#god i love him so much. hes so special to me

[stxrslut]

DIDN'T GIVE UP 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie!reader

summary; after getting out of rehab, rafe is desperate to be intimate with you, so it feels like his whole world falls apart when he’s unable to arouse himself. but with plenty of commitment and a promise not to give up, he finally manages to succeed, even if it’s not in the way that you’d both wished for

content; talk of addiction and rehab, brief mention of overdose, erectile dysfunction, masturbation, brief handjob

author's note; inspired by a few conversations had over on @starfxkrinc about post rehab rafe. I'm super happy with how this one turned out, I really love exploring these sides of rafe

you hold rafe’s hand as you both walk inside. tonight has been so special, your first date since rafe got out of rehab. it had been intimate and quiet and comfortable. a lovely meal at the local gourmet restaurant filled with gentle loving touches had left you both wanting more, a more that neither of you had had for a while.

even before rehab, rafe had just stopped having sex with you. you’d thought you might get somewhere but then the od happened and he’d needed to go to rehab which meant you didn’t even see him for months. 

you’re both so touch starved, no words need to be spoken before you’re both making your way up to the bedroom, kissing and fumbling with each other’s clothes, quickly and desperately.

“god— missed you so much,” he murmurs, hands on your hips as he backs through the bedroom door, turning and kicking it shut like he always used to when you first started sneaking around together.

you moan softly “me too. missed you rafe.” one of your hands wraps around his neck and the other comes down to palm at him through his pants, his bulge is noticeable but he’s not hard yet. you undo his zipper and touch him through his boxers.

you both move back towards the bed and you pull his dick out, taking it in your hand and starting to jerk him off, but you both notice something. that something being nothing, nothing is happening. his dick isn’t doing anything. 

rafe frowns and you do the same, both of you look down as your hand keeps moving for no reaction. after about thirty seconds rafe steps away, “shit I– I didn’t know that would happen.” he rubs the back of his neck, “shit… shit.” 

you step forward and place a hand on his arm, “oh rafe… hey I’m sure its normal.. you did just get outta rehab,” you try to pull him to look at you but he doesn’t, he stares straight at the floor and shrugs you off.

“no… I.. this happens when I’m high not– I’ve been sober for two months.” he exaggerates, you can hear his voice beginning to break. you had considered that this might be an obstacle but you weren’t expecting him to react like this, surely all it’s going to take is a bit of trial and error until he can get it up with as much ease as he used to.

though you suppose this must be hard for him. finally getting some normality back and he can’t even properly enjoy it. and you know how much he hates to feel emasculated. maybe it is a big deal for him. even though it’s not guaranteed to happen yet, the imminent possibility must have shocked him into a panic. 

that’s fine, you’ve dealt with rafe under much more serious circumstances.

you step forward, more confident now that you have an idea of what the problem is and how you can solve it. “rafe, sweetie don’t panic,” you speak gently, “we’re gonna sort this out okay?” 

rafe looks down at you, “sorry– sorry I’m.. just wasn’t expectin’ it..” he scratches the back of his neck, looking down at his uncovered self. you nod, understanding his distress.

“that’s okay, it was a surprise huh?” you stroke his arm gently, “you wanna try again?” you ask gently and he nods shakily, taking a calming breath before letting you guide him to the bed. he sits down first and then you climb on after him, straddling his lap and quickly managing to retain the mood you were in before.

you grind down a little and his hands come to your hips to help your movements like he normally would but he’s quickly letting out an agitated noise and pushing you off. “it’s not working,” he groans in frustration. 

you pull yourself up to sit next to him. your hand comes to his chest, “oh baby,” you coo as you notice the tears welling in his eyes that he’s so obviously trying to hold back. in his mind not being able to get aroused is bad enough, crying would just make him pathetic. 

“what do you wanna do huh?” you pry, stroking his chest now and coming up to kiss his shoulder. “I’m sure that there are things we can try… it’s only been a couple of minutes.” you try to reassure him but you’re pretty sure he’s going to be inconsolable until he can feel confident in himself again. in his mind, a couple of minutes should mean you’re already halfway through round two.

“I– I don’t understand,” he sniffles pitifully, not daring to make eye contact with you as he instead stares down at his completely motionless dick. “this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.. I- I got sober.” 

you kiss him again, “you did baby, you got sober,” you smile sympathetically, “and this is normal, its normal to have erectile dysfunction after stuff like this.” though that reassurance sets him off more.

“don’t– don’t call it that,” he snaps ever so slightly, shoulders tensing and momentarily shrugging your hand away, “I don’t– I can’t have a dysfunction, okay it’s– it’s gotta work.” his voice breaks just a little.

you nod, “okay… okay then we’ll make it work, okay?” you move your body so that you can look him in the eyes, you bring your hand up to cup his face. “you just tell me what you need, okay? we can do whatever you want, whatevers gonna help you.” 

he thinks for a moment, you can see the cogs in his brain turning behind his eyes as he tries to find something that he thinks may help him. his lips are parted and his cheeks are slightly pink. he eventually seems to come to a conclusion, he hesitates for a moment before speaking tentatively, “can uh.. can I try doin’ it myself?”

you nod, “yeah, course baby.” you smile, proud of him for being able to articulate his need, “where do you want me? should I give you some privacy or–” 

rafe shakes his head, “can you stay,” he asks, “please… just.. I really need you to be here.” he tries to avert his eyes, he’s embarrassed, you can tell, he reeks of humiliation and you wish that you could just take it away from him. after all that he’s been through in the past few months you feel this is the last thing he deserves. 

“I’ll stay here,” you affirm, “I’ll stay here as long as you need okay? you just do whatever you need to do.” you move with him as his hand comes to grasp yours whilst the other supports him while he shakily manoeuvres himself to half sit half lay against the headboard. 

you stay on the edge of the bed, keeping a hold of his hand as that is evidently what he wants you to do. his chest rises and falls slowly as he pushes his pants further down and then gently grasps his soft dick. 

he begins to move tentatively, doing his best to throw his head back and not think about it. you stay quiet, just letting him figure it out for himself. 

he manages to get it up, a little, you notice a look of clear relief on his face as he relishes in the sensation he’d worried that he wouldn’t get back. his movement quickens and then his face falls as he loses it.

you stroke his thumb with your own, “it’s okay baby, just take your time.” you murmur softly as his face scrunches up in annoyance. but he perseveres, hand going back down to try once again.

he tries, he really tries. he tries so many times, over and over again, and to both of your increasing dismay he keeps losing it over and over again too. 

poor rafe, tears slip down his cheeks and he groans from sadness and surely a little pain at the fact that he’s basically rubbed himself raw down there. his tip is pink and angry, you have half a mind to tell him to stop but you fear he may hurt himself more if he can’t manage or stop on his own terms. 

he huffs sadly. he knows he needs to stop too, “just– just one more try.” he says, “one more.” he nods decisively before looking up to you, almost as if to ask for your blessing to just try one more time. 

of course you nod, “yeah, one more time. you’ve got this rafe,” you tell him, squeezing his hand reassuringly with a loving smile, hoping to encourage him to finally get it. 

rafe starts again, slowly at first and then he builds up his movements, it takes a long few minutes but he manages to get himself hard, fully hard. he grunts and groans and you have to stop yourself from slipping a hand under your own underwear so as not to distract him from his moment. 

after another long few minutes he practically cries out, then whimpers and then tears of relief fall down his cheeks as he finally cums. it’s not a lot, and it doesn’t last long, but it does him good. the feeling simply overwhelms him and he finally feels reassured that he can be normal again.

once he’s ridden it out you wipe the tears from his cheek with your free hand, “hey.” you smile down at him, “well done, you did so good.” you speak gently, “I’m so proud of you, you didn’t give up.” 

rafe smiles, his previous humiliation replaced with pure bliss and relief, “yeah,” he nods, sighing breaths of relief, “didn’t give up.” maybe this evening didn’t go exactly as expected, but you think, with the circumstances, it turned out okay.

[monamipencil]

first of all. v, i love your brain.

second. your writing skills???? this fic serves. i love this so much. the plot was so fucking good? AND THE TWIST? GODDAMN. i did not expect that. and the smut was hot too. i just went through a roller coaster of emotions.

third. i came here bcuz this looked nice and spicy, now my heart is broken into two.

annotations;

Corrupting Demon Hunters was delicious. Candy to the soul. If you truly had one.

grrr yes

That night, he was not engaging in conversation he was distracted. His gaze was set on you.

oh fuck, this is hot

Other times when he is burning with need, he would just go to yours, tail between his legs. Those times were the best.

im just a girl, i see a man like this, i fold so fast 🎀

No, the real root of his anger was that every night and every day, his mind was clogged with thoughts of you, like a disease eating away at his brain. Every time he blinked or took a breath you were present in there.

hehe 😌

He hated it.

not hehe 🧍‍♀️

Jeonghan blinked away, the tips of his ears red from both the third beer making his blood heat up and, obviously, from being startled by you.

it was just a wink, calm down

But gods, giving in felt so good.

forbidden tropes >>>>

As soon as you got to the tight, secluded alleyway of the pub, Jeonghan pressed your back against the exit door, pinning you with his body before grabbing your face with one hand, fingers digging into your cheeks before attacking you with a chaste kiss.

“Shut up. Don’t make me take a fourth,” he muttered darkly as he leaned over to plant a slow kiss on your lips. “I’d gladly kill you.”

At that, you laughed. “Sounds fun,”

asdfghjkl, i love their bickering. their dynamics >>>

You were unsure whether Jeonghan even realized that the reason why you were not feeding on human flesh was because you fed off his lust. His guilt and greed were so delicious that you did not need to reap souls.

damn, being a demon sounds fun

Past the scars and the bruises, past his skin, you saw his soul. It was a fiery, chaotic smoking light. Like a candlelight that dances erratically inside him.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR, IM FERAL. FUCK, BRUISES? SCARS?? (i love his soul too <33)

But since everything he did with you was sinful, it was getting harder for him to tell.

asdfghjkl lmao

What have you done to me, the words echo in your head, making your pulse quicken. No matter how many times he has said this to you, or many other things equally as hurtful. It never failed to break you.

🧍‍♀️i love this

But you loved seeing that fire in his eyes, loved feeling the guilt pulsating in his veins. He smelled of fear, anguish, greed and lust. He wanted you, he hated you.

“You thought yourself to be special,” he gritted, pushing his cock relentlessly inside you, his fingers choking the life out of you. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing.”

something is wrong with me. why do i find this ... so hot

Jeonghan hated this. Jeonghan loved this. Hated it. Loved it.

RAHHHH 🦅🦅

“I hate you,” he said, his voice reducing to a mere whisper.

�� ok i'd actually cry tbh

Jeonghan would not want you had you been human.

wha-ow, that was uncalled for.

“I hate you more,” you said, though your tone was devoid of all venom.

aww, man🧍‍♀️this hurts

“Jeonghan, don’t go…” you said, sobs starting to coil in your throat.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You were what smouldered the fire within him. You were the peace to his chaos. The bond he could never break not even in death, his soulmate.

WHAT? OH MY FUCING FGOD? R UFJVCJN SERIOSU? IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK

the curse | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 4.6k

› 🎧: faux – katie | kiss&tell – ethan low and gen neo

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little plot, exhibitionism, hate fucking, switch jeonghan, switch reader, humiliation kink, breath play, dirty talk, rough fucking, impact play, sadomasochism, monster fucking, a little bit of corruption kink, creampies, degradation/praise kink, hair pulling kink, no aftercare. pet names: wicked thing, baby, baby demon (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

› author's note: as always, this is not proofread heh. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it..... i might write more things like this in the future

the curse

YOON JEONGHAN HAD EVERYTHING A DEMON LOVED TO CURRUPT. He was not the stuffy kind that would cross to the dark side to become evil after a little persuading, no. He was cruel and dangerous.

