#i know this is long but I feel them all so deeply

[reidrum]

glory of the snow

note: the return of insecure!reader my beloved <3 i had a bunch of requests to bring her back so i hope we like it! this is really just a gentle reminder from spencer that we should be kinder to ourselves. also i wanted to have them actually fuck but it didn't seem right to fit that in here so ,,, part 2 question mark who is to say. anyways my inbox is always open for any thoughts, comments, questions, musings all of it! love y'all mwah

summary: you freak out when spencer walks in on you accidentally, and he just loves you too much to let it go

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, masturbation (r, just mentions), heavy petting/kissing, comfort, talks of intimacy issues, self-deprecating reader

wc: 3k

“Oh, sweet girl.”

Three words, maybe two and one syllable, that in any other instance would have had you melting into a puddle at the softness it reared. Words that have so easily turned you into a preening cat but are now aimed at you, albeit no judgement from his end, with no room for escape.

Spencer had come home after a long day of paperwork when he first heard it. He would have brushed it off if it didn’t happen again moments later, and louder. Concerned, he walks toward the bedroom, a flush rushing to his face as he comes to recognize what it is. A small crack of the door allowed him the glorious sight of you in the center of the bed, hand between your legs, eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re mesmerizing to him and he really can’t bring himself to look away, and he doesn’t notice himself subconsciously leaning on the door causing a faint creak that alarmed you to his presence. In that moment, however, he’s less worried about scaring you, and more about the overwashing look of shame on your face.

The soft creak of the door pulled you out of your daze, screaming when you saw the figure behind the door. Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets nearly, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline from when you haphazardly threw the blanket over yourself. You were conflicted, but getting caught doing something that is a common and completely normal instance in relationships really shouldn’t make you feel this guilty. Although you do know the guilt was created by a previous version of you where you had told Spencer that you wanted to take the pace of your relationship slowly, and had little to no desire to engage in such activities for the time being. Or so you said.

He cautiously steps closer, careful not to startle you further, “I’m not upset, or anything.”

You’re not upset either, you’re mortified. “I lied to you.”

“You did…but I don’t think you meant to, right?”

There had been a time where you were tangled all up in him, and poor Spencer, his hands were in the wrong place at the wrong time to no fault of his own and entirely yours, and your shutdown was unavoidable. The blood in your veins seized up like crystallizing water turning into ice, paralyzing both the physical and mental before you could realize.

Intimacy for you was a complicated concept. While it wasn’t novel or unwanted, physical intimacy was something you struggled to accept with open arms. Call it a consequence of your self perception, but it was hard to accept the soft touch of love when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer never minded, although his heart ached to make you see yourself the way he saw you, he was always more than willing to meet you where you were.

It almost pains you with how understanding Spencer was of the whole situation because you knew any other person would be deeply upset. Every other person was upset.

Spencer never was just any other person, you suppose.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” Another lie, you could easily explain the reason.

It’s not that you weren’t ready, it’s that you didn’t feel like you looked ready. The thought of subjecting Spencer to the one dark cornerstone of your being in the early days of being together seemed illogical and burdensome, and so it was more simple to play it off as wanting to take a slow pace.

But, as biology would see it you have needs and your boyfriend just happens to be so detrimentally attractive that the simplest act has been sending you into a hot fit as of late. The culprit this time was an innocent mirror picture of him at the store trying on new trousers. You had no chance.

You had found that your intimacy issues lie within extending it to others, and less with yourself. The solution of you finding release on your own quickly became a habit when you realized there was no fear on your own. There’s no one to let down if you’re alone.

Spencer perches at the foot of the bed, flat hand outstretched on the blanket towards you but keeping a comfortable distance, “You don’t have to explain anything, honey.”

“No I know, but—fuck—I should.” you bury your face, choosing to only speak to him from behind your hands for now, maybe forever.

He takes a moment to take inventory of your physical being—you don’t look in pain. Clearly you didn’t sound in pain. Your face is flushed, and though he’s sitting a little far from you, the heat radiating from your body hits him like a space heater.

“Sweetheart…I’m not upset.” he repeats, in hopes a reminder might provide reassurance.

It doesn’t. “You’re never upset at me, it’s concerning.” you mumble.

“You make it kind of hard to be upset at you, ever really.” Spencer braves and lays a hand on your leg.

You take a deep breath, the cold of his hand grounding you more and more. Spencer senses the calm it’s bringing you and rubs circles into your calf.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asks gently.

What are you even feeling? You ponder for a moment—anxious, nervous, bad.

“Embarrassed.”

“Honey, there’s nothing embarrassing about masturbating. In fact, it’s more than healthy to do it to keep cortisol levels low,” he explains, “I just don’t know why you didn’t…want to tell me.”

The guilt swirls in your gut, hearing the twinge of hurt buried beneath the comfort he’s laid out for you. He just wants to help you, but you won’t let him in and that hurts him more.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It’s just…I…Look it’s…You’re just so hot—“ you slip out, clamping your hand over your mouth before leaking any more intrusive thoughts.

A faint smirk ghosts his face, “I’m…hot?”

“No—Well, yes. I just…ugh.”

“Okay, okay calm down,” he scoots closer and gently brings the hands covering your eyes to rest in your lap, “You don’t need to be all secretive, you know I’d never judge you.”

“I know,”

“I just thought you wanted to wait.”

“I do.”

“But, not with me? It’s okay if it's not with me.”

“Spence, I do. It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?”

You gulp, “I just…it’s a personal problem. With me. Not you.”

His brows furrow, “Like what, baby? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yeah, if a doctor can fix my shoddy self esteem and make me like myself again.” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. 

The pause he takes seems to be ages long before he speaks again, “Angel, how long have you been feeling like that?”

You’ve been caught red-handed, water filling up the tank faster than you can tread, “It’s nothing, I was just joking.”

“Hey,” he says with a rare firmness, “How. Long?”

You deflate under his hard gaze, “A…while…long enough… for it to feel like a…like a default setting, I guess.” you trail off.

Spencer couldn’t hide the hurt on his face if he tried. Not hurt from your lack of admission, hurt that you had felt like this for so long, dealt with this for so long on your own, and he didn’t even know.

All he ever hoped and wanted was for you to be happy, and if he could be the source of that he would ask for nothing more in life. So to hear about you struggling with this, that you felt like you had to keep it to yourself, was heartbreaking.

Spencer remains in his head a little too long as he’s broken out of it by your small voice, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

He sighs and moves to sit next to you, making sure he stays above the blanket for your comfort. His back is against the headboard of the bed, and he raises his arm a little, gesturing for you to fill the you shaped crevice. You hesitantly move into the space, hating how you feel every move you’re making is calculated, but all of that goes away the second your head meets his chest and his hand comes up to comb through your hair, the other smoothing your arm down, and all you’re left with is him.

“I promise I’m not mad,” he whispers softly, “Just wish you told me. I would have helped you.” He’s intentional in his wording—would, and not could. Could implies he has a choice, a want to do or not do something. I could have helped you, or I could have not helped you. Would is finite, he is doing it because it is programmed in him that caring for you is a need. I would have helped you because it is the only thing I know to be certifiably true, that you deserve to be cared for.

“It sounds stupid out loud but I was afraid you wouldn’t like me the same if you saw me like…that. It seemed logical for me to remove that option altogether.”

His heart aches painfully, and he wishes he could take everyone who’s made you feel that way to target practice. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would spend every day of my life proving that to you.” he utters with unequivocal resolve.

You sigh out shakily, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m always kind to you. You deserve kindness. You deserve a lot of things actually…” he trails off.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Well, did you um—” he trails. You look at him quizzically, he continues, “Like before I came in did you…finish?”

Oh. “Oh. I…I don’t think I did, actually. It’s okay though, no big deal.”

He stares at you intently, “Do you want to?”

Your eyes widen, “Spence oh, no it’s okay really you don’t have to do that.  

“You’re encouraged to say no if you feel even an ounce of doubt, but I’m offering because I love you and I want to show you that you can feel safe with me, even when you feel otherwise.”

The familiar sting returns to your eyes as the tears pool up. You’re not used to anyone putting this much effort and concern for your comfort, it’s a novel feeling but if Spencer is willing to handle you with as much care as he is, you’re ready to welcome that sentiment in with open arms.

“Yeah, yes.” you waver.

He grins and leans down, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. His hand ghosts from your calf to your knee, testing the water before moving more intent. An unwelcome yet familiar onset slowly rises, trying to break through to you, “Wait—“

He retracts his hand immediately, “You okay? We can stop if you need to.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need a second.” you breath out, trying to self regulate. 

He pulls back his hand but you stop him, “No keep it there, it helps. I just…” You don’t know how to phrase it. You think it’s because you’re not in control. When you’re alone it’s only you at the helm calling the shots. But when it really comes down to it, the lack of control is nothing compared to the lack of predictability that comes with the former. Explaining that out loud was daunting to even think about.

Yet Spencer understands what you need, because he always knows what you need. His hand returns to your knee, giving it a soft squeeze, “You tell me to stop whenever you need to.”

He continues kissing you while smoothing his hand up your leg, making wide and sweeping motions across the plush of your thigh so you can feel where he is and where his hand is going. The gesture is comforting and makes you feel grounded, but your head is in a dreamy haze at how good Spencer’s hands feel on you.

The haze leaves through your lips as Spencer feels you sigh against him, feeling you relax more and more as the seconds go by. His hand reaches your upper thigh, fingers ghosting on the inside. “Is this okay?”

You nod, feeling your nerves idling like a distant wave in the ocean. But Spencer’s presence is a lighthouse shining through the fog and guiding you to his shores while the calm washes over you.

His fingers lightly trace the fabric of your panties, ones that you had slid back up your hips upon his entrance into the room. The motion causes you to jump and he pulls back to gauge your reaction. When he sees no fear in your eyes, more so stunned by your wide eyed gaze, his fingers move with more precision, adding more pressure to your clothed core.

A gentle gasp leaves you as he strokes up and down your slit. You’ve given up on continuing to kiss him, the feeling of his hands being too overwhelming to have both sensations at the same time. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your body involuntarily curving towards him as he draws symbols on you with his index. Your breathing gets heavier and faster the longer he goes, and soon small moans begin to escape you.

