#i hope im not the only one who thinks this

[liftingtheirspirits]

I’m going to be very open about this, against my better judgement. Years of experience in the military and in medicine have led me to believe that oversharing is dangerous, and allowing people into your circle is a choice that should be very carefully considered. I only share this because I’ve met so many people who have been through something similar, and when we connect, I feel a small piece of me come to rest.

I struggle with a conglomerate of symptoms that stem from a history of abuse, the worst of which, at times, is obsessive thoughts.

When I was younger I had been deeply in love.

We had met years prior in the most hallmark of circumstances. We were asked to make a valentine and give it to one person in the room - out of sheer coincidence, she made hers for me, and I made mine for her, despite having never met before.

As if that wasn’t enough, both of us put our AOL IM screen names on the back so we could talk.

Years went by, and thousands of track-phone minutes were spent talking about everything our naive minds could possibly come up with. Names for our kids. Our dream home. Drifting off into the warm daydreams of waking up together on a summer morning.

Deeply.

Truly.

Perhaps even madly in love.

But as years went by, our moral compasses aimed in opposing directions - despite partying with drugs, incessantly filling her own void with vices, she clutched my heartstrings and dragged me through the coals on her descent. It would take a decade to unravel the torment of distrust from the gaslighting. How could someone simultaneously feel like everything that I’ve ever needed, yet be, at an elemental level, poisonous for me?

No, she wouldn’t let go, it was much worse. She made me be the one to leave.

Over the course of a year… dying seemed like the only way out more than once.

I’ve never felt that way again, but what I certainly have felt, is the incessant thoughts. I have to be very careful you see, because ever so slowly this cheery, kind, unreasonably passionate person you’d come to know now, starts to spiral.

A dark, very slow spiral.

It starts, with a fond memory - I’ll think of sledding in January and warming each other’s hands. I’ll think of staying home sick from work and spending the day bundled up together.

... And within days I’m already gone.

Incessant thoughts; She loved me for who I was when I couldn’t love myself. She loved me when my own birth mother didn’t want me. I know it in my bones. Maybe she still does?

And without fail, I hear these words in my head and I snap out of it.

“And someday soon, on my death bed, as the last lit light inside of me dies, I’ll still wish you and I got to live out our days forever after. But life isn’t fair, the world is cruel, and you didn’t love me like I did. Afternoons; happily wasted on the phone, the long and wholesome talks for hours on end of our hopes and dreams of a simpler life; no one will remember these. No one will ever know.

… those memories die with me.”

[whambamsami]

smile, you're on camera! pt. 2

pt. 1

summary: basically only porn lmao

warnings: 18+, smut! like the whole thing is smut!

note: this is legit the third thing i've ever written, and my first time writing actual smut! definitely have a bit to learn haha but i had fun! not proofread at all so if there's any plot holes/errors im sorry <3

If he could hear your heartbeat before, you couldn’t imagine it now. 

You slid off your bed, fixing your nightgown, and made your way to your door. The very door that was the only barrier between you and Bucky’s apartment. Your hands were shaking, your throat tightened, your legs frozen. 

But ugly thoughts started to swirl in your brain. 

What if he was just toying with you?

Your grip on your doorknob was so tight your knuckles were turning white. 

You couldn’t do this. 

Could you? 

Regardless, you had two options; you could chop this up to his usual flirty banter, or you could finally relieve yourself of the tension that had been bubbling between you and Bucky since you could remember. Just once, to get him out of your system, you tell yourself. 

There was a third option that seemed much more appealing and within reach than the other two. 

You could pour yourself a fucking drink. 

You released the door, took a shaky breath, and pivoted toward your fridge, reaching numbly for the chilled martini glass you always kept in your freezer in case of emergencies. 

This absolutely qualified as an emergency.

Before you could even uncap your cheap vodka, there was a knock at your door. 

You didn’t need to guess who it was.

You froze, standing perfectly still. Maybe he didn’t know you were in here. 

“Sweetheart, we both know I can hear your heartbeat from all the way in my apartment. You think I don’t know you’re in there?”

Goddamn supersoldier serum. 

You don’t move. 

You hear him again, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“Please?”

Well, now it would just be improper to not hear him out. 

You put your martini glass on the counter, wipe the condensation off your hands unceremoniously, and open your door. 

Bucky absolutely dwarfed you, his looming figure almost too tall and broad to fit in the frame. He had to duck his head a bit to enter your apartment. Was he always this…big?

He took a step toward you, looking entirely too calm considering your last conversation. 

“Y’know, I may be over a hundred years old, but even I know that it’s considered rude to ignore someone’s texts.”

Another step toward you. You take one step backward. 

“Yeah, well, eavesdropping is considered rude too. What happened to privacy? Where’s your shame, Barnes?” you counter, praying he’d be so distracted with your usual banter to notice just how much you were flushing. 

Another step forward. Another one back. You can feel the cool marble of your kitchen counter through your paper-thin slip sleep dress, and you were reminded of just how little was between your too warm, too desperate body and Bucky. 

He tilts his head, giving you that easy smile that always has you weak in the knees, and weaker in between them. He leans in and places his vibranium hand next to you, bending down to give you a better look at the predatory glint in his eyes. For a second you wonder if he was smiling or baring his teeth, flashing his canines, reminding you who was really in charge.

“You’re right, sweetheart. Where are my manners? It was awful rude of me to interrupt your private time.” his mild Brooklyn accent was thicker than usual, you think to yourself, before he wipes any thought in your mind by innocently asking “is there anything I can do to make it up to you? I do happen to be a professional in the area.”

Your lips part for just a second. You hope he doesn’t catch it. 

But nothing gets past Bucky Barnes.

A self-satisfied smirk dances on his lips as he puts his flesh hand next to your hip, caging you against your kitchen counter. 

The White Wolf was closing in on his prey. 

“What’s wrong, doll?” he purrs, eyelids lowering, “you don’t play well with others?”

You could taste the mint on his breath, could smell the woodsy warmth of his cologne. 

You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. You can’t find any words. The only thought running through your mind was about how his arms felt next to you, how close he was. 

One metal, one flesh. One radiating heat, the other as cool as the long-forgotten martini glass that still stood perched behind you two on the kitchen counter.

You’d read somewhere once, that going from hot to cold too fast was bad for the human body. That it could give you a heart attack. You never knew if that was true or not, but it worked as an effective warning to ensure you didn’t spend too much time in your friends’ hot tubs on cold winter nights. 

Tonight, you wondered if it was true. If Bucky’s contrast of hot and cold touch would overwhelm your body and you would just die right there. 

There were definitely worse ways to go. 

His voice brings you back to Earth.

“Tell me to stop, “he mumbles, lips ghosting and noses bumping, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

His hands found your waist. Gentle but firm. Grounding. Tempting.

You knew he would leave, if you told him to. He sounded so earnest. So genuine. Vulnerable. 

Could he not see that you wanted this?

Your eyes found his. 

You could see it. The cracks in his restraint. Like he was forcing himself not to close the distance between you until you said the words.

He wanted you. 

Badly.

Your voice came out softer than you’d expected it to. 

“I’m not going to.” 

His restraint shattered.

His eyes darkened, his grip on you tightened, and he wrapped his vibranium arm around your waist and pulled your body against his, his other hand cupping your face, drawing you into a searing kiss.

You could practically taste his want. It was everything you had both held back, built on endless nights you’d nearly crossed these lines. He started softly, sweetly, as gentle as fresh-baked meringue. 

That didn’t last long.

He pulled away, just barely, and you could hear him murmur something like “...waited so fucking long for this…” before he was diving back in, deeper than before. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his red henley shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. It was raw. Unfiltered. Desperate. His lips were on yours like he’d dreamed of this, like he was afraid it might be the last time he’d ever kiss you, that maybe, if he did a good enough job, you might let him touch you a little longer. 

His hands were everywhere, grazing your exposed spine, his thumbs digging into your hips. 

Bucky broke the kiss for a moment, and before you could protest, he was grabbing you behind your knees and hoisting you up to sit on your kitchen counter like you weighed nothing. 

You let out a small squeak of surprise that had him grinning against your lips, capturing them again, swallowing the sound. 

One of his knees nudges between yours, opening you up to him. Your thin silk gown rides up on your thighs, exposing even more of you to his gaze, feeling so vulnerable your first instinct is to squeeze your legs shut. 

But he’s quicker. 

His vibranium hand stills your movements, cool in contrast to the heat permeating the room.

“You’re not going shy on me, baby, are you?”

His voice rumbled, leaning forward to let his lips graze your neck. You shiver at his touch, arching into him instinctually. You could feel him chuckle against you, could feel his stubble scratch you gently as he nipped at your collarbone, pulling a soft gasp you couldn’t stop if you wanted out of your lips. 

“Oh, where’s that mouth now, sweetheart? You sure had a lot to say earlier,” he croons, almost mocking you, stepping in and pressing his hips into yours, “Does something have you frustrated, doll? C’mon, use your words...”

You shoot him a glare, trying to gather enough air to speak, to fight, something-but then he shifts that same thigh upward. Pressure. Heat. Friction.

“God, Bucky...” you whisper, only half aware you’ve even said anything, so caught up in the effects he’s having on you.

And you can just feel the cockiness radiating off of him.

“Thought so,” he kisses your pulse point before grazing his lips on your earlobe, “I’ve been paid to fake reactions before, sweetheart...” His teeth graze your skin. “But that right there? That was real.”

You gasp, fingers curling against his chest.

“You’re such a-”

“Careful,” he murmurs, nudging his knee higher, eyes glittering. “You’re talking like you don’t want this. But your body’s saying something very different.”

He grinds just enough to draw a moan from your throat-a sound you did not mean to make. The second it escapes, his smile turns downright dangerous.

“Ohh,” he croons, lips ghosting over yours, “was that a moan? That little sound right there? That’s my favorite.”

You grit your teeth, trying to remember whatever point you were so desperate to make.

“I’m not some...fan,” you snap, even as your legs tremble around his. “You’re not going to ruin me with some pornstar act-”

His brow arches, slowly, like you’ve just dared him to try.

“Is that what you think this is?” he breathes, pressing his body tighter to yours. “Some act?”

His lips brush your jawline, teasing, lingering just enough to have you melting into him.

“If this was a scene,” and his hands tweak your hard nipples, hard enough to make you squeak, “I’d already have you on your knees. You’d be looking up at me with those pretty lips parted, mascara streaked down your cheeks, and you’d be begging.” and he soothes your tender breasts, sucking gently on each.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, thumb trailing down your bottom lip, his voice dropping even lower.

“But I’m not acting, sweetheart. And neither are you.”

You want to deny it. You really do. But his hand slips between your thighs again, two fingers trailing lazily along your soaked center, and your hips buck against him without permission.

“Still wanna argue?” he rasps.

“Y-yeah-” you force out, though it comes out more like a moan.

“God, you’ve got a mouth on you,” he chuckles. “I can’t wait to make you lose that bratty attitude.”

Then he’s kissing you-finally-a kiss that’s deep and consuming, like he’s making a point. He bites your lip, then soothes it with his tongue, one hand holding your jaw, the other slipping lower...lower...

“Gonna ruin you, doll,” he whispers against your mouth. “And when I do, it won’t be for the cameras. It’ll be just for me.”

And he’s got you in his arms, licking and nibbling at your throat as he carries to the bedroom. 

He’s got you on the bed, flat on your back, your flimsy slip dress tossed in the corner of your room. He looms over you, solid and intimidating and so goddamn cocky it’s unfair. 

You try to push at his chest again-weakly this time, more for pride than anything else.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you manage, breathless. “You do this for a living-” 

He stills. Just for a moment. Then he lets out a dark, slow laugh.

“Sweetheart...” His vibranium hand runs up your bare thigh, gripping tight at your hip. “If I was working right now, you’d already be cumming on camera, three times over, moaning my stage name like it meant something.”

Your breath catches. 

“This?” he growls, kissing down your neck, biting just where your throat meets your shoulder, “This is personal.”

Bucky hooks his hands in your panties, not waiting for you to lift your hips before he’s yanking them down your legs. He settles between your thighs, keeping his eyes on your face, like he’s dying to see your reactions. His fingers trace the slick seam of you, slow and patient, watching you squirm with a look of practiced delight.