He had all the traits you would expect from a demon hunter. You had been told all your life to be weary of his kind. But what would life be without a little fun? Corrupting Demon Hunters was delicious. Candy to the soul. If you truly had one.

Jeonghan was sitting with his friends at one of the last tables of the pub. That night, he was not engaging in conversation he was distracted. His gaze was set on you.

You concealed a smile by biting your lower lip. You knew Jeonghan kept coming back to the pub to see you prancing around the tables. There he sat, a beautiful mess, riddled with a tension that he was too blind or too naïve to comprehend.

Hunters were not like regular humans. They could sense demons from a mile away naturally, they could resist the temptations that demons offered as easily as breathing. But that did not take away from the fact that they were mortal. They had a weakness in their being that demons loved way too much.

Even if hunters and demons hated each other by nature, too. Irresistible. That is one word that you liked to use whenever Jeonghan was around. Even if he was perched on his chair, eyes on you as if you were his source of entertainment, sipping on a beer slowly.

With your back turned to him, you felt his gaze piercing your back. It set your nerves ablaze, your blood thickening under your skin, making it prickle with a thrilling sensation. You wondered if he felt the same things the longer he looked at you.

Now, Jeonghan was no fool. He only came here the nights when he was craving for fun. Other times when he is burning with need, he would just go to yours, tail between his legs. Those times were the best.

But that night you knew he was trying to come off as uninterested. That is why he had not talked to you or even made a clear invitation to walk to his table. You kept yourself away from him, letting one of your co-workers serve his friends and him.

Jeonghan drank deeply from his pint, finishing it off with a pleased exhale. He lifted two fingers at one of the other servers, ordering another. You saw it on his face now more clearly, taking the advantage that his gaze had fallen on your pretty colleague. Jeonghan was pissed.

Why was he pissed?

It had taken everything in him not to arrive at the pub that night. He had been resisting the pull he felt toward you for almost two weeks. The root of his anger did not come from the fact that he could not let more than two weeks go by without coming to see you. He has gone even longer resisting you.   

No, the real root of his anger was that every night and every day, his mind was clogged with thoughts of you, like a disease eating away at his brain. Every time he blinked or took a breath you were present in there.

He hated it.

Hunters learned to resist temptation. They invested time, blood, sweat and tears to become stronger, to be lethal to demons. Greatest weapons of the underworld.

You sighed as you set your hands on the countertop of the bar, waiting. You sneaked a look over your shoulder, winking at him once you found his dark eyes on you. Jeonghan blinked away, the tips of his ears red from both the third beer making his blood heat up and, obviously, from being startled by you.

There it was again, he exhaled the taste of beer, he could taste you as he took a breath. Like a drug making his senses go dull. He hated it.

You were a thing he could not make sense of. Yoon Jeonghan was a man of strategy. In this world, he could not afford to give in to his impulses. That gets people like him killed.

But gods, giving in felt so good.

He looked again, also knowing that you kept observing him. With great reluctance, he made a gentle motion towards the back door. It was a simple move, and easy to pass up. But you knew him.

Whereas hunters were cold and calculated, demons were alluring and carefree. Humans repelled demons by instinct, their allure being so strong and strange that humans found demons dangerous. So they would rarely mingle.

But there were exceptions. You were one of them. Jeonghan attributed your ease of blending in the human world to your beauty. Your beautiful smile, your soft hair, your radiant skin. And your eagerness to make friends made you likable. Those things humans felt attracted to.

They did not know just how fucking deadly you were. That was Yoon Jeonghan’s reason for existing, that was why he got paid handsomely: to rid the world of creatures like you, and those he could not kill, he would make them go back into hiding in the underworld.

As soon as you got to the tight, secluded alleyway of the pub, Jeonghan pressed your back against the exit door, pinning you with his body before grabbing your face with one hand, fingers digging into your cheeks before attacking you with a chaste kiss.

You grabbed the hand squishing your cheeks and tossed it off you. “Hi there to you too,” you said.

“No time for that,” he murmured with a gruff tone, you tasted the beer on his tongue. But aside from that, you tasted him.

Demons had more senses than regular humans did. A few more than hunters too. Hunters were superhuman, stronger, faster, and smarter. Demons were all of that too, but they had something hunters did not. Demons held the power to taste souls.

“It’s been a while,” you pointed between hurried kisses, quickly becoming drunk on his tongue, his taste was like nothing else you had ever tasted before. It made your blood thicken, it numbed you, and it gave you pure and uncontainable bliss.

“How many humans have you killed since I last saw you?” he muttered in between rushed, wet kisses, grabbing your wrists to pin them above your head.

“Why, do you care about humans now?” you bit back, grabbing him by the jaw to keep kissing him

Jeonghan cared about humans. Just not too much. His care for humans did not go beyond work-related. They were a necessity.

“How many?” he growled now, inching away from your face.

“One,” you said, pronouncing the syllable as though it were a tragedy. “How many demons have you killed?”

“Three,” he replied flatly.

“Holding yourself back?” you smirked, delighted that he too had been lowering his body count out of confusion.

Usually, you would take three humans per week. They were your source of energy. But you had a rule, not to Jeonghan’s knowing. You limited yourself to humans that were corrupted by transgressing against their kind. You found their sins were too tasty to pass up.

But ever since you started this push and pull with Jeonghan, your body count has decreased in number quite tragically. From taking dozens of lives a week, you barely could take more than three now. And even if Jeonghan does not operate the same way as you do, you satiate your hunger differently.

Jeonghan kills for money, he kills for duty.

“Shut up. Don’t make me take a fourth,” he muttered darkly as he leaned over to plant a slow kiss on your lips. “I’d gladly kill you.”

At that, you laughed. “Sounds fun,” you breathed, nearly swept away by his lips trailing down your jawline. “But are we spicing things up already? We’ve only been doing this for a year…”  

Now, why has Jeonghan not killed you?

“Has it been a year already?” he asked aloofly, bending his knees a little before taking your thighs in his hands, you jumping to meet him halfway.

“Time flies when you’re having a good time,” you quipped, craning your neck for him to plant wet kisses down your throat.

“So they say,” he muttered, drunk off your scent but still lucid enough to come back with witty retorts.

There were plenty of monsters in this world. Creatures far deadlier and scarier than you. Nothing, no one in this world, human or not, wanted you as much as Jeonghan did. Why would he kill you? He has everything he wants with you.

You bristled. “Someone’s coming,” you whispered, your eyes flying open.

Like a mental slap, Jeonghan came back to his senses, pulling his head back and stopping his mouth on your skin with a disgruntled sound. He eased you back onto the ground and the exit door of the pub pushed open, you grabbed his wrist, taking him down the alley and towards the path that led down the forest.

You did not escape one of your coworkers seeing you drag Jeonghan to the sea of trees. If you were a human, it would bring you terrible shame to be seen scurrying off to the forest with a man to have privacy.

But being a demon, you knew no shame. You fed off pride, greed and lust.

Jeonghan slipped his wrist off your grasp as though your touch pained him. You were arriving at a small, secluded area covered by tall and thick trees, so you turned to him, just as he used his hands to push your shoulders.

You fell back onto your ass, but you were quick enough to use your elbows as support on the ground, raising your gaze to his fascinated face.

Jeonghan had used enough strength to break human bones. He followed your body, dropping to his knees between your parting legs. “Shall we do this quickly?” he asked, grinning at your eagerness.

“Why, do you have somewhere else to go?” you arched an eyebrow. You wished your words had been laced with sarcasm.

“Would you mind if I did?” he retorted, a hand snaking to find the hem of your knit sweater, pushing it up your chest.

You wanted to say yes. After hoping for two weeks to see him, it deflated you to think Jeonghan was slipping away from you so quickly. “No, of course not,” you replied, shuddering once he gave your tank top the same treatment he did to your sweater, leaving your tits bare.

“That’s what I thought,” he sighed, dipping his head to wrap his mouth around your left nipple.

You arched your back to his lips, just as he palmed your other breast, making you moan. You had gone longer than two weeks without fucking Jeonghan, but that was in the beginnings of this relationship. If you could even call it that.

That was before fucking Jeonghan became an addiction. Demons fed on sin. You were unsure whether Jeonghan even realized that the reason why you were not feeding on human flesh was because you fed off his lust. His guilt and greed were so delicious that you did not need to reap souls.

You have missed this. But you could not bring yourself to tell him that. However, it showed in your actions, arching your back on the ground, leaves and branches creaking under you as you sank your fingers in his long hair.

Jeonghan swallowed back a sound that sounded like a purr against the plain of your breast. “Are you hungry?”

He knows. You furrowed your brow, watching him lift his head to meet your eyes. “Yes,” you admitted.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders with a breathy tone, as if kissing your skin had robbed him of voice.

You sat up, as he knelt back, taking the chest harness off. He rarely removed his weapons when he fucked you in an open space. Whenever he visited you at your apartment, he would usually just leave his knife at hand, on your bedside table or the table he fucked you on.

You stripped the knit sweater, taking the tank top off, eyeing his skin with curious eyes as he took his black shirt off. Jeonghan was lean and strong, he bore bruises and scars all over his chest and arms. Knife, bite and claw marks.

He was beautiful.

Past the scars and the bruises, past his skin, you saw his soul. It was a fiery, chaotic smoking light. Like a candlelight that dances erratically inside him.

Seeing his soul was intrusive. But so alluring that you did not notice he was looking at you through his heavy set of eyelashes.

“What are you waiting for?” he cocked his head to one side, showing you a mocking smirk. “Do you think I’m going to undress you?”

“You did that last time,” you said between your teeth, but you lied back, lifting your hips to skitter off your pants, kicking your boots off with efficacy.

“Last time?” he frowned pensively, pausing before he placed his shirt aside on the ground. He shook his head lightly. “That was the second to last.”

“I get them mixed,” you shrugged, lying to him with ease.

Jeonghan knew whenever demons told a lie. He had been trained to sense whenever you performed a sinful act. But since everything he did with you was sinful, it was getting harder for him to tell.

He did not take his pants off, you did not ask why. You imagined that it was because he wanted to grasp what little dignity he had left in him. Maybe he did not want to strip completely because that gave him more power over you.

You were utterly bare under him. You did not care, you relished at the sight of him growing hard under his black pants either way.

“Turn over,” he said, gently palming the side of your thigh, urging you to move. “Hands and knees.”

You obeyed him, but not before you got to see him push his pants down, getting his cock out. He was fully hard for you, his veiny shaft standing up completely, his tip reddened and leaking precum at the slit.

You got on all fours, planting your hands and knees on the dirt, bracing yourself for him.

He used his knee to move yours on the ground, spreading your legs open a few more inches. “Mm, you missed me,” he noted with a low coo, running two fingertips on your folds. “So hungry, so wet.”

“Stop teasing me,” you bit back, though you were growing hot on the cheeks.

He found you out. But there was another issue. You were feeding off his lust and greed for you. But that did not explain why he also lowered the amount of demon kills he took. Was he doing it by pure choice?

Did Jeonghan feel guilty?

“Please, just give it to me,” you urged with a whimpery tone. You hated it.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you, you needy thing,” he replied with an empty laugh.

And then his fingers left your folds, you nearly whimpered at the loss. But then his fingers were quickly replaced by his cock, gently nudging its tip against your cunt, you clenched around nothing, but he felt your entrance throbbing with his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he sighed, grabbing you by the hips.

You closed your eyes, biting back a moan as his length started sinking in on you. The feeling was delicious, it made your blood surge and dance beneath your skin. It drew a moan out of Jeonghan, bottoming out on you.

He slid a hand from your hip, caressing your skin along the line of your back to meet your shoulder. He held you in place, a hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder before starting to plow on you, his hard thrusts knocking the wind out of you.

