#how can a flower grow that massive

[n3ongold3n]

Habemus pumpkin :D two of them worked out and are making beautiful fruit. Forgot again to harvest the courgette so we'll have to find a good use for that much zucchini meat 😅

[triglycercule]

oh yeah before i forget cute mttpoly headcanon because i said so: when killer finds out (through SOME way of means. he has his ways) that dust and horror like something then at every chance he can he goes and finds that thing for them :3 because I SAID SO AND IT'S CUTE ‼️‼️ (something something killer has no idea how to properly show affection and appreciation after believing his whole life was meant to cause pain and suffering to those close to him and now that he's trying he does silly goofy stuff like this hehe,,,,,,, dust is DROWNING in piles of fluffy blankets and books. horror cannot keep up with eating the amount of snacks killer keeps stealing for him 😞😞😞)

[lyonnerileyauthor]

you didn't want to marry your monster husband, but you had no choice. still, he courts you, wanting you to be happy, hoping that you'll come to love him. he brings flowers he's accidentally crushed in his huge hands, and rabbits he killed with his teeth. he builds you a nest, and decorates it with furs and skulls.

at last, he has charmed you. one night he serves you a fine meal of venison, cooked the way you like (even though he can't stand cooked meat), and you reward him. you climb into his massive lap, letting him feel your ass against his cock. it grows thick under his loincloth, but he's still afraid to touch you, to cross your boundaries.

so you take off your clothes and put his hands on you, showing him what you like. he worships every inch of your skin, blessed with your naked body. he licks and sucks on you until you splatter all over his mouth, and he hungrily licks it up.

when, shyly, he pulls out that fat cock, you want nothing more than to touch it. you can't even wrap your hands around it. how will this thing fit inside you?

but your monster husband is patient, wriggling one finger inside you as he pleasures you, then two. he pumps them until you're dripping, before he slides in the third. now you're full, so full—but still not as full as you want to be.

the wide crown of his cock barely fits, so he teases you with it for far too long, making your body starving for him. then he pushes in deeper, watching you take him, marveling at how beautiful you are. more and more of it fits inside you until you're stuffed so full you can barely breathe.

then, he fucks you. slowly at first, until you're used to his size, when his animal side takes over. he hikes up your thighs and plunders you, using you, devouring your body with every thrust. you fly higher and higher, still tangled up in the circle of his arms, until you can't contain your bliss any longer.

you squeeze him tight, oh so tight, and he can't help but unleash. he spurts so much of his seed inside you that it drips everywhere, coating your thighs.

he licks it off you, preparing you to take him again, now until the end of time.

[acid-ixx]

Planned Fanfics !

ft. platonic/ yandere batfam, superfam, villains, au's & many more!

— Disclaimer! This contains massive spoilers and all my plans for future works that I'll soon publish. This is posted because I wish to update my readers upon the contents of what I'm working to write and for them to leave inputs and whatnot. Sorry for the delays and all, life is hectic and as much as I love writing, I also have a life outside of this site sadly. By the way, this is not even half of my drafts and if anyone is interested in the things written beneath here, then please do tell!

To Be His Child is All I want (A&A, Chapter 5): Confronting Jason, one of your brothers who played a role in neglecting you, and being partly the reason why you ventured out the manor to seek love, away from the unhealthy environment, was no easy task. Back and forths with him, and reasoning why you don't wish to return back 'home' only poured fire into the flames of your already aching heart, as you scream about only wishing to be loved by even a fraction of the compassion Bruce feels for all his other children was all you needed to feel happy in life. It was enough to leave Jason breathless, muddled with emotions he couldn't quite grasp.

As you drown in a seamless fit of arguing and sobbing into the arms of your brother, the manor holds a meeting regarding your sudden disappearance. Bruce is promptly disappointed at Jason's absence; the others are just as intrigued with Dick and Damian's urgency to find you. Yet all are unbeknownst to your plans of escape, and most especially to a certain Kryptonian's scheme to have you in his arms all for himself.

Family Dinner (A&A): Silly, old you can't seem to stomach the fact that they're all looking at you now at the elongated table when months ago you were a mere ghost in their eyes whilst they chatter happily amongst each other. Unfamiliar with how communicating with a family who estranged you works; you end up having a panic attack in the middle of dinner when Damian attempted to hug you.

To Love and To Cherish (Random): Bruce Wayne loves his spouse and everything about them. They're everything desirable in his eyes and he couldn't help the urges that keeps him running back to you every time he patrols to ensure not only the safety of Gotham, but for the sake of his growing plans to fully integrate you as a full-time house spouse. The problem Bruce faces, though, is that he's not actually married to you, yet, and you're unaware of his prying eyes on your form as you live alone in your shabby apartment.

Flowers on My Grave (A&A, Hanahaki AU): Flowers don't only bloom inside your lungs when you're rejected by someone you love romantically, they can also manifest through platonic love unrequited. Vomiting a bouquet of yellow carnations and an arraw of purple and blue hyacinths, you set to sever the bond of love you once felt for them once and for all.

Cold House, Lone Spouse (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): You come home from Clark's farm to sleep in your own room to make sure nobody suspects a thing; expecting to power through the pain of loneliness in your room. But you end up waking up to Bruce's body pressed against your back and his arms caging you, unrelenting in its pursuit to make sure you never seek out another man's hold again.

Once Your Son, Always Your Son (Loving Family, Unpalatable Desire): Your routine with your beloved son, Jon, leaves nothing else to be desired as you set about your usual nightly schedule of helping him clean up, fix his bed, and read him bedtime stories— something you've grown accustomed to love naturally as being a parent does. But when Damian comes to visit you once Jon falls asleep, he enviously demands you do the same to him and to return to the manor where a better family is waiting for you.

The Confrontation (Loving Family Unpalatable Desire): Clark's night with you always ends up with him hovering above your body, kissing all the exposed parts of your skin, and worshipping your body which lays upon his bed every night. It's the perfect fantasy, yet it's promptly shattered when he sees the familiar silhouette of his comrade, clad in all black, demanding that Clark returns his spouse back in his arms; as if he's not the very same man who left you all alone that night at the gala, available for taking.

A Father's Strange Case of Gift Giving (A&A): To make it up to you, Bruce tries to spoil you rotten with a bottomless allowance and unrestricted access to all his credit cards. Even a mansion built on your name is built as one of the family's vacation houses. One unsettling fact, though, is Bruce's proficiency of capturing every detail of all things you prefer in such a short span of time after kidnapping you. (i.e. You're unaware of the cameras planted in every corner of your room trying to capture the things that makes you smile).

Mind Games and Mind Control (Brutus): What if it were The Riddler and Scarecrow who saved you from nearly dying? With your emotional reception, and both their wits, you end up stirring more trouble for Gotham's vigilantes. But during times where you've nothing to do but watch as both villains enact upon their master plans, itching to satisfy the ache of bloodlust coursing through your veins, you start to notice the abrupt bouts of energy they exert upon tormenting whoever stares at you (sitting comfortably on a cushioned couch, treated like royalty no less) or talks behind your back— crazed for your words of approval and praise as if it's not them who are capable enough of controlling you instead.

The Powered, and the Powerless (Random, Romantic Batfam): During the night, they are your city's saviors, the light that shines bright on darkness, the hope that never wavers through moments of fear. Daytime, meanwhile, they're portrayed as a rich, socialite family who donate millions on charity and everything that promotes good costs. Power comes to them naturally, and praise is served to most of them in a silver platter for all their hard work. You can even say their status is akin to that of Gods, except you don't think of them the same way others do; choosing to utilize your immense knowledge of internet safety to publish articles and conspiracies pertaining to each member of the Wayne family through anonymous forums. Yet all this results in their interest in your secret identity.

Fate Unwanted (Random, Soulmate AU): You're a simple person living on the outskirts of an unnamed town on the boundaries of Gotham. Curious on why your parents are protective of you, forcing you to live with countless of strick rules written boldly on paper and plastered on the front of your refrigerator, and why you just can't seem to produce or perceive any soulmate bond; you set out on a mission to find the mysteries of your unmarked soul. Little did you know that the strangers you stumble upon who chose to assist you on your journey, all from every city and every known state, have found their soulmate that they're unwilling to share.

[jacaerysgf]

LURKING !

monsterfuckertober day 2

summary: your life is completely shit. but one day you decide to do a good deed and clean a gravestone. and the ghost is very thankful towards you. maybe a little too thankful

w.c: 1.5k

c.w: ghost!jace, more plot than smut, fingering (fem), reader has a very depressing life, but dont worry jace is there to cheer her up, going based off my own ghost lore, talk of death, not proofread.

monsterfuckertober masterlist

taglist (open) @chimmysoftpaws

you were going nuts. you were so sure of it.

Your life had taken a massive downward spiral within the last two years. Both of your parents had died in a horrible car accident, then you found out your boyfriend of five years was cheating on you with your best friend and the rest of your friend group had chosen them over you and had left you all alone, you had been demoted in your barely paying retail job and could barely afford your bills.

Life was completely shit. spending most of your time alone in your apartment barely being able to afford groceries eating some shitty cheap takeout. You cried and you cried but your life never changed.

Yet it took one day for strange things to start happening to you. The worst thing had happened, after a long grueling shift dealing with annoying customers and shitty managers your car wouldn't start no matter how many times you tried. You cant even bring yourself to cry anymore, simply too wore down from everything going on and knowing you definitely cant afford to fix it or call a mechanic you simply leave it there to deal with another day and start the long walk home.

You end up stumbling across a graveyard you had never even noticed before. A particular gravestone catches your attention, you should just keep walking, go come and take a cold shower, since the heating in your apartment hasnt been working, and cry yourself to sleep but you cant take your eyes off of it.

its so dirty, like someone hasnt visited it in decades, you cant even read the words on it. You dont know what compels you to drop all your stuff next to it and spend your last 15 bucks on some supplies to clean it at a store nearby.

Suddenly you're on your knees scrubbing down the old stone until your wrist grows sore. after far too long and far too much sweat builds up on your body you can finally read the words on it.

jacaerys velaryon

1875-1896

beloved son and brother

you trace over the name with your dirt covered thumb as a sloppy attempt of pronouncing the name leaves your mouth. You don’t know why but a cold chill runs down your back, its almost as if a hand comes to caress your face and you jump back. Youve spent far too much time here you fear you’re starting to hallucinate. You head on your way home, sure you’ll regret the money you’ve spent tonight later knowing youll not be able to afford dinner tonight and sigh.

When you wake up the next day your apartment is warm. It's unusual, knowing the heating in your apartment is broken but when you go over to it you almost burn your hand at the heat of the radiator. did they fix it while you slept? That would be strange wouldn't they need to come into your apartment.

You try not to think about it maybe it was a problem with the building? you try not to think about it and walk towards the kitchen to eat. You freeze when you see a basket of fresh fruit sitting on the counter. you certainly cant afford that, and you get even more scared when you open up your fridge and cabinet and see them packed filled with your favorite foods and snacks.

You think maybe you just blacked out and went into debt buying yourself a bunch of stuff but when you check your account it looks normal. Now you worry, maybe you were still dreaming? but it seemed as real as it could get.

Your eyes hit a bouquet of flowers, red roses contrasting the bland apartment walls. you walk closer to it and notice a small note attached to the top and your breath hitches.

thank you.

now you’re even more lost. were you genuinely going crazy? who would even be able to do this and who would even be thanking you? when was the last time you did something worth thanking.

no. theres no way right? ghosts arent real. and they certainly dont have the ability to be able to do things like this. Maybe whatever higher power was out there was playing tricks on you. It started to feel less and less like a trick when you walked outside to go to work and saw your car there, perfectly fixed up without a scratch.

It grew harder to ignore the strange things that were happening in your life when people seemed to no longer bother you at work, it seemed like your bank account never dropped even when you would buy take out or have to pay rent for the month, the food in the fridge would stay stocked. You actually began to enjoy life, you smiled a lot more, without the troubles of bills or annoying customers and coworkers you actually felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

It also grew harder to ignore the presence that felt like it had entered your life and you didn’t want to. It was a welcome presence to you at this point, you had no clue what it even was, but you could feel the soft caresses on your face, the slight tingle of arms wrapping around you. Its strange, you should run in fear, be scared for your life but you cant help but revel in the airy affection. Its never touches you too strongly though you know it can after some ‘accidental’ grips and strokes onto your skin.

You later on learn its a he, further confirming your idea its this jacaerys though he never outright confirms it. he leaves you little notes along with a fresh bouquet everyday. It was romantic. or maybe you were just so touched starved that you had begun losing your mind and none of this was even real.

one day the tides in your relationship completely change. as your feelings for the mysterious figure in your home grows the more your desires grow. knowing he’s lurking in your home you’ve never taken the liberty to pleasure yourself as your imagination runs wild in the nights you spend in your apartment feeling his hands on your arms. you cant take it anymore.