“Besides,” he adds, dragging a thumb over your clit with wicked precision, “you think I fuck just anyone off the clock?”

“That’s the thing about my job, baby,” he says, leaning down until you can feel his breath ghosting over your core. “It takes a lot to impress me.”

And then his mouth is on you.

Hot, slow, experienced. He eats you like a man with no intention of stopping. Like someone who’s studied this, who knows the rhythm, the angle, the pressure. Like a goddamn professional.

You’re quick to cover your mouth with your hand, muffling what was sure to be another humiliating moan begging for more of whatever he’s willing to give, but he catches it, pulling back to grunt up at you, 

“None of that, doll. I want to hear every pretty little sound I pull out of you. I want to hear how you sound when you soak my face.”

“F-fuck-” you manage to stutter, legs trying to close on instinct.

His vibranium hand keeps you wide open, pinned in place.

And he dives back in, spurred on by every mewl he rips from you, circling your clit with his tongue before sucking you in, easing a finger into your tight, needy body, and curling expertly before adding another.

You’re arching into his mouth, barely in control of your own body as you feel your orgasm building fast.

“I’m- Jesus, Bucky, I’m close- you whimper.

He pulls back, replacing his mouth with his cool vibranium fingers, the contrast making you cry out.

“Y’close, sweet girl? Hmm? Show me how good you can be for me. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

And you do.

Your orgasm rips through you, gushing over Bucky’s fingers as he groans at the sight.

His fingers don’t still, continuing their torturous circling and pumping, and you hiss at the sensitivity.

“Sensitive, Bucky..”

“Oh, sensitive, are you?” he purrs, dipping his head once more between your legs, “I think you can give me one more, yeah? God, you taste so fucking good...” and he’s back to his onslaught between your trembling thighs, ignoring your pleas for him to ease up.

Your second orgasm comes entirely too fast, and you snap with a gasp of his name.

As you lay there, desperately trying to catch your breath, you’re dimly aware of him sitting back on his knees and freeing himself of his clothes, his tanned, muscular body now fully on display. 

You shouldn’t have been as shocked as you were about his size. He was a pornstar, after all. But taking a full look at his manhood as you reeled from the two orgasms he had pulled out of you, you couldn’t help but to gasp at the sight of him. Long, girthy, his red tip already leaking precum. 

“See something you like, baby?” he teases, rising over you again, “Don’t let me distract you.”

“You’re a smug asshole.”

He grins, unbothered, dragging the tip of his cock through your slick folds with a low groan.

“Yeah? You say that now. But let’s see what you’re calling me in five minutes.”

And then he thrusts in. All of him. Deep. Thick. You arch up with a cry, nails digging into his shoulders, so full it knocks the air from your lungs.

He doesn’t move. Just stays there, buried to the hilt, watching your face.

“What was that, baby?” he whispers, brushing hair back from your sweaty forehead tenderly. “Didn’t catch it.”

“I-I hate you,” you gasp, even as your hips rock up to meet him.

He groans. Deep and real and possessive.

“You love me like this.”

Then he starts to move. Slow, grinding thrusts at first, acclimating you to his intimidating size. His hands pin your wrists above your head. His mouth is everywhere. Your neck, your jaw, your lips.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he grunts, more to himself than you. 

His hand pressed on your stomach, down to the bulge from where he was fucking into you, deeper than you ever felt possible. 

“You feel that?” he purrs. “No camera. No crew. Just you. Me. And the way you’re taking me like you were made for it.”

You’re whimpering now, babbling his name, shaking apart beneath him, just doing your best to keep up.

“You think I fuck like this at work?” he growls. “No one gets this, sweetheart. No one but you.”

He’s pounding into you, merciless, all while leaving sweet kisses on your cheeks, rubbing soft circles around your clit. The contrast was maddening. 

“Cmon, doll, just one more for me, I know you can do it, can feel you squeezing tight around me,” he coos, speeding up his thumb on you, making you squeal. You could feel it, the sensitivity almost blinding, “Just one more baby, I know you want to be good for me, don’t you? Don’t you want to make a mess all over my cock?” 

When you cum, you practically scream. It was almost violent. You cried out for him, not even sure what you were begging for at this point, pussy milking him as you rode out the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced, Bucky fucking you through it. 

You barely had time to catch a breath before he was capturing your lips in another kiss.

“God, doll, you did so good f’me, taking me so fucking good, gonna fill you up, baby, gonna- fuck-” 

You could feel him twitch inside you, just seconds before he let out a low moan, pumping hot white streams of seed as deep as they would go, murmuring sweet nothings against your lips as he emptied himself into your poor, overstimulated pussy. 

For a moment after, you laid together, exhausted, tangled in one another and reveling in what you had just done to one another. 

Then he’s wrapping you up in his arms, pulling you flush against his bare chest, kissing your bare shoulder sweetly. 

And then you feel his cock begin to harden against your quivering thigh.

“What, did you pop a Viagra before this? How are you not exhausted?”, you exclaim, gesturing to his crotch incredulously, making him laugh.

“Super soldier serum. Extra stamina. Which is perfect, because I didn’t focus nearly enough on those perfect tits of yours in round one.”

You blush softly. “How am I supposed to keep up with you? You’re like a… a genetically enhanced pornstar. How is that fair?”

He grins wickedly once again. “Aw, don’t be like that, doll! I just gotta break you in you a little, is all.”

“...break me in?”

“Yeah, train you. Get you used to me. Now let me eat that pretty pussy again, and then I want to see you ride my cock like you’re on camera.”

[starryylies]

I don’t know how to explain it but I would love to see your take on a shy reader asking Simon to roleplay something with her💘💘💘 Maybe him not being so sure of the idea, kind of laughing at it at first but then enjoying it more than he thought he would:)

Also I love your blog and adore your writing style so much!!! xx

Simon and shy reader who wants to try roleplay

OHMGEEE THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!! Im so glad you think i can pull it off. Thank uuu 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷. Also im so sorry this ask is being answered so late, i just saw that it was in my drafts 😭😭

He wasn’t really a roleplay guy, never felt the need to be someone else, never wanted you to change anythin’ bout yourself.

He didn’t think you were into it either. I mean look at you

You’re his sweet little baby, always wearing frilly pink tops and your signature white stockings, who would’ve pegged you to be someone who’s into that stuff.

But you were, oh god you were in way too deep. You needed it, you craved it.

Some part of you always knew you had a thing for men in uniforms. You never knew how bad it was though, not until now.

Ever since you saw Simon in his military gear, all you can think of is him taking you, his new recruit training you to become the big bad lieutenant’s perfect soldier.

You didn’t know how to bring it up in a normal conversation so you did what you thought was best.

You wore his extra oversized military uniform and dog tags and sprawled your body across the bed trying your hardest to look seductive as you waited for him to come home from work.

As you heard the door open you started to second guess if doing this was a good idea but it was too late, Simon’s heavy footsteps reached the master bedroom and there he was standing infront of you.

Sweat dripping off his neck while he was wearing his full military gear, without the mask though. As always.

“Welcome home sir” you chirped out

“What ya doin’ wearin that love” he grumbled out, taking a Quick look at your lacy bra that was peeking out from his uniform before heading towards the bathroom.

“Um I just wanted to try it out ya know?” You said meekly, a deep blush covering your face as you tried hiding yourself.

“Try what love?” He looked at you while he dried his face with a towel,

Your eyes went on the droplets of water dripping down his tactical vest, your train of thought was interrupted by his big hands now reaching your face. Cupping your cheeks as his deep voice rumbled through his chest

“use your words baby”

“Oh I just you know, wanted to like try out like um roleplay?” You said it, you finally said it!

In hopes of an answer you looked up at him, to your dismay you saw him holding back a smile. Not the normal one he gives you, this felt like he was laughing at you.

Suddenly realising that you made a fool of yourself you quickly got off the bed. Only to be trapped by his big arms.

“Where ya runnin’ off to lil bunny”

“Fuck you, yer making fun of me” you cried out. His big arms now encasing you in a hug.

“M’ sorry baby, js’ didn’t expect ya to be into military stuff ya know? it’s not exactly rainbows and sunshine like you princess”

He cupped your face, wiping away the tears carefully, “stop cryin’ lovie, remember soldiers don’t cry on the field yea?”

With that your ears perk up, your eyes meeting his which are now sparkling with a hint of mischief. His hands gripping your ass as he leads you to the bed.

Removing his vest, keeping the rest on for you.

His kisses are deep and desperate, messy with the tongue and all.

His hands find a way to your clit, rubbing right circles on it as he unzips his pants, freeing his angry cock.

“See what ya did soldier? Gotta punish you fo’ that now shouldn’t I?” He groans into your mouth. His cock finding your entrance as he fucks you in a violent pace.

“Hm yer taking me so well soldier, wan’ me to go faster? Wan’ me to finish inside your lil cunt as a punishment?” he slurs out,

“Ye yes lieutenant yes please yes” you moan out, the obscene sounds of skin slapping and deep groans filling your ears and fueling your arousal as you find yourself nearing to your high.

“Lieutenant, sir please lemme cum please sir I beg you”

“Yer gonna cum so easily eh soldier? Guess ya need some endurance training”

he finds himself rutting into you like a wild animal, his hands bruising your waist as he mouth bites onto his dog tags, the metallic taste and smell of sex filling up his senses.

“Fuck soldier m gonna cum” he hisses out as he fastens his pace, rutting inside of you one last time, a loud slap noise echoing in the room as he empties his load inside you.

The after haze making both of your minds blurry as you cling onto one another like koalas.

“Guess we both need some endurance training don’t we love?”

[absdollievu]

hi! i hope this isn't too much for you, i understand if you dont want to write 💖

can u do stalker!abby x reader? im obsessed with those stories but almost no stalker abby stories available :((((

On Her Watch

stalker!abby x reader

Warnings: Dark romance, m@sturbation

You meet Abby Anderson before you realize you’ve met her.

It’s fleeting. You’re leaving the biology building one rainy afternoon, juggling an umbrella, your earbuds, and a coffee that keeps threatening to tip out of its lid. She’s sitting under the overhang near the bike racks, hood up, dark eyes barely visible. You glance at her—something about her size, her stillness, the way she doesn’t fidget like everyone else in the cold. She doesn’t look away when you catch her staring.

Just a moment.

And then you’re gone.

You forget. She doesn’t.

⸻

Abby never intended to follow you. Not at first.

She notices you before that moment in the rain. Weeks earlier, actually—when you’d bumped into her in the hallway between classes, shoulder to shoulder. You’d apologized with a quick, sheepish smile, already late to a study group. She hadn’t said anything. Just watched you disappear into a sea of students.

She remembered your perfume. Clean. Soft. She caught it again, by accident, the next week near the rec center—only this time she followed the scent, just to see if it was you. It was.

It starts small.

She times her runs around your class schedule. Makes excuses to study in the same libraries. Notices your friends. Watches you walk from the dorms to the gym at night in too-thin shorts and a hoodie, humming to yourself. Watches you tie your hair up when you think no one is looking.

She starts building a map in her head: where you go, who you’re with, how often you check your phone, how your face changes when you’re tired or lonely. It’s data. That’s how she rationalizes it. Information. Interest. Curiosity.

But that’s a lie, and she knows it.

She wants to know you. Have you. She wants to unzip your skin and crawl inside, wear you like a feeling.

⸻

You meet her again—properly this time—at the gym.

You’re wiping down a machine, out of breath and flushed. She’s standing a few feet away, towel slung around her neck, hair tied up in a bun. You don’t recognize her, not really, though something tugs at your memory.

“You done with this?” she asks, gesturing to the equipment.

You nod, stepping back, your eyes flicking over her briefly.

“Thanks,” she says, and you catch the edge of something in her voice—low, velvety, patient. She holds your gaze a little too long. Not enough to make you uncomfortable. Just… notice.

You do.

That night, she jerks off in her shower to the image of your parted lips, the damp curve of your throat, the way you brushed past her. She hates herself for it. But not enough to stop.

⸻

The friendship starts naturally. Or so it seems.

Abby finds ways to insert herself into your orbit—just enough to make you curious. She makes a dry joke in a study lounge one night that makes you laugh so hard you snort. The next time, she shares her coffee. The next, you’re inviting her to walk with you to class.