The feeling of his cock sliding on your walls was near-euphoric, the tip nudged at your g-spot quite quickly. Jeonghan knew your body better than you, his grip on you was harsh, holding you firmly as his hips jackhammered against your ass. The sound of skin slapping against each other quickly became an echo in the forest.  

“Jeonghan…” you moaned blissfully, letting the trees surrounding you that he was making you feel like this.

“Hell,” he murmured under his breath.

You muffled a moan in your mouth, fisting the leaves beneath you as if that could support you from crumbling out of sheer pleasure.

Fucking demons was rapturous. They revelled in perversion, they were the epitome of lust. It was playing with death. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, any mortal would either die or be killed trying. The pleasure was almost mind-shattering.

Jeonghan was past giving a fuck. “Where are your horns?” he muttered, thrusting his cock inside you hard and fast, he sounded out of breath.

“I’m concealing them,” you replied, equally as breathless, already toying at the edge of your release. “Thought you didn’t like them.”

“I don’t,” he grunted, letting go of your shoulder, his hand sliding to the middle of your back. “But I want to see them.”

You shuddered as his hand caressed you with a foreign gentleness. “No,” you replied.

“Come on, baby demon. Show ‘em to me,” he rasped, and you turned over your shoulder to see him.

Jeonghan was beautiful, he was tipping his head back, leaving his throat exposed to your gaze. You saw his throat bobbing when he swallowed hard, he was looking at your face, waiting for you to show him your horns.

“No,” you said, smirking devilishly at him. “I might if you ask nicely.”

“Ha. Nice try,” he sighed.

“What’s wrong, notable demon hunter lost his manners?” you gave him an empty laugh.

Jeonghan lifted his hand on your hip, landing it on your ass with a loud smack. “Stop that,” he warned darkly.

The spank was harsh, he used his raw strength to spank you every time. Your eyes stung with tears, but you gritted your teeth through it.

“I might be a demon, but I like indulging in a man with decorum,” you teased some more, enjoying the quiet flames of his soul growing enraged. You liked toying with him without him noticing it.

“Fuck,” he rasped.

Then a hand tangled in your hair, grabbing a fistful to yank you up. You squealed, but he did not stop fucking you hard and fast.

“You’re the one that needs to learn manners, not me,” he growled in your ear, his lips brushing on your earlobe. He released your hair, using his hands to palm your breasts, his fingers lingering on your nipples.

“Fuck, Jeonghan,” you moaned, arching your back for him, enjoying his cock filling your walls nicely, its tip teasing your g-spot repeatedly, unrelentingly.

“You’re close?” he asked, his tone low and raspy, tickling your senses.

You nodded eagerly, closing your eyes to savour the pleasure brimming inside you. You felt him everywhere. Not just his hands on your tits, or his hips meeting your ass, his cock stuffing you full. His touch made your blood surge, it made your chest tighten and heave.

You loved it.

“Come on me,” he mumbled lazily, removing a hand from your breast to meet your hip. His thrusts were growing sloppy, you knew he was close. “Cream all over my cock, baby.”

You hated him.

You hated that he used that word. He knew that it was a weak point for you. You had no choice, you crumbled back against him, your orgasm washing over you in fiery waves. You moaned loudly, nearly screaming but you did not care. The pleasure was so great, it had you moaning until you had no voice, no breath.

Jeonghan followed, dropping his forehead on your shoulder, dumping his load inside you with sloppy thrusts. He had stopped caring long ago about the consequences that might bring. And you had as well.

“You wicked little thing,” he panted, not quite stopping his thrusts yet. “What have you done to me?”

You gave him no reply, instead, you felt him growing hard inside you, pushing his cum back in. He kept fucking you slowly, as if with each thrust he was giving into you again.

What have you done to me, the words echo in your head, making your pulse quicken. No matter how many times he has said this to you, or many other things equally as hurtful. It never failed to break you.   

You used a hand to push his hips off, not caring that his cum slid down your thigh the minute you turned to face him, letting your body fall back onto the ground, bringing Jeonghan with you.

He gasped in surprise, but quickly recovered, positioning his arms around you, framing your head. “Round two?”

“Unless you have somewhere to go,” you smirked.

“I wish,” he replied, though you heard how numbly he sounded. “I wish I could stop wanting this,” he groaned, starting to thrust his hard cock inside you again.

“Careful,” you whispered, the smirk erasing from your face. “I know when you’re lying, hunter.”

His gaze darkened. “You’re not telling me to be careful,” he said. “You’re forgetting that I could kill you.”

“The fact that you haven’t tells me otherwise,” you said, though your tone waned as his thrusts started to become more powerful, you pushed your knees back, letting him drive his cock deeper inside you, drawing out a long moan from you.

A hand clutched your throat firmly, his fingers pressing on your windpipe strongly. You choked, grabbing his wrist to no end, because you let him strangle you.

“Why the fuck would I?” he growled, his face mere inches from yours. “You have the perfect little pussy, the perfect tits, perfect ass… I can’t afford to lose you.”

You blinked your watery eyes, your heart palpitating frantically, your chest constricting at the lack of air.

But you loved seeing that fire in his eyes, loved feeling the guilt pulsating in his veins. He smelled of fear, anguish, greed and lust. He wanted you, he hated you.

“You thought yourself to be special,” he gritted, pushing his cock relentlessly inside you, his fingers choking the life out of you. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing.”

Your lips curled in a smile at the way his body responded upon uttering that sentence. You closed your eyes, nearing the edge of another climax, which you let sweep through you, dancing in your veins.

You cherished the feeling of him inside you, fucking his first load back into you, only to then have it spilled out with each slam of his hips against yours.  

“There she is,” he whispered, his dark eyes glinting.

The pleasure was so brutal, you did not realize you had stopped concealing your horns. His fingers stopped pressing on your throat, but his hand lingered there. You looked at him while his gaze coasted at the sight of the black horns that curved back from the crown of your head.

“Don’t,” he muttered when they faded out of his view.

You exhaled, bringing your horns back.

“Wings too,” he whispered.

Even if you could smell the shame coursing through him, you also removed the concealment from your wings, showing how they had been tucked beneath your body the whole time.

Jeonghan slid a hand to your side, caressing your skin before brushing a knuckle on one of your black wings. You shuddered, hard, arching your back and pressing your tits against his chest.

“Jeonghan,” you mewled, closing your eyes under the thrill of having his touch on you.

“Does this make you come?” he asked a hint of playfulness in his tone making you open your eyes to his wide smile.

“Do it again,” you breathed.

At that, he obediently ran the back of two fingers along the soft membranous skin of your wings, the euphoric feeling bringing out a cry from you. “Yes,” you replied to his question.

Though he did not need verbal confirmation from you, your walls clamped around his cock, making him moan too. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Such a wicked little thing,” he smiled. “Go ahead, demon. Come again.”

Your cheeks grew hot at the derogatory manner he called you. But you did not follow his command exactly.

Jeonghan switched his hand, propping his weight to the other to touch your neglected wing. He sent you a curious glance, right before using the back of his knuckles to brush your wing.

The touch was so light, so tender against your skin that it sent you to another orgasm. It was so brutal that it brought tears to your eyes, it was so euphoric that it made you scream, your mind going blank.

Jeonghan looked at you, completely mesmerized. “Gods,” he groaned, thrusting his hips sloppily on you, giving you his second load. You shuddered, feeling the ropes of hot cum filling you up.

He moved his hand from your wing, his touch gentle and light as he searched your eyes, cupping your cheek before he gave you a surprisingly sweet kiss. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, looking at you the same way he always did before he said goodbye.

Jeonghan hated this. Jeonghan loved this. Hated it. Loved it.

“I hate you,” he said, his voice reducing to a mere whisper.

It was sickening, it made your stomach churn, but it was not enough to make you wish you were something else. Deep down, you knew that Jeonghan would not want you had you been human.

You gave him a hollow laugh. “I hate you more,” you said, though your tone was devoid of all venom.

Then, the familiar pulsating feeling came. It only happened once in a while. It overwhelmed you with something you both welcomed and rejected. It was like a tight hand gripping your very soul. Jeonghan felt it too, you felt his body tensing up, still connected to yours.

Here it comes. You braced yourself.

Jeonghan retreated, slowly. He used his hand on your lower abdomen to push himself from you, grunting slightly as his cock slid out of your walls. With a heaviness that made his limbs clumsy, he gathered himself, standing up in front of you.

He tucked himself back in, picking up the rest of his things, with a perplexed look. It always happened like this.

He slowly turned his back on you, staggering against a tree, using a hand on it for support, he started panting in panic. You saw his back rise and fall just as you sat up on the ground, wrapping your wings around you protectively.

“Jeonghan, don’t go…” you said, sobs starting to coil in your throat.

But he did not look back.

The pulsating feeling gripped you harder this time, and that was enough to make you choke back a sob. Jeonghan grunted too, resuming to walk away disjointedly until he disappeared in the crowd of trees.

You wondered if this would be the last time you saw him. You wondered if the next time he saw you would be when he finally killed you.

There are plenty of monsters in this world, and plenty of mysteries too. You might be a mystery to Jeonghan, but he was not to you. Finally, you wondered if he suspected that the reason why he could not kill you was the same as why he could get enough of you.

You were what smouldered the fire within him. You were the peace to his chaos. The bond he could never break not even in death, his soulmate. 

› author's note: i've done it! i finally write a fic that's under 10k words!!! aaaaaaaa

i've got nothing to say. i just want jeonghan to split me open with his cock in the middle of a forest

anyways,

toodles (✿◠‿◠)

support me on ko-fi?

✧ READ PART TWO! ✧

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[jesuis-assez]

We know that Lucy calls Tim babe (I refuse to use past tense I’m in denial lol), if you could have your way, what would Tim call Lucy as a pet name? #ChenfordChats

Hmm... I think I'd melt if he called her 'Baby' or 'Sweetheart' I have a soft spot for those ones. I don't know what that's about. I don't want to go there 🤣

And if I think of moments where those terms of endearments could've been used:

6x04:

When he rushed to the hospital and comforted her by touching her head ever so gently. Him softly telling her, "My god, you didn't have to take my hero suggestion so literally" If we were to replace "my god" with "sweetheart" or "baby" ?? 👌

6x06: ( Everyone put your pitchforks down and hear me out ) 🤣

If he said "I'm sorry, baby" or 'sweetheart' right before kissing her forehead. Although, I'm not sure how it would have fit exactly in the scene. But, I wouldn't object to it. It actually was one of my favourite scenes of theirs in season six. It had everything for me. It ripped me apart emotionally and left me wanting more. I loved it, no sarcasm here. I'm being genuine.

The scene itself is already packed with so much angst. But, then there would be them holding hands, " I'm sorry, [term of endearment]" and a forehead kiss in there. We're already on the ground dying and that would just finish us off.

In 6x03:

Lucy is over preparing for her detective exam with Tim being so amazing and supportive.

What he said here was truly enough and It doesn't matter so much that a sweetheart wasn't at the end of him saying 'yourself', but I would've loved it even more. I thought him saying that to her was a huge thing to say, coming from someone who ALWAYS needs to feel in control.

Because Lucy was so far in her head with it. So much that she had been projecting all of her self-doubt onto Tim. She couldn't see that he was being supportive, because it's not like her parents were ever supportive of her career. She's never had that support.

Yes, Lucy. And not even yourself, either.

That's what she was doing. Listening to that voice in her head telling her that she isn't good enough. That she's not ready and she can't do it. And Tim being her number 1 supporter was there reminding her not to do that. After all... he had taught her not to.

And to see her going back into that mind-set, to see Lucy filling herself with all that self-doubt again? To second guess herself again... It must be hard to watch someone you love, spiral like that. To try and help them through it and no matter what you say or do, it only pushes them further to burning out.