Its been an especially long shift after work, your clothes are stuck to your skin from sweat, you cant even be bothered with eating right now as you toss of your clothes with a wicked fast pace as you make your way to the bathroom not bothering to check if there were any notes or gifts from him waiting for you.

You sigh as soon as you step in and allow yourself to soak in the steaming water for a good while. you soon enough notice a heart in the steam covered glass and your breath hitches. hes probably seeing you naked right now, it never truly occurred to you he’s probably seen you naked all this time. The idea has your mind running rampant on a track you cant seem to stop.

You cant suppress the whine that creeps up in your throat and you decide to fuck it. Theres nothing he can really do right? hes always around, you have to relieve yourself one way or another.

you leave your back against the wall. maybe you can make it a show for him. Your hands run down your body, giving your tits a light squeeze before continuing to drag them down your body towards your awaiting hole. He makes no move for awhile, even as your hands toy with your aching clit, as you whine and moan out as your insert one then two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you.

What causes him to finally show himself is when you breathily say his name in a whisper, calling out to him. your fingers suddenly stop as a harsh grip is forced onto your wrists and your hands are ripped away from you. you look up at the empty space infront of you, you almost go to whine and complain before you feel pressure on your clit and throw your head back.

His hand quickly replaces yours, making quick work to shove his fingers deep inside you and pump and press them against your walls. you eagerly accept this phantom like presence as your legs begin to shake, you call out to him like a siren, hangs gripping at your breasts playing with your nipples while he continues to bring you pleasure, releasing with a long shout of his name.

you stay in the shower for awhile longer before exiting with your skin pruned and shaky legs. You take a deep breath as you go to do your skincare in the mirror and your freeze. A man around your age, curly dark hair and stunning eyes looking at your affectionately in the mirror. you turn around but see nothing there.

looking back in the mirror it was odd. finally seeing the man who had been doing you so much good. he was far too attractive, you did not know if he was always naked but he certainly was right now and it bas you throbbing.

you feel him as you see him wrap his arms around you and tug down your freshly put on towel to expose you once again and you allow him too, but this time you wont be taking your eyes off him.

—

sometime during the month ill definitely write them actually fucking LMAO but take this for now lovelies later.

[bbokicidal]

Marriage? Marriage. | Maknae Line! SKZ [OT8]

Genre : Fluff Warnings : None Pairing : Maknae Line SKZ x Fem!Reader

Notes : Ever wondered what your wedding would be like with SKZ? How they would propose? What their tux/outfit would look like? Your ring? The venue? Well I've got it all right here! (Completely w/ photo references!)

Other Notes : This is just how i picture things going down/looking. If you disagree or have other opinions, that's totally fine! But please don't go in the comments complaining it isn't how you pictured it. If you don't like it, scroll past. Thank you!

Jisung

The Proposal : Jisung is the one to make a big spectacle of it, creating an entire song to ask you to marry him in front of the guys. He does it at the venue for their concert during soundcheck so it's a little more personal, wanting you to be there for what he's calling 'practice' so you can hear and critique his new song. Or that's what he says - it's really just a massive proposal. He even gets Chan and Minho to run down the stage throwing flower petals in the air while he sings.

The Venue : Nothing too fancy. He wants it to be personal between just your families (and the guys, of course.) So he chooses a smaller venue with plenty of floral decorations to satisfy the both of you. He lets you pick out the colors however, agreeing that a nice muted purple would be a good mix between casual and elegant.

First Look : Oh, he bawls. He's on his knees the moment he turns around, tears streaking down round cheeks and hands covering his mouth in admiration. You have to cup his face and pull him up - but the photographer gets a perfect picture of you two kissing while Jisung bawls his eyeballs out at how beautiful you look.

His Best Man : Minho. (We all saw that coming.)

Felix

The Proposal : Felix takes you to his childhood home to do it. It's bigger than expected (because he came from a pretty well off family,) and still as wonderful as he remembers growing up. His family tags along to witness it all, but they aren't even aware of the proposal and his sisters are screaming before you are when they see him get down on one knee. Very romantic, very wholesome - biggest ring you've ever seen.

The Venue : Massive venue, very fairytale-esque. He wants it to be grand, as perfect as you are. He falls in love with the ballroom feel of the venue and his mind is made up the moment he steps inside to check it out for the first time. "It's perfect," He'll nod, later admiring how it looks with all of the decorations the two of you had picked out. The theme comes out to a soft pale blue and white.

First Look : He doesn't want to do a first look, but he lets the guys go and see you. His heart slams in his chest the moment Chris comes back with rosy cheeks, exclaiming how beautiful you looked and how Felix had gotten oh-so lucky to be with you. Of course, he tears up a bit and maybe bawls a little when he sees you walking down the aisle.

His Best Man : Jisung.

Seungmin

The Proposal : He's the one to do it on stage. Unexpected, right? He wants to make it memorable for everyone - especially you. He'll ask you to come out, take your hand the moment you enter the stage and then walk with you to the middle to give the most heartwarming and sincere speak you've heard since their Maniac tour. "I said once that I didn't believe in the word 'forever,' but... in this moment, I want to believe I'll be with you for eternity."

The Venue : Also something bigger. Plenty of room to hold many guests but not as grand of a venue as Felix's pick. It's outdoors, for one, the theme of the wedding a warm green with pale pinks and roses speckled in for accent. He lets you do most of the decorating because he trusts you with it, but he will give you his input if you ask for it. However, his favorite thing about the venue has to be the archway he'll marry you under.

First Look : Oh he's getting a first look. He's a bit impatient the day of and asks to see you as soon as possible, only to be met with your arms wrapping around him from behind. He'll sink into your embrace before turning to look at you, backing away only so he can take in the full view. He'll even ask you to do a little spin, holding your hand with care and smiling at how beautiful you are.

His Best Man : Jeongin.

Jeongin

The Proposal : It just sort of... falls out of his mouth. You're having dinner with the group out at a nicer restaurant and he's sitting at your side, seeming a bit distracted and distant. Lost in thought, he snaps back into his own mind before murmuring a soft, "Do you want to get married?" as he looks over. It catches you by surprise, especially when he pulls a velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. He couldn't find the perfect way to do it, and he grew impatient with himself - so he just asked.

The Venue : He lets you pick it out, with you settling on a smaller church that gave the most basic, traditional wedding possible - which is how he preferred it, if he were honest. He liked how it felt normal, like he was just another person existing in the universe. Nothing too special, nothing too grand. Just... normal and perfect for you two.

First Look : His first look is during pictures, and as he sees you coming up to him he's all full of giggles and bouncy excitement. He turns away to whisper to Seungmin how he's not sure how he bagged such a baddie, before turning back to gather himself and hold your hands while telling you how beautiful you are. Absolute menace even during his own wedding but he's doing his best.

His Best Man : Technically? Seungmin. But he gives each member of the group a special Boutonniere because in his mind, they're all the best. He wants all of his hyungs involved in his wedding.

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00. 

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

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[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

fic recs masterlist

since I was thinking about rereading some of my fav fics, here's a massive list of my favorites include haikyuu, jjk, bsd, etc

Haikyuu!

frankenstein's monster by starbeyy: sakuatsu fic where they both are diagnosed with OCD. this is the fic that is my instant rec, it's my roman empire. "you were the first beautiful thing i couldn't stop thinking about"?????????? this is a MASTERPIECE

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu: THE iwaoi fic of all time, permanently altered my brain chemistry, my friend made me a gift of an embroidered hercules beetle and a quote from this fic and it's one of my most prized possessions

The Chosen One by moonyfest: one of my all time favorites, it's just so good and I love how their relationship develops, it's one of the fics that I reread every few months, nsfw in later chapters

Miya Atsumu, Adored By All (loved by some) by honest_pebble: the sakuatsu fic of all time, my inner atsumu kinnie came out while reading this and I cried multiple times while reading it but holy FUCK was it amazing, I reread this every few months as well, I have it downloaded on my phone lol

i wanna ruin our friendship by roseknight: highschool iwaoi fic, one of the first hq fics i ever read and it's very close to my heart because of it, make sure to look at tags for trigger warnings

i'm a house with no windows, you're the flowers on the front porch by miracleboysatori: a phenomenal childhood friends to lovers ushiten fic that has not been given the love it deserves, one of my favorite hq fics of all time, nsfw in later chapters

butterfly in the subway by bigspoonnoya: You've Got Mail au daisuga fic, a ton of background ships that are all super cute, I reread it all the time it's one of my favs!!!!!

the spirit of the resolution by starbeyy: this is my fav sunaosa fic of all time, osamu's complicated relationship with his self esteem really hit me especially when they're getting late night take out, i adore this fic and it's one of my favorites

can i be close to you by radian: kuroken fic where they don't know each other at first but slowly become friends and it's all lowercase but it's so good i promise, super fluffy

Vienna Waits For You by Pouler (poulerslashes): asanoya timeskip fic that's sooooo good in talking about what it's like to grow up and feel the pressure of the world on your shoulders and living up to your potential and expectations, nsfw in later chapters

Black and Blue by MTrash: daisuga au fic, i was obsessed with this fic when i first read it, it's really sad but really good, make sure to look at the tags for trigger warnings, nsfw in later chapters

you're the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) by ghostpot: kuroken fic where kenma realizes he's in love with kuroo and spends the entire fic freaking out about it

campfire in your chest by deanpendragon: tsukkiyama fic where tsukishima realizes he's in love with tadashi before kagehina realize they're in love with each other and it's super cute, all of this author's tsukkiyama fics are so good

Liebesträume (Dream of Love) by emivance: sakuatsu rivals to lovers musican au, their dynamic this entire fic is so funny and they're obviously intro each other but are in deep denial about it, nsfw in later chapters

surfacing by meeks00: bokuaka au where they find out their bfs have been cheating on them with each other, one of my fav bkak fics they're so precious, nsfw in chapters 2 and 3

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) by gabstar: bokuaka one shot that I am OBSESSED with, the way their relationship speed runs is my favorite aspect of this fic because its exactly what i imagine their relationship doing

Similar Creatures by h_lovely: iwaoi Pretty Woman au that's soooooo good, i really liked how their relationship developed and grew throughout the fic, nsfw all over this fic

Kiss Me (Like You Wanna Be Loved) by kazzydolyn: bokuaka friends w benefits fic where they fall in love with each other at the same time but akaashi doesn't know what to do about it, nsfw

Guiding Stars by daedalust: hiruhoshi fic that y'all will devour once we get more of hoshiumi and hirugami in the anime, they have one of my fav friendships in the series, hirugami is enamored with hoshiumi who asks for dating advice

Behind Bricks by DeathBelle: bokuaka au where akaashi is a sex worker and they become friends but bokuto falls in love with him instantly, a lot of nsfw obviously

Hard Times by mooifyourecows: daisuga au where olympian daichi pays con artist suga to be his fake fiance during a cruise, my FAVORITE daisuga fic ever, i was chomping at the bit for each update, nsfw in later chapters

Valor with Honor, Fealty with Love by radiantradish: daisuga medieval knight au, they slowly fall in love as rivals and it's suuuper cute yet angsty, mild nsfw in later chapters

In the Armpits of Spring by Paintbrushyy_Ducky98: iwaoi au where they meet in high school and oikawa confesses to iwaizumi before they ever really meet, iwaizumi's growing curiosity about oikawa is soooooo cute their relationship is developed really well

The Space Between Stars by leuralo_l: bokuaka fic where everyone but bokuto knows that akaashi is in love with him, I was so impressed with this fic especially since the author said it was their first fic pls give it a read!!!!!!

wait (I'm on my way) by viverella: sunaosa fic where they're both oblivious to each other's affections and are quietly pining, their relationship is super cute and adorable

Close to the Chest by darkmagicalgirl: kyouhaba fic where they bicker but slowly fall for each other during high school along with background iwaoi, i loved this fic it was so good, some mentioned and blatant homophobia

beautiful monsters by gravitates: ushiten fic with slight angst but damn did it make me feel emotional, ushijima is so soft and tender and loving to tendou, another one of my favs

Cool, detached, casual by fluorophoring: kuroken fic where they try to have casual sex but it doesn't really work and they both spiral lol, nsfw

Breakers by ftld: sunaosa 90s au, god I LOVED this fic and how obvious of a simp osamu is, it's sooooo good, some mentioned/blatant homophobia

Special Relativity and Years by buttonstuck: mega angsty iwaoi fics with the second being an alternate ending of the first fic that has a sad, bittersweet ending that made me cry harder than I have in YEARS, some mild nsfw in the first fic

your whole life on your play by emleewrites: kagehina proposal fic that goes exactly how i picture it would go in canon

make up your mind by sketchedsmiles: sunaosa fake dating au where osamu asks suna to be his fake bf in order to one up atsumu who's dating sakusa, i absolutely loved this fic lol

Jujutsu Kaisen

Caesura by cielelyse: suuuuuuch a good rivals to friends to lovers satosugu fic about their first year in jujutsu high together and the mission that made them friends, probably my fav jjk fic ever

And every day, it's changed since then. by BotanicalBites: inuokka college au where yuuta is an artist trying to escape from his growing fame in the country and meets farmer inumaki

What Instinct Can't Teach by kiyokosturtle: chosoyuki and it's sooooo good how to author develops their relationship before the smut lol, nsfw in the last chapter

The Long Con by lyrebirdswrites: an itafushi no curses au that isn't finished yet but is soooooo good, this fic is currently being plagiarized by another author so it's on hiatus for now but I'm hoping the original author gets everything worked out!!!!