She’s easy to talk to. Uncannily observant. She remembers things you didn’t expect anyone to notice: how you hate the texture of oranges, how you never take the bus on Tuesdays, how you always wear that one ratty sweatshirt during finals.

You start to depend on her.

You don’t see the way she watches your every move when you’re not looking. How she memorizes the shape of your mouth when you talk, or your passwords when you unlock your phone. How she waits until you’ve left the library to grab the pen you forgot and pocket it.

You think she’s just intense. Kind. Private. A little possessive. You like it.

You don’t know what you’re inviting in.

⸻

It builds.

One night, she shows up outside your dorm unexpectedly. Says she was “just passing by.” You believe her. You invite her in.

You sit close on your tiny bed, knees touching. You’re laughing at some meme on her phone, and she’s not laughing at all—just staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, a little breathless.

Abby leans in a fraction, voice quiet. “You’re just…hard not to look at.”

Your stomach flips.

It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with you. But this is different. Abby’s attention is like standing in front of a furnace—controlled, focused, burning. Like if she touched you now, you’d melt.

You don’t kiss her that night. But you think about it.

She goes home and fingers herself slow and rough, replaying your laugh in her head like a song she can’t stop humming.

⸻

You start finding little things out of place.

Your charger unplugged. Your sweater on the wrong hook. A lipstick you swear you didn’t leave out.

You brush it off. You’re distracted. Studying. Tired.

You never see the way your bedroom window slides back into place, silently, just before dawn.

⸻

She loses control the night she sees you on a date.

It’s nothing serious. Just some guy from your ethics class. You’re at a pub, laughing. Abby sees it through the window.

She doesn’t go in. She waits.

Follows you home after. Watches the way you stumble a little in your heels, tug your phone out to text someone. She imagines it’s him. Wonders if you’re going to fuck him.

You’re alone. She watches the light go off. Waits.

She just wants to look.

⸻

You’re in bed. Rolled to one side. Your sheets low on your hips.

She presses her hand to the glass. Wants to open it. Wants to crawl in, lie beside you, pull your shirt up and taste the warm skin of your stomach—

But she doesn’t.

Not yet.

⸻

Weeks later. After another night of laughter and long walks. You’re a little drunk. She’s not. But she doesn’t stop you.

Your lips are soft. Her hands are iron. You sigh into her mouth like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks.

She kisses you like she’s starving.

You think it’s the beginning of something new.

You don’t realize it’s the beginning of her finally getting what she wants.

⸻

The first time you sleep together, it’s raw. Tense.

She doesn’t take her eyes off you. Not once.

She touches you like you’re something fragile and holy—spreads you out on your bed, breath shuddering, mouth worshipful. She whispers things you barely understand, hands gripping your hips so tightly you’ll bruise.

You don’t mind.

You come with her name in your mouth.

She stays the night. Watches you sleep, fingers ghosting over your wrist, your lips. Her need doesn’t quiet. It just shifts. Evolves.

Now that she’s had you, she’ll never let go.

And you have no idea what you’ve let in.

⸻

a/n: part 2? Send more requests please!!!

[beatlblog]

#as she should#excellent nepo baby behaviour (via thewalrusespublicist)

The only good nepo baby (via perasperaadastratoday)

#awesome (via jokerlennon)

#oh to have been a fly on the wall when/if this ever got discussed at Apple! (via ljblueteak)

#It's what John would have wanted (via romcomisdead)

#my apologies stella mccartney I was unfamiliar with your game#now THIS is how you maintain the beatles legacy (via barelyaveragebarley)

#now you too can be the fifth beatle#immersive circle jerk experience (via adolescentsalvation)

#it's what the beatles would have wanted (via saint-mona)

#this valentine's day... you can too beat the meatles ;) (via harddaysnite)

#why did i not put together that stella mccartney was his daughter#the beatles#ig (via aspiringhexgirl)

#beautiful#john would approve#you go girl (via dandy-lad)

#no way they are not aware of the Allegations (via elena-ferrante)

#girls will see four ET fingers and think “maybe?”#sorry. I know I live in a glass house#I shouldnt throw stones#But they really do look like ET fingers tho (via ode-on-a-grecian-butt)

#are. are they sold in fours like that 👀#like is she encouraging you and your girls to beat the meatles as a group#like. jus#just like her dad and his#and his friends did??#me and who and who and who?? (via goffredotedesco)

#only good things about the beatles#also that song was about a threesome was it not (via genericusername37)

#better than the so this is christmas animated short that took the oscar. if were being honest (via synthient)

#stella is one inch away from beating out francesca scorcese as my favorite nepo baby (via ozymandiasdirge)

#seeing that an actual Beatles biographer (Albert Goldman)#referred to the band as ‘The Four Little Dildos’#I’d say that the the Beatles journey has come full circle! (via didwemeetsomewherebefore)

#wait she isnt just a random designer??#need to look this up (via lazyspeedy)

#this is what all nepo babies should be doing (via wronglennon)

#good for her#honoring her father’s band’s legacy (via uncahier)

#conflicted between how good the name is versus the vibrators' sad beige design#like man. i was kinda hoping for a yellow submarine themed vibrator.#i can dream (via eyebrightt)

#finally#theres literally moans in that song (via catinsatintrousers)

#oh lmfao#i only know her as fashion icon so this is amazing as fuck#hab kontakte zu kontakten jungs meint ihr ich krieg n sale drauf? 🙏😂😂😂😂😂😂😂#vt branche so ein scheiß witz. (via keo6323)

#where is the cronenberg why dont we do it in the road collab? (via britneyspearcheermix)

#the beatles#I GUESS#john lennon would be proud i think (via andonlyafoolwouldsaythat)

#ivan simon hitting PURCHASE (via theflirtmeister)

#a bit curious abt the legal aspects of this#did this have to be brought up to paul's legal team? did ringo also have to sign off on this?#im assuming no to both of those questions but it's a little funny to imagine (via just-another-obsessed-fangirl)

#it's what they would've wanted (via therottenkingsreckoning)

#love how its not her dads song. (via leanderqueenie)

#now that’s how you lean into a legacy (via adriennefrombrooklyn)

#four pronged vibrator to allow anyone to recreate the legendary group beatles jo (via cypr1anlatew00d)

stella mccartney is using her dads music to sell vibrators finally someone who understands what the beatles are about

[darlingdaisyfarm]

BOY GENIUS IN LOVE

tags: nsfw, college!Ford, first relationship, fem reader, obsessive behavior, “good girl” (forgive me im weak), reader wears skirts, first time, fingering, oral sex, public sex, both u and Ford are virgins

this was a request from anon that i saved to drafts but tumblr deleted it (i’m so sorry). it was about college Ford getting addicted to you after you start dating. i hope you see this anon :(( im so sad tumblr deleted my draft + ur ask

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you met him in the back of the library, of course. because Stanford wanted silence in its purest form, though it looked like he was hiding. you were the only other person who’d choose the fifth floor annex by choice. most people thought it was dusty, haunted or simply boring. but you liked how the lamps gave off that golden-honey glow, and how the windows were always cracked open. it was pretty there.

Ford noticed you first. not that you were hard to notice. . . your soft knits and pleated skirts and glossy stockings that clung to your thighs, Ford thought you’d been dipped in onyx. always with a pen tucked behind your ear. such a smart little thing. but more than that, you read. properly. Ford watched your lips moving faintly when you hit a complicated passage, head tilted, looking like a lost kitten.

Fiddleford said he was being stupid, lurking in the same row as you day after day and never saying a word. “yer gonna pass out from sheer repression,” he said, rolling his eyes as Ford scribbled in the margins of his notebook rather than say hi. but Ford couldn’t help it. he was already enchanted. smth about the way your eyes lit up when you found the answer to your own question in the footnotes of some scientific text. how you bit your lip and tapped the page when you were trying to commit a theory to memory. adorable.

you noticed him the day he dropped his bag, books exploded across the linoleum, so you knelt down to help before he could even stammer out an apology. your hands brushed and both of you looked up at the same time. his glasses awkwardly slid down his nose. you gave him a smile. “you’re always back here, i was starting to think you were a ghost.”

Ford laughed but it came out like a cough at first because he was still so damn nervous. then he relaxed into it, eyes crinkling at the corners behind those big, sweet lenses. “you’re the ghost,” he blurted and then panicked. “i mean— not like that! i just mean, you always vanish before i can say anything. not that i’ve tried. well, i have. in my head. you know.”

“wanna study together sometime?” you asked, and to him it was the most romantic thing you could’ve possibly offered. Ford nodded so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. the next time you sat together, he brought you coffee and three backup pens. and you caught him staring at your stockings every time you crossed your legs. it was adorable.

the first time he noticed, it was unintentional. purely visual input. you were sitting across from him in the tiny study alcove you’d both claimed. he brought the books, you brought the snacks. and you leaned back to stretch so the hem of your skirt fluttered. the sunlight from the library window lit you up, letting a slow golden spill across your thighs, where your stockings ended and soft skin began. Ford saw garters. he saw lace. and immediately forgot the square root of negative one.

very weird cough escaped him as if he'd choked on the dust. get yourself together, Stanford! you didn’t seem to notice though, but it sat with him for the rest of the afternoon, searing into his hippocampus. you were wearing different stockings every day. he hadn’t imagined it. he knew he hadn’t.

and every time, he told himself: don’t look. don’t think. don’t you dare be the kind of man who makes this weird. you were his friend now. study partners, even. you brought him your class notes when he was sick, and he helped you fix your calculator when you dropped it, and sometimes you brushed lint off his sweater without even thinking about it and he had to pretend his brain wasn’t screaming inside his mind every time it happened.

and it got worse. because you liked him. you liked liked him. you smiled when he said smth about gravitational waves. you leaned in when he explained interdimensional theoreticals. you brought him muffins. you poked his shoulder when he got smth right. you played with the strap of your bag when you were nervous. and eventually, finally, you asked him if he wanted to get coffee with you, but, like, not as a study thing.

he said yes so fast he knocked over his water bottle.

Ford didn’t know how to behave around you after that. it wasn't because you were different, but because he was. Ford felt like he’d touched something radioactive as he was sweating through his t-shirt, short-circuiting when you showed up in a plaid skirt and wine-red tights. the coffee date turned into a bookstore visit. the bookstore turned into a walk. the walk turned into a shared burrito at that food truck you liked, both of you giggling and wiping salsa off each other’s mouths.

and then there was the second date. where you wore lip gloss that shimmered beautifully when you smiled, and you said, “you look cute when you fidget,” and Ford had to literally reboot his nervous system. he was so tense he dropped his fork. couldn’t stop rubbing the edge of his coat sleeve between his fingers.

your thighs are right there. you know what you're doing. you have to. right? no! no, you're just pretty. girls are pretty. you don’t have to turn into a werewolf about it, Stanford. but god, what if you'll sit on his lap. what if you'll climb into his lap and Ford would feel the fabric of your stockings against his—

stop. stop. stop. stop.

you laughed at smth he said about string theory. he was sweating because you crossed your legs. unexpectedly, you handed him a piece of your dessert and Ford stared at your lips for five seconds too long before he let you feed him.

you weren’t trying to kill him. probably. maybe. but you liked how shy he got. how he pushed his glasses up when you leaned in too close, and how he flinched every time your thigh brushed his under the table. and when you walked home together that night and your fingers barely touched, you heard him swallow so loud it made you giggle.

Stanford still thought about that first day. your lip gloss. your pretty outfits. the curve of your handwriting. but now he also thought about what it’d feel like to have you sitting in his lap during office hours, flipping through flashcards while he tried not to pass out.

and worst of all? you hadn’t even kissed him yet.

you didn’t talk about it, not really. no one ever said “we’re dating” or “you’re mine” or “i like you like that,” but it was so obvious it almost hurt. your name was always on his lips and his glasses were always smudged with your lip balm. you sat together everywhere, shared drinks, pulled each other close by the elbow, touched fingers when you passed things back and forth. and god forbid you go more than three seconds without feeling some part of each other.

and you grinded. you grinded so much. behind the library stacks. in empty classrooms. in stairwells between lectures. his coat wrapped around both of you, covering to keep it decent while your hips rocked against his, your hands in his brown hair, his handsome face flushed and dazed, breathing into your collar, afraid of making a sound.

his thighs were so solid, wrapped in those tailored wool trousers he wore all the time. cruel things, rough where they shouldn’t be, pressing into your softness, and it made the friction so good, too good, made your breath shake every time you rubbed against the hard shape of him and whispered his name.