He drags his finger to the top of your panties and toys with the band, faintly asking, “You still with me, sweet girl?” You preen into the crevice of his neck as he keeps talking, “Want me to keep going?” 

He feels you nodding into him as you breathlessly whisper, “Please.”

His finger dips below the fabric and travels down to your entrance, gathering the slickness and spreading it all over you. “Fuck,” he curses softly, “Look how wet you are, baby.”

You whimper at his words and Spencer ascends to the heavens if there even is one, and if there is it’s the one where you sound like that for him. He circles back up to your clit, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves before sliding back your slit and repeating the whole sequence a few more times.

Your moans are coming out at a steady pace, and he’s been prodding around your entrance for some time now, teasing and edging you closer. “Gonna put a finger in now, okay? Doing so good for me, baby.” he murmurs.

The feeling of his finger entering you is satiating. But it’s not enough, and you need more. “Spence,” you manage to get out, “Can take another one, please.” His eyes shut tight as he revels in your desperation for him, and how cynical he must be to love having you at his mercy this much. He would confess the darkest of sins if you asked him in that tone, and he has no choice but to oblige. He stifles a groan at how easily the second finger slid in, his other hand moving up to play with your hair and cradle your head close to his chest as he works his ministrations.

The familar coil builds in your gut, but at an intensity you’ve never felt before. His fingers move in and out of you urgently, his thumb returning to your clit. He’s a man determined to get you there, and your moans and cries of his name only spur him on further. After a few minutes your moans and cries turn into whines and babbles, and he knows you’re close.

His head leans down to croon in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, sweet girl. You can come, ‘m right here.”

It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come harder than you ever have on your own, the waves of your climax overtaking you completely. Spencer continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm, talking you the whole way down. Mutters of praises and kisses flow through your subconscious as the euphoria high takes its peak and you come back down to this realm.

His hand smoothes your hair back as you continue to pant against his chest, words unable to find you.

“You okay?”

You finally catch your breath, “That was—fuck—the most insane orgasm I have ever had.”

Spencer beams at this. For one, his obvious and impressive skills that have stunned you into oblivion. And two, because you look so relaxed. The stark difference of your anxiety filled face from when he first came into the room to the blissed out daze you have right now makes his heart swell five sizes up.

He hugs you closer and whispers, “I’m so proud of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Sleep is fighting you hard as you laugh airily and tuck yourself under his arm again, “I don’t know why I thought that would be scarier.”

He sighs, his smile faltering but still fond, “Past experiences and self perception complicate the anxiety around sex and intimacy. It’s a natural response based on your lived experiences.”

“Oh.” you mutter, slight deject in your tone.

“But we can work on it, if you want.” he adds, “It’s all up to you with what you’re comfortable with and how you want to do it. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to help you in any way I can, angel.”

You really don’t know how you got so lucky. Someone so kind, and patient, and willing to be with you as you navigate these things you normally would have kept to yourself. You feel grateful to be able to bare a piece of yourself to him, and know that he would receive it with open arms, wrapping it up and handling it with as much care as he can bear.

You cuddle closer, and mumble before your eyes succumb to sleep, “Love you. So much.”

Spencer looks down maybe two seconds later and you’re already out like a light. He chuckles softly to himself and whispers, “I love you more than you’ll ever know, sweet girl. Good night.”

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader Part 3

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: Violence, homophobia mention of attempted rape and sexist language

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◻○△ Hyun-Ju POV △○◻

The lights had barely gone out when Y/N had fallen asleep using one of her arms as a pillow and even though I was lying on my side, the space she used was still tiny, I could cover her with my arms and make her disappear without any problem.

The strands of her hair fell carefully and perfectly arranged around her head, some on her face where her long eyelashes adorned her cheeks, it was so strange to see and even more difficult to understand.

Previously, before I began with my identity recognition, my appearance attracted too many girls, many of them interested in my position and the economic benefits that this could bring to their lives, but I never felt attracted to them, they were all the same and empty.

But then why did I feel like this now? She could be my little sister, the fragile and sweet girl that I could take care of but my heart didn't feel that way, my stomach turned when she took my hand with fear, taking care that the bond didn't break so she wouldn't get lost from my side, my heart beat a thousand times faster when her eyes narrowed every time she smiled, my head spun every time she told me those words of encouragement making me see that I never made a mistake and that being who I am is no problem, she was the reason now for wanting to get out of this game and it didn't matter if I won the money or not, she was the best thing I had ever won.

Aren't you sleepy?…- she whispered making me jump slightly but I remained silent looking at her - don't pretend you're asleep… I can feel your gaze I'm sorry, I'm not sleepy yet..- I smiled at nothing feeling embarrassed for being discovered You should rest, tomorrow we will need strength to continue playing - her eyes barely opened illuminated with the warm light of the piggy bank - what are you thinking so much about? Thinking? What do you mean? - I looked at her curiously trying to pretend that everything was fine If you can't sleep, it's because your head is busy, what's wrong? - Damn, how did she know me so well? Just 3 days were enough for her to read me like the palm of her hand I was thinking… that… that this would be the last game we could play and then we would vote to withdraw from the competition - I smiled barely arranging a lock of her hair that covered her eyes I see, I was thinking the same thing, I don't want to be here anymore, when I get out I'll look for a job, no matter how bad the pay is, I just want to get out and go home - she sighed tiredly

If you don't mind telling me, now I would like to know why you decided to come to these games, what's your story?

Well… -she sighed deeply biting the inside of her lip a little and with another sigh she looked at me again- a year ago I met a guy online, he fell in love with me and he promised me that we would have a long and happy relationship, we went out for a couple of months just through messages and calls and one day he proposed to come to Korea to meet him and if everything went well I would stay with him to live and we would start a family, so… I quit my job and bought a ticket to come here… I met him and everything was going well but a couple of months later he… took all my money and disappeared, he barely paid the last month's rent and luckily they didn't throw me out but… -her gaze lowered sadly feeling ashamed- it was a stupid thing, I should never have trusted someone I didn't know

Men are disgusting… well.. you.. you understand - she laughed a little wiping her wet eyes - then you need the money for?..

To go back home, buy a plane ticket and go back to my country, I'm not welcome here and people have let me know in many possible ways, I just want to go with my family and start over what I left behind

Oh… - my heart felt like it was breaking into a thousand pieces, a part of me thought that by leaving this game she and I could get to know each other a little more, but she just wanted to run away from here, like I wanted and never hear from anyone else again - then… you'll leave

Yes I think so, but don't worry, once we get out we'll continue being friends and when I have a job I'll pay for all the necessary trips to visit you in Thailand - her eyes narrowed with the smile that formed on her lips, it was so comforting but at the same time so painful to hear that.

I didn't understand why it hurt, I had never felt that feeling of pain and abandonment in that sense, the sense of being in love with her.

Is something wrong? - Her small hand slowly touched my cheek making me focus my attention back on her just shaking my head smiling a little

Everything is fine, it's just that… I will miss my best friend as long as she doesn't come to visit me… - I lied and lied again when I told her I was sleepy and we had to sleep, I spent the night awake, watching her sleep once sleep overcame her again

The next morning, at the sound of the loudspeaker, everyone got up, as if so many hours had passed without even feeling the passage of time.

She barely woke up and jumped out of bed as if she had regained all the energy she had lost in the previous days, put on her shoes and almost ran down to greet Jun-Hee and ask her if she had slept well and if her baby had moved during the night. Y/N had barely found out that 222 was pregnant she kept asking her questions, excitedly showing that she couldn't wait for her turn.

Her authentic happiness made me feel much worse, it made me feel selfish, I wanted her for myself but I couldn't give her anything she wanted, I wouldn't give her the happy life, nor the family she dreamed of, it was a martyrdom and I only thought that I had made the worst decision to be the way I am now.

That is your punishment - the shaman laughed leaning on the bedposts - for following the wrong path that the gods wrote for you, now you will suffer, you love her but you will not have her

I don't know what you are talking about ma'am - I looked at her closing my sweater and arranging my hair with my fingers

Oh no? We are not stupid, we all know what you think when you look at her, how much you want to kiss her and show her that you love her but you don't, because you know that she doesn't like people like you, she only talks to you out of pity and she will never like you - the woman laughed, knowing that she had broken the last thing that was left in a piece inside me, she knew my secret and could use it against me to make me weak at any moment

Shut your mouth you damn bitch, you only know how to say shit, why don't you pray to the gods to give you a new brain uh? Get out of here - Geum-Ja confronted her pushing her away with her hands making the shaman go away laughing while I sat on the steps with my insides destroyed - girl, don't listen to her, that woman attacks where she knows she will truly destroy, don't give her that pleasure

She's right… - I looked at her sadly while she sat next to me brushing my hair with her fingers

Is she right? About we all know you have feelings for that girl? Of course she's right, but she'll never be right in stating what she feels or doesn't feel for you and we won't know until she tells you, maybe she sees you as an older sister or maybe as her best friend… -she smiled at me taking my hand- or maybe, deep inside, where no one knows her secrets, she feels for you the same as you do for her and it doesn't matter if you think you're not enough for her, when you're the right person for someone, all dreams come true

Do you believe in that? - I looked at her again feeling my lungs fill with air once again with her loving motherly smile

Of course, it doesn't matter what you were before or what you are now or if you are both girls, if love is sincere then love can do everything and I know you will fight to save yourself but especially her and I promise you that once we leave you two will go to my house and we will eat the best kimchi you have ever tasted, do you understand? - She laughed patting my back making me smile

''Players, it's time for a new game, please line up and leave in order following the masked soldiers''

Hyun-Ju, let's go - Y/N called me making me look at her quickly while she smiled

Go with her, I'll go with my son - Geum-Ja patted me again standing up as we both went down

Don't leave my side okay? - I looked at her as she nodded smiling and stood in front of me in the line of players

◻○△◻○△◻○△◻○△◻○△◻○△◻○△◻○△

The instructions had been clear and one thing was clear to me, I should not separate myself from Y/N at any time, she would be my priority in this game and no matter how many players there were, she would be the one who would always be by my side.