I focused heavily on season 6 for examples. Even if he were just to say, "Are you okay, baby?" I am aware that he said 'baby' to Isabel before (When she got shot in the head) but, that doesn't mean shit here 🤣 It's obviously a term he has been comfortable with using in the past. I don't see why he wouldn't use it again, unless he were to come up with something specially for Lucy. (What I am hoping for)

If he were to actually use 'sweetheart' that would also fit well for Lucy, for how kind-hearted she is and has been to him.

I do hope that Tim might use something that we've never heard before. *fingers crossed* for this one. It won't matter if he doesn't. I'm ALMOST sure whatever endearment he comes up with (if he even does) some of us will probably pass out on the spot *raises hand* Me. I'd-- I'd do that. Ok, I might (very unlikely)

But what most likely would happen is what usually happens. I'll either be internally screaming or I'll sit there on the spot inaudibly screaming 'Ahhhh' while pointing.

I'm hoping it would be something that's unique to their relationship. Or at least Lucy. I'd be so on board for that! I am a sucker for those kinds of nickname/endearments, too.

Y'know, something similar to when she was his rookie and he would incessantly call her 'boot'.

Thank yooooou for sending me this ! I may have put waaay too much thought into this. I'm incapable of answering without talking extensively about it. This ask was a lot of fun 💖🤭

[amethystarachnid]

Thank you for writing my little Tony story 🤍

If it's not too much, can you write a second part for me please? Tony and reader finding out the baby's gender, Tony surprising her with a beautiful surprise proposal, maybe the other Anvegers can even help 🤍 the marriage and the baby's birth? 🤍🤍🤍 I lobe family man Tony too, it's so cute 🤍🤍🤍

Thank you!

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: it's almost time for the baby's arrival so Tony decides that it's the perfect time to propose, as he drops to one knee you're sure you've found your happy ending,

ᯓ★ TW(s): childbirth

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The baby shower is shaping up to be a bigger event than you ever expected, though you probably should’ve seen it coming. With the Avengers involved, nothing is ever subtle. Tony, of course, is no help in scaling things back. In fact, he’s leaning into the chaos, throwing out extravagant suggestions like hiring live performers or setting up a drone fireworks display. You shoot most of his ideas down, insisting that this is a baby shower, not a red-carpet event.

Still, the excitement is infectious. Natasha takes charge of the planning—she’s surprisingly good at it, efficient and precise, down to the last detail. She ropes Bruce into helping, and the two of them become the only ones who know the baby’s gender. The rest of the team, including you and Tony, are kept in the dark, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“I don’t see why I can’t bribe Banner,” Tony grumbles one afternoon as he paces the kitchen. “He’s a terrible liar, anyway. A few drinks, a little sweet-talking, and he’d spill.”

“Good luck with that,” you reply with a smirk, stirring a cup of tea. “Natasha would kill him if he said anything. And you know she could.”

“Fair point,” Tony concedes, though he still looks annoyed. “Still, I’m calling it now: it’s a girl. She’s going to be brilliant, gorgeous, and way too smart for her own good. Just like her mom.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really? Because I’m thinking it’s a boy. Stubborn, full of energy, and probably way too much like you.”

“Not possible,” he says with mock seriousness. “There’s only room for one of me in this world.”

Clint chimes in later that evening when the team gathers in the common room, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he munches on a bag of chips. “I’m betting on a boy,” he says, pointing a chip in your direction. “Gotta have someone to teach archery to. Plus, Stark with a son? That’s comedy gold.”

Thor, who’s been helping decorate the living room with streamers and balloons (many of which are Asgardian-sized), disagrees. “A daughter would be most fitting,” he declares, his voice booming. “She will have the strength of her father and the grace of her mother. A true warrior!”

Steve, predictably, tries to stay neutral. “I think you’ll be happy no matter what,” he says diplomatically, though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at Tony. “That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing Stark try to handle a teenage girl someday.”

“God help us,” Natasha mutters with a smirk.

On the day of the baby shower, the compound is transformed. There are decorations everywhere—streamers in pastel pinks and blues, balloons shaped like baby bottles, and a banner reading Welcome, Baby Stark! stretched across the main wall. The table is laden with food, drinks, and an elaborate cake that looks too beautiful to eat. There’s even a pile of gifts in the corner, ranging from practical items like diapers and onesies to absurdly expensive gadgets Tony probably ordered himself.

Natasha and Bruce are the picture of calm, though you know they’ve been coordinating the big reveal for weeks. The two of them exchange knowing looks every time someone tries to guess the baby’s gender, clearly enjoying their role as gatekeepers of the secret.

The main event comes after everyone’s had their fill of food and games, including a hilariously chaotic round of diaper-changing races featuring Steve and Thor. Natasha steps forward, holding a small box wrapped in neutral-colored paper. She taps a spoon against her glass to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, everyone, it’s time,” she says, her tone firm but playful. “Y/N, Tony, come up here.”

You exchange a glance with Tony, who’s grinning like a kid at Christmas, and follow Natasha to the front of the room. Bruce joins her, carrying what looks like a smoke cannon with pastel-colored confetti inside.

“Are we sure Banner knows how to use that?” Tony whispers to you, earning a chuckle.

Natasha ignores him and gestures for Bruce to hand the cannon to Tony. “This is simple,” she says. “On the count of three, you twist it. The confetti will tell you the gender. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony says, his grip tightening on the cannon. He looks at you, his grin softening into something tender. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready,” you reply, your heart pounding.

The room buzzes with anticipation as Natasha begins the countdown. “Three… two… one!”

Tony twists the cannon, and an explosion of pink confetti fills the air, raining down in a sparkling shower. The room erupts into cheers, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the cloud of pink with wide eyes.

“A girl,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly as the reality sinks in. “We’re having a girl.”

Tony turns to you, his grin splitting his face as he pulls you into his arms. “I told you,” he says, laughing as he spins you around. “I knew it!”

You’re laughing now too, tears streaming down your cheeks as the team gathers around, offering congratulations and playful jabs. Thor claps Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble, while Clint pretends to look disappointed but quickly admits, “She’s probably gonna be cooler than a boy anyway.”

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms. “Told you it was worth the wait.”

As the excitement settles and the confetti begins to drift to the floor, Tony kneels in front of you, his hands resting gently on your growing belly. He looks up at you, his expression soft and filled with a kind of awe that takes your breath away.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “It’s official now. You’ve got one hell of a team waiting for you out here. But you know what? Your mom and I? We’re the lucky ones.”

Your heart swells, and you reach down to run your fingers through his hair. In that moment, surrounded by your friends, your family, and the overwhelming love in Tony’s eyes, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

The nursery preparation becomes a joint project, though you suspect Tony might be using it as an excuse to turn every design meeting into a spectacle. It starts with a simple conversation over breakfast about colors and furniture, but within hours, Tony’s drawing up blueprints for a room so high-tech it could double as a lab.

“Tony,” you say, leaning over his shoulder as he sketches a design for a mobile with holographic planets orbiting a glowing star. “This is a nursery, not the International Space Station.”

He turns to you with an exaggerated look of shock. “Why settle for ordinary when our baby can have the universe in her room? Imagine it—she’ll look up and be inspired every night.”

You can’t help but smile, even as you roll your eyes. “She’s not going to care about any of this for at least a few years. Let’s focus on a crib that doesn’t look like it’s from the future, okay?”

“Compromise,” he says with a smirk. “The crib will be traditional. The rest? Cutting-edge Stark tech.”

Choosing the color scheme turns into its own adventure. You veto pink almost immediately, wanting something more neutral and calming. “What about soft blues and grays?” you suggest one afternoon as you hold up a paint swatch.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Blues and grays? What is she, a baby or a Zen monk? Let’s go bold—deep purples, maybe some gold accents.”

“She’s a baby,” you remind him with a laugh. “She needs soothing, not a nightclub.”

Eventually, you settle on a compromise: a soft starry theme with muted blues, silvers, and whites, accented by golden stars and constellations painted along the walls. Tony insists on installing a custom ceiling projector that will display a moving galaxy, complete with twinkling stars and nebulae, for bedtime. You draw the line at installing an AI assistant in the room—at least for now.

The naming debate, however, proves to be even more challenging.

It starts casually one evening as you both lounge on the couch, flipping through baby name books. “Okay,” you say, running your finger down a list. “How about something classic? Elizabeth? Grace?”

Tony shakes his head. “Too stuffy. She’s going to be a Stark; she needs something unique. How about Nova?”

You pause, considering it. “Nova’s not bad,” you admit. “But it feels… incomplete.”

Tony grins. “Well, it’s lightyears ahead of Grace.”

You toss a pillow at him, laughing. “Fine. What else have you got, Mr. Genius?”

He leans back, pretending to think deeply. “Aurora. You know, like the northern lights.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Beautiful, but maybe a bit too Disney princess?”

The conversation goes on like this for days. Tony throws out names like Vega, Lyra, and Andromeda, while you try to steer him toward something more grounded. Neither of you seems willing to budge, though secretly you both enjoy the banter.

It’s during one of these discussions, late at night, that the perfect name finally emerges.

You’re lying in bed, the lights dimmed, and Tony’s hand rests protectively over your belly as he rambles about constellations. “Sirius is too much,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But it’d be cool if we could tie it back to something celestial. Something meaningful.”

You hum in agreement, half-asleep, when a thought strikes you. “Stella,” you say softly, testing the name on your tongue.

Tony freezes, then sits up slightly to look at you. “Stella,” he repeats, his voice thoughtful. “Latin for ‘star.’ Simple, beautiful, and meaningful. I love it.”

You smile, your heart warming at his reaction. “You really like it?”

“I don’t just like it,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s perfect. Stella Stark. Our little star.”

The next morning, you tell the rest of the team about the name, and everyone agrees it’s fitting. Thor, especially, is thrilled. “A name worthy of the cosmos!” he declares, raising his coffee mug like a goblet.

Even Clint, who usually teases Tony at every opportunity, nods in approval. “Stella’s solid,” he says. “Classy, but not pretentious. Good pick.”

As the nursery nears completion and Stella’s name starts appearing on everything—from personalized blankets to a tiny plaque above the crib—you find yourself growing more excited with each passing day. The walls are painted, the furniture is assembled, and Tony’s holographic mobile is, admittedly, a work of art.

One evening, as you both stand in the finished nursery, Tony wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “You know,” he murmurs, looking around at the room, “we might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“A little,” you agree, though you can’t help but smile.

“But she’s worth it,” he adds, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against yours.

“She is,” you whisper, your heart full.

As the galaxy projector casts a soft glow of stars across the ceiling, you know that Stella is already surrounded by more love and wonder than you ever could’ve imagined.

The shift in behavior starts subtly. At first, you think you’re imagining it—the way Natasha ends phone calls the moment you enter the room or how Clint suddenly has a reason to leave anytime you try to ask what he and Tony were whispering about. Even Steve, who’s usually a beacon of honesty, seems unusually tight-lipped when you catch him and Bruce exchanging cryptic looks during a mission debrief.

Tony, of course, is no better. If anything, he’s the most suspicious of them all. Normally, he shares every detail of his day with you, but lately, he’s been “working late” more often than usual. When you ask what he’s working on, his answers are evasive, laced with a nonchalance that you don’t buy for a second.

“Just tweaking some tech,” he says one evening, typing furiously on a holographic keyboard that he closes the moment you approach. “You know, the usual.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “The usual doesn’t usually involve secretive meetings with the entire team or you hiding your screens from me.”

Tony looks up, flashing you one of his patented grins. “Paranoid much, sweetheart? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

You roll your eyes, but you let it slide—for now.

The day of the proposal dawns like any other. You wake up to the sound of Tony humming softly beside you, his hand resting protectively over your belly, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him. At seven months pregnant, your body feels heavier and more tired than usual, but Tony’s been nothing if not attentive—sometimes to the point of hovering. Still, there’s something in his gaze this morning, a kind of nervous energy that makes you suspicious.

