your fourth incorrect guess. “Talent” he said smugly. “Or you just watch these movies too much,” you teased.

As the final movie came to an end, you found yourself curled up against Sunoo, your heart full. The glow in the-dark stars above seemed to shimmer even brighter, as if they were celebrating the happiness of the night.

“Thank you for this” you said softly. “It’s been perfect.” Sunoo’s expression turned gentle. “You deserve perfect. Always.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The world felt small and safe, filled only with the warmth of Sunoo’s presence.

As the night came to a close, you knew this Valentine’s Day would be one you’d never forget, not because of grand gestures, but because of the love and joy Sunoo had poured into every moment.

“Next year, same place?” you asked with a grin. Sunoo laughed. “Absolutely. But maybe I’ll let you win the game next time.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

Walking out with hearts full and endless giggles shared, you knew that nothing would ever beat a night filled with love and laughter under glowing stars.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[bluespring864]

source: Sporting Misadventures with Chris Hoy on Acast

Some of the Most of the highlights:

"Overall it was a good experience" Typical Andy enthusiasm, folks :D

oh and he really is hell bent on criticising his perceived inexperience and flaws as a coach throughout...

also he was really careful throughout to speak in hypotheticals about the future of the coaching partnership, clearly they were still discussing it at this stage

tells the story again about explaining to everyone that he couldn't think of anything worse to do than coaching "and then in the car on the way home about thirty minutes later I was on the phone to Novak and he asked me... to help him"

"And I was like... 'Okay that's a bit different. Like, that's quite unique." Okay let me translate. This is Andy speak for: 'Novak, that's completely insane. I like it, though.'

"You know, I consider him to be one of the best athletes of all time"

"I enjoyed the matches. I liked sitting at the side, watching matches from a different perspective. I enjoyed the analysis, and preparing and planning, like, the strategy and everything."

"I'm a poor communicator. Something, you know, something I've always struggled with. But then when you're part of a team and kind of leading the team it's really important that you're communicating well with people and giving them clear direction. So... I think I did an okay job with that. But I found it hard. I found that really demanding."

"I spent way too much time in my room just watching videos of tennis and almost, like, overanalysing matches, like, overpreparing." Is anyone surprised.

[about giving secrets away from the matches they played in the past] "Yeah, we spoke about that quite early on [...] It wasn't so much, 'this is what you did wrong' it was more like 'this is what you do right'. When I was playing against you and you were doing this, it was so hard to play against for these reasons. [...] This is what it looks like and this is how it feels like for the player down the other end."

"if I was able to hear from Novak, or Federer or Nadal..." Well, I think Novak might be on a permanent first name basis now. Only took about 25 years :D

"I do think it's sort of a unique perspective that I have on Novak's game"

"I've competed against him in the biggest matches, on the biggest stages over a 10, 12 year period. I've studied his game. A lot. But also experienced what it's like to play against him. And practiced with him as well, and all of those things."

asked who he would have coached out of the big 3, given the choice: "I think, probably Roger." RIP Novak :D

talking about Roger having all the options, all the shots at his disposal: "To be fair, Novak was really good with this as well"

"It doesn't really matter who's coaching those guys, provided you're giving them clear direction." It does matter to one guy though, Andy, you do realise that?

"Lots of people can watch a tennis player and go 'right, this is the strategy if we're playing against them' [...] but not all of their players can execute what you're asking them to do. And that was the thing, for me, with Novak, that was amazing. In a couple of the matches I gave him the strategy that I thought would work and would be beneficial. And the way that he's able to execute that and do exactly what's being asked of him because of his technical abilities, you know... yeah. The way that he strikes a tennis ball, the way that he moves on the court... And just has no weaknesses, really." Well this counts as waxing lyrical. Well done, Novak :D

P.S. I would recommend the full podcast episode, he does tell a few hilarious actual 'sporting misadventure' anecdotes as well :)

[steveseddie]

happily ever after

written for the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event | prompt: happy ending | rating: t | wc: 1,7k | no cw | tags: pre-relationship, oblivious steve, dungeons & dragons, love confessions

read on ao3

Steve doesn’t know when it happens but at some point, he stops hating Dungeons & Dragons.

He still calls it anything but its actual name to the kids’ faces, and he still bitches and moans about having to drive them to and from their stupid meetings, but he can admit that he kind of likes it, at least to himself.

Definitely not enough to play it. He still believes there’s way too much math involved and he gets a headache just thinking about memorizing an entire character sheet, but he does enjoy it enough to sit and watch the kids and Eddie play.

Eddie is also probably a big part of why Steve started liking it. He has a way of making everything interesting. His voices, the way he insists on randomly jumping on his chair or shooting up to his feet, and the twists and turns he weaves into a story so expertly.

There’s also the fact that Steve is head over heels for him and sitting through one of their games is the perfect excuse to stare at him all he wants.

Realistically, he can’t be at every one of them. He has a job and a tiny shred of reputation to maintain. He can’t be seen dedicating all his free time to a game for nerds.