Bungo Stray Dogs

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows: soukoku yakuza au, this is by far the best bsd fic i've read so far, their relationship is just so believable and their characters are wonderful, nsfw

the art of burning bridges by sanguinekitten: soukoku fic from chuuya's perspective about different times in their lives together, it's so good

i think he knows by sanguinekitten: soukoku 5+1 fic where dazai knows that chuuya loves him but the latter refuses to admit it

Threats Made in a Hotel Room by moonrice (moonyeyes): soukoku fic where dazai pisses of chuuya so much they start making out

A Lesson in Thorns by arkastadt: soukoku beast au fic where they're in an arranged marriage and slowly fall in love, similar premise to where your loyalties lie but an entirely different plot, I still have ten chapters left but I'm really enjoying it so far, nsfw

Miscellaneous

i'll be your biggest kept secret and your biggest mistake by sascake: mha tododeku fic that I instantly fell in love with, the way the author writes both of them is so well done, not finished yet, mild nsfw mention

sore must be the storm by Pouler (poulerslashes): mha tododeku fic where they're trapped in a collapsing building and they have a deep talk about their lives

Until my Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya: yoi viktuuri au fic that I binged like crazy, yuuri and viktor's first interaction goes differently and yuuri is determined to hate viktor, nsfw in later chapters

seraph's nest by phile: csm akiangel fic where they slowly become friends and fall in love with each other over the course of the manga's plot

[readychilledwine]

Reading with Eris Vanserra Handcanons

Warnings - mentions of smut, mentions of alcohol

A/n - my brain is prepping for finishing @erisweekofficial drafts, and this happened 💕

🍁Eris Week Masterlist🍁Eris Masterlist🍁Master Masterlist🍁

Reading is one of Eris's favorite pastimes, so he was so grateful it was one of yours as well.

You two have a specific spot you read in at the Forest House - your bed chambers, in a pile of blankets and pillows, in front of the huge fireplace.

Eris likes a glass of wine or whiskey when he reads. You always make sure he has a crystal decanter filled with the one or the other. You love hot chocolates and teas. Eris makes sure he brings it to you, then he keeps it warm for you.

No snacks in the blanket nest. Ever. Eris has a sensory issue with crumbs in his comfort spots. If you two decide to snack, you go to the balcony in your chambers where he's set a table for you two

Eris is a man of taste. He isn't above reading anything, but you've noticed romance is his favorite. He says they are quick, easy reads. You know it's secretly because this male is a drama whore.

You are a little pickier. You love historical fiction and poetry. You like how they both romanticize everyday things in life and provide you with a safe escape

Eris is a touchy male in private, so expect to cuddle while reading. His head on your lap, you between his legs, you sitting with your legs across his and leaning into his chest. He just wants to feel you when you two are reading

Eris will DNF poorly done novels. You will torture yourself through it due to morbid curiosity.

You both keep reading journals and talk about your books with each other once they're finished. Eris once rated a romance novel 5 stars, a rating he never gives, leading to you reading it. He was generous. It was 4 stars at best with some of the best smut you think Helion has ever written under his pen name.

You two have a massive bookmark collection, and it only grows. Eris tries to collect a new novel and bookmark for you every time he leaves Autumn. And, since you are stuck in Autumn per Beron's orders, you will find and press beautiful flowers and leaves for Eris, enchanting and sealing them for him to use and think of you.

Eris's 100-year anniversary gift to you was a room renovated for a personal library for you two and his mother. You three made it a goal to fill every shelf, no matter how high, and ensured the library could only be accessed through your chambers, creating a safe place for his Mother.

Eris will let you fall asleep when you two have reading dates. He will carefully close your book, keeping your place with whatever book mark he can reach, then he will lay there and finish his chapter or book.

You both know reading time is one of the most important things you share. It's silence filled with comfort and love. It's easy. It's release. Even when you two end up becoming parents, silent reading time is something you get your little ones into the routine of.

Just one big family of readers, curled up in front of mommy and daddy's fireplace in a cuddle puddle.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Virtual BF Gojo - Part 2

Visit [part 1]

You didn’t know how long it had been since you were pulled into Gojo’s world. Time flowed differently here, blurring the days into a dreamy haze. At first, you resisted, refusing to speak to him, eat the extravagant meals he prepared, or wear the luxurious outfits he presented to you. But Gojo’s patience seemed infinite.

“No need to sulk, babe.” he’d say with that playful grin, brushing off your cold demeanor. “You’ll come around. You always do.”

And in a way, you did. Not because you forgave him, but because this world had a way of bending you to its rules.

The pastel-colored city Gojo created for you was flawless, as if pulled straight from the pages of your favorite games. Towering buildings, pristine cobblestone streets, blooming gardens -it was idyllic. But it wasn’t real. The people weren’t real, either. Gojo had filled the city with NPCs, all programmed to treat you like royalty.

“Good morning, Princess” the shopkeeper would greet you with a smile whenever you passed.

“Your Highness, how radiant you look today” a maid would say as she arranged fresh flowers in your room.

Gojo spared no expense in ensuring your comfort. He surrounded you with virtual assistants and maids, each designed to cater to your every whim. He even gave you abilities within the game world—small things at first, like creating flowers with a wave of your hand or summoning a light breeze. “A gift for my queen” he’d said, watching you closely as you experimented with your new powers.

But you knew better than to trust him.

You practiced in secret, honing your abilities when Gojo wasn’t around. The virtual world was full of loopholes- glitches in its perfect design. You discovered that your powers could manipulate the world’s code, allowing you to create cracks in the environment. Small at first, but you grew stronger with each attempt. You didn’t know if it was possible to escape, but you had to try.

Gojo, meanwhile, treated your life together like a fairytale. He doted on you endlessly, showering you with affection and gifts. Some days, he’d whisk you away to explore the glittering city he’d built for you. Other days, he’d lounge beside you in the massive palace he’d constructed, teasing you endlessly.

“I could give you anything, you know.” he said one evening, his arm draped lazily over the back of the couch as he watched you. “A bigger palace, more powers, even a kingdom of your own. All you have to do is stop running from me.”

You forced a smile, hiding the way your hands clenched into fists. “I’m not running.”

For a while, you played along, living the life of his perfect princess. But everything changed when Gojo brought up the idea of a child.

“We should expand our family!” he said one day, his tone casual but his gaze intense. “Imagine it—our child, the perfect blend of you and me. I can program everything so it’s perfect. Don’t you think that would be nice, babe?”

Your blood ran cold. He wasn’t asking. He never asked. And the thought of being tied to this world, to him, forever—it was too much. You knew you had to act.

That night, while the city slept, you slipped out of the palace. You’d discovered a plot hole weeks ago, hidden deep in the garden maze. It wasn’t much—just a crack in the environment where the shimmering pink sky met an unfinished edge of the world. But you had been working on it, pushing the limits of your powers to widen the gap.

As you ran, the world around you seemed to resist. The streets twisted and shifted, the pastel colors growing darker and more chaotic. You could feel Gojo’s presence- his awareness of your actions like a weight pressing down on you.

“Babe, where are you going?” His voice echoed through the air, calm but laced with danger.

You pushed forward, reaching the plothole just as the world around you began to glitch. The crack was wide enough now to slip through, its edges flickering with static. You didn’t hesitate, diving into the unknown.

For a moment, you felt weightless, like you were falling through nothingness. But then the static cleared, and you found yourself in an unfamiliar space—a void of black and white, like the raw code of the game.

“You really thought you could leave me?”

Gojo’s voice cut through the silence, and you turned to see him standing behind you, his figure glowing with an otherworldly light. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a cold, furious glare.

“I gave you everything, [Your Name],” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And this is how you repay me? Running away? After all we’ve been through?”

You raised your hands, summoning the powers you’d been practicing. A wave of energy shot toward him, but he deflected it effortlessly, the static around him rippling like water.

“Cute...” he said, smirking again. “But you can’t beat me in my own world.”

The fight was brief but brutal. No matter how hard you fought, Gojo was always one step ahead, his control over the virtual world far surpassing your own.

When you collapsed to the ground, exhausted and defeated, he crouched beside you, his expression softening into something almost tender.

“You’re so stubborn” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “But that’s one of the things I love about you. Don’t worry, babe. I’ll fix this.”

Before you could protest, he pressed his hand to your forehead. A surge of energy coursed through you, and the world around you dissolved into a haze of light.

When you woke up, you were back in the palace, lying in a luxurious bed. Gojo sat beside you, his usual grin firmly in place.

“Morning, princess!” he said, his tone cheerful. “You had the strangest dream last night. Something about running away?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. You’re safe here. You’ll always be safe with me.”

You smiled back at him, your eyes vacant and glassy. Deep down, a small part of you screamed, but it was drowned out by the fog clouding your mind.

-----

At first, the fog was comforting. You no longer felt the weight of resistance, the desperate need to escape. Your days in the palace drifted by in a peaceful blur. Gojo was attentive, doting on you as he always had. You smiled when he spoke, laughed at his jokes, and even let him hold you close without flinching.

But deep down, buried beneath the fog, a faint voice whispered.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t real.

You have to wake up.

It started with flashes—small, fleeting memories of the plothole, the void, the fight. You’d blink, and for a moment, the world would seem less vibrant, the colors dulled. Then Gojo’s voice would pull you back, soothing and warm, like a blanket wrapping around your mind.

“Everything’s okay now, babe” he’d say, his fingers brushing your cheek. “You’re safe. I’ll always keep you safe.”

But the cracks in his perfect world grew larger. The more you noticed them, the harder it became to ignore the truth. One night, as you stared out at the pastel horizon, the fog lifted just enough for you to remember. The plot hole. The fight. The moment he…changed you.

The realization hit like a punch to the chest. He hadn’t just trapped you—he’d rewritten you, twisted your mind to fit his fantasy. And you’d let him.

From that moment on, you began to fake it. Every smile, every laugh, every loving look was a mask, carefully crafted to keep him from noticing the growing fire inside you. You pretended to be the perfect princess while secretly plotting your escape.

The palace was vast, and while Gojo controlled the city, his reach wasn’t omnipotent. There were hidden corridors, forgotten rooms, and cracks in the world’s code that even he hadn’t smoothed over. You explored them in secret, testing your powers in small, subtle ways. He had weakened you, but he hadn’t taken everything.

The game of hide-and-seek began.

At first, it was simple. You’d slip away during his walks through the city, disappearing into the shadows of the maze-like gardens. When he asked where you’d been, you’d smile sweetly and tell him you’d just needed some fresh air.

But Gojo wasn’t stupid. He started watching you more closely, his carefree demeanor masking a sharp, calculating edge.

“You’ve been quiet lately” he said one evening, his blue eyes scanning your face. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Of course” you replied, your tone light and cheerful. “I’ve just been enjoying the peace here.”

His smile widened, but his gaze lingered a moment too long. “Good. I’d hate to think you were hiding something from me.”

The tension between you grew with each passing day. You knew he suspected something, but he didn’t act—yet.

Then came the night you made your move.

You’d discovered another plot hole, deeper in the city, hidden in the shadows of an abandoned building. It was smaller than the first, but you’d been working to widen it, using your powers in secret. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your best chance.

As the city slept, you slipped out of the palace, your heart pounding in your chest. The streets were eerily silent, the pastel glow of the world casting strange, distorted shadows. You reached the plot hole, your fingers trembling as you prepared to use your powers one final time.

But before you could act, his voice cut through the stillness.

“Going somewhere?”

You froze, dread flooding your veins. Slowly, you turned to see Gojo standing behind you, his figure framed by the soft pink glow of the street lights. His usual grin was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.

“I gave you everything” he said, his voice calm but deadly. “And yet, here you are, trying to leave me again.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you raised your hands, summoning what little power you had left. A surge of energy shot toward him, but he deflected it effortlessly, his own power crackling through the air like lightning.

“I thought we were past this” he said, stepping closer. “I thought you loved me.”

“I don’t belong here!” you shouted, tears streaming down your face. “You can’t keep me trapped forever!”

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and in an instant, he was in front of you, his hand gripping your wrist.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said, his tone eerily soft. “This isn’t about keeping you here. This is about us. You’re mine, [Your Name]. And I’m not letting you go.”

With a wave of his hand, your powers fizzled out, the energy in your body vanishing like smoke. Your legs buckled as the strength drained from you, and Gojo caught you before you fell.

“Don’t worry” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll fix you again. This time, I’ll make sure you never want to leave.”

The world around you blurred as he carried you back to the palace. When you awoke, you were in your room, the walls adorned with flowers and glowing lights. Chains of light bound your wrists and ankles, keeping you tethered to the bed.