“What’s with the grin?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No grin,” he says, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “Just appreciating how stunning you look, as always.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, giving him a skeptical look. “If you’re planning something, Stark, I’ll figure it out.”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss your belly. “No secrets here, baby girl. Daddy’s just got work to do today.”

That afternoon, Natasha convinces you to go out for some “girl time,” which in itself feels suspicious. Nat rarely suggests spa days or shopping trips, but she waves off your questions with a smirk.

“Can’t a friend treat her very pregnant bestie to some pampering?” she says, steering you toward the door. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do while Tony tinkers in the lab.”

By the time you return to the compound, you’re relaxed but even more curious. The hallways are quiet—too quiet—and the usual buzz of activity is strangely absent. As Natasha leads you toward the common area, your suspicions grow.

“What’s going on?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into an ambush?”

Natasha just smirks, tugging you forward. “You’ll see.”

The doors to the common area slide open, and your breath catches. The room is transformed. Soft, glowing lights hang from the ceiling like stars, casting a warm, ethereal glow. A pathway lined with rose petals leads to the center of the room, where Tony stands in a perfectly tailored suit, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. Behind him, the rest of the Avengers stand in a loose semicircle, all wearing knowing smiles.

“Tony,” you whisper, your heart pounding as Natasha gives you a gentle nudge forward.

He takes a step toward you, his usual confidence tempered by the kind of vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world fades away.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “You’ve already given me so much. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and in just a couple of months, you’re going to give me the greatest gift of all—our daughter.”

You feel tears welling up as he continues, his hand reaching out to take yours. “But before she gets here, I want to give you something, too. I want to give you my heart, my name, my everything. I want us to be a family, officially, because… well, because I love you more than words can ever say.”

He drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. The diamond sparkles like a star, and you can’t help but gasp.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to speak. Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, a laugh bubbling up through your emotions. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Yes, Tony, of course!”

Tony’s grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face. He slides the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly, and then he’s standing, pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, burying his face in your hair as you cling to him.

“You’re crying,” you murmur against his shoulder, your voice teasing despite your own tears.

“I am not,” he protests, though his voice wavers. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening. “Okay, maybe a little. But don’t tell anyone, all right? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You laugh, wiping at your own tears as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Behind you, the Avengers erupt into cheers and applause, Clint letting out a loud wolf whistle while Thor raises his hammer in triumph.

“About time!” Clint calls out, grinning from ear to ear.

Natasha smirks, her arms crossed. “Told you she’d say yes.”

Later that evening, as you sit together in the nursery, the engagement ring glittering on your finger and Tony’s hand resting over your belly, you can’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. He looks at you like you’re his entire world, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like nothing could ever go wrong.

“You’re happy,” you say softly, studying his face.

Tony looks at you, his expression filled with a love so deep it takes your breath away. “I’m more than happy,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “You and Stella… you’re everything I never knew I needed.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the baby kicks gently against his hand. “We love you too,” you whisper, and in that moment, the universe feels just right.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day starts out completely normal—or at least as normal as life gets when you’re living with Tony Stark and the Avengers. You’re lounging on the couch, rubbing your enormous belly, when you feel the first contraction. It’s mild, more like a cramp than anything else, but enough to make you pause mid-sentence while you’re trying to convince Tony that the name Stella is not negotiable for her middle name.

“Everything okay?” Tony asks, looking up from where he’s fiddling with one of his many gadgets.

You nod, brushing it off. “Yeah, just… I think she’s practicing her escape plan.”

Tony chuckles. “Smart kid. Of course, she’s my daughter. She’s already planning ahead.”

You roll your eyes but let the moment pass. That is until another contraction hits—not unbearable, but definitely noticeable. You wince, shifting in your seat.

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Okay, that wasn’t just a practice run. What’s going on?”

You try to play it cool. “I think it might be starting, but it’s fine. First labors take a while. No need to—”

But before you can finish, Tony is up and moving like the house is on fire. “FRIDAY! Get the car! Clear a path! Call Banner! Wait, no, call Bruce AND the hospital! Get Nat to pack a bag—do we have a bag? Where’s the bag?”

You laugh despite yourself, waving a hand to calm him down. “Tony, relax. I’m not even sure it’s—”

Tony is already pacing, pulling his phone out to make calls. “Relax? RELAX? You’re about to bring an entire human into the world, and you want me to relax? You know who doesn’t relax? Tony Stark. I plan. I execute.” He points to your belly. “That tiny genius in there is counting on me!”

Another contraction interrupts your attempt to reassure him, this one stronger than before. You grip the edge of the couch, exhaling sharply. Tony’s eyes go wide, and his face pales.

“That’s it,” he declares. “We’re going now. FRIDAY, where’s the car?”

By the time you get to the hospital, Tony’s nerves are a full-blown circus. He’s barking orders at the nurses, double-checking every piece of equipment they wheel past, and generally acting like a man whose entire world is on the brink of chaos.

“Are those sterilized?” he asks one poor nurse, gesturing to a tray of instruments. “Because I know a guy who can check for microscopic contaminants.”

“Tony,” you groan from the wheelchair they’ve put you in. “Let the professionals do their job.”

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

Once you’re settled in the delivery room, the contractions intensify, and so does Tony’s panic. He’s pacing again, alternating between squeezing your hand and apologizing for squeezing your hand too hard.

“Why is this taking so long?” he mutters, glancing at the clock. “Is there a way to, I don’t know, speed this up? I mean, we’ve got science, right? Lasers? Something?”

Your labor nurse gives him a patient smile. “Babies come on their own time, Mr. Stark.”

Tony points at her, dead serious. “I’ll have you know I’ve streamlined multi-billion-dollar manufacturing processes. I could totally streamline—”

“Tony!” you snap, gripping his hand through another contraction. “If you don’t stop talking about lasers and streamlining, I’m going to throw you out of this room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quickly, wincing as your grip tightens. “You’re doing great, by the way. Absolutely phenomenal. Ten out of ten.”

As the hours pass, Tony alternates between being overly helpful and hilariously unhelpful. At one point, he tries to "coach" you through the contractions, repeating advice he clearly Googled five minutes earlier.

“Breathe, babe,” he says, crouching next to you. “In through the nose, out through the—OW!” He yelps as you squeeze his hand, your patience wearing thin.

“I am breathing!” you growl. “You breathe!”

“Right, got it,” he says, shaking out his hand. “I’ll breathe quieter.”

By the time you’re ready to push, Tony looks like he’s aged ten years. His hair is a mess, his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen, and he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip as if he’s the one doing all the hard work.

“Okay,” the doctor says. “It’s time to meet your baby. Dad, are you ready?”

Tony blinks, his face going pale again. “Wait, me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Just stay next to me and try not to pass out,” you deadpan, glaring at him through gritted teeth.

The actual delivery feels like a blur, but Tony’s reactions are crystal clear. As soon as Stella’s first cry fills the room, he freezes, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. The doctor places her on your chest, and you look down at the tiny, wriggling bundle of perfection. Tears stream down your face as you cradle her, overwhelmed with love.

Tony leans over, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s afraid to touch her. “She’s… she’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

You glance up at him, smiling through your tears. “She is.”

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as if trying to fight back tears of his own. “I’m not crying,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… dusty in here.”

“Sure, Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “Whatever you say.”

He finally reaches out, gently running a finger along Stella’s tiny hand. When she grips his finger, his face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “It’s me. Your dad. I’m the guy who’s going to spoil you rotten and probably embarrass you in front of all your friends someday.”

You laugh again, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. As Tony leans down to kiss your forehead, then Stella’s, you know this moment—this messy, chaotic, perfect moment—is one you’ll never forget.

The ride home is surprisingly smooth, considering Tony’s usual flair for drama. He insists on driving, despite your gentle protests, and the way he handles the car like it’s made of glass is almost endearing. Stella, snug in her carrier, sleeps through the whole thing, her tiny face scrunched in a way that makes your heart ache with love.

“Are you sure she’s breathing?” Tony asks for the third time, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, Tony,” you reply, trying not to laugh. “Babies sleep. It’s kind of their thing.”

He huffs, clearly unsatisfied. “Well, it’s nerve-wracking. I’m used to things that come with a manual, not ones that just… exist and rely on me not to screw up.”

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The Avengers are waiting when you arrive at the compound, their faces pressed against the windows like eager kids waiting for Santa. Even Clint, who normally pretends to be too cool for this sort of thing, looks uncharacteristically excited.

The moment you step inside, carrying Stella in her carrier, they descend like a swarm.

“Oh my God, she’s so tiny!” Natasha coos, her usual stoicism replaced with pure, unfiltered awe. “Look at her little hands.”

Steve grins, leaning down to get a better look. “She’s beautiful,” he says warmly, his voice tinged with a kind of reverence.

“She’s definitely got your nose, Y/N,” Bruce chimes in, smiling shyly. “Lucky kid.”

Even Clint, who’d joked for months about how he wasn’t going to fawn over “just another Stark,” can’t help but soften. “She’s pretty cute,” he admits, though his grin betrays his attempt at nonchalance.

“Cute?” Tony cuts in, feigning offense. “Try perfect. Absolute masterpiece. My finest work.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “She’s not one of your inventions, Tony.”

“No,” he agrees, his gaze softening as he looks at Stella. “She’s better.”

Thor, meanwhile, looms in the background, looking uncharacteristically nervous. You catch him shifting his weight from foot to foot, his brows furrowed as he watches the others coo and fuss over Stella.

“Thor,” you call gently, motioning him over. “Do you want to meet her?”

He hesitates, his usual bravado replaced with uncertainty. “I am unsure,” he admits, his voice low. “She is so small. What if I… break her?”

Tony snorts. “Relax, Point Break. She’s sturdier than she looks.”

Thor’s eyes widen. “Are you certain? For I have been told I am… exuberant in my movements.”

You can’t help but smile. “You’ll be fine. Just be gentle.”

Carefully, you unbuckle Stella from her carrier and place her in Thor’s massive hands. He cradles her like she’s made of glass, his expression a mix of awe and terror.

“She is… radiant,” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “A tiny warrior in the making.”

Stella squirms, letting out a small gurgle, and Thor immediately panics. “What is this sound? Is she displeased? Have I offended her?”

You laugh, taking her back before his nerves get the better of him. “She’s just waking up. You did great, Thor.”

He exhales in relief, looking visibly proud despite his earlier fear. “Then I shall strive to earn her favor, as a worthy uncle should.”

As the evening wears on, the Avengers take turns holding Stella, each of them surprisingly adept in their own way. Natasha rocks her gently, whispering something soft and sweet in Russian. Steve looks completely at ease, cradling her with a quiet confidence that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. Bruce hums softly, his gentle demeanor soothing Stella when she stirs.

Clint, ever the showman, gets her to grab his finger and immediately declares, “She likes me best. Sorry, everyone else.”

Even Thor eventually works up the courage to hold her again, this time with less fear and more awe.

Tony, meanwhile, hovers nearby, alternating between beaming with pride and trying to direct everyone on the proper way to hold her.

“Support her head,” he says for the fifth time, gesturing like he’s leading a workshop. “And don’t jostle her too much. She’s had a big day.”

“Tony,” you say, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “She’s fine. Look at her—she’s surrounded by love.”

He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his teammates—his family—cooing and fussing over Stella. His shoulders relax, and a small, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “She’s going to be okay.”

You lean into him, watching as Stella lets out a tiny yawn, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. In this moment, surrounded by your unconventional but loving family, you know she’s going to grow up in the best possible way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day is perfect—blue skies, warm sunlight, and the hum of excitement in the air as friends and family gather in the garden of the Stark estate for the wedding. You stand in the bridal suite, adjusting the lace sleeves of your gown, the soft fabric hugging your body comfortably enough to accommodate the postpartum changes you’re still embracing. In your arms, Stella squirms, her tiny hands tugging at the delicate veil trailing over your shoulder.