“we shouldn’t, we shouldn’t do this here,” he always said but then why his hands stayed on your waist and his hips pressed up into yours? “someone might see,” he’d whisper against your throat, even as he kissed you under your ear, even as you rocked against him slowly, dry humping like crazy and nothing else mattered but the way you could feel him, stiff and thick through all those layers.

you’d whimper and he’d shudder. you’d breathe into each other’s mouths and whisper things like “feels so good” and “you’re so warm” and “i think i might come just like this, fuck, Ford, i’m gonna—“ and he’d hold you tighter, breathing so hard because he was going to die right there if you didn’t stop, except neither of you could stop.

and it just kept happening. the tension wound tighter and tighter. the kissing got hotter. his hand found your ass under your skirt one day and didn’t move. in respond, your fingers brushed the bulge in his pants during a movie night and you both sat frozen, breathless, two dorks in love.

you didn’t mean to give him a hand job. it just. . . happened. you were both in his dorm and he looked so flushed and desperate and pretty, you’d never seen his pupils that blown out before.

“i want,“ he said, eyes fluttering shut. “can i? i want to touch you, no. i want you to touch me.”

“yeah, okay. yeah, Ford, it’s okay.” his cock was warm, so hot through his boxers, twitching when your palm brushed over it, and you both gasped as if it was the end of the world. you watched his needy face while you touched him with slow, trembling and unsure strokes, fingers so nervous but gentle because you didn’t know exactly what you were doing but god, he whimpered and it vanished all your doubts away.

“oh my god,” Ford putted his hand over his mouth, trying to keep it all in. “feels so good, please, don’t stop, that’s s-so—“

he came in your hand. messily and helplessly. with his red face buried in your shoulder as he gasped and gasped and said your name and begged, thrusting into your hand. by the end of it it all was so sticky. heaven on earth. both of you giggling and out of breath and kind of in shock about the whole thing.

and then he wanted to try. his hand went under your clothes, had been aching to go there for weeks. six fingers trembling as he pushed your panties aside and touched your folds, your clit, your soaked softness. “you’re, you’re wet, you’re already so wet,” Stanford kissed you while he fingered you, moaned right into your mouth. and his fingers were so fucking clumsy, but you guided him with gasps and whines and little “right there, baby, like that, oh—fuck, yes—“ and your smart boy just listened, eager and panting, his whole arm flexing as he tried to give you what you needed.

when you came on his fingers it was with your forehead pressed to his, your skirt all rumpled and his name falling from your lips in hoarse sounds. Ford smiled, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your fingers. you both laughed again.

it happens on a tuesday. not a particularly romantic one, not a holiday or a celebration or an anniversary (though you both will end up counting it like one, later). you’d both been studying again, him pacing while he monologued about theories, you curled up on his bed taking notes, your thighs bare and crossed under you. he couldn’t stop staring.

you looked up, caught him. and blushed, chewing your pen cap. “what?” you asked innocently. and Ford just blinked at you, waking from a trance, and answered, softly. “i really want to make love to you.”

and that was it. just two awkward nerds with their hands shaking as they slowly stripped each other down to skin.

the first time he slid inside you, shaky, too slow, panting softly into the crook of your neck, you both cried out at once. “oh my god,” you whimpered, fingernails pressing into his back leaving red marks. “Ford, Ford, it’s so big, it’s so—“ he gasped, body trembling. “youre so tight, darling, didn’t know it would feel like this. . .”

you clung to each other, rocking messy, with no rhythm at all, your shaking legs wrapped around his waist, moaning so loud because neither of you had any idea how to handle it. and when you came with stars behind your eyes, it was so intense you sobbed into his chest. he followed only some minutes after, gasping your name like a man drowning.

that should’ve been the end. but he kept going.

you didn’t mean to fuck again that night, and definitely not twice more the next morning, but Stanford couldn’t help himself. because he’d discovered oxygen and now couldn’t survive without the feel of you around him.

it didn’t take long before Ford’s libido eclipsed all else. poor genius, he’d always been obsessive. hyperfocused, easily fixated, nerd who could talk for hours about things like rifts in spacetime or secrets of the universe without even stopping to breathe. you should’ve known that once he got a taste of you, once he got to feel your thighs clench around him and your cunt flutter so tightly when he moaned your name, he’d treat you like one of his beloved discoveries.

but no one warns you about what happens when a man so smart gets addicted to your pussy.

wednesday is lab day so you lean over the table too much and fiddle with your pencil between your pretty lips. Ford sits across from you hard as a rock, biting his tongue while he tries to listen to Fiddleford talk about transistor configurations. but it’s hopeless. he keeps slipping off to the bathroom just to stroke himself thinking of you, spilling into his palm with a bitten-back moan, forehead pressed to the stall door. he doesn’t even make it back in time for the quiz.

but it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

it’s been two whole days since you last stayed the night in his dorm. two agonizing days of him jerking off under flickering dorm showers, biting his lip to keep quiet while the water beat down on his flushed skin. mondays make him unbearable. he won’t even look at you in class because he knows, if he does, he’ll spend the whole hour with his cock stiff under the desk at the sight of your lipgloss or the shape of your thighs under that skirt.

by 4pm he’s dragging you into the back of the library, shoving you up against the wall between reference books you’re never gonna read, panting against your cheek. “i missed you,” as his fingers fumble to shove your underwear aside. “i need it. i can’t concentrate.” your panties down to your thighs, his cock already pressed between your folds before you can catch your breath. your arms loop tight around his neck, mouthing soft kisses against his jaw as he slides inside.

you started carrying spare panties in your bag. stopped wearing bras under your blouses because he couldn’t keep his hands off you anyway. he’d bend you over his desk, shove a hand over your mouth, fuck you until you were blinking up at him all dazed and dripping. once he even took you right by the astronomy hall, gripping your hips while he fucked you so hard his glasses fogged up.

“you feel too good,” he’d whisper in between thrusts. “i swear, didn’t know it could feel like this—“

and the worst (best) part? he was good at it now. so good. all those fumbling, clumsy first thrusts turned into something downright ravenous.

Ford learned fast, like he always did. one time you were trying to study, nose deep in a textbook, sprawled on your tummy with your feet kicked up behind you, wearing a little sweater and nothing underneath but knee-high socks and. . . that was a mistake.

“Ford, baby, i have to finish this chapter, we got exam tomorrow“ but he was laying kisses on the backs of your thighs, pushing your panties aside and groaning when he saw the shine of you already waiting for him. “don’t worry,” he murmured, pulling his cock free. “i’ll help you concentrate.”

you tried. really tried to keep reading. you bit your lip and gripped the pages. but then he pushed inside and suddenly it was so hot for no reason in the middle of November. your eyes widened, hips tilted up of their own accord, and you whimpered over your textbook while his cock thrusted into your softest parts.

“just read,” Ford whispered, mouth against your ear, one hand pressing on your lower back to keep you tilted up. “be a good girl and study while i fill you up.”

you came like that, making such a mess on his cock, face in your book, ruined your exam notes. and he didn’t stop even after, just rutted slower, deeper, staying inside because “you’re so warm, so perfect, i wanna live here.”

and he meant it. because now, he fucked you every day. sometimes more than once. until your legs shook and your panties were just too damp to wear. while you studied, while he explained theories into your mouth.

you study in his dorm but Ford's too distracted by the way you sit with your legs open so. . . best solution is him fingering you under the table while you review notes, moaning under his breath every time your cunt clenches around his fingers. “this isn’t studying,” you try to protest, biting back a moan. “yes it is,” Ford replies, kissing the shell of your ear. “studying your anatomy, sweetheart. i think i deserve an A.” he makes you finish twice before you even look at the next chapter.

but no, calling it just fucking would be wrong. it was always tender, sensual even. messy hair, flushed cheeks, his voice breathless, telling you how beautiful you were as he pushed inside.

Stanford Filbrick Pines, the boy genius, gets so addicted. he goes from “i’m not sure i’m doing this right” to “i don’t think i can go twenty-four hours without being inside you.”

and it’s every day, every goddamn day. multiple times, if he can swing it. he wakes you up with soft little kisses, a gentle hand already palming at your chest under the blankets, and by the time your eyes flutter open he’s rutting against your hip like a dog in heat.

but thursdays. . . you don’t know what it is about thursday. the schedule? the way he only has one lecture in the morning? whatever it is, it makes him feral. yeah, thursdays are the worst for you, because that’s when he gets bold. when he puts you in his desk chair, throws your leg over the armrest, and kneels in front of you between essays, unbuttoning your blouse. “you’ve been working so hard, love, you deserve this. let me take care of you. please.” he groans, burying his face in your pussy, making you sob and shake and come again and again while your notes flew off the desk and your fingers knotted in his soft brown curls.

and that wasn’t even the beginning. thursdays meant getting bent over the counter before breakfast, groped in the hallway, shoved against the peeling wallpaper and kissed so hard your knees buckled.

by week seven, it’s a game of where. it doesn’t matter when anymore, because any time is fair game. he’s fucked you in the dorm stairwell, in the math department’s basement closet, in the cramped little photo booth at the student union during your lunch break, one leg on the little bench while he thrusted into you.

once, Ford got so riled up mid-lecture he leaned over and whispered, “your skirt’s too short. you’re not wearing anything under that, are you?” and when you didn’t answer fast enough, he stood up, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the hallway like a man possessed.

he bent you over a bench by the lockers and fucked you so fast and rough your vision went white at the edges. then he went right back to class with sweat at his temples and still aced the damn presentation. unbelievable

you learned not to wear skirts if you actually wanted to make it through the day without being groped. you learned to bring water and snacks because he’d fuck you until you were lightheaded.

by finals week, he was sliding your underwear off under the table in the library, whispering, “just sit on my lap, please, baby, i’ll be quiet, i swear. i just need to feel you around me.”

there’s no break and no off switch. not that you were complaining, but weekends were dangerous. he makes love to you for hours on sunday mornings, long, slow, thick strokes that have you drooling into the pillows, whispering praises into your mouth while he fucks you so gently it makes you cry from how soft it is. saturday afternoons he’d go down on you until your thighs shook, then hump against you like a boy losing his mind over his first crush.

Ford’s kisses made you weak. no, everything about him made you weak. his hands, his mouth, his voice when he whined in your ear that he couldn’t think straight without your cunt around him.

but every thursday, he shows up behind you, hard already, “you busy? no? good. because i need to be inside you. right now. or i’ll lose my mind.” now, every day's a new excuse to be inside you <𝟑

[larkwinged]

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒 𝐅. 、𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

PROFILE. a self-righteous knight who is too willing to throw their life away, and too eager to charge into battle. underneath their stubborn exterior, they are riddled with the pressure of upholding a family title that has long been lost to time.

FULL NAME. artemis elise fröhlich

PRONOUNS. they / them

GENDER. fem-presenting non-binary

AGE. early twenties

HEIGHT. 5”1

BIRTHDAY. november 12th

OCCUPATION. knight

AFFILIATION. knights of favonius

ELEMENT. pyro

CONSTELLATION. columba bellicosi

WEAPON TYPE. sword — “herald of the dawn”

Now stripped of its original purpose as a vessel to store all the memories of an ancient god king, this sword has been passed down in the Fröhlich family since the dawn of time.

Once wielded by the god of memories herself, this sword was blessed by the winds and presented as a gift to her youngest child upon the morn of their knighting ceremony.

“You, who represent the grace and bravery of humanity,” said the Queen, “take this and go. Become a pillar of hope to those wallowing in the darkness, and guide the lost onto a chivalrous path. You, the Dovewing Knight.”

And so, the first Dovewing Knight set out, protecting the people of Cairnfelle and standing tall as a beacon of hope, just as they were requested.

At the edge of the world, when the brilliance of Cairnfelle collapsed and the mountains crumbled, the sword found its way tumbling back into the hands of its previous owner to defend her honor, and upkeep her legacy until the final trumpet sang … announcing her defeat.

With no definite home, the sword lay in the ruins of its kin, preserved well by the Anemo Archon and his will — until the day it found its way into the waiting hands of the inheritor of an ancient title.