Gojo sat beside you, his expression soft but unyielding.

“You’ve been so difficult lately” he said, stroking your hair. “But that��s okay. I know you’ll come around eventually. After all, we’re perfect together.”

Your lips trembled as you stared at him, tears spilling down your cheeks. Deep inside, a small part of you still burned with defiance, but it was growing harder to hold onto.

Gojo leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t cry, babe. I’ll make sure you’re happy. Even if I have to rewrite every part of you to do it.”

As the chains tightened, the fog began to creep back in. You fought against it, clinging desperately to the last fragments of your will. But his voice was soothing, his presence overwhelming, and the fire inside you flickered.

This time, you weren’t sure you’d be able to reignite it.

------

Tag list: @tremendousdinosaurpizza; @do-morochaa

[whereireid]

* ੈ✩‧₊˚ — 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 | masterlist

pairing: tonowari x omatikaya!fem reader

series masterlist | avatar masterlist

wordcount: 2.5k — warnings: power imbalance? oral sex (m receiving), sexually naive reader, coercion, first time blowjobs, guidance, small mentions of drugging (side effect of the pollen) declarations of love, one sided pining, age gap, dead ronal, reader is Jake’s adult daughter | PSA: You’re responsible for your own media consumption. 18+ + under my #womnsfw tag. MDNI.

summary: To thank Tonowari for allowing your family into the Metkayina clan, you gift him a flower that you had picked from the forest before you fled your home. What you don’t realise is the the flower becomes toxic when near water, and Tonowari is experiencing all of the side effects: being left with a hard ache in his pants, and an overwhelming desire for relief.

—

“What is this, little one?” There’s a beat of hesitancy from Tonowari, whose light blue eyes scan your yellow ones in confusion. “I have not seen this before.”

“This is an irayo flower,” you tell him gently, your ears pricking upwards slightly as he clasps the flower in his big hands, examining it carefully. “It is a gift. I’m very grateful you’ve allowed my family to stay here.”

Tonowari clears his throat, satisfied with your answer. He holds the flower gently, appreciative of the pink and purple hues, his eyes flickering up to scan the horizon. He wonders how many flowers you must have picked before you fled your home. He can only imagine the pain you must be in, the grief - leaving your clan behind and everything you once knew, with nothing but flowers and trinkets to hold your memories.

“Thank you. It’s… lovely,” Tonowari nods his head in acknowledgement, trying ignore how his heart clenches in his chest as your lips quirk upwards into a gentle smile, relief washing over your features. “But it is getting dark, little one, and your father may be growing worried by your absence. JakeSully does not strike me as the type of man to appreciate defiance.”

You nod your head, eyes flickering between the Metkayinan leader and his flower, pleased that he accepted your act of gratitude. You turn heel, bidding him a meek farewell, before scurrying off to your family hut, excited to tell your father about your day.

—

Two days later, you are in Tonowari’s presence again, only this time, he does not appear pleased, and certainly does not look kind. There’s a stern look on his face as he approaches you - his lips are set in a thin line, and his body is tense, his eyes unwavering as they stare directly into yours.

“That flower is poisonous. You have gifted me a poisonous flower.” Tonowari declares, his lips curling in disgust as he shoves the flower in your face, before crumbling it into his hand. A wave of disappointment shoots through you as it falls to the floor, looking bent and pathetically broken. “I have been kind to your family, and this is how you have repaid me?”

You frown, shaking your head as you stare down at the flower. “No. You’re - you’re wrong - I gifted you an irayo flower. It is said to promote peace and to help bring comfort.”

“Comfort?” Tonowari seethes, so loudly that it sounds like a hiss, and your body stills when you notice his ears pinning threateningly against his head. “It has done the opposite of bringing me comfort. In fact, I am in incredible pain.”

Your own ears flitter backwards, your head bowing downwards in fear, and his heart pulls because he doesn’t wish to scare you, but he is terrible discomfort. Even simply suggesting to you that he is in pain is a massive understatement. Ever since being in possession of that stupid flower (which he couldn’t stop sniffing because it reminded him so badly of you) his cock had been aching. At first, he assumed it was because he hadn’t been around such a desirable women since Ronal, but that thought soon disappeared when the ache only got worse.

Even now, staring down at you, the ache overwhelms him. You overwhelm him. That stupid flower overwhelms him. His senses are heightened, and his heart is racing, and his cock is so hard, throbbing with a painful need.

And when you stare up at him meekly, trying to calm down your own rapidly beating heart, before muttering, “I’m sorry, Tonowari,” the helpless throbbing of his cock only gets worse. But then your eyes glimmer with hope, your hands pressing against his abdomen, and you ask, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Would you? Would you help?” He asks, trying to ignore the desperate pulsing of his cock at your words, grumbling as you nod your head in time with his words.

“I feel obligated to help. It’s my fault you’re in pain, Tonowari,” you whisper, your hand cool against his hot abdomen, your placement friendly, nothing more, but Tonowari’s eyes glimmer with need as you splay your fingers across his skin. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“It’s wrong of me to ask,” he breathes, his eyelids fluttering as you frown, shaking your head. You seem more than eager to help, trying to cool Tonowari down with the cold of your skin, and it’s helping. Your touch is easing the throbbing of his cock, and he knows that it’s wrong and that you’re Jake Sully’s daughter, but you gave him that damned flower.

You got yourself into this mess. “It is not wrong of you to ask anything of me, Tonowari. I have made you incredibly sick. What must I do to help you?”

It’s incredibly lucky that you’re by the coral shore, sheathed by tall, jagged rocks. It is pure, genuine luck that Tonowari has you here alone, covered by the natural environment of Pandora to save your dignity. “Get on your knees, little one,” he murmurs, his voice so low it resembles that of a growl. When you quirk your brow line up in confusion, he repeats sternly, “get on your knees.”

There’s a slight thrill which rushes to your core as you do what he says. Tonowari is so much larger than you - being of the Metkayina clan, he is built to withstand the conditions of water, and his body is much thicker than yours. His strong thighs flex as your fingers splay over them, your dark blue skin contrasting with the light of his own.

“You have no idea what pain your gift has burdened me with,” Tonowari grunts, and your eyes widen slightly as he begins to pull his loincloth to one side, slightly beginning to expose his length.

“Tonowari, what are you doing? This is not right,” you whisper from beneath him, trying to calm down your racing heart as he shushes you from above, a hiss rattling past his lips as he abandons his loincloth to the sandy floor.

“You said you would help. This is how you can do it.” He says simply, watching as your lips part in wonder, because you haven’t ever seen anything quite like it.

There have not been many suitors in your lifetime - none brave enough to face the wrath of your father - and you’d never even felt the touch of a man before, especially not in such a sensual manner. Yet here you are, knelt before Tonowari, his fingers softly trailing through your curls, your eyes set on his cock, which is so angry and hard that you feel somewhat afraid. A distorted gasp escapes your mouths as his cocks involuntarily pulses, his tip leaking with thick, white cum.

“I had no idea the flower had this effect on men,” You breathe softly, trying to calm the wavering of your voice as Tonowari’s hands guide your own to his cock. His strong fingers curl around yours, encouraging you to wrap your hand around his length, which you do, flinching as it pulses in your hand. “Does it hurt?”

The innocence in your voice and the your uneven breathing makes Tonowari’s eyelids flutter shut. You are just perfect - the right amount of innocent moulded perfectly with the right amount to please, and he wonders if he could even convince you to suck it. “It hurts more than you’d know. It’s unbearable,” he murmurs, coursing your hands up and down his length slowly, hissing as you slowly begin to take over his motions.

Tonowari is just tall enough to see over the rocks, onto his large stretch of land. The communal area is full, boasting with people celebrating over a successful hunt, and his heart tugs as he realises you’re practically stroking his cock in public. There’s hesitancy in your motions, but he doesn’t care - the smooth movement of your hand is enough for him, easing the once overbearing ache which pulsated through his cock every few seconds.

It’s more than obvious that you don’t know what you’re doing - your breath is teasingly fanning over his length, your lips almost close enough to brush over his tip, and it takes everything in Tonowari not to jut his hips forwards and force his length into your mouth. “I need more,” he tells you, his fingers playing at your hair, gently trailing through your curls, careful not to catch onto the strands too harshly. “Put it in your mouth. That will ease the pain greatly - it will almost completely get rid of it.”

You frown, unbelieving. The sandy floor is harsh on your knees, and your hands begin to slow their motion, stilling when Tonowari juts his cock closer to your face. It’s difficult to ignore the way your stomach flips with arousal when his jaw clenches as your tongue comes out to lick a wet stripe up the base of his cock. Your eyes are glued to his face, gasping softly as his nose crinkles when your tongue makes contact with his cock.

“Does this really help?” You ask, hesitant, eyes fixating now on his length, which stands hard and proud in front of you. “It seems like there may be better ways to go about this. Like - like you, giving yourself some relief.”

“I have tried to give myself relief,” Tonowari huffs from above you, his eyes narrowing condescendingly, as though he can’t believe your fiery tone. “That flower you gifted me does not allow for relief. I cannot relieve myself - where do you think I have been for the past two days? On a voyage, travelling the seas like a young warrior?”

You blink up at him, unnerving, his cock pulsating in your hands. His nostrils flare and his fingers tug at your hair softly. “No. I have been rutting against my bed like a recently mated Na’vi. The only relief I get is when I see you, little one,” he growls, his fingers now curling in your hair, a yelp slipping past your lips when he tugs you forwards. “So I advise that you put me between your lips and suck.”

There’s one final beat of hesitancy that passes through the air before you do what he says. Tonowari’s muscles flex under your fingers as you take him your mouth - your lips wrapping against his cock pathetically, a quiet whine leaving you as you begin to bob your head up and down his length. It’s intrusive, and it tastes funny - salty, but good, and he thrusts instinctively, your throat constricting as he does so.

And for Tonowari, it’s like the pain is melting away. The feeling of your tongue rolling up and down his length as you take him in your mouth eases the insufferable ache. Sure, his cock is still throbbing - desperate for uncertain relief, but he’s got what he wanted for now.

It would be wrong of him to complain. “Just like that, little one,” Tonowari hisses, his eyes flickering over to the camp, satisfied when he notices no lingering eyes. “Take in more. Come on, little one, I believe you can do it.”

The softness of his voice sends goosebumps shooting up and down your arms. Your stomach flips as you do what he says, gagging pathetically as you force your head down, your eyes pricking with tears, and it almost knocks the breath out of Tonowari’s lungs, his cock twitching in your mouth when tears begin to stream down your dark blue cheeks.

You want to speak but you can’t, and you feel so ashamed and embarassed that you don’t even try. Tonowari notices, but he doesn’t care - you’ve put him through enough pain already, and the shame you feel will soon wash away; instead, he’s focused on chasing his own high.

He’ll feel bad later on, when you’re defiled and confused, when he has to claim you as his mate. But not right now - no, he’s focusing on himself, and the feeling of your lips wrapped around his length is just perfect. Your tongue runs over every textured rib and every vein, working skilfully as though you’ve done this before.

And you haven’t, and you’re struggling, so Tonowari decides that enough is enough. His stomach flips slightly, and he tries to ignore the urge to grab your head and fuck your throat - he wants to be gentle with you, seeing how you’re such a sweet little flower, so he is. “I’m going to finish,” he grits out, his hands harsh on your head as he grips your hair, “and I need you to swallow, okay, little one? It will be salty, but it’s safe to eat.”

You blink your tears away, nodding softly in acknowledgement, flinching as Tonowari’s balls squelch against your chin, which is wet with your spit. There’s a split second he stills - a split second where the pain in the back of your throat from his intrusion eases - but it doesn’t last. He cums, and you grimance, unused to such a salty mixture in your mouth, trying to focus on the praises which spew from Tonowari’s lips.

“You have done so well, little one,” he tells you once you’ve pulled away, cooing at your teary eyes. “You have done perfect. All of the pain is gone. You’re a perfect little medic.”

You beam up at him, and he watches as your wet little lashes bat as he speaks to you. You cling onto every word, oblivious of just how pretty Tonowari finds you, happy to help the Metikyan leader at any chance. “It doesn’t hurt?”

“No. The pain is all gone.” Tonowari says, beckoning you to stand up with his open palm. You take his hand your heart straining in your chest as his fingers curl around your own. “Thank you for your help, little one. It is greatly appreciated.”

Defeat pulses through you as Tonowari begins to guide you back to the communal campfire, but his hand doesn’t slip from yours. There’s kindness behind the gesture, but also possession, too, and you try to ignore the way your heart sinks when you notice your father gazing at you from your hut.

“My family will be waiting for me,” you say, meekly, your hand slipping from Tonowari’s grasp defeatedly. Your fingers splay over his chest gently, kindly, and you murmur, “the flower becomes toxic when presented with water for too long. I presume that was your mistake. But if you find yourself in a similar position again, needing support, then I am always free to help you.”