The platform spun to that traumatizing childhood song, everyone silently looking at each other

''10'' - The speaker spoke making us freeze

There are 4 of us, we need 6 more - Yong-Sik shouted desperately pulling his hair

Y/N! Here, there are 5 of us - Dae-Ho shouted pulling Y/N's arm making her look at him

There are 4 of us - I pulled her other arm bringing her back to me looking at him annoyed - Run to a room I'll look for one more

No Hyun-Ju I won't leave, let's go together - Y/N looked at me scared shaking her head

Don't worry, run! - I took her hand giving it to Dae-Ho making him pull her while I screamed looking for person 10 taking whoever the first person I saw was pulling her into the room

''10..9..8..7.''.- the speaker spoke making me nervous when I was able to enter the room and close the door almost fainting without oxygen in my lungs and the countdown reached zero we all looked at each other, the shots could be heard leaving us stunned as we caught our breath

Everyone is alive thanks to me! - the shaman shouted looking at us one by one - ah… I see why I'm here, to save your little friend's life - she laughed pointing at me

Don't start you damn crazy - Geum-Ja looked at her annoyed

As soon as the lock was removed and the door opened, everything was a bloodbath, we all walked in fear looking around confused when I felt a warm hand take mine.

You said we wouldn't separate… don't do that again - Y/N looked at me with her wet eyes

I'm sorry..- I smiled barely squeezing her hand walking slowly together so as not to slip with the blood on the floor

Again the song began to play and the platform turned again, this time with fewer players on it

''4'' - the speaker rang as soon as the song stopped making us look at each other

Run! Run now - I squeezed her hand pulling her as Geum-Ja and Yong-Sik followed us into the room and I closed the door leaning my back against it so no one could open it

This is so tiring… it's torture - Yong-Sik sat on the floor with his head in his hands desperate

Are you okay? - I looked at Y/N who was breathing heavily looking at the floor

Yes.. - she barely answered catching her breath

Again the lock opened letting us out, there was more blood and fewer people, the floor was sticky making our steps difficult until we reached the platform, once again the game began, the lights came on and the song played loudly

''3'' - the speaker announced making us look at each other again

What do we do? - Y/N looked at me scared

Come with me, we're doing in pairs and we'll look for someone - I grabbed her hand tightly, running screaming looking for someone, being pushed by Yong-Sik into the room

What are you doing here? Where's your mother? - I looked at him scared as he caught his breath

What?…what are you talking about? - he looked at me adjusting his misplaced glasses

The teams are 3 Yong-Sik, where did you leave your mother? - Y/N looked at him screaming upset

What? I understood 4, damn it - Yong-Sik tried to leave stumbling and throwing his glasses on the floor

This time Y/N let go of my hand and left quickly, grabbing Geum-Ja by the clothes skillfully by the back pulling her into the room with such force making her almost fall when she hit the wall and then she takes the door and closing it, now she was outside

No…Y/N NO, COME IN! - she looked at me through the gap in the door, her bright eyes looked at mine for the last time and then she ran - no, please no - the sound of the lock on the door rang and no matter how hard I pulled on it, it was impossible to open it

'' 10..9..8..7 ''

NO, NOT LIKE THIS, NOT HER - I looked at Geum-Ja pulling on my hair, my knees became weak making me fall on the floor as my tears fell

''6…5…4…3''

PLEASE DON'T KILL HER, DON'T SEPARATE HER FROM ME!..

''2…1…''

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Can you guess what would happen in the next episode? Can you guess who have a crush with Y/N? Let me read you! :3

Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

Tag List!

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[somanywords]

Steve finds Bucky in the kitchen, doing nothing but standing at the sink sipping tea, and he's learned a little more these days about the kind of baggage he's carrying, but he's still taken by surprise by the magnitude of the feelings that hit him all at once.

That's him, he thinks. Bucky. I know him.

It's not the pleased excitement of gaining a new friend. It's not the shaking jubilation of finding a long lost one. It's something deeper inside of him, something so good it almost hurts, something that cries out that's him. He's mine. I love him.

Steve can't help but wonder if Bucky ever feels the same, feels that deep swamping otherworldly gravity. Steve wonders if maybe it's just a him-thing. An eccentricity. He always did fall hard and fast, in over his head.

He says none of this out loud, just moves close enough to steal Bucky's tea mug. The tea tastes blueberry-ish. It's warm.

"Thief," Bucky says, his voice low and amused, sending shivers of recognition down Steve's spine.

He's known Bucky since he's known breathing, loving, living. He knows Bucky still.

"If you only knew," he replies lightly. If Bucky only knew which of them is the real thief, who's pocketed Steve's heart and lungs and bone marrow without seeming to realize it.

Bucky laughs a little, a sound deeply familiar.

"Do you ever," Steve tries, and then peters out. He can't put it into words, he can't. He tries to show Bucky what he means.

Steve sets the mug down on the counter and steps into Bucky's space, slowing down his own breaths to sync with Bucky's. He looks his fill - he's allowed to do that nowadays and that's another miracle - soaks up an expanse of Bucky. His hands find the warmth of Bucky's shoulder, the side of his neck. His hands fit there perfectly, because they remember how to. Bucky just watches him.

Steve breathes. Their breathing fills the space between them, a conversation without words. It's there, thrumming all around them. Do you feel it, do you feel it.

Bucky tilts his head just a little, and kisses him. Yes, Bucky means.

"I love you," Steve says, and he thought the words would be inadequate after all that, but they're not. Funnily enough. They're all he ever needs to say.

Bucky's hand finds his heart. Bucky's eyes are soft and searching.

"I love you," Steve says, and he means it in all the ways, in the way at the center of the world where the most familiar thing in the universe is the boy he grew up loving. "I love mmph -"

Bucky means, I love you too.

The tea grows cold on the counter.

[cherie-doll]

I have this brainrot for a while now

Which cod man would be the most husband material, who waits for the shortest amount of time before getting married? And who would be the one who would be fine with not getting married at all? And where are the rest of them?

How many kids would they want if they want?

I don’t need sleep, i need answers!😭

sorry for the delay my wifi is so slow, we just got a new batch of snow down here and tbh it might be affecting my internet

✧ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᰍᩚ Price... he's PERFECT husband material. Cut from the finest cloth I'm SO normal about him. You've just observed his behavior closely and he doesn't do annoying things like leaving his clothes lying around on the floor or leaving unwashed dishes in the sink. He def want to get married, but doesn't wait too long nor asks you right away, he'd time it just right. As for kids? Maybe he could convince you to have one or two...

ᰍᩚ Ghost... he doesn't realize he can lowkey be a good husband. He thinks he's not willing to adapt to anyone, given how much stuff he's been through. A relationship isn't the worst thing he's had to go through, he's gone through worse, so why is he thinking about it so much? He doesn't want to enter a relationship with only half a heart, not mindlessly. But he knows his feelings towards you don't come from nothing. His feelings would have to be resolved before you even started dating, so that afterwards everything progresses pretty smoothly. And after marriage, kids? Maybe idk.

ᰍᩚ Soap... he probably had your entire life planned out before he confessed. He knew he loved you, was convinced he wanted to marry you and needed to have kids. So, he waited the least amount of time to marry you. There's lots of things he could improve on as a partner but the good thing is he's willing to make any and all of those changes for you. His respect will never run dry, he won't let desperation take ahold of him, always letting you know one way or another he still cares. It was up to you to decide how many kids you'd be okay with but if it were up to him... yk what better not go there.

ᰍᩚ Gaz... Perfect boyfriend AND husband material. He loves showing affection with the little things, a cup of coffee or tea and cuddling when you feel down or taking care of chores when you need a break. Simple things that he does on the daily that in the long run fortify your relationship. The amount of time he waits before asking you to marry him depends and it's all on how you want your relationship to progress. He's surefooted in his decisions so after the initial stages of the relationship when he's gotten to know you very well, your faults and what he loves about you, he just lets you know that if you want to take that step, he's more than ready to do so. He def wants kids, at least three.

ᰍᩚ Roach... oh my sweet boy ToT. He's such boyfriend material and in time will no doubt grow into a loving husband. He very deeply cares about your connection and how deep it runs between you both. The topic of marriage comes up at a very proper time in your relationship, it's when all he can think of is holding your hand every day, how comforting your presence is to him and how this couldn't ever revert into something casual. Marriage is a definite yes for him. Kids are something he wouldn't think of right away. Maybe a few years down the lane, and maybe one.

ᰍᩚ Alejandro... you made him wish impossible things. How you've made him feel, the sensations not only running smoothly over his skin but finding a way to penetrate deeply, to make him desire nothing else but a life with you. Marriage was the ideal way to continue living in that daydream. How he wishes the days were endless, so he can rejoice for eternity with you. If this was what made him wish to be better, then he was surely husband material. In time, he'd want to start a family with you, to create life, to have little ones to take care of. Three or four kids would occupy his days.

ᰍᩚ Rudy... is THE blueprint for all husbands out there to follow. He's very patient, his voice soothes you, could lull you to sleep. Always listens to you even if you rant, if you point out a flaw of his he works to be better. Never pushed you into doing anything, even when he could already hear the wedding bells ringing, he wanted you to make this decision on your own. In the back of his mind, he most likely already had baby names planned and asked if you wanted kids. He def did and wanted three. He thought it was the perfect number.

ᰍᩚ Phillip Graves... husband material at its FINEST. He's not only charming and a gentleman as a boyfriend but also as a husband. He just couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger so he did want marriage very soon. There is no way he'd NOT want children, he's just as much father material as he is husband material. I've said it before but he was made to father children and I will die on that hill. He loves going everywhere with his son, showing him how to run a company and then he gentles when his daughter is born, doing everything she wants.

ᰍᩚ Makarov... husband material at the core. Deep on the inside he can be genuine and want to care for someone. He likes having someone to depend on him, under his care, leaning on him for that strange affection that isn't found anywhere else. It would be hard to refuse him with the amount of gifts he sends to sweeten you up and coax you to accept his proposal that came too soon for your liking. But look at it this way, he'll always provide everything you'll ever need and want and in exchange you only have to agree to marry him, live with him and... kids. Yes, he wants kids. A numerous family preferably.