He can, however, dedicate his Friday night to it when Eddie invites him over for the big finale of their latest campaign.

“It’s going to be great, Stevie, I’m telling you!” Eddie says, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You can’t miss it!”

“I won’t, Eds, I promise,” Steve tells him, trying not to show just how easy it is for Eddie to get him to agree to anything.

The big finale does end up being great. The kids spend the whole time sitting at the edge of their seats and Eddie delivers twist after twist until finally the legendary sword is found, the kingdom is saved and everyone lives happily ever after.

Or maybe not everyone.

There’s something that stays with Steve even after Eddie dramatically announces it’s the end, but he doesn’t get to ask him about it until two days later when they’re hanging out at the trailer.

Steve is sprawled on the bed, leafing through a sports magazine he swiped from Wayne’s stuff and Eddie is pretending to organize his desk. In reality, he’s spent the last twenty minutes playing with a rubber ball he found among his things.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve says just as Eddie throws the ball toward the ceiling. He turns his attention to Steve and forgets about the ball, which bounces against his face.

“Ow! Shit!” He swears, rubbing at his eye. Steve stifles his laughter behind the magazine. “What’s– what’s up, Stevie?”

“Can I ask you a question about Dorks & Dweebs?”

At that, Eddie snaps to attention. His eyes are wide and one of them is a little red from the ball hitting it. “Steve Harrington, did you just say you want to ask me about Dungeons & Dragons?”

“I said Dorks & Dweebs, but yes.”

“I don’t even care that you refuse to call it by the proper name,” Eddie chuckles disbelievingly, then he jumps to his feet and joins Steve on the bed, a big grin on his face. “Holy shit, yes! Of course, ask me anything you want!”

Steve can’t help but chuckle at Eddie’s excitement. The way he rests his chin on his hands and stares expectantly at Steve like this is the most amazing thing to happen to him. It’s very cute. “Okay, you weirdo,” he says, his voice dripping with fondness. “At the end of your last game–”

“Campaign.”

Steve waves him off. “At the end of that, what happened to the singer guy? The bard? Uh, Everard?”

Tilting his head, Eddie asks, “What?”

“You know, the– the guy that helped the kids– uh, the party find the legendary sword. The EMT or whatever.”

Eddie’s mouth twitches amusedly. “The NPC.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well,” he says, scratching his head. “He died.”

“What? Why?”

“Because he got mauled by carrion crawlers, Steve.”

“You got mauled by bats and you lived!” Steve argues. Eddie’s nose scrunches up, most likely at the mention of his near death. “Couldn’t one of the kids have used like, a healing spell or something?”

Eddie taps his lip with his finger, thinking it over. Steve can’t help but follow the movement with his eyes.

“I guess they could but– he’s not important, man, he’s just there to help them find the sword.”

Steve averts his eyes from Eddie’s lips and crosses his arms over his chest. “If he’s not important then it doesn’t matter if he lives, right?”

“Okay, sure,” he snorts. “He can live if you like him so much.”

“Good,” Steve says, nodding. Eddie rolls onto his back, probably assuming the conversation is over but there’s something else Steve has been wondering about. “Does he go back to the princess?”

Eddie’s whole body visibly tenses up. “W–what?”

“Everard is in love with Princess Soliana, right? Does he tell her?”

“No,” Eddie says, his voice sharp.

“Why not?”

Eddie groans, sitting up on the bed so he’s facing away from Steve. “Because that’s not relevant to the campaign!”

“It’s relevant to me,” Steve huffs stubbornly.

“Why?”

Because Steve is a romantic and from the first time Eddie mentioned this NPC or whatever, Steve felt drawn to him for some reason. It might sound stupid, he’s just a character after all, but Steve wants him to be happy. “Because Everard loves her.”

“So?” Eddie snaps, “there are things even love can’t fix.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “In real life, maybe, but in fantasy, man? Anything can happen.”

“That can’t,” he grumbles. He still won’t face Steve, his shoulders hunched over.

“But why?”

“Because!” Eddie snaps, finally turning around. His face is pinched, his lips pursed. “Bards don’t marry princesses, Steve!”

“Says who?”

“Me, and I’m the DM so I make the rules.”

“Which means you can change them, give them a happy ending!”

Eddie drags his hands down his face. “There’s no happy ending for Everard, Steve. He knows that. He’s not the hero who gets the princess, he’s the sorry son of a bitch who almost dies. Even if he lives, he won’t do it. He won’t risk the friend– the kingdom when he knows the princess doesn’t love him back.” He says all of that through gritted teeth, and his voice sounds sad like– like he knows what he’s talking about.

“She’s royalty, Steve. She’s beautiful, she’s brave,” Eddie goes on, his eyes boring into Steve with an intensity that makes him shiver. “And he’s– he’s no one and he’s broken and– and scarred, and–-”

“You,” Steve whispers as the realization hits. “He’s you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. He gulps, but he doesn’t deny it. He can’t. Now that Steve knows it’s so obvious. The similar name, Everard’s funny and flirty personality, the way he joins the party later in the campaign, and how he’s mauled by creatures trying to save them.