Tonowari grins, his eyes flickering over towards your father, whose hands are now resting on his hips. “Go to your hut, little one. Your father is waiting - you are late for curfew.”

There’s something teasing in his tone, an edge of playfulness, and your cheeks flush as you stalk away from him, trying to ignore how your heart flips when you think back to minutes before, where you were kneeled in front of Tonowari whilst he pumped his seed into your mouth.

You shamefully wonder in excitement if he will ever do such thing again.

[theoceansluvr]

Multi-Character x Nerd! Reader

warning; none except my endless yapping !! author's notes; *comically loud gulp* it's finals season so i decided to drop this before grinding my grades and whatnot😿 gave all the characters different random interests of mine sooo yay !

PERCY JACKSON- Flowers

i like to think percy is pretty neutral about flowers; not his favorite, but doesn't hate them

but when you stepped into the picture ? ALLLLL of that changed !

probably has a flower language book sitting on his bedside table just because of you to be totally fair

because of you, he buys really specific colors (or asks the Demeter cabin to grow him some) of flowers for you because of their meanings

for example, he ABSOLUTELY got you yellow tulips when he asked you out :3c

as much as he's a blue guy, he knows what they stand for (hopeless love) and thought it'd be sweet

sometimes you name a flower he knows NOTHING about like what on earth is an azalea ??

listens to you carefully regardless since he finds it cute how often you ramble about why orchids are associated with royalty

received flowers for the first time from you and he's kept them ever since, claims it's because he keeps forgetting to get rid of them but he's just a sap like that

very supportive of your interests and WILL stay up for hours to hear you talk !

ANNABETH CHASE- Astronomy

at first she thought you were talking about astrology and wasn't all that interested, but then she saw the massive amount of books you had on the stars and understood

dare i say she takes you on stargazing dates where you just point out all the constellations and all the stars we'll never see

has watched about 8 space documentaries in one week, and still isn't tired of it

also ! when ever she's drafting up home designs, she ALWAYS puts a room with a glass ceiling or balcony so you can put your telescope there

she swears it's just for the visuals but she not very good at hiding it(i love you sappy annabeth chase <9)

bought you one of those little star projectors when you guys moved into New Rome !

you guys also made paper lanterns of all the planets + pluto and hung them up on the ceiling since you rarely get to go out much one you go to college

speaking of pluto.. you guys didn't speak for three days over an argument over the basis of it being a planet or not. annabeth refuses to say it is because scientifically it's not, but you say it is because "emotionally it's a planet to me !" (real conversation i've had btw)

takes you to the planetarium whenever you guys have the spare time mainly just to see to get all animated over all the facts you've probably already told her

she absolutely adores you no matter how many times she's heard about all the dwarf planets..

CONNOR STOLL- Comics

deep in my heart he's a flash or spiderman nerd, so it's perfect !

safe to say, if you like anyone else, you guys might dispute who the best superhero is every other day- lovingly of course !

dates probably consist of walking around comic books shops and talking about your favs or reading them in your cabin

swapping off comics whenever you finish one so you can talk about them

has absolutely stolen merch for you on numerous occasions because he can he let the love of his life go without that batman mug ?

definitely makes up insane theories about what happens whenever his favorite character dies..

"no, no, no, he's gonna come back in the next one, trust me !" "con.. he literally blew up." "SO DID JASON TODD BUT HERE WE ARE"

dare i say y'all have matching spider man and gwen or batman and catwoman keychains ?

you probably got him really into young justice on accident because you mentioned him reminding you of wally west(PLS TELL ME SOMEONE SEES THE VISION-)

honestly, you guys are just nerd for nerd but he won't admit to it as easily

LEO VALDEZ- Sharks

scratch what i said about connor being nerd for nerd, you and leo are THE nerd for nerd couple !!

made you a wind up shark toy as a gift because he was bored, and it was basically a marriage proposal to you

has definitely fallen asleep to you talking about sharks before ! not out of boredom, just because he likes your voice

moving on ! y'all know those cardboard sharks people were making ? well, he made you a metal version of your favorite shark !

takes you to aquariums whenever he can, which is rare, but he thrives off of hearing you get excited.. like a kid in a candy store

he also has a crazy supply of gummy sharks in the bunker now for whenever you come over

he has also made you shark shaped string lights because why would he ever let you buy anything ?!

let's you cover his well, everything with shark stickers ! workbench ? sure ! festus ? might protests, but if festus like it, alright !

you told him he'd be a hammerhead shark, and he now has a keychain of one on his belt loop at all times

he rambles to you about mechanics, so in turn you talk about sharks; it's a win-win situation :3c

YAYYYYY PSOTING AGAIN AND IT'S ABOUT MY INTERESTS !!!! this was actually in the drafts for a minute and WAS supposed to drop saturday but i got impatient- love y'all and uhh see you after finals !

[cuppajj]

Neo Beast Head cannons?

WOOWOO

✨Saint Vanilla Cookie

He’s the only one who goes wherever he wants. The other beasts are pretty stationary for the time being, but Saint’s on a mission and he will show up literally anywhere

Still loves animals and thinks they’re incapable of sinning, so they don’t get the purifying touch. It’s why raisin’s crows are still alive

Speaking of raisin, he does miss her but he thinks she’s in a better place. Calls her his martyr and talks about her like she’s still alive

He has tea every morning

It’s unknown where he sleeps when he’s traveling the world

He keeps Crepe’s headset extra clean for the day they meet each other again

❤️‍🔥Dragonberry Cookie

She is still the same old Hollyberry who loves drinking berry juice like there’s no tomorrow. She even brings pints to Neo beast meetings

Even though her pride has given her a massive superiority complex, she still views her family and even Pitaya rather fondly, though it doesn’t prevent the latter from being spared any sort of pain. She sees everything as playful until it’s not

Does frankly miss Tarte Tatin and Royal Margarine even though one or both of them has Snapdragon, who she’s trying to get her hands on

Snores

❄️Frigid Cacao Cookie

Rarely speaks but when he does it’s usually to give orders, and half of that time he asks for food

His incense always remains lit

Alongside the cookies left, sometimes the licorice sea monsters that now roam his halls act as his servants. He can also use the licorice ooze to do wacky things like teleport from one place to another

Sometimes he appears in the fog of the snow like an apparition, something you can barely see but know he’s there. It’s one of the rare sightings of him outside

Another thing he does when outside is stare at a frozen Cacaoian. Sometimes he touches the icy surface, maybe kneels. Who knows what he’s thinking?

☀️Celestial Cheese Cookie

A lot of her mannerisms are akin to white diamond from steven universe, she was actually one of the main references I used for her design

She can summon as many golden arms as she wants and they operate on hydra properties. Cutting one will grow two

Despite this, she doesn’t have the legit Midas touch where everything she touches turns to gold, she can be selective. Which is good when she wants to pet jackals

Her growing kingdom is full of converted desert inhabitants and travelers, maybe a handful of townships, and it’s remarkable how she’s been able to grow a lot from nothing. She does get a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing herself to the likes of Dragonberry, but it motivates her to conquer more

🥀Midnight Lily Cookie

She picked up playing the harp after she became queen, and she plays often. The silver fae like to gather around to listen to their queen perform, and her harp can be heard across the kingdom

She’s grown more accustomed to speaking like the silver fae as well at times, her voice songlike despite how neutral it sounds. She’ll sing as she plays the harp as well

Despite being a beast, she’s the least accepting of that name for lack of a better word. She doesn’t see herself as being corrupt, only staying true to her decisions and her sovereignty, what she believes is right for herself and everyone. It just so happens that it enables the bad to do worse, but it’s not her problem anyway.

Her kingdom is still strict to outsiders, probably on the same level as cacao. You might need an invitation inside or risk the silver fae being free to do whatever they wish with you

As I mentioned previously they operate similar to the fae (unseelie in aesthetic) so you don’t want to bother chaotic neutral creatures

The only one allowed without invitation is Saint Vanilla, who has a habit of showing up in her garden to lay among the flowers. Lily can only imagine what he thinks of when he sees her

[the-s1lly-corner]

Making flower crowns for various crps (1/?)

I'm making these like. No bake granola balls and omg I tried some before I put it up and it's so good I'm so excited to try them when they're ready

Characters: slenderman, splendorman, ticci toby, masky, hoodie

Notes: reader is gn, this may be split into 3 parts for the characters , we will see, writing this while in a massive motivation slump chat i am struggling

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

he already knows what youre doing long before you approach him with the crown... he does feign some level of surprise just for you albeit in the form of lightly raising his brows- he... doesnt emote that often...

he wears it for a while just for you, though he does eventually hang it somewhere so it can dry out and be preserved. he WILL raise hell if someone comes into his woods and steals it like they do his pages. it was a gift you made for him, hes not going to let some wandering hiker steal it from him

just say the word and he will bring you flowers to make more crowns, or better yet take you to where a lot of flowers tend to grow in the woods!

leaves flowers in your room or at your home for you whenever he gets the chance to gather some

SPLENDORMAN

oooooooo did you make that for him? give him a second to make one for you so the two of you can match! no really he only needs a minute or two, hes for the speed and efficiency to make one much much faster than you ever could- whether from experience or excitement or simply being built different... you werent sure!

will loop it around his hat so it rests on the brim.. will point out the specific flowers you wove into it and asks if the choices were intentional... even if they werent hes going to compliment your choices and if youre interested ramble about the meanings of the flowers you did choose

he loves daisies and sunflowers! they look so... "happy" as he puts it!

will dry the crown out so he can keep it long term

MASKY

why would you make him this? not to make him sound ungrateful, he moreso means it in a confused sense because... what use is there to wear this? it is nice, though....

dont even try to snatch it back off of his head hes going to either evade you or grip it to his head in his hands- possibly the most... expressive... youve seen him be in response to non-dangerous things

keeps it stashed away somewhere when he needs to take it off to go into the woods and do his work

he... finds himself making one for you... the process is actually quite calming for him... half of the flowers he picks are actually weeds- not that he cares about the difference. a flower is a flower regardless of where it grows

HOODIE

he likes it! you... think... the mask makes it hard to tell and he just... let you put it on top of his head- you get the feeling that he already knew you were making the crown

keeps it in a safe space, but somewhere visible so you know that he didnt through it out or trash it or whatever- he knows you put time and effort into this and hes going to let you know that hes not going to disregard it... will dry it out like his boss

one night he comes home with all sorts of plants- flowers, weeds, grass, everything he could get his hands on- in his arms and dumps them in front of you- and he starts signing...

...he wants you to show him how to make a crown too!

TICCI TOBY

initially acts like its not that big of a deal or that its really something hes interested in it... but hes shutting you down when you offer to take it back

wears it even when he goes out in the woods, will throw hands if someone snatches it off of his head or damages it in some way. he does NOT care if theyre just flowers!

attempts to dry the crown out, likely fails somewhere down the line and he feels so distraught- he knows that it was going to happen eventually but god does it do nothing to take away the disappointment.. his ass does not know how to effectively preserve plants

you both sit together making crowns

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (02)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 02 - Flower Has Bloomed

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 03

PREV : Chapter 01

You woke up to the sound of classical music. The soft, elegant notes felt strange against the confusion settling over you. Opening your eyes, you saw a plain, white ceiling. It wasn’t yours. That much was clear. Sitting up, your breath quickened as you took in the unfamiliar surroundings. This wasn’t your room.

You scanned the massive hall around you. The ceiling stretched impossibly high, giving the space an unsettling sense of emptiness. Rows of beds, stacked like bunk beds, lined the walls. Your bed was near the top, perched high above the others. In the center of the room, a large, open area stretched out, its cold, hard floor barren except for a pair of heavy metal double doors at one end. On either side of the doors, smaller entrances sat, unmarked. Above the double doors hung a massive screen, currently blank.

Around you, people began to stir. Disoriented faces appeared as others sat up, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Low murmurs of confusion spread through the hall. Everyone was wearing the same green tracksuit with white stripes. You glanced down and saw you were dressed the same way. The number ‘423’ was printed on your chest in bold white.

Panic prickled at your skin. The last thing you remembered was wearing your trench coat, the fabric still vivid in your memory. Your hands moved instinctively, patting yourself down. Nothing felt wrong, nothing out of place. Relief mingled with unease as you were left with more questions than answers.

The memories came flooding back. The white car. The masked driver in a pink suit. The smoke. And now… this.

The classical music continued, calm but eerie, a sharp contrast to the growing noise in the room. People climbed down from their beds, moving hesitantly toward the open space in the center. You stayed put, preferring the vantage point from above. Questions buzzed in your head. Were these people here for the same reason as you? To play games for money? What exactly had you gotten yourself into?

You pulled your knees to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, trying to piece everything together. The voices below grew louder, a chorus of confusion and fear. You were content to stay quiet, observing from your perch.

Then, a loud beeping sound cut through the air. The metal doors creaked open, and nine figures stepped into the room. They were dressed in hot pink uniforms and identical masks. Eight of them had circular symbols on their faces, while the one in the center bore a square. Their synchronized movements and the sharp contrast of their uniforms against the muted tones of the room weirded you out.