ᰍᩚ Keegan... is quite levelheaded when it comes to relationships so he's fine with staying your boyfriend and living with you or becoming your husband when you marry. He could improve on becoming peak husband material but you're lucky if he picks up his clothes from the floor and places it in the laundry basket instead. He thinks having no kids is better until you get a scare thinking you might be with child and he gets excited until you call false alarm. He felt disappointment and then realized he did want kids after all. Would be fine with just one but wouldn't completely be against having another one later on.

ᰍᩚ König... it's not him you have to worry about when it comes to marriage. He's got to watch out for himself because YOU'RE going to wife him up, otherwise he'd never get around to asking you to marry him. Not that he wouldn't want to but he's thinking when would be the perfect moment to ask and he's always thinking, "I'm going to ask them next date", and another date comes and goes by and then another and another... He'd learn to be so loving with kids you just gotta convince him he CAN be a good father. I don't know how many he could handle though.

ᰍᩚ Horangi... he's fun but he's prob best as a boyfriend. Not that he could never be a husband because he can, but he'd be completely fine with not marrying. If you're expecting him to bring up the question and get down on his knee for you... then you're probably setting yourself up for disappointment. It'd take him a while and you'd have to hint at wanting marriage, because otherwise he wouldn't mind just moving in together. I know I used to say he'd want marriage quickly but idk man my perception of him changed. He might get baby fever (rare) and he might ask for ONE kid them, but don't think he's the type for them much.

ᰍᩚ Nikto... if he does open up to wanting a relationship you've got to work with him on the long run. He might be closed off to certain things simply because he might not see a point in progressing in that field, but once he sees that you respect him and don't force anything, he'd def want to marry you. I'm not exactly sure how long he'd wait before proposing to you, honestly it all depends but once he grows attached to a person he wouldn't want to be apart from them so I'm guessing he'd tie the knot pretty soon. The topic of kids is something he's very hesitant of, he rarely gets baby fever, like ever. It'd have to be a lot of convincing on your part. But he might be okay with one or two at most.

[luniviravosshipper]

I keep adding posts to my drafts to reblog later and then forgetting to actually reblog them, and this is yet another one.

Anyways, was initially going to include my thoughts on this in the tags but then it’d be too long.

I originally had mixed feelings when I first saw this. I won’t elaborate on why or what specific feelings, but I did.

But now looking back on this post, I’m personally interpreting the connection made between these scenes as pointing out the parallels between Aaravos and Viren as characters. Because they do parallel each other in a lot of different ways, which includes them both reflecting each other’s self-righteousness. I mean, look at the way Aaravos has basically adopted Viren’s most famous phrase (“however dangerous, however vile”) as his own personal mantra this latest season. He sees himself as this all powerful being, bringer of chaos onto the world and uses his own perception of morality as complicated to disregard the moral bearing consequences of his actions he is expected to uphold and abide to.

So him complaining about other people’s self-righteousness, particularly the dragons and elves, is kind of interesting. Because it’s sort of hypocritical. And it actually seems to mimic Viren’s own views regarding the elves and dragons, whether justified or not, in the beginning of the series. And, not to mention, but it’s also been repeatedly pointed out by others how Aaravos has projected his own views of the dragons and elves onto Claudia to the point that as a result she has so deeply internalized Aaravos’ own outlook on them that she’s based a good of percentage of her sense of self-worth on her use of magic. Because what seems to be the main divider between the humans and the dragons and elves is magic, since humans weren’t born with a connection to primal magic so they were viewed as less then and weak by the elves and dragons. (There’s so many things to be said too about Aaravos’ own decision to gift humans with dark magic instead of greater access to primal magic, and that can also tie in very heavily too to Aaravos’ struggles with self-righteousness, but I’ll share my thoughts on that some other time.)

But, I think it’s hard to say for sure if Aaravos can really be called a hypocrite. I’m not going to examine this too much here. I just think it should be noted that Aaravos doesn’t actually seem to care at all how in the wrong in the end he is or how wrong his actions are. At the end of the day, the only justification for his actions he uses is the unfair and unjust loss of his daughter. But otherwise, he’s hardly at all following any sort of moral code in his actions. What I’m trying to get at, if I’m not making sense so far, is that I think Aaravos isn’t not trying to be a hypocrite and doesn’t even mind if he is one and therefore I’m actually not sure if he can be considered truly one because he’s not actively denying being one or going out of his way to present himself as anything but a hypocrite. Like, in his head no matter what he does or how morally wrong it is anything he does is automatically justified by his loss so he can’t be considered a hypocrital or even really that bad of a person. (Hence, why it was revealed he considers himself innocent when he was talking to Ezran and being judged by him.)

Does that make sense?? I don’t know. I’m sorry, I have a lot of thoughts spiraling about Aaravos in my head.

s1 / s7

[stellasdrafts]

The Light in His Eyes (Vendetta! Leon)

Summary: you have each other’s backs (Vendetta! Leon x DSO!Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: alcoholism (on Leon’s part), some vendetta leon comfort because that man needs it :(, no official relationship but mutual feelings are implied, pining…

Notes: a small Christmas-ish one-shot in january because it’s my blog and i make the rules (i forgot to post in december whoops). also sorry this one is christmas specific but christmas lights are very special to me and i wanted to write a little something about them <3

One of these days, these missions are going to kill you. You’re sure of it. You find yourself sitting on a rooftop overlooking the city, needing some fresh air after almost getting your head bitten off on call today. Being a D.S.O. agent isn’t for the faint-hearted and truth be told, sometimes you aren’t sure how you got this far in the first place. You close your eyes, deeply breathing in the cold, stuffy city air and listening to the night traffic below. What would it be like to live a normal, quiet life? For your only burden to be being stuck in the traffic below on your way home from your safe nine to five? Your heart aches when you have thoughts like these…

You’re snapped out of your mournful contemplation when someone clears their throat behind you. You whip your head around, startled. You barely register your fists clenching and muscles tensing up, ready to throw a punch or something, your tired brain registering the sound as the grunt of an infected.

“S’just me.” Leon lifts his hands, traipsing toward you. “Can I join?”

Your shoulders slump with relief. Truth be told, you wanted to spend time alone tonight, but Leon happens to be the one who saved your life today and you figure you owe him this much. “Mhm.” You nod and pat the freezing concrete beside you.

He takes the offered seat and leans back, propping himself on his arms. His warmth carries through the cold wind and seeps through your jeans. He’s only an inch or two away, after all. Despite your previous sentiment, his presence is oddly soothing. You’ve never met anyone as good as him in your field of work. He makes you feel safe, like somehow, you’re immortal in his presence because he always looks out for his team. It’s impossible, really. You know it’s a childish and dangerous mindset to have in this line of work, but there’s just something about him. You wonder how much that selflessness is destroying him from the inside….

Actually, the habituality of the liquor on his breath may already give you an idea.

“Quite a view, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?” You look up at him, noticing how his eyes are fixed on the sea of tall buildings before you. “Oh, yeah… I like the lights. I’ve always liked lights.”

A grin tugs at his lips. “Oh yeah?” He shifts to rest on one knee to get a better look at you.

You feel yourself melt under the older agent’s gaze. “Yeah. All kinds of lights…”

He just watches you for a moment and you find yourself silently cursing the extensive psychology training the government’s had you D.S.O. agents do. You’re sure he can read you like a book, seeing through the façade you’ve been tirelessly trying to keep up. He has his own, after all.

He looks out at the few festive lights wrapped around balcony railings and trees standing proudly in windows. “Like… Christmas lights?”

That reaches you. You turn your head to look at him with a dopey smile. “Especially Christmas lights. I miss them a lot.”

Your nostalgia must be contagious because he smiles at you too. You never see him smile anymore. In your few years of working together, you’ve never known him to be an extraordinarily sunny man, but it had worsened recently. Little to your knowledge, he likes seeing you smile, especially when it’s directed at him. “I didn’t know you liked Christmas so much. Maybe I should buy you a tree and some lights this year,” he jokes lightly.

You shrug, your smile fading a bit. “We never stay in one place long enough… And people don’t celebrate as much as when we were kids. It wouldn’t be the same.”

His expression softens considerably when he notices the shift in your demeanour. His lips pull into a much more familiar tight frown, his shoulders dropping a bit as well. “Yeah, I guess so…” he pauses for a moment, debating his next words. “We could make our own tradition, you know?”

You tilt your head, your smile fully sarcastic and sour now. “Sure. If we’re both still alive by holiday break.”

He grimaces, evidently not liking the sudden grim attitude, even if it carries truth. Ironic, you find yourself thinking, for a man with his attitude. “Don’t talk like that,” he chides softly, wrapping an arm behind you and dragging you a twinge closer. “I’m not letting you die anytime soon.”

And you know that coming from his lips, that’s a vow, not a weak promise. You lean into his warmth, the cold wind hitting you again now that you’re no longer in your cozy bubble of colourful lights and denial. “Right. Sorry…”

“It’s alright.” He gives your side a reassuring squeeze and resumes staring out at the dark skyline.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a minute or two, admiring (perhaps longingly) the people going about their lives in their apartments and offices. Parents putting their children to bed, couples cooking together, families watching what you self-indulgingly believe to be holiday movies in their decorated living rooms… Even the young man working alone at this hour of the night seems to sit with some sense of serenity. All possibilities of the lives you and Leon could have had if you hadn’t been pushed into the claws of the genius Division of Security Operations. He sighs – if in soul-crushing envy or in momentary peacefulness, you can’t tell. But his whiskey-ridden breath is warm and a welcome contrast to the cool winter night air.

You chew at your lip, getting a bit nervous. “You smell like booze,” you remark quietly.

“I know.” He chuckles and you know it’s a piss-poor attempt to cover how uncomfortable the topic of his drinking makes him feel. “You got a problem with that?” He scratches his neglected stubble.

You know a slightly hostile question is the best outcome for you. If it were anyone else starting an intervention, we would’ve raised his voice already. You’ve seen it first-hand with some other people on the team. “You’ve got a problem with that, Leon.” You stare blankly at the buildings ahead, your previous fascination and warmth for the sight dampened.

You feel Leon’s body stiffen beside you and his demeanour shifts. You look, and like you, he no longer seems as placated as he was a mere minute ago. His brows tug down and his gaze darkens. “Don’t do that. Not you,” his tone is surprisingly tender for being paired with his current expression.