• demo music concepts. one two three

• ENG voice claim : keath òsk as cole seymour from yaelokre’s “meadowlark” project

• JP voice claim : marina inoue as armin arlert from attack on titan

CHARACTER STORY 1: eastward of eden

It is true that Artemis has long held resentment towards their older sister and past caretaker, Lilith. As a child, Artemis was refused of many things — including choosing their own clothes, partaking in certain activities, and having their own privacy. There wasn’t much they were allowed to do, and even the hobbies they enjoyed ended up ruined by Lilith’s excitement and pushy nature.

To this day, Lilith is unaware of the mental anguish she caused her siblings over the course of their entire childhood. However, in her own eyes, she has done no such thing, and has succeeded at being a “mother.”

Many citizens have told her, “My, you exercise much control over them,” and yet, she has failed to see the error in her ways. It is not entirely her fault, as she was forced into the role of a mother when she wasn’t ready for such a task. Even though she failed in many aspects of her parenting skills, there was one thing she has always truly succeeded at: caring deeply for her family.

However, no amount of love could undo the years of fighting and hurtful words thrown around between the siblings.

CHARACTER STORY 2: legacy

Long ago, in the days of yore, the archaic land of Mondstadt had been ruled by a monarch older than Decarabian. Her rule was rumored to last longer than his, and her birth is now nothing but scattered fragments along the wind.

When the Queen of the North Wind descended and claimed Mondstadt as her home, a mighty kingdom formed under her feet. Small huts grew to larger, firmer homes, and gargantuan cathedrals made of marble were erected in her honor. Trumpets blew, the wind howled, snow fell, and mountains as high as the heavens towered above humanity.

In later years, the prospering kingdom of Cairnfelle was officially born. Serving as a haven for travelers and poets alike, the kingdom sang with energy as it thrived under Queen Catalina’s guiding hand. The god of memories was exceptionally gentle, with a kind and compassionate heart that moved even the most stoic-faced men to tears. Her words were wise, her complexion glowing, and her promises true.

Cairnfelle, as much as it prospered, gained an enemy from a distant land. With no choice but to face the beast she prodded, the Queen set out to befriend the raging phoenix that had enough of her games. Ever the charming soul, the Queen did not have to do much to make the phoenix bow to her every whim, and before the citizens of Cairnfelle had the chance to acclimate to the visitor, the two were to be wed.

There is not much to say for the years in between the joining of two god kings and the fall of Cairnfelle, but this: Four inexplicably brave and virtuous souls were born from the two gods — four demigod knights who carved the way for the future of Mondstadt: The Four Archangels.

The Blair Family — the origin of the Fröhlichs, is no longer the raging flame of life it had once been, but a snuffed out ember of its former glory.

Only in passing on the titles of the Four Archangel Knights can the present day Fröhlich family hold tight to what was once a name feared and adored by all.

CHARACTER STORY 3: composition

Many questions have arisen over the years; all pertaining to a certain facet of Artemis’ composition.

“Is it a curse?” They’ve inquired, only to wind up receiving a simple, “I’m not even sure myself!”

However, that it is a small white lie they’ve grown to tell. In fact, Artemis is very much aware of the reason why they consistently find themselves on the brink of death and luckily make it out alive. It is because of the unique composition their ancestor, Lowen, was made of: pure and unbridled wrath.

The story goes as such: In the days of yore, when gods and monsters still yet walked the earth, a beast born of flame and rage took flight. They seared their enemies and allies alike, and roused the hearts of warriors all across Natlan. They utterly refused to lay their past life to rest. In doing so, they made a promise to their newfound family. The wrath that lived inside them was nothing but a blessing, and deserved to be passed on through their children, and future generations. And so, the endless wrath that boiled in their veins was passed on — consuming the lives of their children, and overtaking the brilliant flames that became their descendants.

To be a god’s descendant has always been an honor in the Fröhlich family line… Yet, Artemis — like the direct children of the god of wrath — see it as naught but a curse; For what blessing could bring about destruction and the devastation of any living being in one’s wake.

VISION STORY:

The blistering pyro vision attached to Artemis’ belt was said to be a gift from the gods, and maybe even a gift from the long gone god of wrath themselves.

What else are visions besides gifts from the gods? A tool to wield, and yet another curse Artemis must deal with.

At the young age of eleven, Artemis was sent out on their first escorting mission. It was their first mission given to them by Grand Master Varka, who was elated to test their strength and endurance. Not many were willing to accept an escort from a child — as was the case with the Fontainian aristocrat Artemis was talking their ear off to. However, the man said nothing, as the child’s directional skills were second to none. It was only when they hit a bump in the road that the man questioned Artemis’ capabilities as a knight.

“I should’ve known better than to trust a child!” He yelled, waving his fist in the air as he pushed them aside and ran off ahead by himself in the rain, leaving the young Artemis to fend for themselves amidst a hoard of abyssal monsters.

Although panic was steadily rising throughout their body, they forced themself forward — slashing at every monster with a shaky grip on their sword. The rain poured, sagging their clothes, and dragging their arms down to the dirt. The grip on their sword slipped, as did their footing, and they tumbled to the hard ground with a rough clash.

Their shoulder-piece scratched the bridge of their nose on the way down, and a thick line of blood began to spill from the open wound. A rifthound drew closer, baring its teeth and snapping its jaw as its claws outstretched, striking Artemis across the head. A clap of thunder sounded, and amidst the ringing in their ears, Artemis felt the weight of ten large wooden planks collapse on their back.

Even so, they shakily grabbed their sword, their nails digging into the wet earth, and began to stand. Their blood boiled as a wrath they were only warned about once crept up to the surface, prickling along their skin until it caved inwards, tugging at their ribcage and burning against their racing heart.

In a flash of white and gold, the hoard of rifthounds lay motionless on the grass, their bodies turning to dust as Artemis panted heavily. The wrath inside their veins bubbled, and their vision turned red. It was all consuming. It was destructive, and it was total annihilation. They struck down every monster seeping from an abyssal pylon until finally, they tore the pylon in half with nothing but their blade and their bare hands.

The rain continued to fall as they dropped their sword and collapsed to the ground in a heap of sore limbs and bloodied grass. Their eyes fell close for a moment — at least, what felt like a moment — and when they opened, a shining vision sat amongst the pool of blood left behind by their foes.

Indeed. The god of wrath, whose curse ran rampant in their veins, rewarded them with yet another “gift.”

𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀

• hobbies: When they are home in Dornman Port enjoying their days off, they like to wind down by practicing the art of crochet. Not only is it soothing to sit by a windowsill while the afternoon breeze filters into their bedroom, it is also a hobby their late mother held dear. By partaking in this hobby, they feel closer to their mother, and can preserve her memory longer. Another hobby is sports. Artemis can often be found playing with the kids in the port during vacations.

• beliefs: The Fröhlich family have always dedicated their lives to the protection of Mondstadt, and hold a firm worship to a god king who has long been dead. Although they have accepted Barbatos as their new savior, they still hold their original god close to their hearts. Artemis has naturally followed this belief and considers their worship of the god of memories their religion. During rough times, they find solace in a temple far north and meditate there for as long as they deem necessary. Once a month, they offer up a few of their most important memories— a ritual that has been passed down in the Fröhlich family for over 3000 years.

(This act of offering up memories is akin to the way some worshippers will offer animal sacrifices to the god they serve.)

• about — fate: Artemis is a firm believer that fate will guide the worthy and ultimately lead everyone onto the path they are destined to walk. However, they do not include the meddling of gods and higher beings into this equation. They believe that fate is its own entity and not dictated by the Archons nor Celestia. It acts of its own accord, and the gods are mere victims of fate, as well. Not even Celestia will be spared.

• about — death: Artemis believes that death is a stepping stone to a greater afterlife. Akin to their many family members, they believe that life is temporary, and death is eternal. When one dies, they are not truly dead; for they are shedding their mortal shell and accepting their true form, which is the soul. The soul will live on forever in the afterlife, while the physical body is nothing more than a temporary shell to house said soul. With this belief, the Fröhlich family does not fear death, but welcomes it with open arms— greeting it like an old friend.

[xmaruu11]

Hello! Fellow comic writer here ^-^ Hope you and Doody are taking a little downtime after the recent update!

I discovered DH just after the Mother Spore arc, and I was curious how quickly the series grew to the audience it has now. Was it steady and gradual or did something give it a boost all at once?

I HAD THIS ASK SITTING IN MY ASKBOX FOR MONTHS CUZ I WANNA TALK SO BAD ABOUT IT !! BUT LIFE HAPPENED AND I COULDNT

Get ready for story time!

A lot of people think DDVAU started in 2024, after mother spore. But it didn't. Yes the boom of the story was January-February 2024, but the story has been going on since 2022, November 2022.

When we started DDVAU Doody and I were both University students, in our second year im pretty sure, so the updates didn't have a schedule and there wasn't an overarching plot. The idea for the mother spore arc happened in january / february 2023. But at that point we were working on chapter 10 and the valentines special. And then life happened, personal stuff happened and we took a hiatus until August 2023, and then December 2023. Again, it took,, time...

DDVAU had a small following at that time, and both of us were okay with that, we weren't expecting the amount of support it had during that time (2k notes per update), we felt overwhelmed with love at that point!

Then mother spore part 1 happened, december 2023. That was the first time I decided to go crazy on twitter and start posting with // DDVAU spoilers, and just be a fan of my best friend work. I didn't know that by doing that, it called a lot of people attention. This chapter ended up in a cliffhanger AND it showed a lot of other characters that we never shown before, so a lot of people were interested because their favorite guy appeared! Also we had multiple pretty cute moments between characters. Then people started livetweeting and sharing their opinion using DDVAU spoilers. It kinda snowballed after that. People asked what it was and people shared.

Doody and I thought it was gonna just be that, one simple update and then it stopped. BUT IT DIDNT! Then February 2024, Mother Spore 2 came out, and the whole process of last time repeated. And since this one had more action, everyone was more curious and more interested in what was going on. I keep tweeting and interacting with fans, cuz I am patient 0, DDVAU biggest fan.

THEN the DDVAU server happened, and a lot of people started joining, and I joined as well. People shared fanart, theories, we were able to chat and be nerds with each other. It build up hype for the next hiatus since again.. Doody and I were still university students.

Mother Spore and the end of volume 1 dropped in August 2024. The process repeated again, I also streamed again to keep the hype up. Doody and I yapped for hours and shared fun tweets and live reactions.

AND THEN, the first merch drop happened and once again people were surprised and sharing their thoughts and ideas and everything. Then our lovely friends and guys at the DDVAU server, planned an entire Zine for christmas to surprise doody and I, which again CRAZY!!

Then volume 2 happened, we started uploading it to webtoon and just kinda, kept doing what we like. The monthly schedule helps to build up hype, monthly streams and just,, having fun with my friend helps a lot.

But of course, nothing would have happened if we didnt have so many lovely and wonderful people that just support everything we do. All the lovely people who buy merch and support the kofi (since its the only way we actually get paid as an indie project), all the lovely people who are in the discord, share on twitter and tumblr and tiktok and literally anywhere.

Its always great and so lovely :D

DDVAU growth didnt happened overnight, we worked for a year before mother spore exploded, and then we just kept sharing our passion and love for this story, causing so many more people two get interested.