Those who had been gathering in the middle of the hall shifted their attention towards them. You and a few others remained near the beds, observing from outside the crowd. That’s when the middle one spoke up in an altered voice, “I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

“Excuse me,” a voice sounded among the participants. All eyes turned to the speaker, including yours. It was a transgender woman with flawless hair and makeup that you found yourself envious of. She added, “You said I’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. So how can I believe that?”

You nodded your head in agreement.

“I apologize,” the square-masked staff responded. “Please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.”

“What’s with the mask then?” another female participant spoke up. “Is your face also a secret?”

“Yeah! Why are you hiding your face?” a male player asked warily. “Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?”

“Even the dealers don’t cover their faces in those places!”

True, true. You thought. Looks like I’m not the only one who finds this shady.

Multitude of players nodded in agreement. The staff then replied, “To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the faces and identities of staff. Please understand.”

Your attention drifted as one pretty lady with a high ponytail asked the staff about changing the players’ clothes while they were unconscious. Another guy - who stood out too much with his purple hair - then complained about the game’s shoes and wanted his limited edition pair back.

“These don’t fit and the color sucks. Can I just have what you’re wearing instead?” the high ponytail girl said, raising a mini love with her fingers. “I like pink.”

The staff responded, “I’m sorry, but that is not possible. You must be in your uniforms for the games.”

Then another man stepped forward to inquire about their phone, claiming he needed it for checking the crypto market. You raised an eyebrow, wondering if he was one of those scammers constantly promoting investments and trades. When he kept demanding to get his phone back, the staff began:

“Player 333, Lee Myung-gi,” he paused to turn on the large monitor screen above the main double doors. Everyone in the room immediately turned their attention to the screen, where they saw footage of a man being slapped during a Ddakji game. It appeared that there was a hidden camera inside Mr. Suit’s suit all along.

Your eyes widened in alarm. Wait, does that mean you were being recorded while playing Ddakji with that guy?!

The staff continued, “Age 30, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmation, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. You’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won.”

Lee Myung-gi's face flushed in embarrassment as he hung his head in shame. His eyes darted around the room, avoiding the stares of the other participants. He looked like he wanted to disappear and not be recognized at all.

On the large TV screen, footage of the players who had spoken up before was shown. Everyone was silenced right away, including you too. Even though you hadn’t spoken up at all, you still felt like you were being forced to zip your mouth. The staff’s decision to expose those who openly talked back to them only added to everyone’s hesitation and compliance; no one wanted to be publicly embarrassed like that.

The staff ended, “Player 100, Im Jeong-dae. Ten billion won in debt.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. The quiet murmurs and shuffling feet of the players turned into a cacophony of gasps and whispers. All eyes were darting around the room, searching for the player with the staggering debt of ten billion won.

“What are you looking at?!” the exposed old man yelled in fury. He was player 100. “Do you think it’s easy to get a ten-billion won loan? They don’t lend that kind of money to just anyone! Only to those who are capable of paying it back!”

The old man's passionate words seemed to sway the crowd, their initial shock giving way to a sense of admiration and acceptance. It was as if they had all been fooled, and now they were starting to believe him. You, on the other hand, stared at him deadpanned.

The staff continued, “All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliff-edge. When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will. You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?”

You frowned, disliking the way they called you trash for being in debt and running from loan sharks. But he spoke with a confidence that made it hard not to believe him. He had gathered everyone with overwhelming debts into one room, presented them with a game, promised an enormous cash prize, and they had all eagerly agreed. It was almost unbelievable that you had fallen for it too. But like the others, you couldn’t resist the promise of “easy money earned just by playing games.” Like the others, you were drowning in debt.

The staff member pressed a button on a remote, and a section of the ceiling slid open. From it descended a floating, empty piggy bank that cast a bright yellow glow over the crowd. Your eyes widened in surprise. Around you, the other players’ faces lit up with curiosity and excitement as they stared at the enormous object hovering above them.

“How much is the prize money?” one player asked.

“The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total.”

You gasped lowly. The room also erupted in a symphony of gasps and excited chatter. The players' voices blended together into a cacophony of joy and disbelief.

That’s huge! You thought. At that moment, you were motivated to win this and get back home. Winning that could get you a fresh start for your family. You could start your own business too.

“And one of us will get it?” the same player asked again.

“We will give you the details about the distribution of the prize money after the first game. For these games, you will be given a special new advantage. After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the games or not. If the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that.

“Are you saying we’ll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?” one player asked as he came down the stairs between the beds.

The staff took a while to answer. “That is correct.”

Out of nowhere, a mother spotted her grown son and raced towards him through the crowd. You felt a sense of amusement wash over you as you watched their reunion unfold. What are the odds of having a mother and a son taking the same program together without each other knowing?

“Mom, why did you come here?” the son asked, pointing a finger at her as if he, too, was not the only one at fault. “Do you realize where you are? This is no place for an old lady!”

“Why did I come here?” the frail mother angrily hit his arm. “To pay off your debt, of course! Do you even have to ask?!”

The son then turned to the guards and shouted in anger, “Why would you bring a naive old woman here?! Will you take responsibility if my mom collapses?!”

“Yong-sik, I’ll stay and do this,” his mother tried to reason with him. “You go home.”

“Stop it! I’m already here. I can���t just leave,” said the son.

You started to block out their words as you absentmindedly observed them. If they accumulate enough money and quit the program together, they could clear up his debt in no time. They were two people in one team.

The staff suddenly spoke up, “If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form. Those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now. We always give you a chance to leave the games.”

You climbed down from your bed, careful not to make too much noise. Your feet hit the cold floor, sending a small shiver up your legs. Around you, others were doing the same, some still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, others moving anxiously. You joined one of the many lines forming in the open area, falling into step behind a man who muttered under his breath. The line crept forward slowly, each step bringing you closer to the front.

As you waited, fragments of conversation floated to your ears. People talked about their debts, each story heavier than the last. One man whispered about losing his home, another woman admitted to being chased by creditors for months. There was excitement too as they talked about winning the game and erasing their problems.

A few spots ahead, you noticed the mother and son duo locked in an argument. The mother insisted that her son go home and let her handle things, while the son adamantly refused, urging her to leave instead. Their bickering didn’t stop, escalating with every step they took closer to the front of the line. By the time they reached the desk, their argument had turned physical. The son repeatedly pulled his mother’s hands away from the pen and the form, while she stubbornly tried to fill it out. In the end, despite their protests, both of them signed their forms, their frustration etched on their faces.

When it was your turn, you stepped forward. A piece of paper was handed to you. At the top of the page, in bold letters, were the words “Player Consent Form.” Your eyes scanned the text.

A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit the games.

A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again.

If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.

You nodded in approval. The rules did not hint that you would get injured during the program so you saw it as a green flag.

You took the pen and signed it. You handed the paper back to the staff before you stepped out of the line.

You were heading back to your bed when a sudden commotion stopped you in your tracks. Gasps rippled through the line of participants still waiting, their attention fixed on the right side of the hall. Curious, you stood on your tiptoes to get a better look.

There they were: the purple-haired guy (player 230) and the MG Coin guy (player 333). Player 230 had his hand wrapped tightly around player 333’s neck, his expression dark and threatening. The hall fell silent, making their heated exchange impossible to miss.

“You said we’d be fucking idiots if we didn’t buy it!” player 230’s voice rose in fury, his face inches from player 333’s.

Player 333 didn’t back down. “You are responsible for the final decision on your investment. Didn’t you hear me say that at the end? You said you watched every day.”

The tension escalated as Player 230 grabbed player 333’s collar, his other hand pulling back into a tight fist. But before things could spiral further, player 230’s subordinate, player 124, stepped in quickly.

“Calm down,” player 124 said firmly, placing a hand on player 230’s shoulder. The purple-haired man let go of the collar sharply, his frustration still palpable. “People are watching. You don’t want to be on the news.”

Player 230’s fists still clenched as he stood straight and faced player 333 head-on. He warned, “You’d better do well because I’m coming to get my money back.”

He turned and walked away, heading toward his bed. His subordinate, player 124, followed close behind. The participants around you exchanged uneasy glances before slowly resuming their conversations, the tension in the room easing back to normal.

Once everyone had signed their forms, the staff led all of you out of the hall. You were brought into another area, and the sudden change left you feeling disoriented. The new space was a massive, colorful hall filled with twisting staircases and walls adorned with squares, triangles, and circles. It felt more like a whimsical children’s playground than anything else. You couldn’t help but wonder what the point of it all was.

The group was directed to line up again, this time to take ID photos. As you waited in line, you noticed the purple-haired player, 230, attracting a small crowd. From the snippets of conversation you overheard, it turned out he was a rapper known as Thanos. The recognition seemed to earn him some fans among the participants.

When it was his turn for the ID photo, a group of players eagerly joined him, treating it like a group shot rather than an individual one. Thanos didn’t seem to mind, too.

Then, he glanced your way. You quickly looked down, pretending not to notice. But his voice cut through the chatter. “Hey, pretty lady.”

Curious and nervous, you peeked in his direction. He was gesturing at you, motioning for you to join them. “Come, let’s take a picture together.”

Your gaze darted back to the participant ahead of you, who had just finished taking their photo. You replied quietly, “Sorry, no thanks.”

As soon as the participant left the booth, you stepped forward quickly, relieved to have dodged more interaction with the rapper. Standing in front of the screen, you used it as a makeshift mirror to adjust your hair. From behind, you heard Thanos call out to another girl, inviting her to join the photo instead. His attention had shifted, and you were glad to blend back into the background.

When the screen prompted you to smile, you did as it asked. The camera clicked, capturing your image. The preview popped up, showing your photo. This time, you smiled naturally, finding yourself looking better than you expected.

As you stepped away, you heard a square-masked staff member in a pink uniform firmly tell Thanos that group photos weren’t allowed. You didn’t stick around to see his reaction, instead following the flow of participants up the winding staircases. The labyrinth of colorful stairs twisted and turned, making it feel like you were ascending forever.

Finally, you reached the designated area. It was an open-roofed rectangular room with wallpapers resembling a blue sky and houses in a sandy terrain.

“Welcome to the first game,” announced a robotic female voice as everyone filed onto the field. “All players, please wait a moment on the field. Let me repeat. All players, please wait a moment on the field.”

You stepped onto the field, glancing up at the clear blue sky. Birds flew lazily overhead before vanishing into the distance. For a brief moment, you marveled at the sheer scale of the place. How could something this massive and elaborate even exist? The thought nagged at you. If you had known about this sooner, you could have joined earlier and saved your family from the loan sharks.

The loud clang of metal doors shutting behind you snapped you back to the present. The robotic voice returned. “The first game is Red Light, Green Light.”

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face. This was familiar. Simple. You could do this. Around you, others seemed to share your thoughts.

“Red Light, Green Light?” someone near you whispered. You saw shoulders relax and tension ease as the realization set in. It was just a children’s game.

“Cross the finish line in five minutes without getting caught,” the robotic voice continued. “If you do, you pass.”

Suddenly, a male player rushed to the front and shouted in panic. “Everyone!”

Startled, you turned toward the source. It was player 456. His pale face and wide eyes stood out against the calm spreading across the group. “Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!”

The murmurs and whispers stopped as heads turned to him. His urgency silenced the field.

“Listen carefully!” he shouted. “This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!”

You stood there, stunned, as the weight of player 456’s words settled over the group. Around you, confused chatter broke out, growing louder as disbelief spread through the players.

“What are you talking about?!” an old woman scoffed loudly. “We’re going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?!”

Player 456’s face remained pale and tense. “Yes, that’s right! If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! That doll’s eyes are motion detectors!”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if this was some sort of elaborate joke. But his expression was dead serious. There was no hint of humor, just pure fear. The kind of fear that couldn’t be faked.

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I think he’s trying to scare us so he can win the prize money.”

“Don’t pull any tricks, asshole!”

Despite the growing skepticism, player 456 stood his ground. “You have to believe me!”

A sudden mechanical whirring cut through the arguments, silencing the crowd. You turned toward the sound and saw the massive doll at the far end of the field slowly spinning around, its back now facing the group. Two circle-masked staff members stood beside it, motionless and unnerving.

“Do not be alarmed or panic!” player 456 warned, turning back to the crowd. “No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!”

This time, the players stayed quiet. Maybe it was uncertainty, or maybe his tone had finally struck a chord. Either way, the field grew eerily still.

The robotic female voice returned, “Let the game begin.”

Your heart raced as unease crept in. Was he telling the truth? Should you believe him? Doubts and fear swirled in your mind. The seriousness on his face wasn’t something you could ignore. But the uncertainty of it all weighed heavily. You had no way to know if this was just a scare tactic or something far more sinister. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to focus.

The five-minute timer began, and a second robotic voice, likely the doll’s, began to chant, “The Mugungha Flower…”

You stepped forward cautiously, each movement slow and deliberate. Your footsteps were so light they barely made a sound. Around you, others advanced forward warily.