He knows you mean well. He knows you’re worried about him. But he can’t bear having you look at him like everyone else does, like you have to tiptoe around him or like he’s always incompetent and inebriated. He looks away out of shame. He knows you’re right, but he’s stubborn and also knows that’s led to his downfall more than once.

“Are you even going to remember this tomorrow?”

Leon looks back up, his gaze stormy. His defensiveness gets the best of him, as it usually does in these situations. He’s angry, or at least he’s trying to be. But you’re sitting close enough to spot the gleam of self-hatred in those beloved blue eyes. “Why does it matter if I do or not?”

“Because believe it or not, our conversations actually mean a lot to me.” The weight of your words hangs between the pair of you for a moment. “And it’s dangerous to day drink with a job like ours. We never know when we’ll get called out. It’ll get you killed,” you add to try and save face as if you don’t care more about him than you do the other agents.

He cringes a bit more at that, and his anger falters in favour of discomfort. He sighs and leans an elbow on his knee, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”

You tuck your knees up to your chest, even his body heat isn’t enough to cancel out the cold between you now. “That’s what worries me. You act like it’s fine, it’s normal. You don’t even act drunk anymore. You don’t… slur your words or stumble around or vomit everywhere. Apart from being angrier… depressed… you behave normally when you’re drunk.” You turn your body in his direction, trying desperately to get through to him. “You’re not even you anymore. Isn’t that scary?”

He exhales again, letting his hand drop from his face. He knows you’re right. Damn it, you’re always right, but he can never bring himself to admit it. “I… I don’t get what the big deal is. I do my job – well, if I might add. I don’t get into bar fights with random civilians… unless they ask for it. I supply my own drinks and keep to myself. So why’re you worrying?”

You take his face in your hands, your expression softening. Maybe he won’t lie to your face if he’s looking right at it. “Leon, drop the act, please.” From what you hear, he’s a shell of the person he used to be.

His eyes widen with surprise. He doesn’t answer anything for a few moments, your gentle touch making his mind go blank for a second. He can’t remember the last time anyone was gentle with him. He knows he can’t argue when you use that tone or when you have that look in your eye. “Fuck…”

He practically sags onto you as he lets himself feel everything he’s been drowning in alcohol for months. You have an agonizing way of making the tension in his body disappear with nothing but a few words in that honeyed tone of yours.

You support his weight. Like you always do, as he always does yours. Because it’s just Leon. You’d never let him fall, in any sense of the word. “You know, how are you supposed to put up that tree and the lights you offered me if you’re too drunk to make sense of anything? I’m not letting you in my room at HQ if the drinks are making you a grouch, either.”

He does want to give you that, a tree grand and worth being yours, pretty lights you can stare at while you doze off in the evenings, Christmas itself… More than anything, he wants to make you happy. The thought alone makes him happy. He huffs and looks away to hide his smile. “Yeah, yeah. Damn you.”

You let out a breath and a smile of your own, feeling relieved that you got to him at least a little bit. “Try again, please… At least to cut back. We can do it this time.”

He tenses again at your request. It’s not an easy one, and he’s reluctant to agree, not sure if he can even will himself to cut back so easily. But you’re too close, too warm, and you’re using that damn tone in your voice that always gets to him. He wants better for you. For himself, too. A shot at a better life. “I’ll try. Try. For you, alright?”

You hum. “That’s all I ask.” You bring up a delicate hand and brush some of that pesky hair out of his face.

He practically melts into your touch, too tired to bother hiding the effect you have on him. You both know something has been lingering between you for a while, anyway. “Anything else you want from me?” he mutters in a teasing tone, trying to lift the atmosphere he feels he ruined.

You chuckle lightly. “Probably, but we’ll work towards those things later on.”

He perks up at that, a smug smirk toying at his lips as he picks up on the implications of your words. “Y’gotta be a little more specific than that.”

Your eyes soften. Not now. Not like this. “I’ll tell you when you’re sober.” Your timbre isn’t unkind – it’s careful, genuine… You’re trying to encourage him more than anything, knowing he always fares well with a challenge or an end goal.

The muscles in his face ease as well. He gives a small nod. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You feel a spark in your chest of something you haven’t felt in a long time – hope. “So will I.”

You’re more determined than ever to bring back that light to his eyes.

[aventurineswife]

could i request aventurine with a homesick g/n reader? in the sense that they are from a different planet and are either visiting/living in penacony. i think it’d be interesting considering how aventurine might relate to their situation.

Home is not a place, it’s a feeling

Summary: Aventurine finds himself drawn to you as you struggle with homesickness, feeling the weight of longing for your home planet while living in Penacony. As your sense of loss grows, Aventurine, who understands the pain of displacement and survivor’s guilt, offers a form of quiet support. Through small, thoughtful gestures and shared vulnerabilities, he helps guide you through your emotional struggle, while also confronting his own buried fears and regrets.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Homesickness, Emotional Support, Mutual Vulnerability, Internal Conflict, Subtle Romance, Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Themes of homesickness and isolation, Mentions of survivor’s guilt and trauma, Emotional angst, Mild manipulation (in terms of comfort, not malice), Subtle, slow-building romance.

The light of Penacony’s moon streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Aventurine’s lavish suite, casting fractured beams of light across the opulent room. You sat curled in a corner of the velvet chaise, knees drawn to your chest, staring out at the sprawling cityscape. Penacony was beautiful—its vibrant nightlife, radiant architecture, and bustling markets—but it wasn’t home.

A sigh escaped your lips as the glow of your home planet, so far away, weighed heavy on your heart. You missed the simple things: the scent of rain on your streets, the taste of your local delicacies, the way the sun dipped below familiar horizons. Being here, surrounded by decadence and strangers, only seemed to amplify your longing.

“You know,” Aventurine’s smooth, lilting voice broke the quiet, “I’ve seen a thousand starscapes, but there’s a certain sadness in how they all start to look the same.”

You glanced up to find him leaning casually against the doorway, his hair catching the moonlight. Dressed in his usual blend of ostentation and elegance, with his overcoat draped over his shoulders, Aventurine looked every bit the enigmatic gambler he was. But there was something in his expression tonight—something softer, quieter—that made you pause.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, strolling toward you. The faint scent of his cologne, something sharp yet sweet, lingered as he perched on the armrest of your chaise.

You shook your head. “Just… thinking.”

“Ah,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if reading between the lines. “Thinking about home, aren’t you?”

The knot in your chest tightened. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I miss it. Everything here is so… different.”

Aventurine tilted his head, his smile faint but warm. “Homesickness is a peculiar kind of ache, isn’t it? It’s not just missing a place—it’s missing a piece of yourself that only exists there.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You get homesick?”

He chuckled, the sound low and wistful. “Sometimes. Though ‘home’ is a rather abstract concept for me. Sigonia wasn’t exactly a paradise.” His tone was light, almost dismissive, but his gaze drifted to the window, and you caught a flicker of something—pain, perhaps, or nostalgia.

“Still,” he continued, “there are moments I’d give anything to feel the desert wind on my face again. To hear my mother’s voice calling me in for supper or to watch my sister’s silly little dances under the sun. Even knowing I can’t go back, the memories… they stick with you, don’t they?”

You swallowed hard, the rawness of his words resonating deeply. “Yeah,” you murmured. “They do.”

Aventurine leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know,” he said after a moment, “there’s a trick to homesickness.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, a flash of his usual bravado returning. “You carry it with you. All the things you miss—the smells, the tastes, the sounds—you find ways to recreate them. Here, there, anywhere. You make your own little pockets of home, no matter how far you’ve wandered.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s… surprisingly practical advice for someone like you.”

Aventurine placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Darling, I’ll have you know I’m full of wisdom—when the occasion calls for it.” His playful tone softened as he added, “Besides, I know what it’s like to feel untethered. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

His sincerity caught you off guard, and for a moment, the ache in your chest eased. “Thanks, Aventurine,” you said quietly.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it. Now, let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes.

He leaned closer, his grin widening. “I’ll help you make Penacony feel a little more like home—find the right food, music, scents, whatever you need. In return, you’ll owe me a favor.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, there’s a catch.”

“There’s always a catch,” he teased, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “But trust me, darling—it’s worth the gamble.”

For the first time in days, the weight of homesickness didn’t feel quite so heavy. Maybe, just maybe, Aventurine’s gamble was one you were willing to take.

[mawlbone]

LUCKY RABBIT’S FOOT - KÖNIG

SNIPPET: Preparing for the winter means a lot of preserving and curing food for the long nights ahead. So when a giant rabbit falls into your traps, you can only sigh as you release it once more… And again, again, and again.

[CW: gender neutral reader, socially awkward reader, giant flemish rabbit hybrid König, hunting, mention of dead wild animals, childhood neglect, bullying, bad memory, and loneliness.]

[COMMENT: So many bunny König posts going around… Makes me very happy! Apologies for being very late to the party, but I brought this, have a fluffy little guy to hold. Also I should probably make a hybrid au post like my pet au one, but I will think myself into exhaustion assigning everyone a creature. But in short, like pet au, hybrids are kept as an open secret, kind of, but mostly reserved for military work.]

You realized from an early age that you were a surprise as many of your relatives liked to call you, which in adult-speak is a socially acceptable way to say you were unwanted. For as much as adults likes to underestimate what a child know and doesn’t know, it’s not hard to tell when everyone immediately goes silent when you enter the room.

It’s not like you asked to be born, neither did you asked for much. So why? Why cannot you even get a morsel of the attention that your peers can get. It doesn’t matter, children are adaptable therefore children too get used to feeling disappointed.

Crying gets you nowhere there’s no one willing to find you.

It’s not like they were abusive, there’s enough food on the table and a bed for you to sleep in, but nights at the dinner table while everyone else was out and about without you still inevitably stings. You rarely hear your family anymore, signing off your own paperwork for your own education and attending your own graduation by yourself. No effort in remembering anything about you at all, even at times forgetting your age.