This is a dream came true, and I wanna thank everyone for letting us live in it

[lucygraysboy]

billy can’t refrain from shooting lucy gray an amused look. they both know that she’s right, being generous even — his friends actually stopped growing mentally around fifth grade. “well, bob’s street smart and jesse watches a lot of survival shows,” he jokingly points out, adjusting the strap of one of the backpacks, wondering what she’s got packed in there because it seems a lot heavier than his own. “oh, i’m sure someone’s bringin’ their girl, too. i mean, there’s five or sixof them? jesse, bob, john beckwith, dick brewer, maybe doc scurlock? and probably pat? though, who knows with pat. did i tell you he’s a police officer now? more stuck-up than ever.” and hanging out with the likes of bob olinger. it’s a wonder, but pat’s always been sketchy. “anyway, what i’m sayin’ is there will surely be other girls there.” it’s wishful thinking at best but he won’t take away what little hope’s left in lucy gray’s heart. “maybe bob’s got a boyfriend now, though. i mean, what happens in jail…” he playfully quips, trying to cheer her up. “only if you agree to be my best man?” laughing, he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “you’re too hard on him. remember barbara jones?” jesse’s high school sweetheart. now that he’s thinking about it, it was a volatile relationship. still, he attempts to make a point. “she didn’t look like someone who was being abused behind closed doors. jesse’s a bit hot-headed but he’s honorable, unlike your ex-situationship.” he refuses to say that man’s name, as if uttering it could breathe him into existence. 

the hooting and hollering only grows in volume when the group spots them, hands waving in the air, shouts of is that kid antrim? hey, kid! ah, there they are! lucy gray as i live and breathe, haven’t aged a day! echoing around them. jesse’s jumping to his feet, knocking over the folding chair and spilling some of the cheap moonshine in the process. “billy boy! thought you wouldn’t make it! was startin’ to worry. good to see you, brother.” always the first one to greet them, he hugs billy tightly and pats his back several times, moves on to do the same to lucy gray. sweaty arms pulling her into a tight embrace, his breath reeking of moonshine. “y’all, we got a lady on board now! no more fartin’ an’ jerkin’ off!” bob olinger announces, greeting them with merely a nod. seems like a reasonable rule, billy thinks, afraid to meet lucy gray’s eyes. thank god looks can’t kill. “you know everyone? come ‘ere, boys, i’ll introduce ya,” jesse insists, pulling lucy gray toward the group of greasy men sitting around a fire, surely thinking he’s being polite. more handshakes and back pats are being exchanged. 

“you remember bob and john, yeah? from school? they still look like twins, huh? but john’s the fat one.” the two are sitting on folding chairs, cradling a cheap beer each. various degrees of sunburn blooming on their faces, noses so red that billy almost feels bad for them. john’s smoking a cigarette, reaching into his pocket and offering one to lucy gray. “dick’s — where is… ah! right! dick’s shittin’ in the woods o’er there ‘cause we got a situation with the toilet in this thing. hey, dick! bill and lucy are here! say hi!” jesse goes on, pointing to the nearby bushes where a man’s straightening up, pulling his shorts up, waving a roll of toilet paper and yelling hello! “this one’s doc. we call ‘im doc ‘cause he dropped out of med school. but if you get hurt, don’t go to ‘im. rumor has it he once put a catheter in the wrong hole,” jesse jokes as a lanky man with mustache stands up and offers lucy gray a clammy hand. “ah, where’s that other fucker? pat? pat! come say hello!” pat reluctantly emerges from the RV, looking strangely fresh and clean compared to the rest. white t-shirt clinging to broad shoulders, tight jeans and cowboy boots, his badge proudly displayed, seemingly permanently attached to his belt. billy can’t help the eye roll. police officer hanging out with a bunch of criminals. it’s a wonder they haven’t ripped that badge off yet. he’s holding a wrench in one hand, a towel in the other. he walks down the steps and graces lucy gray with the brightest of smiles, and instead of shaking her hand, he offers her his elbow, “hi, nice to meet you. sorry, wish i could properly shake your hand but we’ve got a bathroom problem. don’t worry. i’m working on fixing it. though, if you want to take a shower, i recommend the lake over there.” 

“no one’s seasoned anything here. everyone’s twenty somethin’ years old but not a day over fifteen, mentally. and i’ve seen how they act.” it frustrates her he just plays it off like they’re a normal group of men. “hopefully.” there’s more girls here. “really? i thought that’s what we were here for… the long coming marriage between you and your toxic boyfriend?” head cants up, joking with him despite her stingy attitude. “only because he’s your friend. he’s dumb, but i don’t think he’s THAT dumb. i don’t imagine him as the type that’s against slapping a woman in the right heat of moment, though. so are they really that much different? only difference you and billy taupe clade didn’t grow up together, so that’s why you don’t leech to him.” but jesse evans and billy taupe clade are the same kind of people in her mind. eyes glancing up to find what kind of disaster and disappointment is waiting on them… no less of a feeling when she sees that rv they’re obligated to share with all these different people. aerosmith’s dream on loudly playing from inside the rv as their radio. guys. so many of them that already reek of cigarettes and liquor and beer, she bets. making a displeased face, betting she will be making her bed outside on the rocks. next time, she’ll definitely be dragging billy to an ALL girls party. but it still doesn’t seem fair because an all girls party is definitely a lot better than an all boys, she knows how they are.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: haku tells you a bedtime story that's a bit too familiar.

COMMENTS: this is a late birthday fic for @sunstirred :3 thank u for being such a lovely bright presence in the tkdb fandom!! i really hope you like this because. im worried i got too philosophical or something T0T PLEASE im so sorry im going to dig a hole and hide in it now im so worried it's horrible . WE BALL

Haku finds himself wondering if normalcy with you by his side could be possible.

Sure, he calls you princess, takes you on dates, and does all of the normal things a boyfriend would do. And maybe that should be enough to satisfy him—but it isn’t. The thought of your curse and his future hang above his head all the time, and even when he forgets in the midst of bliss it always bites him in the ass eventually. It’s selfish to keep you here.

“Haku,” you breathe, looking so soft under the bedsheets, all wrapped up in his bed, curled up next to him and no one else, “Tell me a bedtime story?”

He exhales sharply, a small smile spreading across his lips.

“Princess, you’ve made fun of me for my acting before—”

“C’mon, please?” you whine, shuffling even closer to him.

The sheets are cool against his skin, but with your body heat, he feels unimaginably warm. Is this love? It certainly feels like it.

“Once upon a time...there was a flower,” Haku begins.

He can tell you’re quite satisfied with the results of your pleading as you get comfortable. Your legs wrap around his and he sighs, tightening the grip he has on your waist.

“This flower was loved dearly by the wind,” he continues, “But the flower didn’t know just how badly the wind wanted to keep it.”

You’re nodding along. Haku’s hand slides up your waist and trails up your back.

“The wind blew harder, trying to get the flower to join it. The wind had so much freedom, but only because it fought hard to keep its freedom,” Haku murmurs, “The wind wanted nothing more than to have a life with the flower. It thought, if I can take this flower with me, I can finally know what it means to live as myself.”

You’re frowning. Maybe this story was a bit too sad, but now that he started he can’t just stop. And so, he takes another deep breath before continuing.

“The flower couldn’t be swept away by the wind, otherwise, it would die. The flower made its roots stronger, digging into the ground to escape the wind. It pleaded with the flower to let go, to be free with it, but the flower knew it couldn’t. She was more grounded than the wind.”

Whoops, slip of the tongue. Haku laughs to himself, and hopes you’d just brush it off.

A simple bedtime story shouldn’t make him feel so awful.

“And so, the wind howled and howled and howled, until one day. It stopped. The flower was able to withstand the most horrific of disasters because of how it dealt with the wind. It was able to survive, year after year, all while the gentle breeze kept watch.” Haku presses a single kiss to your forehead, “I think the wind realized that the flower had a different definition of freedom because it lead a different life.”

“The wind and the flower just need to coexist... you've spent too much time with Zenji,” you tease, but furrow your brow, “Haku...this sounds an awful lot like a metaphor for how humans and ghouls can’t—”

He kisses you. You grunt against his lips before laughing, leaning into his touch. He knows you don’t care about any of that—sharp, clever you—but he can’t help himself from wanting to keep you right here.

You belong here, by his side. And even if he isn’t the guy you fell in love with one day, he knows you’ll still love him all the same.

You’re his hope. Haku knows, deep down, an undeniable truth, that he would do anything—anything at all—to make sure your future was forever safe and protected.

At the end of it all, Haku just wants to be your future, simply as the man who loves you.

[fictoweirdoesten]

Only Just a Dream

cw: gn! reader x lads men (poly). use of petnames (pipsqueak, pips, sweetie, kitten, 'darling light', cutie). dialogue by color (because I'm not confident that y'all will understand who's talking because my writing skills suck). mostly fluff but hard-hitting angst(reader has depression)towards the end, and then slight fluff right at the end.

a/n: let me know if the color dialogue is too distracting, I'll change it back. wanted to write this to forget about my ex-bsf for at least 30 minutes because heh, bpd, can't stop thinking about them.

update: bpd is so funn that I don't miss them anymore and instead completely hate them<3

idk i just wish i had the lads guys as friends maaaaaaaaan im really going through it rn uhhhh hope you enjoy reading ♡

"Cuuutie! Wake uuuuup!"

You groan, clutching onto your pillow as you try to ignore the person waking you up.

"Pleaaaase? You've been asleep aaaall day!"

The person tugs at your arm before gripping on it, attempting to pull you out of the bed. It's not until a few tugs later that you fully register what's going on. Your eyes suddenly widen, darting to the man beside you. Your heart races when you take in his appearance, the way his pretty blue and pink eyes stare down at you with a mix of confusion and admiration. He eases his grip on your arm, leaning closer to you with a slight smirk on his face.

"What? Had a nightmare?" he teases, but there's a hint of genuine concern in his voice. He moves his hand to your cheek, carressing it gently. "Don't worry. Your very strong boyfriend is here to protect you."

He chuckles, but you don't. "I can't believe it," you think to yourself, eyes darting all over the Lemurian. "Is he...? Am I...?"

"That big dummy is making breakfast." Your heart beats at his words, already guessing who this 'big dummy' could be. Rafayel notices your sudden excitement and lets out a scoff, shrugging his shoulders. "I knew your back was big, but man, didn't know you'd get that excited over-"

Before he could finish, you're already out of the ridiculously-large bed and pacing down the hallway. You stop, almost turning into a puddle of goo right there as your eyes spot two men in the kitchen. One of them is wearing nothing but a frilly red apron and some gray sweatpants, his attention on the stove as he holds the pan with one hand and a spatula on the other. The other is holding a cup of coffee, his hazel eyes slowly glancing up from his phone to you as he takes another sip.

"...Well good morning," Zayne gently smiles, setting his mug down and resting his chin on his hand. "You slept long enough. We were starting to get worried yknow." Caleb quickly moved his gaze to you when he heard Zayne, a lovestruck grin on his face. "If you keep sleeping in like that, I might have to start breathing down your neck every night until you fall asleep at an appropriate time, pipsqueak."

Before you could respond, Zayne interrupts you with a slight chuckle. "Your 'pipsqueak' has been mentally exhausted lately, Caleb. I'll jump in if it becomes an issue." Caleb lets out a quiet "hmph", focusing his attention back at the stove. "I'm almost done with breakfast. Pancakes for Sylus and Zayne, waffles for Rafayel and Xavier, and french toast for you and me."

Sylus? Xavier?

Caleb winks at you, giggling at the flustered look on your face. "What's wrong pips? Looks like you're spacin' out." You let out a slight, almost forced laugh, eyes glancing around the room for Sylus and Xavier, but you don't notice them. You also don't notice Rafayel walking past you, letting out a whine as he leans his head against Caleb's back, rubbing his forehead against his apron.

"When's breakfast ready? I'm hungryyyyyy!"

"Soon, you bratty fish! Now-"

You quickly tune them out, still trying to figure out the whereabouts of the last two men. Zayne notices, letting out a fake cough to catch your attention.

"Suprisingly, those two woke up earlier than you today. Since it's a bit cloudy out, Sylus wanted to go walk, and Xavier went to join him."

"If I'm right, they should be here about now-"

As soon as the words leaves Zayne's lips, the sound of the door unlocking catches your attention. You start walking towards the front door, watching as the two men walk inside and instantly meet your gaze.

"Kitten? I thought you were busy hibernating today," Sylus smirks, leaning down to kiss your forehead, his hand resting on your shoulder momentarily before he lets go, walking past you as he takes off his jacket. Xavier decides to lean his head onto your shoulder, letting out a satisfied hum as he nuzzles against you. "How was the walk Xavier," you ask, your hand moving to his hair, fingers dancing along his scalp. "Mh. It was okay-"

"Not fair! Why didn't I get a pet today!" You glance behind you to see a pissed off Rafayel darting towards the both of you. He flicks at Xavier's forehead, causing the man to groan and stare daggers into him. The both of them are pouting now, and you can't help but giggle as you move and rub your fingers gently against Rafayel's temple. Rafayel lets out a sound similar to a purr, leaning against your touch as he grabs your hand and rubs against your palm.

"Hey! I want a pet too!" You hear Caleb shout from the kitchen, his voice playful, but there's a needy undertone to it that you almost miss. Sylus and Zayne let out a sigh as they sit across from each other at the dining table, shaking their heads like disappointed, but doting parents.