“Mommy’s trying to look fancy,” you murmur, kissing her chubby cheek. “Try not to drool too much on the dress, okay?”

Natasha appears in the doorway, dressed elegantly in a flowing gown but still managing to radiate her usual aura of cool confidence. “Ready to knock Tony off his feet?” she asks with a smirk.

You laugh nervously. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Natasha leans in to take a peek at Stella, who’s now gnawing on her fingers. “And what about you, little one? Ready to steal the show?”

“She’s been ready since birth,” you say, smiling fondly. “I just hope she doesn’t start screaming halfway down the aisle.”

The music starts—soft, romantic, and unmistakably orchestrated to perfection because, of course, Tony insisted on hiring the best string quartet money could buy. You step out into the aisle, holding Stella securely against your chest.

All eyes are on you, but your gaze locks instantly with Tony’s. He’s standing at the altar in a sharp tuxedo, his hair immaculately styled, but it’s his expression that floors you. His eyes are shining, his lips trembling slightly as he takes you in—his fiancée, his daughter in your arms, walking toward him like a vision straight out of his dreams.

When you’re halfway down the aisle, you catch him discreetly wiping at his eyes, though his attempt to play it cool is utterly transparent. You can’t help but smile.

“Crying already?” you tease softly as you reach the altar.

Tony’s voice cracks as he replies, “It’s allergies. Don’t get used to it.”

The officiant clears his throat, gesturing for everyone to sit. You pass Stella to Natasha, who holds her with practiced ease, but not before Tony sneaks a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Aunt Nat, okay?” he whispers.

The ceremony is beautiful, filled with laughter, a few tears, and vows that manage to be both heartfelt and hilariously Tony.

“I promise to always make you laugh,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “To build you anything you need—even if it’s just a better coffee maker. And I promise that no matter how big our family gets or how crazy life becomes, you’ll always be the center of my world.”

You smile, your heart full as you reply, “And I promise to keep you grounded—even when you’re flying. To stand by you, even when you’re being insufferable. And to love you, completely, for the genius, ridiculous, wonderful man that you are.”

The guests cheer when you kiss, and you can hear Clint shouting something about “finally making an honest man out of Stark,” but you’re too caught up in the moment to care. Tony’s hands are on your waist, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispers, “You’re stuck with me now, Mrs. Stark.”

The reception is lively, filled with laughter and champagne toasts, but the true star of the evening is Stella. At six months old, she’s the smallest guest but easily the most adored. She’s passed from one Avenger to the next, each of them taking turns cooing and playing with her. Steve lets her grab at his finger, grinning like a proud uncle. Bruce gently bounces her on his knee, her giggles drawing smiles from everyone around. Even Thor takes a turn, holding her aloft and declaring her “the mightiest of babes” before you quickly retrieve her, worried he might throw her like Mjolnir.

Despite the joy of the day, you and Tony find yourselves constantly glancing toward wherever Stella is. When you see her reaching for a cupcake, her tiny hand almost toppling the entire dessert tower, you excuse yourself mid-conversation to intercept.

“She’s got your appetite,” you say, placing Stella in her high chair and handing her a safer option—a teething biscuit.

“And your stubbornness,” Tony adds, crouching next to you to adjust her little headband. He kisses her forehead before looking up at you, his expression soft. “We did pretty good, didn’t we?”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him. “We did amazing.”

As the night winds down, you dance with Tony under the fairy lights, Stella dozing peacefully in Natasha’s arms nearby.

“Today was perfect,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tony pulls you closer, his hand warm on your back. “Because of you,” he murmurs. “You and Stella—you’re my whole world.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love. “And you’re ours.”

The music swells, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you in your own little world, the rest of the party fading into the background.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Four years later

Four years later, the Stark household is as lively as ever. Stella, now a spirited and endlessly curious four-year-old, is the undeniable star of the compound. She’s sharp like her dad, determined like her mom, and, to everyone’s ongoing astonishment, utterly enamored with Thor.

“Where is Uncle Thor?” Stella demands one morning, her tiny hands on her hips in a perfect mimicry of your stance when you're irritated. “He promised we’d go find worms for the garden!”

You chuckle as you rest a hand on your growing belly. “Honey, Uncle Thor’s busy with work. He can’t always come running every time you call.”

“Why not?” she counters, pouting. “He’s the Mighty Thor. He’s not too busy for me.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’ve got your daddy’s charm, you know that?”

Tony walks in just in time to hear the exchange, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slightly sour expression on his face. “I don’t know what he’s done to brainwash her, but I don’t like it,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek before ruffling Stella’s hair.

“Uncle Thor is the best!” Stella declares, throwing her arms up dramatically. “He’s teaching me how to lift Mjolnir!”

“Is he now?” Tony says, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I told him no godly powers until after kindergarten.”

Later that afternoon, Thor arrives as promised, and Stella runs to greet him, her excitement so infectious even Tony can’t entirely suppress a grin. Thor sweeps her up, spinning her around like she weighs nothing.

“Ah, my favorite little warrior!” Thor booms. “Are you ready to brave the wilderness?”

“Yes!” Stella squeals, clutching onto him tightly. “Let’s go, Uncle Thor!”

“Wilderness?” Tony interjects, crossing his arms. “You mean my backyard?”

Thor just grins. “Every great adventure starts somewhere, Stark.”

As they head outside, you and Tony watch from the window, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

“I can’t believe she picked him as her favorite,” Tony says with mock despair. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“A magic hammer?” you suggest, smirking.

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Unbelievable. After all I’ve done for her.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease, patting your belly. “Maybe this little guy will be Team Dad.”

Tony’s face softens immediately, his free hand coming to rest gently on your growing bump. “He better be,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss it. “Otherwise, I’ll have to build another suit—Baby Iron Man Edition.”

Stella eventually drags Thor back inside, both of them covered in dirt but grinning like co-conspirators. Thor greets your belly with a reverent nod, placing a hand on it like he’s bestowing a blessing. “He stirs with strength already,” he declares. “A future warrior.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “He’s not even born yet, Point Break. Let’s not start handing out titles.”

Stella crawls onto the couch next to you, her small hands carefully pressing against your belly. “Mommy, when will the baby come out?”

“In a few months, sweetie,” you say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He needs to grow a little more before he’s ready.”

“Will he be bigger than me?”

“Not at first,” Tony interjects, scooping her up onto his lap. “But don’t worry, Stella. You’ll always be the boss. It’s your job to teach him everything you know.”

Stella beams at that, puffing out her chest. “I’m going to be the best big sister ever.”

Tony chuckles, kissing her on the forehead. “I have no doubt.”

The rest of the day is filled with the usual chaos—Stella insisting she help with dinner (which mostly means spilling flour everywhere), Thor recounting dramatic tales of Asgardian battles to an enraptured audience, and Tony tinkering in his lab while occasionally glancing over to check on you.

Later that night, as you’re tucking Stella into bed, she clings to your arm, her wide eyes full of curiosity.

“Mommy?” she asks softly. “Do you think the baby will like Uncle Thor too?”

You laugh, stroking her hair. “Probably. But I think he’s going to like you the most.”

Her face lights up, and she snuggles deeper into her blankets. “Good. I’ll share Uncle Thor with him, but only a little.”

After kissing her goodnight, you return to the living room, where Tony is waiting on the couch, a glass of sparkling water in hand for you.

“Is she down?” he asks, pulling you gently into his side as you sink onto the cushions.

“Out like a light,” you reply, taking the glass. “She was asking if the baby will like Thor.”

Tony groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “That man is a menace.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know you love how happy he makes her.”

Tony’s arm tightens around you, his voice softening. “Yeah, I do. But you know what makes me happiest?”

“What?”

“This,” he says, resting his hand on your bump again. “All of us. Together.”

You smile, your heart full as you lean into him. “Me too.”

[skele-bunny]

Can I ask for some age regression dewdrop with aether as his care taker?

OOhHHHHHHH MY GOD THANK U THANK U!!! Me and @artificialmoth talk about agereg Dewy all the time 🥺 this is so special thank u

Little Dew, who we call Kitty (name idea thanks to Sphylor), came around during era 3. He finally felt comfortable and safe in his environment to relax after so many stressors, giving him the opportunity to just... Be small! Kitty is extremely non verbal, and in the tinier age range of 2-4. Unfortunately, within my canon, his environment became too unsafe to have such vulnerability so kitty just, basically, hid.

It wasn't until the beginning of Prequelle did kitty come back again. In the old bedroom with Aether to get some of their things to move to the new den when he seen one of his old toys. Just gently going over the ridges and bumps before he slowly sat down, playing with it and eventually so lost in that comfort it kinda just... Slipped.

Now, I think ghouls can change their size and appearance. Age regression plays into that a bunch! Aether came back to a tiny Dew surrounded in toys and playing, looking up at him and freezing. Just a fear response. But Aether slowly sat down, tilting his head before smiling and picking up a teddy bear.

"What are you playing?"

And from there, Aether met Kitty. He's kitty's immediate caretaker and they wouldn't have it AANNYY other way. He's also met "Dewey" (specifically with an e, his words) which is Dew's middle. Bitey little thing and has a lot of fits. Doesn't know how to regulate himself a bunch so Dewey requires a lot more attention, structure, and gentle parenting rather than Kitty who just needs gentleness.

Kitty has pacifiers he doesn't really use unless he's really small, but the handle? Yeah? He doesn't like it. Fussed CONSTANTLY until the point Aether figured out what was bothering him, and learned to remove it.

He also kneads on Aether a bunch! He doesn't mean to, but sometimes his lil claws will prick Aether. Aeth never gets mad tho :3 just gently redirects to another area. Sometimes Aeth will fold the blanket in half to help prevent getting nicked

Aether got Kitty an extra soft blanket for his first gift! Kitty fuckin LOVES it sooo much!!! It also smells like Aether so it's a plus. You'll never see him without it in his lil nest

Also, have you ever seen the videos of cats and weenie dogs in a hoodie/jacket sleeve? Yeah, that's Kitty.

Kitty doesn't like a lot of noise or lights, so they have fairy lights and a specific playlist dedicated for little time. Sometimes if he needs visual stim, Aether will put on aquatic videos of like... Jellyfish or an aquarium live stream. There's also led around the TV that matches the screen to help with lighting! He's just in straight awe, purring, eyes full and watching. Lil tail thumping cause he's so invested

[monsterlimbs]

He and Emmrich I think are actually REALLY well written, the more I see of them. These two I actually like. As much as I hound on DATV's writing, I actually LIKE these two companions. Like REALLY like. Now, side-tracking from the previous post

I think, if Taash's immatureness was commented on and everyone pointed out their hypocrisy at times, I would REALLY like them too. They're one of my fav character archetypes, but the writing for them is just. mm..... But for Lucanis and Emmrich? It's pretty fucking good in my opinion. I LOVE Lucanis' romance and his constant "I need more coffee" just to stay awake even though he's been awake for 70 hours already and he's seeing things but what happens if he goes to sleep is worse, and Emmrich's constant battle with "I'm scared of dying and I'm getting old [for the fantasy type era]". And then, to achieve lichdom, he has to finalize Manfred's sacrifice. I actually think that part especially in his route is SO well written. To be long-living, you have to be okay with your loved ones passing. And Manfred's sacrifice was SO fucking bittersweet, I actually cried over it when he died lmfao. But to also have the chance at reviving him?? Is so special. Because that's his son. And Rook's too, if Emmrich is romanced.