So you don’t know how to act whenever you’re around people. It’s hard to gauge what you’re doing correctly or not when you have no practice whatsoever in knowing how to act. So parties at family friends’ house usually consist of you standing in the background and watching instead of participating in the play that everyone seemed to be part of, except you. Usually you find yourself just fiddling with your clothes or touching any textures your brain found enough fascination in.

Despite everything, if there’s one good grace you get from your family was your grandfather’s house, which you get to visit every summer. He was your stereotypical man: grumpy and grey from a bad leg injury during his service and not much of a talker. You’re sure he puffs more than he breaths in the many times you came to see him, but he made it a point to never do it in the same room as you. You never met your grandmother, she died before you can be born but from the giant portrait of him and her on the wall, you can guess he deeply cherishes her.

When you were old enough, you can remember taking you out for hunting trips with him. Long drives in the car with nothing more than lunch and his old rifles as he lectures you about gun safety time and time again.

During these moments, he’s the most talkative to you. Gently guiding you to the handle and teaching you how to be careful around animals and use every part of them.

Leave nothing behind, it’s the least you can do for taking a life even if it’s for your benefit.

Perhaps such an act would had raise eyebrows from anywhere else but humans are the scariest thing to you, so you ignore them for the most part as you gradually increase from small rabbits to the deers that overpopulate the area.

You’re not sure if you’re his favorite grandchild, but the effort he had done into at least spending time with you made him your favorite family member, you would had invited him to your graduation if it wasn’t for his worsening health.

An inheritance, a little cabin in the woods was what you had received in your grandfather’s will with a considerable sum of money to get you started, no word left behind as usual. Typical grumpy old man he was, you left behind his favorite cigars and flowers at his bed. Though you had to say, you had gotten a bit of a kick in getting the appliances while everyone else was arguing over family heirlooms. Hey, products are not meant to last nowadays, might as well get the oldies.

So here you are, living alone with your company only being the occasional visiting deer outside your window. And your visit into town only consist getting your medicine and last minute groceries nowadays.

It’s nice… The escape from everyone.

No longer did you had to deal with snippy comments for every little action you do in the endless bullying from your household. Still, it doesn’t satisfy that emptiness in your stomach.

You’re not sure what you hunger. It’s hard to tell with the limited amount of energy you have nowadays.

Scattered scribbled notes litter your bedroom and trash reminding you to maintain your schedule: brushing your teeth, taking a shower, making phone calls with your client to pick up their orders… All of it so you can feel some sort of maintenance in your life, at least normal enough to pass for your own self-satisfaction.

You’re too nervous to go to a therapist anyways.

But taking over your grandfather’s hunting business wasn’t what you expected in your career plans, not that you are complaining, it keeps the bills paid: selling the meat, bones, and using what couldn’t be sold to feed yourself from your trips to the woods.

However, the last thing you could had expected while checking on the last of your traps was the fattest rabbit you ever seen stuck in one of your footholds trap with a broken front paw laid in front of you.

All black with the slightest blond stripe down its face, you can only stare as it huffs and thumps its foot down at you. Almost daring at you to pick it up and find out. Hard to look intimidating with giant floppy ears though, as you laugh at the trapped animal.

It’s awfully cute. A flemish rabbit, you learned later after tucking the animal underneath your arm to take back to your truck. Too weak and exhausted to fight back with its injury.

You didn’t kill it.

After all it may had been someone’s pet if anything with how well-maintained its fur is. Though you were met with the fluffiest kick in your life when you had to check its sex wondering about whether it needed to get fixed or not.

You didn’t dare to give it a name, attachments is scary enough as is but taking care of him was probably the most interesting aspect of your year.

His fur was unbelievable soft, better than any fox or deerskin you had touched before when you brought him home. It’s embarrassing how you got yourself in a bit of a giddy after you removed the trap and wrapped the poor thing’s leg after contacting your closest veterinarian for help. Pressing your face into his dense coat while he laid on your lap and eating your greens all while huffy didn’t bother you, it’s probably the closest physical touch you had in years.

Animals were a lot easier to handle than people, you think as you settle him inside a large box of yours laid between thick old blankets you no longer use before in your living room. Just feed and love them enough and they’ll stay with you.

How nice…

You’ll call later to see if anyone lost their pet rabbit, but for now, you get to enjoy laying beside the rabbit and watch as he hides his squishy face from you. You had to hold yourself from squealing at the adorableness of his actions. Even if you panic whenever he gets too close to any one of your notes, fearing he’ll eat them and make him sick.

In weeks time, he’ll make a full recovery and be out of your life. So you’ll enjoy what comfort you can get from this new little creature in your life before he’s inevitably gone.

—

When König escaped into the woods after unexpectedly being ambushed from wrong intel, the last thing he could had expected was for himself to be trapped within a hunter’s trap for hours on end with a broken leg if anything.

A human’s trap to make it worse, as his ears perked up, hearing the crunching of leaves and branches being brushed aside before beady eyes meets you, a painfully ordinary person, he thinks as he watch in dismay as their eyes gaze over his shifted form stuck in their machinery.

Should he be mortified? Yes, yes he should at the threat of a towering human nearby making him feel ever so small again.

All weak and pathetic.

He’s old, experienced, and definitely killed enough men to fill an ocean, so why? Why is he feeling like he’s back in the halls again dealing with spitballs being flung on the back of his head, older children slamming him against the walls for fun, and dealing with daily beating at the back of the school and for the first time in decades…

He feels scared.

For all his muscles and size, he couldn’t save himself for what you plan to do with him.

Maybe it’s the grace of humans to be given enough intelligence to feel merciful towards the small. He doesn’t know. He’s too tired to fight back anymore as you settle him inside the truck after weak attempts to escape. Might as well die without pain, he so thinks.

But nothing could had prepared him for the absolute babying he received once he arrived inside your home. Honestly, it’s almost sickening if he’s wasn’t enjoying it so much as you cooed and pamper him, wiping his paws and checking his bandages regularly with a giant bowl of fresh veggies for him to eat. Hell, even massaging his fur! Never in his life had he been treated as a pet as he cries at the loss of his dignity. But fuck, if he’s not enjoying the sensation of your nails pressing against his skin and soothing him to sleep regularly.

Sure, you may be giggling like some freaks he know every time you press your face into his back but at the end of the day, he’s breathing, alive and even thriving at this unexpected vacation he found himself in. But you have duties to do, your hunting. So often times, he will find brief moments where he’s alone while you’re out hunting to shift and stretch his muscles and do some snooping around your cabin.

He never got the chance to properly take in all the notes taped to the walls of your bedroom as he was placed in another spare room but the sheer amount of paper covering everything was truly a sight. It was nothing important per se, if anything they were just mere instructions on the wall and dates of various kinds of all sort all litter around like a brain and its thoughts. Yellows mixed with blues and pinks and all sort of post its on your mirror and bathroom had him loss in all its vividness. Perhaps the strangest wallpaper he had ever seen if anything.

What a lost human.

He doesn’t know what to feel, perhaps a sense of pity at you or gratitude, which one first would be acceptable? He truly doesn’t know. Emotions are hard and it’s easier to numb everything out.

He’ll have to check in on you often if anything, he concludes once he shifts back after hearing your keys jangle into the front door and the familiar noises of you gently scolding him for getting his bandages all unwrapped again.

When the time comes for him to leave after his leg is all healed up, hopefully he doesn’t get grilled out by his superiors. For now, his mission is to accompany your time as he settles beside you on the couch to rest near the fireplace for warmth this chilly winter.

Goodbyes will be hard, but you won’t be alone anymore.

—

The next spring when you released your rabbit into the bushes, you had to stop yourself from shedding some tears when he refused to leave your lap and letting you have some last minute cuddles. His fur coat is shinier now, all soft and sleek from your endless pampering of the creature and truly did the black fur sparkle in the sunlight as you held him tight before he ran off to the depths of the woods with nothing more than the platters of his feet against the dirt road.

Truly, you thought that will be the last you seen of him. He didn’t appear the following summer or fall much to your disappointment with every pitter patter of your heart, which you desperately tried to ignore. Life still continued, and you’re alone once more with nothing more than your notes and mind to accompany you. But when a peek of black fur comes across your view in the middle of your checkup standing right next to your trap with a familiar thump.

Your heart had quicken as you crashed through the brambly bushes to see your dear bunny looking all grumpy and white from the snow falling down onto his black coat. You were met with 20 pounds of softness as he jumped onto you, giving you enough time to brace yourself as you carried the loaf around and cheering, swinging your rabbit around and around in an excited rampage before settling down once more to inspect him.

His leg is all fine, but there’s a glaring red collar wrapped around his neck with a tag on it.

So he is someone’s pet, you muttered quietly to yourself as you flipped over the sliver tag and brush your glove over the cold metal to find a name embedded onto its surface.

Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise once you read it. How fitting for such a large creature…

König, a king, hm?

How perfect, you think to yourself with a nothing more than a smile before your rabbit nudges you to focus back on him with a firm thump against your lap to cuddle him some more, even nudging its head against your check to redirect your focus on him, which you can only laugh at as your hands immediately scrunch his warm sleek fur.

It’s always lonely during this time of the year for you in the silence of nature, but for the first time in years, you get to enjoy it with a floppy eared friend for many more winters to come.

[befallenstars-archive]

This'll be the first time that I read one of your works, Ze! Hope you don't mind me yapping. It's recently become a small routine/habit of mine🫂

Spoilers and lots of yapping under the cut!

I wanna start off with the tags. My reaction was pretty normal until I read the "(ajax licks) blood and tears". Was I deterred? No, I was invested. Oh, my...all enemies and no lovers??? Tension only??? I just know this'll be good.

Brb, I'll listen to the song first...

Huh, I'd definitely trust your music taste.

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

Okay! We're diving straight into this. Love that actually.

Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold. 

I GOT GOOSEBUMPS.

The way you write scratches my brain just right. Even better that your style of writing genuinely matches the overall dark vibe you're going for. I can literally feel it in my bones.

Gently grabbing your shoulders before shaking you bc I fell in love at first work with your writing. I need to read more of your works, Ze! Omg, why did it take so long before my dash gifted me with it? I should've looked for it myself!

Sorry, just not-so casually a sucker for your writing style.

It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter.

I already noticed this with the way you described the horses but there's truly just something about the way you do it. Like I can oh so easily imagine whatever it is you are narrating

I LOVE THE TINY DETAILS

Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar. 