"What are we going to do with them, Zay?"

"I don't know, but I would like it if you wouldn't steal my coffee, Sylus."

Sylus's smirk becomes devious as he glares at Zayne, his hand stopping at the mug's handle. He eventually lets go after a brief staring contest between them, sitting back in his chair as he shrugs and glances away.

"...Your coffee is too sweet for me anyway."

You can't help but let out a fit of laughter at everything that's going on. You haven't felt this happy in a long time. It feels so good to laugh, you suddenly remember.

"Wooow, someone remembered how to be happy, guys."

"My darling light, what's got you so giggly this morning?"

"I've almost missed that laugh of yours, you know."

"Looks like this kitten realized just how loved it is."

"Hey, my sweet baby apple, breakfast is-!"

Your eyes snap open. You glance around, dread slowly creeping in once you realize that you're back in your bed again. That it really was a dream. That you won't ever have that clingy somebody waking you up in the morning, that you won't be greeted with breakfast and a smile, that you won't ever feel as loved as you were in that dream.

And then your phone buzzes. It isn't anyone, you already know, but you can't help but hope anyway. Hope that maybe someone does care.

Love&deepspace:

Rafayel: Cuuuutie! Where are you??? I'm bored in this dumb studio, come say hello!

Xavier: I'm sleepy....let's cuddle together...

Zayne: When I'm done with work today, do you want to hang out? I'm in the mood for sweets.

Sylus: In the mood to shop sweetie? I'll come visit you this evening, be ready.

Caleb: I've made breakfast for you, so come over, okay?

...maybe...maybe you really are loved, after all.

[the-moon-files]

That would be really awesome actually. I'm pretty really stressed atm, so I guess we could try a guide reader au with the links (my only real preference is Hyrule, but I like p much all of them so Hyrule + two others of your choosing) essentially forcing me to take a break. That's one thing in really bad at and I think if one of the links was like "✒️ anon. Dude. Go to bed rn. I'll supervise you and make sure. Don't play w me." I would actually listen cause I don't have the body strength or the mental capacity to really fight back.

Dw I am taking breaks!! I just got done taking a long, long 100 question final and I feel incredibly sleepy. Trust that after I post this ask I will be going straight to bed. Whatever you end up coming up with I promise I will read when I'm awake and more alert :)

-✒️

Ended up seeing this probably a bit late but here ya go ✒️ anon!! Im not sure when ur time zones are so i hope its still useful <3

☆

You'd been running around the camp for hours

Ever since joining back up with your beloved heroes, in the flesh now, you'd gone back to some of your video game habits interestingly enough

Stockpiling supplies, having 2 of everything, constantly refilling health potions or related items, etc.

The behaviour was all too familiar for all the Links, except now luckily enough, they were finally there in person to get ahold of you about it

You swayed as your cape pooled around your feet, blinking away your dry eyes as you shakily go for picking more mushrooms

Looking up and around you spot a few more plants to stock up on, and make a plan for which spots to hit first, and how much to grab but still leave some behind because you're still figuring out if hyrule works like earth in that you need to leave some plant behind so itll regrow-

"Get up."

You frown, looking around in confusion as you slowly deduce who and where to look, a calloused brown hand is suudenly at your side where youre crouched

You blink sleepily confusedly at it before following the tunic clad arm up and up until the fluffy head of dark blonde/maybe light brown hair and round eyes and pointed ears

Hyrule huffs a sigh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with concern, but otherwise lookimg veru firm as he thrusts his hand at your again

"Come on, up. Come with me. We've been looking for you for a bit, I knew you'd be out here."

You wave him off, saying somethinf about the plants and mushrooms and stockpiling before you hear a second long drawn out sigh and all of a sudden youre beinf hoisted under the armpits up into a standing position by the strong hero

You yelp as you sway, the blood rushing to your head as the fairy hero keeps you steady,

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders securely, he steadily guides his own Guide back to civilization (camp)

Youre stifling a yawn as you cant help but lean into your travelers hold, the ache of your muscles and the drag your eyelids fighting you and yet luring you in

You complain (slurring) at Rulie as he hushes you and boops you on your rounded ear

"I'm glad to finally be able to reach you in person now, so I can stop you from doomsday prepping. Sometimes you seemed even a little anxious or panicked when you'd do this. Sometimes it was way too late for you to be awake and pushing it this hard. Yeah, my dream is finally fulfilled, I can drag you to bed"

Hyrule chuckles, his arm tensing across you weary shoulders to squeeze you gently, you give up protesting now, knowing a losing battle when you see one

Its as you two break the treeline into camp that you realize just how much your heroes cared about getting you back, pulling you away from work and laid down

You blink tiredly as Hyrule guides you at your own slow pace, observing the camp as you do

The fire is small, still crackling, and although many are not sleeping yet, every blonde elf has found something peaceful and quiet to do, all migrated to their sleeping bags or the ground

Twilight perks up as he either smells or spots you two, reaching beside him to seemingly adjust little things to your tent

Hylians may be able to sleep upside down, sunshine or rain, on top of rocks or moss, but you needed a tent and somr padding to get anywhere near comfortable enough to sleep

The past 3 days had been rough on you as well, no tent or padding able to be acquired until they got closer to a town,

So this was the first time youre seeing your new bed situation

"Come on, almost there. The captain got a tailor in town to help make your tent and bed. Don't worry about taking a night shift, there's plenty of us to do it instead. ...hope you don't mind, but my sleeping bags in there too, since you said you prefer sleeping next to somebody."

You're barely processing anything he's saying at this point, only leaning more and more into the warm steady side his arm's pressed you into as Twilight pulls at the tent flaps to let you in

You begin to shakily take off your shoes, using Hyrule as support as he widens his stance to better keep you up, tilting unexpectedly the other way just before someone shorter than you slips under youd other arm

You jolt with the new support, trying to get your tired body to respond faster as another slightly buffer arm braces your back and Hyrule pulls at you from the other side to help as well

Four is quiet as he silently supports you, before making sure your sleepy self is braced enough for him to lean right down and pull your remaining shoe off, you blink, mind still at you falling over rather than updating to the now as you slowly come to slur out a thank you and you didnt have to do thats

Before Four is making a hushing sound and working with Hyrule and Twilight to finally get you in the tent

You see him slip to the other side of the outside of the tent, fgiving a goodnight, Twilight smiling and biddin you goodnight from the opposite side as you wouldve stumbled in if it werent for Hyrule catching you

He helps you lower down ti your sleeping mat, as you mumbled embarassed apologizes, while he shushes you and literally helps you get under the covers

He's whispering at this point, sliding under his own covers as he stays on his side and facing you the entire time,

"Four and Twi are on night shift tonight, and theyre vantage point is right outside your tent, so you dont have to worry about anything. And Im right in here in case you need anything too."

You sleepily blink, eyelids feeling swollen with tiredness as you are barely able to tip your head to the side to look him back in his dark blue eyes

You whisper back "thank you rulie"

He smiles softly back at you as your eyes droop

Youre half asleep and think youre imagining it as you feel somethinf warm and soft against your forehead

You fall fast asleep to Twi's shuffling, Fours quiet sniffs as he falls asleep first, and Rulie's body heat pressed to your side

"Goodnight"

☆

Hope that wasnt too late, i didnt see ur ask until way later!! Wrote as i was running arounf to get to work lol

Have a good night and hope youre taking care of yourself after exams!!

Peace out,

🌙

[aspeni-cody]

maybe giyuu and his s/o telling Kagaya Ubuyashiki and the other hashira they are expecting? pre muzan attacking? im not sure if thats your style, if not no worries!

I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for the request!!!!

“New Light in the Darkness”

Character(s): Giyuu Tomioka x Reader, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, the Hashira

Timeline: Pre-final battle, Demon Slayer Canon

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Family

Warnings: None

Summary: Before the final battle, you and Giyuu gather the Hashira and Ubuyashiki-sama to share unexpected news.

The wind blew gently through the gardens of the Ubuyashiki estate, carrying the scent of fresh earth and spring blossoms into the meeting room. The air was warm and still, the kind of day that made everything feel like it might hold just a little more hope than usual.

The Hashira were gathered in their usual formation, kneeling with calm reverence before Kagaya Ubuyashiki. His pale features were bathed in soft sunlight, a serene smile touching his lips as he welcomed them.

And you—seated just beside Giyuu—felt the weight of anticipation settle in your chest.

Giyuu’s fingers brushed yours subtly beneath the folds of your sleeves, his silent way of asking, Are you ready?

You took a quiet breath. Then, with a small nod, you gently pulled your hand away from his and stood.

The attention of the room shifted almost instantly. You didn’t speak often during these meetings, and certainly not before Ubuyashiki-sama himself. Giyuu turned his gaze to you, ever-stoic but undeniably present, ready to support you in whatever came next.

Kagaya’s soft voice broke the quiet. “You have something to share with us, don’t you?”

You bowed deeply. “Yes, Ubuyashiki-sama. With your permission… I’d like to speak.”

He gave a gentle nod. “Of course, dear one.”

You swallowed softly and turned your gaze across the room—at the warriors who had faced death more times than anyone should. They looked at you not with judgment, but curiosity. Trust.

You placed your hand over your lower abdomen, fingers trembling just slightly.

“Giyuu and I…” You paused, the words catching in your throat, not from fear but from the weight of them. “We’re expecting. A child.”

The silence that followed was unlike any other. Not heavy. Not tense.

Just quiet—soft, sacred.

For a moment, no one moved. Then—

Mitsuri gasped, her eyes already brimming with tears. “You’re going to have a baby? That’s the cutest thing ever! Oh my gosh—congratulations!!”

She leapt up and nearly ran toward you, only to remember where she was and sit back down, hands clasped over her chest as she practically vibrated with joy.

Kyojuro beamed, his eyes shining like a sunrise. “What a glorious thing! A new life is the greatest celebration of all! Truly, this child will be a symbol of hope!”

Shinobu chuckled behind her hand. “I must say, I didn’t expect to hear this at today’s meeting. You’re full of surprises, Giyuu.”

Giyuu, still seated, let out a small sigh through his nose. “I’m not hiding anything,” he muttered. “Just… wasn’t the time until now.”

“You dog,” Tengen drawled, smirking. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Quiet types always throw us off.”

Even Obanai blinked once in surprise, and Muichiro—usually lost in thought—had actually turned to look at you with curiosity.

Sanemi scoffed, crossing his arms. “Hah. Never thought you’d be the first among us to start a family. You’re so damn serious all the time.”

Giyuu rose to his feet beside you at that point, his expression unreadable to most, but his hand found yours again.

“I wanted to tell you all before the battle,” he said. “In case… something happens.”

At that, the room stilled again. The reality of war hung in the air, just beneath the surface. You knew every single person here had accepted that risk long ago. And you had too.

But Kagaya smiled again, his calm breaking through the storm you all carried.

“This is a beautiful gift,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, yet it filled the entire room. “Thank you both for sharing it. New life is not a distraction from our mission—it is the reason for it. Your child represents the future we fight to protect.”

You bowed again, emotion thick in your throat. “Thank you, Ubuyashiki-sama.”

Kagaya’s eyes, though veiled in their own pain, softened even further. “May this child come into a world made brighter by your strength and your love.”

As the wind rustled the trees outside and the sunlight dappled across the wooden floor, the Hashira sat in stillness—not for war, not for orders, not for duty.

But for joy.

Just for a moment.

And as Giyuu’s fingers gently threaded with yours, you knew: this was the reason you both had survived this long.

A new light in the darkness.