I think Lucanis has to be one of my fav romances atm. I'm such a sucker for that "I like your voice would you soothe me" type deal, like all of my rough/assassin type characters have it and HE has the type deal!!! And it's so sweet. I hear a lot of people dislike his romance because it's not very spicy, but have you ever stayed up for more than 30 hours? Even just more than 30 hours, and I'm ONLY thinking of bedtime (or whatever I'm hyperfixating on, and then the second I'm free of it, it's bedtime). I think the main reason for the criticism though, is because Veilguard at one point (if I'm remembering correctly) it was like their "horniest" game yet? So I somewhat understand it? But also that man is TIRED!!! He needs his sleep!!! He asks you to lull him!!! Do you know how fucking romantic that is!!!! Forget the "I would kill every god you asked", you ever heard "Your voice soothes me. Will you talk to me?"!!!!!!

And then Emmrich's "not horny enough" criticism is really funny to me. That man is also tired. He's old (for Tevinter standards). He needs his beauty rest. but also not to be down bad or anything but I'm totally with the "give the old man a broken pelvis" crowd. But also tuck him into bed afterwards because that man is exhausted too. Leave the two eepy men to their bedtime, they deserve it! 😭

The crazy thing is, Lucanis' character is so well established. I reread The Wigmaker Job the other night. I was like damn, he sounds exactly like this in the game. Same dogged determination. Same priority of action over thought. "I'm fine". Self sacrificing. Speaks shortly and matter of factly. Willing to put himself through incredible pain to finish what he started.

Like, I wish we gave the writers more credit with how consistently he's written. Over a number of years of game development hell. They knew who he was, his motivations, his speech, his internal landscape. Dude literally recites a childhood assassin's nursery rhyme to himself as he kills 7 guards in the Ambrose's palace. That's why his emotions recalling the wyvern book to the lighthouse was like, not surprising to me at all. dude's inner child has been so compromised and destroyed this entire time.

Anyway I wish that someday I could write a character this outstanding. That's all. I'm just here to glaze.

[starkidlabs]

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels Review (well just point that made me smile)

Absolutely loved Hadley and Ramin being carried off stage in a fireman’s carry. And both of them flipping the bird to each other as it occurs. Actually I just enjoyed every time Hadley flipped Ramin off which was like a good 3 times.

Honestly I think I half swooned every time Hadley sung (as is always the way). But the ‘More We Dance’ definitely made me swoon the most. Hadley honestly has so much charm as an actor that has not be highlighted in the shows he’s been in as of late. I also loved ‘Love Sneaks In’ absolute goosebumps.

Ramin’s stand out number for me was definitely ‘Great Big Stuff’. Honestly so energetic and fun. Dabbing and flossing included.

I will not be surprised if Ramin walks away with several bruises the amount of times he threw himself on the floor.

Comic timing was also absolutely impeccable throughout both from Hadley and Ramin. I felt like Hadley’s definitely leant more towards good ol’ British dry humour as well as some great accents. While Ramin shone with the slapstick stuff and the general brashness of his character.

It also made me smile so much to see Hadley play a genuinely good role in a musical again. One with a compelling narrative and good numbers. And it was great seeing him have so much fun with the role.

It also made me genuinely so happy to have Hadley call him self perfect all the time and comment on how attractive he is (in character of course) because honestly yeah he is!

And finally it was just so fantastic seeing Ramin and Hadley act opposite each other. I haven’t ever seen that irl and god it was amazing. They have so much chemistry with one another that every line they spoke felt so natural and you could just see the mutual enjoyment in every scene. And there is nothing I enjoy more than seeing an actor break character from laughing. Because Ramin definitely could not stop laughing while Hadley was ‘torturing’ him. I think they have such a special form of chemistry, such a good bond that I want to see them act in a 100 shows together and I definitely have a couple of ideas as to what.

[jhoneybees]

Deep blue oceans

Heyyyy loveliesss🤭 Here's another blurb, probably doesn't make sense but I hope you like it! I got the inspiration from watching this tiktok and lord did it get me in my feels-

The tiktok:

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSj4oVqDX/

Characters: Late 70s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: Angst, fear of being the one people are angry at, crying, loss of loved one, divorce, life pretty much being ripped away, mention of God

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @hooked-on-elvis @thelonelyheart @polksaladava

_____________________________________________

Everything is falling apart.

Everything that he tried to control, everyone he tried to please, every emotion he tried to keep stable is all falling apart.

He disappointed the colonel.

He disappointed his daddy.

He disappointed his fans.

Elvis doesn’t know what to do anymore, he’s hiding in the bathroom wanting to get away from all the arguing. He’s crying, sobbing, shaking, lightheaded, he’s a mess. His life is a mess.

His beloved Mama died because she got worried. Drinking and worrying about him when he was away in the army and the woman he thought loved him, ran away to that guy. Taking his baby, taking the love of his life away with her and the Press, digging for every detail of his life, the life he wants private, It’s hurting him so much but he’s in too deep to realize. You know though.

Elvis just wants to make everyone happy, bring joy into people’s lives and sing until he can’t no more. You know that’s what he wants because that’s his life purpose he tells you, it’s what God planned. God planned for him to entertain.

And from that first moment you met him, seeing that cheeky lopsided grin and dirty blond hair you knew straight away he was special. You were young, 18 but you knew. You remember 19 year old him telling you all the things he wanted to do, all the things to make his Mama and Daddy proud and it still brings a weak smile to your heart.

All Elvis wanted, all this little boy from Tupelo wanted was to bring smiles to people’s faces, to save the world like the superhero he doesn’t know he is.

“Elvis…” You call out just above a whisper, delicately picking his face up into your hands. Wiping the tears off of his puffy red cheeks, you purse your lips at the sight of him sobbing here on the tiled bathroom floor in his white jumpsuit that hugs him almost uncomfortably, his blue eyes staring up at you, frightened. Scared of what is going to happen and that rips you apart because those are the same eyes that once looked at you with the most excitement you have ever seen, eager to know what is going to happen. The pair of eyes that give you reassurance when you feel down, the orbs that show bravery and joy, the deep blue oceans that tell you the most world-shattering story.

Every. Single. Time.

“I can’t do this a-a-any-anymore, Y/n, I’ve made everyone mad.” He stutters, a deep voice whimpering into your warm shoulder as your hand goes into his hair, massaging his scalp.

“I’m not mad at you.” You comfort.

He shakes his head. “I-I-I didn’t do anythin’ jus’- jus’ wanted ta-”

You shush him, gently. “I know, baby…”

Wrapping your arms around his head to encourage him to lean on you, a sigh flowing from your lips as his hands grip onto your tear stained nightie, burying his wet face under your jaw. “You just want to make everyone happy…”

He nods, quietly.

“Jus- w-wanted ta make everyone happy…”

[pinkpastels113]

Tell us how you feel about arcane. Use your emotion words! Use a visual aid if you must, too lol.

you want some visual aid? i'll give you some visual aid:

that describes perfectly ab how i am feeling rn

first of all the LESBIAN SEX SCENE????!! I-??!! i knew that something was bound to happen (esp after meljay and the rated for sex warning in season 2) and i celebrated when they (finally) kissed but oh my god?? an actual lesbian sex scene? in a prison?? in vi's sister's prison?? after a parallel about how cait is always finding her in a prison and expected her to be there?? (with dramatic music and banter and soft giggling and the ANGLES and HAND PLACEMENTS??) I AM NOT OKAY

just that scene alone is enough to nudge me off a cliff. but moving on

how is JAYVIK more homoerotic than now-100%-canon caitvi?? that's all i have to say. (what do you MEAN that love conquers all?? that he loved and admired viktor for all his imperfections and that was what made him special and beautiful?? GET OUTTA HERE)

i did not know that i needed timebomb until this season but HOLY FUCKING SHIT why must you make ekko fall (surprisingly, even to himself) in love with jinx/older powder and have that ripped away from him not like two days later?? WHYYYYY (the dance. the "can we pretend it's like the first time?" the "oh and he's got lines." the nervous wave after he fucked up in that scene with dead vi and powder was like hmp and he goes :(. the mural. im sent. im gone. nobody speak to me.)

ISHA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (she was just trying to be like jinx and copy everything that she does and is and looked up to her as a hero STOP WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME. also the song?? IM CHINESE BRO AND I WAS SOOOO EMOTIONAL OVER THE LYRICS like hit me where it fucking hurts why dont you)

i cried at how vander suffered a fate worse than death. @becasbelt can attest to that

caitlyn adfshjk i knew she would come around and she was and always has been my blorbo (even if she stayed evil) MWAH my female rage filled, slightly wild, grief clouded, confident, "im an excellent shot," sexy, " i am a decorated officer, leader of house kiramman, address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut." dictator, vampire, badass, mofo. YES

the way she said "no amount of good deeds can undo our crimes" hit me bc she's acknowledging that she went off the rails and did some pretty bad things to justify and achieve (which she didn't. not really) her goals

i LOVED jinx in this season. she single-handedly made it a comedy show and was the sole focus of a lot of the emotional damage the storytellers and animators wanted to convey

the way jesus came to be and then quickly became evil SDFHSDKJ i was legit like WEEO WEEO ABORT ABORT JESUS HAS TURNED EVIL (also want to point out the "no you wont" sky dialogue bc DAMN she really called you out huh viktor)

that alternate universe timebomb episode had me gasping so much (like SILCO?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?? WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?? what do you mean everyone is well and happy but at the cost of vi's death???) i think i had asthma for a split second there

MELLLL MY GODDESS MVP PLAYER you saved cait's ass so many times it's not even funny and ugh the way you finally stood up to your mom (very cleverly too, i might add) ugh i applaud

EKKO MY KINGGG the way he hurts himself so bad turning back time and specifically saving jinx from offing herself BYE

HEIMERDINGER MY TINY ANNOYING/affectionate FURBALL WHYY

no but yea i am ruined and my emotions have faded away into numbness and i hope this post was relatable to the people in the arcane fandom and i also agree that this season was way too condensed and rushed and the last episodes in particular needed at least a couple more to drag out the events and character development bc at times when i am supposed to be cheering i am crying and at times i am supposed to be crying i am screaming and at times i am supposed to be screaming i am Horny and at times i am supposed to be Horny my heart is wrenching but only a few tears slip out bc IT IS CUT TO THE NEXT SCENE AGAIN??? does that make sense??

(also do we think jinx is actually dead or no. im still not sure but obv i would hope/am hoping that she is lmao)

[lillaydee]

The Arrangement Epilogue

Frontier! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel locked his front door, a bit grumpy that he had to be up this early. Ever since he started working with his father when he turned 16 last week, he had been given the very unwanted task of feeding the animals first thing in the morning, which, as far as ranch life was concerned, was the God-awful five in the morning. He felt as if he had just fallen asleep, and here he was, walking over to the family ranch with his eyes hardly opened.

Part 11

OK SO I HAVE ZERO SELF CONTROL SO IMMA JUST UPLOAD THE EPILOGUE TODAY TOO. HOPE YOU LIKE IT. TQ SO MUCH FOR READING! 🥰🥰🥰

---

The family had stayed up late last night, and he didn’t want to leave early just to catch his unfortunate, usual bedtime. It was a special event, after all.

Fifty years. That’s how long his namesake, his Pops and beloved Nana had been together. And it was hard not to feel jealous of them. They were still so very much in love. For as long as he remembered, it was rare to see one of them without the other. Pops was never an idle man, always working on something or other, and Nana was always right there, keeping him company, a project always in her hands for the grandchildren or the business. They were always talking and laughing, hands on each other at all times, giggling like teenagers in love. How a couple could go fifty years without running out of things to talk about, he never knew. But he would love to find out one day.

Considering the amount of times he heard Pops tell the same story over and over again, he was shocked to find out that he had never told anyone the story of how he and Nana had met and married in the first place. He was saving this story for their fiftieth anniversary, he had told everyone during his speech last night, the room filled with the original Millers, children and grandchildren, and family friends.

Everyone listened intently, this old man telling his family how he came to meet the love of his life, his very reason for living, his eyes full of love for her, full of nostalgia and happy memories with her.