Is it bad to say that I wanna eat your fics? (affectionately(?))

The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

I think I fell in love—

You have a writing style that gives me fairy tale kind of vibes. Even if it's dark. It would be so fun reading this out loud with theatrics and some drama.

In my head? I'm doing just that. It is so good.

...

All of this is so good that I can't pick one line and yap about.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

GODS

WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE TO HAVE THE ABILITY TO WRITE A SCENE THE WAY YOU DO—

IT'S JUST SO???? I CANT EVEN DO JUSTICE TO DESCRIBE IT. I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE.

You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow. 

I am so deeply immersed in this fic that I physically swallowed when I read this.

He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

...For the love of— I have thoughts but I shan’t say them out loud for propriety's sake.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run.

THAT WAS FOUL

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

🙂💢

I dunno, there was something about this that just got on my nerves.

...

It was not in 2025 bingo card to find myself having a tiny crush on this man AGAIN.

What in the sadomasochism...

Nope. No. Bye—

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

I just want to be slightly violent. Just a bit.

...and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

Mnh...yes...I am...slightly dysfunctional.

Sitting in my chair with my back slightly hunched and a hand over my lips as I question myself.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

......................

Zipping my mouth closed.

...the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

What if I actually lose it?

Mnh? Ze? Will you take accountability?!

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

Okay, I am brought by to sanity by the genuine question of what the hell does a lie taste like?

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

And I am back to the edge of my sanity. Lovely.

His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

...slamming my head on the table right now.

What— no, I?? This is...am I really? No...what? Hahaha. That's not...maybe?

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

I'm going insane.

Okay, the note was really cute tho??? I'm sorry but I imagine it in a chibi kind of style where Targtaglia's standing by the door while reader collects their stuff. Maybe doggo will betray the reader by being nice to Tartraglia, who absolutely eats it up when the reader glares at both him and the dog.

EASY ON THE EYES, EASIER TO HATE. tartaglia x reader ✧ 2.7k words

when the fae raid your village to take humans into their realm, you think you’ll be safe in the woods. but you run into a fae who introduces himself as tartaglia and realize it might have been safer for you to stay at home.

tags and warnings ✧  fae!tartaglia, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), reader sews and tailors clothes for a living, the fae are pretty brutal, mentions of violence, (ajax licks) blood and tears, chasing (predator prey dynamic), manhandling, all enemies and no lovers (only tension oops). note ✧ this is a darker fic compared to most of my writing; please let me know if I need to tag anything else! title inspired by the song "psycho" by taylor acorn. a gift for @cruel-hiraeth for teahouse's secret santa! happy new year, kae! i hope this fic helps you start off the year right by loving hating tartaglia >u< this was lots of fun to write hehe and got a little long because the au ran away from me... i hope you enjoy! love you lots <3

The snow falls thick and fast, yet the village continues to burn. Screams and shouts of villagers, mixed with the clashing of metal, rise above the roar of devouring flames of blue.

The fae are here.

They pull people out of their beds, pushing them into the streets. Turn their faces toward the light of a burning house—looking for the beautiful humans, still young and nimble. Or searching for evidence of skill in the arts; a pretty face matters little if one can produce beautiful things in ways that the fae cannot. Those who fail to meet the fae’s standards are left alone, shivering and watching in the cold. 

The humans the fae deem acceptable meet a much worse fate. They are picked up and thrown in the back of carts, drawn by horses with ears too long and manes too wild, their coats unusually glossy and vibrant. The chosen who try to escape are bound with rope that cruelly digs into skin. Those who try to fight are taken down brutally, then laughed at as they writhe on the ground—though the fae make sure no permanent damage is done, for that would defeat the purpose of the raid.

A fae bearing a torch of blue flames brings it up to the walls of each house of those who have been chosen. The blue catches on the wood unnaturally quickly, spreading with a voracious hunger despite the wind and snow. Within the hour, nothing will remain besides a pile of ash. 

But by then, the fae and the chosen villagers will be long gone.

You are lucky that sleep is so elusive tonight.

Earlier, after tossing and turning in bed for ages, you give up on trying to fall asleep. It is hard to leave your dog who has curled up beside you in a ball of white fluff, but you press a kiss between her ears before changing into some warmer layers. You sweep a thick winter cloak over your shoulders. It is the most luxurious piece of clothing you own; a beautiful dark green cloth lined with fur, decorated by unfinished hand-embroidered leaves and flowers and bunnies—a project you’ve been chipping away at this winter. Putting on boots that have long since been molded to the shape of your feet, you leave your house to catch some fresh air and possibly tire yourself out along the way.

The blanket of pure white is beautiful. The full moon makes everything glitter as snow stretches from the outskirts of the village into the forests beyond. Snowflakes continue to fall, decorating your hair and eyelashes with diamonds, while the shoulders of your cloak become dusted in sugar. 

It is so quiet out here. The whistling of the wind and the thoughts in your head are the only sounds you hear. You are used to this, though. Every day you sew and tailor clothes in the back of the village’s clothing store, often alone for hours on end with nothing but your thoughts for company.

A strong gust of wind rocks you on your feet. Clutching your cloak tighter and tossing the fur-lined hood up over your head, you turn your back on the forest to face the trail of footsteps you’ve made through the snow. You should head home.

Still, you take your time approaching the village. The snow dances around you and you can’t help but indulge in a spin, cloak sweeping out around you in a swirl of deep green. Your huff of laughter is stolen by the wind, but the delight within you remains.

Then the first scream rips through the night.

You freeze. Scanning the houses on the outskirts of the village reveals no dangers.

Another cry follows the first and you know something must be terribly wrong. 

You start running toward the village, kicking up snow as your mind races. Perhaps someone is getting robbed—but no one in town would dare. Or based on the growing amount of cries and shouts, maybe something happened that has injured a lot of people. A fire?

As you make it to the buildings, you see that you are right. Fire engulfs one of the homes on the far side of town, the flames reaching for the sky. A shudder runs through you at the sight, for the flames are unnaturally blue, and though this is the first time you’ve seen such a thing, you have heard of the stories and warnings about the cyan fire and those that accompany it.

You will not let the fae take you.

Whirling around, you sprint for the woods. The screams of the other villagers ring in your ears, but you know it is impossible for you to take on a single fae, let alone an army of them. They are here to steal humans away. For what, you’re not sure, but it can’t be for anything good. Though you doubt they would choose to take you, the best way to make sure you can see the sunrise tomorrow is to hide in the woods and avoid them all.

Reaching the treeline seems to take ages. You keep looking over your shoulder as you run, half expecting to have been spotted, but you only see more and more flames of blue burning houses to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat at the thought of your home being set ablaze—your dog!—but then you remember the fae only burn the houses of the humans they take and relief washes over you.

With your thoughts consumed by the safety of your dog, you don’t notice that you have slowed, trying to catch your breath in the midst of the trees. Nor do you notice that you aren’t alone anymore, until the newcomer starts speaking.

“My, my. Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Dread sinks like a stone in your stomach. You spin, eyes wide as they land on the source of those playful and teasing words, leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed.

You know he is fae right away by his unnatural beauty. His hair glimmers a coppery orange under the light of the full moon, all windswept and dusted in snow. His eyes seem to glow as they scan you from head to toe, a blue just a shade darker than that of the flames destroying the village. Ears taper into a fine point and from his left one dangles a deep red crystal that only makes you think of blood. He smiles, then, as you observe him. His canines are sharp and long, like that of a fox, and you are frozen with wide, shining eyes of a bunny.

He hums and tilts his head. It is then that you remember he asked a question, and your throat works to find your voice to answer him. “I was out for a stroll,” you manage to say, words somehow steady despite your fluttering pulse.

It’s a half-truth, but half-truths are half-lies, and there’s the slightest hint of bitterness in the back of Ajax’s throat that always accompanies humans’ lies. “Oh, really? And was that before or after we made our presence known?”

“Before, actually,” you tell him honestly. “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a walk. The snow is beautiful and the moon is bright—it’s pretty, is it not?” If you talk enough, maybe he’ll lose interest so you can make a run for it. You don’t know much about fae, but with the way he’s dressed in nicer clothing than what most men in your village wear, surely he won’t care for running through the snowy forest.

He smiles. “It is pretty.” His eyes refuse to leave your frame, and a shiver runs through you. You don’t think he’s talking solely about the snow. 

Pushing off the tree, he takes a few steps forward, nearly silent despite the boots he wears. He stops when you stiffen, clutching your cloak tighter in your hands. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tartaglia,” he says, picking one of his many names to give you. “And you are?”

You press your lips together and force a smile. Even you know not to give the fae your name, no matter how much of a gentleman he is pretending to be. Your stomach rolls, unease making your heart rate pick up again. “I’m-” You see the way he perks up in interest, expecting a name. “I’m leaving,” you spit out, turn on your heels, and run.

Ajax watches you leave, the green of your cloak billowing out behind you like a rabbit’s tail inviting him to chase. He laughs, throwing his head back as the sound erupts from his throat. “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his breath beading in the winter air.

He had not intended to take you back to the fae realm, but then you had to go and run. And he wouldn’t dare to let all your hard work go to waste—so he’ll participate in the delightful hunt you’ve set up for him.

The ground is uneven beneath your feet. It is hard to tell where the tree roots are under the thick layer of snow and each breath of air feels like tiny needles stabbing your lungs. But you push on, feet pounding as quickly as you can force yourself to go.

You want to be as far away from that fae as you can get. He had not looked like he was going to chase you when you last saw him, laughing as you ran away, but there was a look in his eyes that pushed you to keep running.

When you toss a quick glance over your shoulder, your breath hitches and terror rushes through you.

He’s there. In the distance, but you can see him, weaving through the trees at an inhuman pace, his long legs carrying him far. He is gaining on you and you fear what he will do when he catches you.

You push yourself to run even harder, but your legs burn and your throat feels tight. In your haste, you fail to see the lower hanging branches of a nearby tree. A cry tears from your lips as a thin branch slices through the skin of your cheek, but you barely feel the pain with your face nearly frozen from the cold.