And if that’s Eddie then–

“The princess is me.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Finally caught on, didn’t you, Stevie?”

“You– you based those characters off of us?”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “But you killed Everard.”

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah, well. I took some liberties, I didn’t want to make it too obvious, you know? And I did die for like a couple of minutes, so–”

“But the part about Everard being in love with the princess. Did you take liberties with that?” Steve asks quietly, holding his breath as he waits for Eddie’s answer.

“No,” he says, ducking his head, his hair falling over his face. “That part was accurate.”

The admission makes Steve’s heart try to beat out of his chest. “You– you love me?” He asks with a shaky voice.

“I do,” Eddie says, his big doe eyes finally meeting Steve’s gaze. “But I meant what I said. Everard wouldn’t risk anything, not when I know– when he knows you– the princess doesn’t want him.”

Eddie’s eyes are sad and pleading, like he’s begging Steve not to be mad at him. But Steve is mad. Just not for the reason that Eddie thinks.

“You don’t know that,” he says, frowning.

“I told you–”

“You told me what Everard thinks, now let me tell you what the princess thinks,” Steve says, shutting Eddie up. “She doesn’t think Everard is broken, she thinks he’s strong. He might be scarred, but so is she. And– and he’s beautiful too! Maybe she never thought she could fall in love with a guy– with someone like him but she loves him, Eddie.” He reaches for Eddie’s hand on the bed. It’s shaking. Steve squeezes it. “And I love you.”

Eddie’s jaw goes slack. “Steve–”

“That’s Princess Soliana for you,” Steve tells him, trying to lighten the mood.

It works. A joyful, high-pitched laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he agrees with a giddy chuckle. “I– did you– do you mean it?”

Another squeeze. “Of course, Eds.”

With his free hand, Eddie grabs a lock of his own hair and tugs it across his face to try and hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks and that just won’t do. Steve uses his hand to tuck the hair back behind Eddie’s ear. “So, now that Everard knows this, what’s he going to do?”

Eddie doesn’t even need to think about it. His eyes instantly dart down to Steve’s mouth. “He’s going to kiss the princess,” he says, his jaw set in determination.

Warmth shoots through Steve’s body, the corners of his mouth curl upwards. “Good,” he says, and then Eddie is pulling him in by his shirt, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Steve’s hand finds its way to the back of Eddie’s neck so he can keep him in place, kissing him back for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes.

“I guess– hmph, I guess Everard did get his happy ending after all,” Eddie mumbles against Steve’s lips after some time. “And so did I.”

Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Nah, Eds, this might be the end for them,” he says, pushing at Eddie’s shoulders until his back hits the bed and he can climb on top of him. “For us, it’s only the beginning.”

[icarianbeast]

I just finished the first chapter of Deltarune...

First thing's first, amazing game, obviously.

Second thing, though, I feel like the whole universe is kinda really sad? I know in Undertale everyone was trapped underground and that sucks but they all had each other, you know? When I was walking around town after the main story (Which by the way, I KNOW I missed so many hidden secrets- and I never got to go back for what I assume is Jevil (?) because I progressed too far on accident but that's a completely different rant) I talked to everyone that I could and like-

The first thing that got me is that Undyne has no idea who Alphys is. I mean, it makes sense- when would they ever have interacted, in this version of the universe? But still, it made me sad. Then I saw Gerson's grave in the cemetery and that actually made me tear up for some reason. I dunno I guess I thought he'd live forever.

It was fun to see Sans- and hear bones trousling in the house, even if I didn't get to talk to Papyrus- I did promise to visit tomorrow (chapter 2, assumedly?) so hopefully I can meet him then. They seem to be doing just fine- good for them.

But Bratty and Catty hate each other?? I mean, probably not actually hate, but they have a rivalry. Maybe it'll blossom into their friendship they had in Undertale later, but it was sad to me to see them disliking each other.

No sign of Napstablook. I thought the ghost house would be theirs, but it seems like it was Mettaton in there... in whatever form they might have taken in this world. One of the books in the library did seem to be Napstablook's journal though, maybe? And I recall some dialogue or flavor text at some point outside of that that was reminicent of them.

Obviously Asgore and Toriel are divorced- that seems to be consistent across universes. It does make me wonder what happened here though. Also, his initial dialogue being the same as his first dialogue in Undertale totally got me. Also the colored flowers? It seems like maybe they're the ones he & Toriel had at their wedding. Cool parallels though.

Anyway, this is just a ramble, mostly for me, to talk about things I noticed. I had a really good time playing through and reading everything! I did the whole chapter in one sitting... Which probably wasn't my wisest choice, but, hey, what're you gonna do, right? I feel like there's never really a good spot to leave these games (meaning, Undertale & Deltarune), even though there's save points. It never really feels like a good time to log off for the day.