“Thank you for a wonderful fifty years, darling, I am the luckiest man alive. My heart beats only for you, my dear. I love you so much.” He then took Nana by the hand and kissed her lovingly.

The whole room was silent. There was not a dry eye in the room. Great Uncles Will, Tommy and Benny and Great Aunts Liv, Maria and Diana were the only ones who knew the story, and even they were teary. Shockingly, not even Great Uncle Max and Great Aunt Tess knew this, despite the fact that they had all been friends for fifty years. Heck, they were the unofficial Millers.

Aunt Ellie, despite knowing she was adopted and was there from the beginning, apparently didn’t know this either. She and Aunt Sarah were inconsolable, sitting in their brother, his father’s arms while the story was being told. His father was wiping tears off his cheek, touched by his parents’ love story. The siblings went over and hugged their parents, crying into their shoulders, thanking them for being the greatest parents anyone could hope for.

If he was ever lucky enough to fall in love one day, Joel hoped he would have a story like that to tell too. And that, in his mind, was a tough one to beat.

He walked quickly in the early spring morning, wanting to get the job done as quickly as possible. Nana had promised him breakfast today. And he was never going to say no to that. He walked past the office and workshop for the tailoring business that Nana and Great Aunt Maria started, Miller Tailoring, which Aunt Sarah and Aunt Lucy, along with Aunt Ellie’s partner, Aunt Dina, now ran. Right next door was Miller’s Constructions, the business his Pops and Great Uncles started. Aunt Ellie ran it now, some of his male cousins working under her. To no one’s surprise, she was the only child from the first generation of the original Millers who had taken to carpentry and building, despite everyone being roped in for the work in the beginning. She really was her Papa’s daughter.

Joel had the option of working for either business, as everyone in the family did, but he knew squat about tailoring, taking almost ten minutes to thread a needle, and successfully crushed his thumb the first time he tried to hammer a nail in place. So here he was, headed for the ranch, which his father and Uncle Danny ran together at this ungodly hour to earn his place in the family business. Everyone starts from the bottom of the barrel, Pops had said, even family. 

Pops, Nana and the great aunts and uncles were all retired now, reaping the benefits of their hard work during their youth. Apparently, the lands began as a combined less than half an acre between the four families. They had expanded to over 70, and there were talks of expanding further.

Joel hurried, the morning chill that still came with early spring starting to get to him. He quickly did his tasks, some of the ranch hands already there, making sure he performed them up to standards. By the time he finished, the sun was up, and he quickly ran to his Pops and Nana’s to get that promised breakfast, always a treat. He needed it for the rest of his work day, after all.

He and his cousins loved their grandparents. Loved the advantage of living in close quarters with everyone. Pops and Nana’s house was basically sanctuary. No one could be harmed if they were there. Hugs from Nana were the best, her beef and vegetable stew even better.

Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his Mama all learned how to make that stew, but none of them could quite get it to taste exactly like Nanas. If he was lucky, he could have whatever’s left of that delicious stew she made for Pops last night for breakfast, that is, if Pops hadn’t devoured all of it himself after everyone left. It was his favourite meal, despite the unfortunate event that was the stew’s first try, which left everyone howling last night. Pops claimed it was delicious, to which Great Aunt Maria answered with a quick “Heck no it wasn’t,” to a roar of laughter from everyone. Pops then told everyone that he would eat it every day if it meant staying married to Nana, earning him a kiss from her. She still blushed every time they kissed. It really was the sweetest thing to behold.

Sometimes, they stayed over just to hear Nana read to Pops, his head in her lap, her hand scratching his head absentmindedly. He knew Pops could read. He distinctly remembered him reading contracts and newspapers. Apparently he could not read very well when they first married, and the habit of listening to her read to him stuck. And after all these years, they still kept that tradition alive, even if the grandchildren joined in. But Pops always had one restriction for these sessions - her lap was for his use only, much to his grandchildren’s chagrin. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

When he approached, the house was still dark. He knocked on the front door, placing the jars of fresh milk he had brought for them on the bench that supposedly no one was allowed to use ever, it was their special bench, that and the swing overlooking the land. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father had often complained that their only times spent on that swing were back when they still couldn’t form memory, how unfair!

Weird, Joel and his cousins used to think – he and his cousins played on that swing all the time, Pops and Nana watching them happily. Maybe it’s true, parents and grandparents had different rules and standards, even if they were the exact same people.

There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time, just for good measure. The grandchildren had always been warned again and again by their parents to knock when visiting Pops and Nana. You never knew what those two were up to behind closed doors. Apparently, the three siblings found out the hard way. What they saw still haunted them to this day.

There was still no answer, so Joel used the key everyone seemed to have and unlocked the front door. The house was quiet. It was almost seven, it was quite unthinkable that they were still asleep, even with last night’s festivities. Early birds get the worms, Pops always said.

He didn’t know why, but standing there in that familiar room, there was an unease in his heart. He ran up the stairs and frantically knocked on their bedroom door. Nothing. He knocked again, yelling for his Pops and Nana, his heart beating fast. He opened the door and rushed in.

There they were, still in bed, the framed old kerchief and lace hankerchief with their initials in the corners on the wall above their head. They were facing each other, looking so peaceful and in love. Pops holding Nana close to his chest with his right arm, his left holding her right hand between their bodies, fingers entwined, legs tangled, his lips on her forehead.

They looked like they were sleeping, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

Joel nervously went over and tried to wake his Nana, his hand jerking back as soon as he noticed how cold her skin was, as was his Pops’, his cheek wet with drying tears.

He ran out, gunning it towards the other houses, screaming for his parents, his siblings, his cousins, his aunts and uncles, great aunts and great uncles, for everyone. Everyone came out, still dressed in pyjamas, getting their housecoats to go over. Joel was inconsolable, begging for someone to help his Pops and Nana. His Uncle Marcus, the family doctor, ran ahead to their house.

Their bedroom was soon filled with heartbroken sobs. Aunts Ellie and Sarah laid on the bed with their parents, his father sitting at Pops’s feet, tears flowing out of their eyes.

Nana had left first, peacefully, in her sleep, Uncle Marcus later told everyone. Pops must have woken up to his lifeless wife, and held her close, mourning her, before his own heart gave out. His body was warmer than hers when Marcus got there, the tears on his face still drying.

“He died of a broken heart,” Aunt Sarah had tearily whispered.

No one could find reason to disagree with her.

Pops wasn’t exaggerating after all. His heart really did beat for her.

**********

They buried the beloved lovebirds in a single casket, the great uncles coming out of retirement to build their brother and sister a special one to fit them both. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father helped prepare their parents for burial, leaving their fingers entwined. They chose the spot where the swing stood. The one Pops had built for Nana. The two would sit there for hours in each other’s arms, looking at the view, the land it covered now part of their legacy.

Aunt Ellie played the guitar, tearfully singing the lullaby her beloved Mama used to sing for her and her siblings, and later her nieces and nephews to sleep.

The family stood in silence for a long time after the burial, remembering this couple who had devoted their lives to each other for fifty happy years, so in love with each other that they couldn’t bear to part from one another, even in death.

Their love for each other was the definition of romance. Their love story was one of fairy tales and dreams. One that was all-consuming. A love that inspires love stories, poems and songs for generations to come.

And to think it all began as a marriage of convenience.

Just an arrangement.

[lovecatsys]

one of my favorite Akihiro bits is that he gets. SO mad when people imply he's insane or compare him to people like Bullseye or Sabretooth or his dad and acts like he's super calm and always in control when the reality is that in a fight if something doesn't go his way he IMMEDIATELY loses his cool and starts going apeshit violent. Like okay sure you're not like your father. Sure.

[sallytwo]

Do you wanna know how far you've come?

id in alt.

[ccbatman]

what if i said hal's mom called him "hally" specifically as a play on halley's comet, huh. what if i said she did that because she knew no matter how far he went, he'd always come back to her, hm. what then.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Here's mine!

Rook: Juniper Aldwir, a dalish elf mage, I mostly went for the direct/aggressive dialogue options with a few of the more positive/nicer or joke-y options in companion convos. I went with the spellblade specialization and ended up loving it after a rough mage start. I also played arcane warrior/knight enchanter my first DAO and DAI runs though so. lmao. i have a type.

Faction: Veil jumpers! How could I not go with the scientific study of weird magic group... I've decided she's more on the geography and cartography side of the profession rather than mechanics/tinkering like Bellara, which is why she's not the one fixing the broken objects you encounter herself. I imagine she's the one drawing maps of all the places you go, making notes of interesting landmarks/items, etc. the crossroads drives her insane (bc it drives ME insane) because of the weird half reality half fade logic to the locations, travel, etc.

Companions/NPCs: My go to companion squad was Lucanis and Davrin or Taash for the best combos/fighting, and Emmrich because I enjoyed his comments/character a lot too. NPC wise, of course finally seeing FELASSAN!!! was great and he got so much more content and dialogue than I expected. was cheering every time i found another codex entry from him, and the Betrayal fight ruled. otherwise, like most everyone else i LOOOOVEEEE Teai & Viagos Divorced Energy... i'm obsessed. And then Antoine & Evka for actually wholesome, and Vorgoth bc idk wtf is up there but its sexy. but also THE CARETAKER what IS it... i have so many questions... that i will be filling in with weird headcanons probably. I also liked listening in on the two fledgling crows on the balcony who have a ton of unique banters, and a couple other npc banter points idk how to describe lmao. Some of the spirit ones in the crossroads I wish we got more of.

Romance: Lucanis my BELOVED obviously i am doing... an insane amount of lucanisposting lately... yeah I've got the full brainworms. even though the game itself was lacking in content my neurons are instead working overtime to try to fill in everything the game left out

Major decisions: I saved Treviso because Minrathous JUST had its turn being saved, shouldn't they like??? be mobilizing the ARMY they actually have over there by now??? they should have been better prepared idk what else to say. insane it got hit a 3rd time at the end anyway so i stand by my choice in picking Antiva. As for the companion endings, I felt most didn't really make a difference to me, with the exception of Emmrich. I kept manfred on this run becuase I was NOT ready to say goodbye to my gentle skeleton son 😭 next game i will romance Emmrich and make him a lich tho. As for the ending... I sent Harding to lead the second squad and Neve was the one who got mirror-kidnapped. Whcih did leave for an absolutely devastating post-Nightmare-In-Dreamland fade sequence where Rook suddenly had NONE of the companions she started the game with. Getting hit with losing Harding, losing Neve, and then the realization that Varric had been dead the whole time definitely makes for some angsty roleplay opportunity, though I do wanna replay it with Bellara in the final position just so I can watch her stand up to the gods, because i think that'd be pretty great. Ending-wise: I'm a Solavellan fool who's been pining for a real life decade now almost so I of course went for that lmao. I will play through all the other options just for the drama of it all, and probably come up with some adjusted exact sequence for how things go as a headcanon, but yeah.

again pls feel free to reblog & add yours, i've really liked reading about the couple who've answered so far :))))

ok i know ive been doing a lot of bitching about the game etc but putting that aside for a moment. Now that more people have finished Veilguard, I'm curious about people's first playthroughs!

What kind of Rook did you make (lineage, class, dialogue personality options, etc)?

What faction did you play as?

Fave companions and npc's?

Who did you romance?

The major choices--what'd you do? (which city, saved, notable companion routes you strongly prefer, what went down in act 3 and endgame...)

Any particular missions/lore you were excited about?

you don't have to be a mutual to reply to/reblog this! im just curious what we all veered to for the first run. i'm doing a second one now making different choices but it's interesting to compare people's first instincts.

[im-still-watching-anime]

i LOVE how we can always rely on atsushi to acknowledge how impressive akutagawa is anytime he does anything

[russellius]

📍 MELBOURNE: George Russell, professional - and very enthusiastic - cap thrower