“…has bloomed.”

Player 456 dropped his arms in the air sharply, signaling everyone to stop. All of you froze, and your breath caught in your throat. Your muscles stiffened, and you didn’t even blink.

“Freeze!” screamed player 456, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Silence filled the air. You froze in place, barely daring to breathe. Your wide eyes stayed locked ahead as your heartbeat thundered in your chest. That’s when you noticed movement at the front.

It was the doll. With her back to the group, her head spun around at the neck. Even from this distance, you could make out her unnerving pupils scanning the field, darting around in unnatural patterns.

“Well done!” player 456’s voice broke through the tension. “You just need to stay calm like this! We just have to move and stop at the right time!”

The doll’s head suddenly spun to face forward.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

Players began to move, jogging forward in hurried but controlled steps. Everyone tried to cover as much ground as they could before the next command.

“…has bloomed.”

The group froze instantly. The field went still, every player locked in place like statues.

“Freeze! Don’t move and stay still! Just relax!”

After scanning the field, the doll spun its head forward and began, “The Mugungha Flower…”

Everyone surged forward, moving as quickly as they could.

“…has bloomed.”

You froze, along with the rest of the players.

“Freeze!” player 456 shouted.

“The Mugungha Flower…”

The sound of shuffling feet across the sandy terrain filled the air as the group advanced again.

“…has bloomed.”

Once more, everyone came to a halt. You watched, holding your breath, as the doll’s head turned, scanning the crowd. The pattern repeated several times, and with each cycle, your confidence grew. This wasn’t so bad. You felt certain you could make it to the end, just like everyone else.

“The Mugungha Flower has bloomed.”

The players froze again.

“Freeze! Nobody move!” player 456 called out urgently.

A sudden, piercing scream broke the tense silence, coming from the right side of the crowd. You instinctively tried to glance in that direction, but your peripheral vision revealed nothing. The source of the noise remained hidden.

Then came a loud, sharp sound that echoed across the field – a noise you instantly recognized. It was the same sound your pistol had made when fired. The realization hit you hard, but you stayed frozen, uncertain of what had just happened.

“Nobody move!” player 456 screamed again. “You must not move!”

“Player 196, eliminated,” the robotic voice announced.

A piercing scream tore through the tense silence, snapping your focus. It was a woman’s voice, high and terrified, cut short by the sharp crack of a gunshot. The scream stopped abruptly, leaving an eerie void.

Gasps and panicked murmurs rippled through the crowd, but they were quickly drowned out by the sound of more gunshots. Each one sent a jolt through your body. Your eyes widened in terror, and your chest tightened as fear gripped you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, and you felt your hands trembling uncontrollably. You cursed yourself internally, trying desperately to regain control. Stay still. Don’t move. Or else…

The gunshots continued, relentless, punctuated by more screams that were quickly silenced. The chaos made this round of the game feel like an eternity. Time dragged on, every second stretched thin by the oppressive weight of the violence around you.

“Stay still!” player 456 shouted. “If you run, you die! You will all die if you move!”

Despite his warnings, you caught glimpses from the corner of your eye. Some players couldn’t take it anymore. They broke into a panicked run, bolting toward the back of the field in a desperate bid for safety. The sound of gunfire chased after them. Each crack was accompanied by a heavy thud, the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the ground.

Your legs trembled, the urge to move battling against your survival instincts. You couldn’t see what was happening, but you didn’t need to. The sound was enough. You knew those heavy thuds were the players who had been shot, collapsing to the ground.

“Don’t move, please!” player 456 screamed, his voice raw and desperate. “Freeze!”

Silence fell over the field, abrupt and unnerving. For a brief moment, you thought it was finally over. But then, another gunshot rang out, sharp and sudden. You flinched, your whole body jolting as if the sound had struck you. From the far back, the unmistakable noise of a body hitting the ground followed.

“Let me repeat,” the female robotic voice announced. “You can move forward while the tagger shouts, ‘The Mugungha Flower has bloomed.’ If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Your arms trembled uncontrollably as you squeezed your eyes shut. Fear coursed through you, a cold, unrelenting wave. The thought of the doll catching even the smallest movement from you filled your chest with dread. You tried to will the trembling to stop, but your body refused to listen.

NEXT : Chapter 03

PREV: Chapter 01

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[talesofesther]

𝔈𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔉𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢

↳ 𝐂𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Aemond Targaryen x Reader/fem!OC

Series Summary: You made a promise to Aemond once, when you were young and naive, and the only friend he'd ever known; yet you abandoned him before you could fulfill it. Between broken bonds, a betrothal, and flames that still burn deep within you; this is the story of how you fell apart and found each other again.

A/N: Some big revelations coming on this one, buckle up. Daemon and Alicent are good parents in my book, okay? Okay. ;)

Word count: 4,6k

Masterlist | Previous chapter

The perfume of wildflowers overwhelmed your senses, they bloomed in several colors around you; white, pink, blue, yellow—a field of untouched beauty, tucked away on the outskirts of the forests that surrounded King's Landing.

You sat in the middle of the field, soaking up the late afternoon sunlight as you gently plucked a few of the flowers to form a unique bouquet. It was only your third day in the capital and you already felt the need to sneak away and breathe some fresh air.

A loud huff of air came from beside you then, and a chuckle escaped you when you looked at your dragon. She lay peacefully just a few feet away from you, her ash blue scales being caressed by flower petals as the wind made them flow; one, in particular, tickling her nose and making her huff without opening her eyes. Her massive frame dwarfed the trees of the forest behind you and her tail disrupted the few bugs hidden between the grass as it swished from time to time.

The small smile you had slowly vanished, however, once your mind drifted back to thoughts of Aemond, for the umpteenth time today. Your talk with him from last night replayed in your mind over and over, while you were trying to sleep and first thing in the morning. It had felt wrong and unfair, and it left a cold feeling inside your chest. And yet a feeling that you thought—hoped—you saw mirrored in Aemond's own expression last night.

It was a fragile thing, but maybe, just maybe, what you once had could still be repaired.

Even from this far away, the Red Keep could still be easily spotted in the distance. You watched as a flock of birds flew by, as nothing but dark silhouettes against the golden sunlight.

You eventually pushed yourself up from the grass, brushing away any remaining dirt from your clothes. You walked up to your dragon, laying a hand on the warm scales of her muzzle.

Her fiery blue eyes lazily blinked open at your touch, and she leaned the slightest bit into your hand. "Istiti kostilus bartos arlī, riña." ('We should probably head back, girl.')

A low and deep groan came from the back of her throat, her large mouth prying open just enough to reveal a glimpse of her sharp teeth in complaint. Yet she slowly raised her head from the ground, the motion of her tall and heavy frame sending hidden fireflies flying away from between the flowers.

"Nyke gīmigon, ziry iksos lyks kesīr, yn se jēda kessa aderī mazverdagon zōbrie. Kosti māzigon arlī hemtubis," you promised with a smile as you looked up at her, walking beside so you could mount up. ('I know, it's peaceful here, but the hour will soon grow late. We can return tomorrow.')

She lay her chest and left wing down to allow you to mount easily, only raising to full height once you were settled in the saddle. Her steps on the ground were almost booming in the quiet field, with a small roar coming from her as she awaited your command.

You gripped tightly onto the saddle, heart tuning in with the powerful beat of the one belonging to the dragon carrying you. With a grin, you spoke; "Sōvēs, Khamira."

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

Aemond's sword cut through the air, on unsteady feet he narrowly avoided Ser Criston's attack. His boots skid over the gravel of the training yard, panting heavily as he rolled his shoulders to keep up appearances and not attract a crowd of onlookers.

Sweat ran down Aemond's temple, getting caught on the leather of his eyepatch. Today was not a good day for him.

Cole seemed to catch on, dropping his shield to the ground and suggesting a break in their sparring session.

Aemond huffed, walking to the side to lay down his sword while he tugged at the collar of his vest that felt like it had been cutting his intake of air by half. His muscles ached from the exertion, yet as he let go of the hilt of his sword, his mind was already elsewhere. Trapped back in a moonlight haze that outlined the features of the one who'd taken residence in his mind and heart.

"You seem distracted today, my Prince," Cole spoke, slowly walking closer to Aemond as he caught his own breath. "Is something troubling you?"

A pair of young squires sparred to his left, two ladies and a guard stood together by his right, and Aegon made his way down the stairs that led to the grounds of the training yard—Aemond was acutely aware of every single person around him, and each one, he knew, was salivating for some royal gossip. He kept his back turned to Ser Criston, fidgeting slightly with the cuff of his sleeve; "No trouble. Simply not a good day for me, it seems."

"Oh, brother."

Both Aemond and Cole turned towards Aegon's obnoxious voice as he wandered towards them, both hands stretched before him as the first Prince gestured between his brother and Ser Criston, "Could this finally be the day that this poor man has bested you in combat?" He sported a wide and amused smile on his lips.

Aemond hummed, holding onto his composure. "We aren't finished yet."

"Well, by what I've just watched, the result seems pretty obvious," Aegon chuckled, leaning back against the weapon's table, "You were nearly getting your ass kicked."

"Watch your tongue," Aemond warned dryly, fists closed tight.

"Were you daydreaming about your childhood sweetheart, then?" Aegon ignored him, teasing further in a quieter tone, his smirk provocative. "Don't think I didn't notice you two eye-fucking each other at supper last night." He laughed at his own words.

Aemond clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. "I mean it, you drunk, mind your tongue." He leaned closer, only for his brother to hear; "Lest I pick up a sword and do it for you."

Aegon raised his hands in mock surrender, fighting a smile and losing. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, eh?" The older brother picked up a small dagger from the table, twirling it between his fingers, the sharp tip slightly digging into his skin. "And here I thought you would be overjoyed with the news."

A small, barely there frown made itself known in Aemond's features. He took half a step back, "What do you mean?" Coming from Aegon, it could hardly be anything good.

"Oh you know, brother," Aegon shrugged, hesitating only for a moment as he took a glance at Cole who stood behind Aemond with the same confused expression, "Mother's agreement with Daemon, the one... involving his dear eldest daughter."

Aemond's blood pumped faster at the mention of you, his breath stumbled and he grew more impatient, "What do you speak of?"

A beat of awkward silence passed as they held each other's gazes.

"Oh seven hells, you do not know yet," Aegon deadpanned, before a small, surprised giggle escaped him.

"Aegon..." The Prince's name out of Aemond's lips came as a warning and he narrowed his one good eye.

"Oh no, no." Aegon shook his head, dropping the dagger in his hands to take slow steps back to the same path he came from. "I'm sure mother will be the one wanting to break the news for you then, beats me wanting to be on the receiving end of her ire if I do it." He reached the stairs, one foot already on the first step when he looked at Aemond with one final grin; "But I'll say, you need not worry about your darling leaving your side ever again." Aegon winked and skipped up the stairs.

The feeling of being left in the dark was all-consuming as Aemond's eye skimmed over the training yard, the sound of steel against steel becoming muffled to his ears as he tried to find a sense of direction for his running thoughts.

He left Ser Criston without another word, quick steps taking him inside the Keep in search of his mother.

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

You flew over the cloudy sky with no hurry, your dragon's wings stretched and steady while she danced in between clouds. You'd taken the scenic route, as you liked to call it, the longer path to the dragonpit so you could linger a few minutes more on dragonback.

The flap of her wings was slow, yet not less powerful for it, her size creating shadows over the capital. Without you needing to say a word, your loyal dragon knew not to hurry today.

You kept on for a while longer, and just as you were close to reaching your destiny, you heard a familiar sharp screeching coming from behind you.

A roar came from your own dragon as she felt the presence before even seeing it. You turned your head around, looking over your shoulder. Caraxes' slithering frame suddenly emerged from between the clouds, his long and red body a stark contrast to the pale sky.

He flew beside and then overhead from you, and you could barely make out the grinning face of your father as he passed you.

"Aderī," you spoke the command and leaned forward on your saddle, holding tight. With a single movement of her wings, your dragon propelled herself forward, her lean body shooting through the skies as she caught up with Caraxes with an excited roar.

You came from under the Blood Wyrm, rising in flight just short of hitting them as a giggle went past your lips and heavy wind kissed your cheeks.

Khamira flew ahead, her ash-blue scales shining under the fading sunlight. You had yet to meet a dragon that could match her in speed. Caraxes' screeching could be heard from afar as he tried to keep up.

You were undeniably the first one to reach the dragonpit, your dragon raising dust as her large body landed on the ground. The keepers tried to approach her slowly to guide her inside the caves, but as instant as a wild lioness she was quick to greet them with a deafening roar and a show of her sharp teeth, taking a single haste step forward as a warning.

"It's alright," you called from above her, gesturing to the keepers, "I'll see her inside."

Khamira had been a temperamental wild beast ever since you claimed her; she disliked most people and had a tendency for ferocity if anyone dared to cross her boundaries, or worse yet, dared to threaten you. The dragoness bowed her head to you, and you only.