[txttletale]

after being interested from seeing you post about mtg but too intimidated by how complicated it seemed, a friend recently taught me how to play and ive been having so so so much fun!!! ive mostly just been playing standard/jump in on arena so far, but i wanna start building a commander deck soon. my wuestion here is twofold, i guess - a) do you know any commanders you consider easy or fun for beginners (colour doesnt really matter to me; ive been finding enjoyment in all of them so far, altho im sure ill develop a preference once i have a better grasp of the game lol) and b) whats your own personal favourite commanders?? ones you play or ones you just think are neat :) anyways thank you for being at least partially responsible for getting me into mtg, ive been having an absloute blast, i hope you have a very niceys day :)

yippee! i'm glad you're having fun, magic is a really deep and exciting game.

to point 1: i'm increasingly of the mind that apart from like, extreme edge cases where you're playing, like a mairsil combo deck and have to learn a bunch of specific sequencing and rules minutiae, i think that looking for an 'easy' commander is a very overrated. resonance and stickiness are a huge part of how easy it is to learn a card or deck's mechanics, so if you have a special little guy you love i would play him no matter how comparatively complex he is compared to, like, monogreen ramp

if there's one piece of general advice i'd give to a beginner, it's to steer away from 'feast or famine' type commanders: a lot of commanders, especiually since wotc started intentionally pritning 'commanders' rather than just legendary creatures, are enormous resource snowballs, such that letting them be on the board for a turn cycle or two will put their player unstoppably far ahead. unfortunately the correct counterplay to these kinds of commanders is for everyone to kill them instantly the moment they're cast and genreally not let their playtrs play the game -- so they often lead to having games where you are either being ganged up on and beaten to death or stomping everyone. some popular examples of commanders that i think create these play patterns are miirym, krenko mob boss, jodah the unifier, kinnan bonder prodigy, and korvol fae-cursed king.

so generally i tyhink especialyl as a newer player you will have fun with slightly lower power commanders who aren't wearing a big PLEASE KILL ME sign on their heads. but other than that i truly think you should pick a blorbo or gameplay style that appeals to you on a visceral, emoitional level, and find out if if it's actually fun to play or not. actually that reminds me, try to also pick a commander that, like, rewards you for executing your deck's gameplan, or helps you execute it, but isn't the sole engine behind your deck -- commander is full of good removal and board wipes, and you will have a lot more fun if you're playing a deck that can still function evne if your special guy is in time out.

to point 2: i have quite a few. my first commander and overall one of my favourite still is the celestial toymaker (nei lpatrick harris jumpscare). i love him because -- while he is an example of the kind of commander i think ultimately can lead to bad gameplay patterns where big parts of your deck are dead without him -- he turns this extremely stupid fucking mechanic into a real theme. i fucking loe playing my toymakre deck, and doing a silly voice and saying PLAY MY GAME... WHO WANTS TO PLAY MY GAME? every time i have some silly choice to force someone to make. play piles with meee (also esper control is a shell that's just really fun for me regardless of commander or theme so that helps a lot too)

other commanders i have that i really enjoy... i think gor muldrak is really cool, hios abiltiy is so odd and niche and finding ways to make use of it is so much fun. only good simic commander. tip: [peer pressure] is an awesome win condition for him.

i really enjoy zedruu also, for similar reasons to the toymaker: giving people stuff is such a funny mechanic, and while the commander gets osme flak because a lot of people build around lieke, dogshit cards that are unplayable if you don't have zedruu to donate them, i think you can build a much more fun and resilient zedruu deck by relying on symmetrical soft stax pieces and oubliette-style effects where it doesn't mater to you who owns it. getting to play perplexing chimera in that deck delights me.

gallia is great. straight up i made a deck for her because i think she's cute. her joy is just so infections, i don't even like gruul aggro as an archetype generally, but something about playing gallia and being like NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY TURN SIDEWAYS ILL DISCARD WHAT I DISCARD is very refreshing considering i usually like playing very controlly-pillowforty high-interaction decks wth 50 quajillion counterstpells.

oh and finally... the red death. i fucking love goad, im the goad liker, i enjoy goad, and i set out to make a Good Goad Deck and immediately got sidetracked form any of the stronger commanders for the format by this stupid little bebo with the meme eyes. i donit know what happens in fallout 76 and i dont care this little guy is my friend and he is SO funny with cards like psychic possession. Our card draw :)

for an honorable mention, two decks i really love but not really because of their commander: i have a huge amount of fun playing the new zimone (who has displaced vorel of the hull clade) at the helm of my millennium calendar deck. it's fun to have a deck where i can slot in all the werird counter-dependent artifacts like lux artillery and darksteel reactor, and it's a very fun supervillanious feeling watching the table scramble to stop me as my Sinister Calendar ticks up

and i also have a zoraline eggs deck nbecause i loved bloomburrow bats, built a zoraline bats dekc, then thought, hmm, i could be doing al ot more with her than just bringing back mediocre bats for a small lifegain pawyoff. Liek bringing back mediocre artifacts that ic an crack for 2 life and a card draw. it's a very intricate little device of a deck once it gets going and although it's not very strong it's very very fun. looping an executiuoner's capsule or a tainted sigil is what its all about babey!

[everything-transmasculine]

i dont even know if i want to be trans anymore, everyone keeps telling me that i dont actually experience the things i do, the constant misogyny and misgendering and “youre a man, why dont you just take it” and then when i finally break down and tell people to please just stop hurting me, im labeled as some sort of dangerous monster who only thinks about himself. if this is what being trans is like, its almost better for me to detransition - because at least when i was a girl, people believed me when i said horrible things happened to me

anon, please please please do not put your worth in the hands of people who dont care about you. there are good and kind people out there, and there are people who will believe you, uplift you, and celebrate you. i hope to be one of those people - even if im just words on a screen, im here for you. you arent a monster, you dont deserve cruelty, and you certainly dont deserve bigotry.

there is a better future for us, we just have to keep fighting. you are so much more than what terms other people have decided to apply to you. you deserve the world, anon, you just have to reach out and take it.

[loverstrings]

Project Spindle (Chapter Five) - Established Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

She’s always known about her powers, but the truth of where they come from could shatter everything.

a.n - im free from my shackles of spring semester! im glad you guys are enjoying reading this series! i enjoy writing it for you! ive been writing little drabbles of her and the team :3 those are separate from this series, it was more before we introduced them in the first chapter. but yeahhhh hope you guys enjoy this one!

| masterlist |

“Are we ready to burn it?” Steve asked quietly, eyes fixed on the bunker—on the room full of glass ghosts and broken promises.

Bucky exhaled. “Not yet. Let me lock in the coordinates to VERMA.”

He tapped his device until a soft ping confirmed the upload. Then, with a short nod to Steve, he added, “Now we’re good.”

Bucky turned to Y/N, who was leaning on Wanda. “Hon, you ready?” Her eyes were distant, clouded with fear, but she still gave him a soft nod—a small, trembling gesture that said she heard him, and that she was holding on.

That was enough. He reached for her hand and didn’t let go as they made their way to the car in silence. They watched the bunker go up in flames from the backseat of a sedan. Smoke curled into the sky, dancing in the rearview mirror as they drove away. No one said a word until the vehicle slowed at the quinjet’s ramp.

Onboard the jet, silence filled the cabin except for the hum of the engines. Bucky sat across from Steve, one arm resting along the back of the seat, fingers tapping lightly against the fabric—restless.

“You didn’t stay with Peggy,” Bucky said. His voice wasn’t accusing. Just… searching.

Steve stared ahead for a long moment, then answered quietly. “I thought that was where I belonged. But… something pulled me back. There’s more for me here than I thought.”

Bucky nodded slowly, gaze dropping to the floor. For a second, his jaw tightened—just barely. “Yeah,” he said, voice lower now. "sometimes, chasing what we think we need just leaves us more lost." Steve looked at him, concerned, but didn’t press. Bucky leaned back, eyes on the ceiling like he was trying to keep something from surfacing.

“You being here…” he paused, then swallowed. “It’s good. Just gonna take some getting used to. You were gone a long time, man. I thought I lost you for good.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky gave a tight smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s alright. Doesn’t feel real yet anyway.”

They lapsed back into silence, the kind that said more than words could.

Outside the window, the clouds moved fast beneath them. And somewhere behind Bucky’s steady breath and stillness, something unspoken curled tighter inside him—something he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.

----

When the jet touched down on the Tower's pad, the group was already waiting inside—Yelena, Bob, Ava, Walker, and Alexei all clustered together like dogs sensing something was wrong. They followed Wanda, Steve, Bucky, and Y/N silently through the halls, sticking close without a word of protest.

The crowd thickened as they moved into the briefing room, where the air felt heavier, more aware.

Bucky took center, the rest fanning out around him.

“What we found…” he began, glancing toward Y/N briefly, “was a continuation facility. Not an old Hydra ruin—something new. Hidden. Modern. And designed specifically to extract from Y/N whatever they didn’t finish the first time.”

He paused as the words sank in. “It’s abandoned now, or that’s what they want us to think. But it was operational long after Hydra fell. The coordinates lead us to a remote lab—VERMA-12, buried in the Carpathians. We believe whoever took over the program is still out there. Finishing their work.”

Yelena’s jaw tensed, her arms folding tighter across her chest. Ava stared down at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. Walker shifted his weight but said nothing, gaze flicking briefly toward Y/N, then away.

The silence lingered only a moment before they began to move—each of them propelled by purpose, by routine, by the need to keep going. Whatever waited for them at VERMA-12, they’d face it prepared.

In the mission prep room, the team spread out across a long table scattered with gear, weapons, and communication tools. They moved with methodical urgency. Ava checked the flow of her suit, making sure it was synced to the comms. Yelena ran a quick diagnostic on her wrist blasters, brows furrowed in focus. Walker stood off to the side, quietly adjusting the straps on his taco-shaped shield, his expression unreadable

Bucky paced quietly. Steve stood by the schematics, adjusting the shields given to him by the Wakandans. Wanda and Y/N were looking over coordinates, side by side.

Then Y/N turned, glancing toward Bob. “Bob… maybe you should sit this one out.”

He paused mid-check on his gear, looking up. “Why?”

“This mission isn’t like the last,” she said gently, but with a firmness that couldn’t be missed. “It’s Hydra. And whatever’s out there—I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

Bob’s jaw tightened. “I’m not asking to be dropped into the front line. But I’m part of this team. You don’t get to decide I’m not.”

“I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself—”

“Yes, you are,” he said, not angrily, just honest. “I know what this mission means. I know what it means to you. And I still want in.”

Alexei let out a huff. “He grows stronger by fighting. You coddle him, he stays soft. You let him stand, he becomes agent. Real one.”

Y/N looked ready to fire back, but Bucky stepped in. He glanced at both of them, then looked squarely at her. No words—just a steady nod.

She sighed quietly.

Bucky turned to Bob. “You’re coming. But this isn’t full deployment. You stay on the jet, run support. Eyes, comms, tactical reads.”

Bob’s response came after a beat. “Understood.”

“No weapons yet,” Bucky added. “You want to prove something, do it by keeping us alive from the backline.”

Bob nodded once. Y/N looked at him, her tone softening. “Be safe. That’s all I care about.”

His expression eased just a bit, and he reached out, briefly squeezing her hand. “Same to you.”

As the last of the gear was packed into crates, Y/N finally spoke again. “Alright. We’re going to VERMA-12. It’s a Hydra site, still active, and based on what we’ve gathered, they were trying to continue… well, me. So whatever’s left there, we need to destroy it. Not just for me, but for everyone who might be tied to this.”

The team nodded in agreement. FShe glanced at Bucky, brushing his hand. “I know this is a big deal, and not all of us have been in the same room before, so— let’s get this out of the way. I don’t expect anyone to like each other, but I do expect respect.”

“Respect?” Walker muttered, arms folded.

“Yeah, respect,” Y/N repeated, eyeing him. “We’ve all been through things, and we’re here for a reason. So let’s focus on what’s important.”

Walker shifted, clearly uncomfortable. He looked to Sam — who wasn’t there — then back at Steve.

Steve gave him a quiet nod. “We’re all here for the same thing. No one’s alone on this.”

Ava crossed her arms and smirked. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Right,” Walker muttered.

“Hey, hey!” Alexei boomed from the back of the room. “Steve Rogers! I have waited years to meet you!”

He clapped Steve on the back hard enough to rattle bones. Steve just chuckled.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, lips tugging up faintly. “You’re too much, Alexei.”

“I am Russian hero,” Alexei grinned. “But I do like big strong super soldier Steve Rogers too.”

"Alright," she said, her voice firm but warm. "We need to stick together. Stay close to each other, and don’t do anything reckless. We’re not just going to destroy files; we’re erasing everything Hydra had on me."

As the final duffels were zipped and the last coordinates loaded into the nav systems, Steve pulled Bucky aside.

“Maybe we should call in Sam and Joaquin. Just in case it’s bigger than we think.”

Bucky gave a small nod. “We might need the backup.”

----

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