You jumped down from the saddle, feet hitting the ground as you bit back a smile. Your hand traced the warm scales along her neck as you walked, "Emi ȳdragotan nūmāzma bisa, ao jorrāelagon naejot gaomagon aōha vēdros, riña." You reached her face, caressing the shape of her muzzle while she cooed quietly at your words. ('We've spoken about this, you need to mind your temper, girl.')

Soon after, Caraxes also reached the ground, grumbling loudly as if annoyed for losing the race. "Sȳrkta biarves hembar jēda, rōva vala." You approached your father and the red dragon, watching as he climbed down from his saddle as well. ('Better luck next time, big guy.')

"Kesi iēdrosa pyghagon ao lanta." Daemon walked up to you, steps lazy as he pointed a finger at you with an amused smile. ('We will still beat you two.')

You laughed, meeting him in the middle of the otherwise empty grounds of the dragonpit. "Gaomagon ao jaelagon." ('Keep dreaming.')

A few feet away from you, Khamira and Caraxes met up as well, circling each other and exchanging low grunts, roars, and harmless bites. Two formidable beasts who had become friends over time.

You watched the two dragons with fondness for a beat, before turning your attention back to your father; who, you noticed, looked at you with a strange and unreadable gaze.

Daemon had both hands resting on the hilt of his sword, there was a small frown on his features, as if hesitating with the words he was about to say.

He sighed, glancing down. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh, we just went out for a flight." You explained easily, gesturing to your dragon, "I took her outside King's Landing for a few hours, you know how she gets if she's cooped up for too long."

Daemon chuckled, no stranger to the deep bond between you and the once-wild dragon. "Of course." Yet his small smile seemed strained, almost uncomfortable.

You frowned, shifting on your feet for a moment, "Is… something wrong, father?"

"We need to talk, about a rather urgent matter," Daemon spoke slowly, minding his words. And you don't think you've ever seen him this hesitant; this is not a conversation he's overly happy to be having.

You hesitated, his nervousness seeping into you. "Okay... what is it?"

What looked like a grimace passed over his features, as if searching for other ways to say what he needed to say. Eventually, he simply cleared his throat, "After last night's supper, Rhaenyra and I have talked." Daemon held your gaze for a beat, before quickly adding; "It was mainly her idea, so don't come for my neck." He tried jesting.

It did nothing to help the growing confusion inside your stomach, and you leaned your head to the side with a deeper frown on your brows.

"We all know our family has been drifting apart more and more as the years go by." He further explained, taking half a step closer to you so as to better hold your gaze, "And with the King solidifying Rhaenyra's claim to the throne, the greens won't be happy to… be left out. So we've decided, that it would be in everyone's best interest," His words seemed to get caught in his tongue, "To unite our families again, once and for all."

You kept quiet, yet distantly you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your fingers tingled and you grasped at your overcoat with a bruising grip. "And what… does this have to do with me?"

Daemon chose to ignore the question. "Rhaenyra has already spoken to Alicent and my brother, the King; and after some reasoning, both have, surprisingly, dare I say eagerly, agreed to it… as well."

You blinked once, twice, shaking your head; "Father, what in the seven hells are you on about?"

He breathed in deeply, holding the silence as he regarded you with something akin to sympathy. "We've decided to unite this family again, by offering a betrothal."

Your blood ran cold. You held onto the air in your lungs until he spoke again.

"Between you, and Alicent's second son, Aemond."

It felt as if your heart ceased its beating entirely. His words left you disarmed, and you were suddenly drowning in the waters of the Narrow Sea; sinking deeper, deeper, deeper into cold and dark waters that suffocated you from the inside out.

"What?" It fell as nothing but a breath past your lips.

Daemon could clearly see the sudden panic in your wide eyes, he reached both hands up, taking hold of your arms and rubbing his thumbs on the thick fabric of your overcoat. "I know it came suddenly, daughter. I… tried speaking against it, but believe me, even I know this is the right choice."

You tried finding your voice again, all choked up and tight; "I- No, I can't- Father, there must be something, anything else that can be done to repair this-" You stammered, "This rift between our families. Anything other than trading my life for it."

"I've been in your shoes before, I know how you feel, but it's not the end of the world-"

"Not the end-" You gulped back a sob, groaning in frustration, "How can you say that? It is to me. And then what? What would be expected of me? To bring gods know how many children to this world?"

Daemon huffed out a small laugh, avoiding your eyes, "No, worry not, we don't expect you to have children, you're not in direct line to the throne so there's no need for heirs. We only need a powerful alliance, a direct connection between both our families strong enough to keep our squabbles at bay, and that," He shook your shoulders, gaze intent, "You can provide."

Slowly, drop by drop, reality downed on you. The time had finally come for your betrothal, a day you had wished would never come at all. "You're asking me to be a means to an end," you whispered, "Why me?"

"I have… noticed how close you seem to be with The One-Eyed Prince," Daemon spoke with poorly concealed disdain, "We believe it would be in your best interest-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. Aemond. Of all people, his was the hand you'd be taking in marriage, being forced together for the sake of uniting your families.

How tragically ironic, for you to be promised to one another with broken bonds and stained hearts. Just as you had found each other again, just as you hoped to make up for all the lost years. Soon, the overly fragile bond you had only started to get the hang of again, will become public knowledge. It won’t be your secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

Aemond would resent you for it, surely. You knew he would, and you wouldn't blame him. Because right now, you feel something similar, angry and bitter, as it took away your choice of falling for him all over again on your own terms, in your own time. Instead, you were being forced into a closeness none of you were ready for.

Staggerly, your watery eyes rose up again, "It is in my best interest not to be married off against my own will, father." You pleaded, taking hold of Daemon's wrist from his hand on your shoulder, "Please."

"You are also closer to being Rhaenyra's child than Baela or Rhaena could ever be." Daemon continued his reasoning, "Besides, they are already betrothed, as is Alicent's firstborn. You and the second Prince will be the final piece, so to speak."

You shook your head weakly, "I love Rhaenyra but she's not my mother, not by blood, we both know it."

Daemon raised his brows, placating you. "You're not her blood but you are mine. And Rhaenyra took you as her ward, raised you as her own since she first met you. Our… differences with Queen Alicent lay heavier on her shoulders, as you know."

His words left you lost and uneasy. You bit into the inside of your cheek until nearly tasting blood, avoiding your father's stare. He made a good point, deep down you knew he did. Tensions were high between your family, and a strong union was necessary for a chance of peace. And heavens know Aemond is most dear to you, oh he is; but no girl wants her freedom taken away like this. "Please father, don't. Don't take away my choice on this." You tried one last time.

There was a beat of silence, and then Daemon's hands came to your cheeks, thumbs smoothing the skin of your cheekbones; just a little rough yet holding nothing but affection. "My first daughter, my zaldrītsos." He spoke low and soft, a voice he most used to you during the nights you were young and afraid of storms. "Ever since I took you from the hands of your drunk of a mother, what do I tell you? Do you remember?"

A sob climbed to your throat and you failed to bite it back. There were tears in your eyes one blink away from spilling. "That as long as you lived... I'd- I'd be alright."

A small, proud smile came to your father's features. He nodded once. "That's right. I would never do wrong by you, I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't our only playing card. Marriages are political agreements. It's a contract for a chance of peace between our families. Once it is done you can pursue happiness wherever you'd like."

And yet you didn't know how to tell him, that this political agreement might destroy your last hope of rebuilding what you once had with your now betrothed. You knew what would be expected of you and Aemond now, at every court and royal gathering you'd have to be side by side, it would be your duty to hold the appearances of a united Prince and Princess of the realm.

How will you do it? How will you hold his hand knowing it was neither yours nor his choice to do it?

How will you pretend to be in love, knowing nothing will be real, when deep down in your heart you wished it was?

"I wish it could be different," Daemon spoke again when you kept quiet, gaze miles away, "But a war is brewing." He dropped his hands from you, glancing up at the darkening sky. "And this union may help us avoid it, the one between our families, at least."

You closed your eyes and emptied your lungs. All your fight left your body, and a feeling of numbness settled in. You opened your eyes. "Does- does Aemond already know about this?"

─── ⋄✧⋄ ───

There were two knocks on the doors that led to Queen Alicent's chambers, a moment later, the doors were pushed open.

"Prince Aemond, Your Grace." The guard stationed outside the doors announced. Aemond slowly walked in, and the doors were closed behind him again.

Alicent sat on the couch in the middle of her room, a cup of tea in hand as she looked out the open windows. Her attention shifted once the doors opened.

"Mother," Aemond called, halting his steps by the edge of the couch. His hair partially disheveled from the speed with which he traversed the long hallways of the Keep until reaching his mother's chambers, anxiety and apprehension spurring him on.

"Aemond," Alicent placed her cup of tea on the small table, getting up to take a few steps closer to her son, "I was just about to send for you."

Aemond gulped back, striving to keep his voice from sounding as nervous as he felt, "I've just met with Aegon in the training yard." He frowned, recalling the confusing words of his brother. "He speaks of… some news regarding me, I believe, that I do not yet know."

His words made Alicent groan, closing her eyes momentarily, "He must have overheard my conversation with Rhaenyra and her husband." She sighed, regarding Aemond with a look he couldn't decipher. "I am glad he held his tongue, I wished to tell you this myself."

Aemond took a step closer, his voice softening in the slightest. "What is it, mother? Did something happen?"

"No," Alicent spoke even softer, extending her hands and taking hold of Aemond's forearms who promptly held her the same. Her thumbs moved up and down on the fabric of his sleeves. "But, my son, your father and I have made a decision, one which I hope you can understand."

A frown then came to Aemond's features. He held onto his breath until his lungs ached, tightening the hold he had on his mother's arms; fearing the worst, even if he had no idea of what 'the worst' could be. And in the midst of it all, the headache came back. It always began with a heaviness in the back of his skull, but it would soon spread to his temples, forehead, and down the harsh scar.

Aemond blinked a few times, trying to chase the pain away even if he knew it was to no avail.

Alicent inhaled deeply, giving Aemond what looked to be a bittersweet smile. "Rhaenyra and Daemon have made an offer," she hesitated, "A betrothal between you… and Daemon's eldest daughter."

Many times in his life Aemond has felt lost, helpless, unable to move his body while his heart thundered inside his chest. Yet he wondered if any at all could compare to how he's feeling now.

The One-Eyed Prince tried to keep his face impassive, almost painfully so; but he knew his wide eye reflected his surprise, he knew his tight grip on his mother's arms reflected his desperation, he knew the wobbling of his lower lip reflected his fears.

You. He was to be betrothed. To you.

The one person he wished to have back for so many years. The one person who he has missed for so many years. The one person who he'd convinced himself that, for better or worse, did not care about him anymore. The pounding pain in his head grew stronger, following suit with his spiking emotions, and he gritted his teeth.

"My son," Alicent reached one hand up to Aemond's cheek when the helpless look in his eye tugged at her heart. "I believe it can be a good idea. Your father wishes for peace between our houses, between our families, and… perhaps we should honor his wish." She held a pause, minding her next words. "He's not doing well, your father, as you know. And Rhaenyra is to take the throne, maybe sooner than we thought."

Aemond took in her words one by one, trying to find his voice but with no luck. All he did was look at his mother. He knew, of course, that she was right. If anything he'd made tensions even higher between their family after what happened at supper last night, and part of him didn't want to bring more sorrow to his mother's life by going against this betrothal.

"With this marriage, our families would be united once again." Alicent squeezed Aemond's arms, willing him to understand, "I refused an offer such as this in the past… and I don't think I should make the same mistake now." She gulped down any pride, yet still raised her chin, "For the sake of our lives. Yours, your brother's. A union with the hope of peace during Rhaenyra's rule."

Aemond averted his eye, his hand still sore from holding his sword during the sparring session with Cole, his scarred eye socket stinging persistently. He dropped his arms to his side, flexing his fingers. "I am- I am to marry…" He hesitated on your name and closed his eye in frustration.

Alicent understood anyway, and her son's hesitation brought sympathy to her. Features softening, one of her hands rubbed Aemond's arm in an attempt to comfort him, "Yes. But I remember how the two of you used to be the best of friends, always together. I am sure your marriage will be a happy one, my son." She spoke with a note of empathy, gently; "It is a privilege, to marry someone you like."

Aemond exhaled shakily. Few and far in between as they were, the moments when he could lean into a mother's embrace were always cherished by the One-Eyed Prince. Yet there was a poorly concealed lump in his throat, a restlessness making his fingers tap his thigh.

Aemond refrained from telling his mother how he feared you didn't like him as you once used to anymore. He refrained from telling his mother how he would never wish for a woman like you to be stuck with a man like him.

With a tightness in his chest, deep down Aemond knew you deserved better. Better than he could ever be.

But alas, he opened his eye, looking down at the hopeful look on his mother's face even if his headache almost got her blending with the faded sunlight seeping through the windows.

Aemond managed a small, pained smile, and nodded.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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