“Ouch,” the fae calls after you. His voice is loud and clear, and you know he’s only getting closer. “Don’t hurt yourself too much trying to escape, okay?”

Through your huffs for air, you manage to shout back at him. “Piss off! Leave me alone!”

Ajax grins, closing the distance. “I don’t think I will,” he says.

He lunges forward and grabs a fistful of your cloak. You stumble from the pull, tripping over your feet. He uses the momentum to spin you around, pushing you backward until you hit a tree, forcing the air from your lungs. His body presses against yours right after, caging you in with one leg wedged between your own.

“Let go of me!” you shout, slamming your fists into his chest. You try shoving all of your weight into him but he simply presses back harder until his chest is flush against yours. 

He laughs—laughs!—as you struggle against him, kicking and yelling and throwing your weight from side to side. He does not budge at all under the onslaught. You do everything you can, but only wear yourself out, leaning back against the tree to catch your breath.

“Are you done?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone. “If not, I can do this all night.”

His reaction makes your blood boil, most of your fear buried beneath anger. You glare down past his arm that still grips your cloak and catch sight of a sliver of pale skin peeking through the folds of his clothes. Moving your gaze back up to his face, you spit out, “I hope you die.”

And then you dig your nails into the exposed skin of his stomach, sink your teeth into the arm holding onto your cloak, and shove with all your might.

Ajax stumbles backward. 

You rip yourself out of his hold, twist your body to the side, taking one step forward, free-

Arms wrap around your waist and throw you back toward the tree. Your feet catch on his boot, making you lose your balance, perfect for Ajax to maneuver your body as he wills. This time, he pins your hands above your head, one large hand grasping your wrists, while his other arm presses as an immovable bar across your collarbones. One leg forces its way between your own, and you realize you are at this fae’s mercy, pinned like a prized butterfly in a collection; all pretty and helpless, on display for him to study.

You look down. You don’t want to see the anger on his face before he retaliates for your actions.

The arm across your chest shifts and you flinch as gloved fingers grab your chin, firm but not painful as he tilts your head, forcing you to look at him. You’re taken aback by the grin on his face, canines bared and bloodthirsty, but his eyes are amused.

“Try that again, I dare you.” His voice is rough and yet it doesn’t sound like a threat.

Your eyes grow wide. This kind of a creature is not one you will be able to escape, at least not now—unarmed except for your teeth and nails.

Ajax lets go of your chin, pulling back slightly. He’s delighted by the fire within you. When he first saw you, running toward the woods, he simply thought you a pretty coward. But oh you dared to fight back, using what little defenses humans naturally have, and you even broke skin. Though his fae blood allows him to rapidly heal, the sensation of your nails digging into his abdomen is not one he’ll forget anytime soon.

As he looks away from your face to take you all in, now that you’re not struggling to escape, his gaze catches on your cloak. His eyes light up, tracing over the exquisitely stitched leaves and plants of various green threads, mixed occasionally with lively bunnies of soft browns. There’s a rabbit still unfinished, just a cute head and perked ears, awaiting its body to bring it to life. 

“Did you make this?” Ajax asks, thumb brushing over the embroidery.

“No,” you gasp, heart sinking.

He tastes the lie and grins. “That’s not true now, is it?”

It’s over. Now that he knows you are skilled at sewing, he has all the reasons he needs to bring you into his realm. Despair is a heavy weight, mixed with frustration and anger. Tears well in your eyes and slide down the curves of your face. A few droplets spread into the cut on your left cheek, mixing with the beading blood that stains your skin.

Ajax is enchanted. Has he ever seen a human so beautiful?

He can’t stop himself from leaning in even closer until his nose nearly presses against your ear. There’s a moment where you hear him inhale. Then his tongue swipes up your cheek, lapping up tears and blood. His groan of delight is overlapped by your whimper, the cut on your cheek stinging as fear flows through your veins.

His fingers grip your chin again and he turns your head to the other side. Warmth travels up your cheek as he licks your tears, before pulling away with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

As you gasp for breath, he takes in the sight of more tears streaming down your face, shed in mourning for the loss of your life in the human world. Shudders run through you until your tears slow, giving time for your heart to harden. Slowly, you open your eyes to meet his gaze, yours now blazing with fury and hatred.

Ajax grins, taking in the vision before him. “You’re perfect.”

note ✧ ajax makes you point out your home and he gets to dig through your stuff as you collect a few things to take with you. don't worry, doggo gets to come with and is treated very well (fae like animals more than humans, usually).

this is not quite the type of thing i usually write, but i hope it was still an enjoyable read! i'd love to hear what you think c:

[utilitycaster]

feel free to ignore if you feel like it's too theoretical/parasocial/etc. but: I see how the campaign as a whole is off because of how lack of prep influenced the cast to create somewhat unfit characters, but as someone who got immensely annoyed by this episode, I'm wondering why has that throughline carried out for so long. why haven't the cast decided to start playing their characters in a way that leads to a more cohesive and satisfying story? is the hesitation and bizzare opinions on gods a very dedicated RP choice or do you think the players themselves are also at a loss? I'm honestly very confused about that, given how driven and decisive they played VM and M9 during their oneshots. I don't want to feel like I'm singling anyone out to hate but e.g. the way taliesin plays caduceus vs ashton is particularly puzzling to me.

Hey anon,

This is all highly speculative (as, to be fair, was the original idea the cast was given very little information, and that turned out to be right) but I think it's the far-reaching consequences of that initial lack of prep combined with the fact that it's been a very central-plot focused campaign that failed to allow the characters to develop into more decisive people. It also, I think, centers the Ruidusborn such that I suspect a lot of the rest of the table is taking their lead.

The Mighty Nein, we know, involved a lot of prep with Matt specifically offering feedback and vetoing certain aspects. Every character came in with pretty clear goals, and because it was a character-driven campaign we got to see those goals change as they learned more: Caleb and Fjord notably abandon their original goals in favor of new ones. Veth and Caduceus achieve theirs; Jester as well, and she develops new ones as she becomes less sheltered. Beau and Yasha's exact goals were much more nebulous, but they have the opportunity to confront their pasts at length and find new purpose and peace throughout the narrative. I don't think it's productive to rehash everything every time but: lack of pre-existing long-term relationships and more work on the short-term friendships that existed, the fact that Beau and usually Molly due to Yasha's absences (and later Caduceus) were free agents who didn't know anyone prior to their meeting, and the fact that the party had like 2 gold to their name and had to double up in odd configurations plus their willingness to engage in conflicts led to a fairly quick and deep bond, which also influenced their goals and dynamics.

Vox Machina were initially very generally sketched out characters, but after they began doing more there was a similar effort put into to backstories, and I think going back after they'd already played a bit meant they knew more about who they wanted these characters to be. The pre-stream plot, as we can tell from the origins comics, was also heavily backstory focused; the Briarwoods arc is when most people feel the streamed campaign really takes off.

We have seen the backstories of the characters of Bells Hells, but a lot of them are deeply tied into a long-running main plot that doesn't really allow for the same development over time. Like, Percy, for example, actually does his "plot" about quarter of the way into the campaign; but this kickstarts his development. Fjord is rather similar; he learns the source of his powers quite early on, but grapples with them until the halfway point and then the rest of the campaign is him embracing something new. To compare, I suspect Laura envisoned Imogen's story as being not dissimilar in the sense of "learn what my powers come from, find a way to better control or perhaps get rid of them" and so upon finding out this is the lynchpin of the entire plot, Imogen never has that post-resolution time to cook, essentially. Even for those who had slightly more rewarding plot beats they kind of felt like "let's address this problem so we can get back to the moon stuff" (Chetney, Laudna) and in some cases, I think it felt to the players, rightly or wrongly, like those plots were actively rushed to the point that they couldn't explore them (I suspect this happened for Ashton during the solstice split). There's been a hurry-up-and-wait sense of urgency over the whole campaign because it's a plot that was introduced very early and has never let up. There's been no "what do we do" type breaks and I'd be shocked if there are. We've sort of run out of plot because we've speed run everything that would have been a plot in a different campaign.

So I think the players don't know how to evolve their characters because there's been no in-world impetus to evolve, really. Now, as someone who prefers to play people who are already decisive, the fact that most of the cast went for kind of indecisive/impulsive types isn't my bag, but that is valid; but it means no one's really had the chance to organically move from that.

I also think that the fact that there's one big plot that really centers the ruidusborn is another factor. Even if Orym, for example, were the type to shut down the party, what is one person who can't reasonably stop two spellcasters from going into the Hallowed Cage going to do? I think this post makes a good point; I think putting the pressure very heavily on two players who (very understandably! for a number of reasons!) are among the most averse to making a hard and potentially alienating or unpopular choice has sort of prevented anyone else from taking a wild swing. The other campaigns had a much more even distribution of who could make decisions within the party, and I think that reflects that. I also think this is uniquely an issue for longform campaigns; I haven't seen this hesitancy from Laura nor Ashley in Candela, Downfall, nor in the various Daggerheart one-shots and miniseries, since you have to swing big there.

I do want to cover one point specifically, which is that I actually find Ashton to be one of the better played characters. I disagree with them, to be sure, but like, Caduceus is a character who can be arrogant in his fairly limited worldview, but who is also consistently very empathetic and kind. Ashton has that arrogance, but without those priorities. Caduceus isn't really invested in hurting those who hurt him; he's interested in stopping those who would hurt his home, family, or friends, and if that requires hurting them he's okay with that. Ashton really does want to beat up those they deem responsible for their own pain, justified or not. I think taking the shard was a great move and stand by that [though, admittedly, it and the bit about Predathos needing a vessel just now have me like. the consequences have been conveyed in a crystal clear manner to ME and somehow the cast is not getting Matt flat-out saying in game THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN, so idk what's up with THAT.] and my issues stem specifically from his decision to claim to speak for the weak and then immediately accept the titans saying that a remade world in which only the strong survive is fine. Like, I don't think there is a problem in how Caduceus is played vs. Ashton, in that I think they are both internally consistent as characters; I think it's just. Caduceus is someone who tries to make decisions that minimize broad harm to that which he deems good, and Ashton is often, by their own admission (episode 78), selfish and conceited. Like, Taliesin is just. Playing someone who is often not a great person this time. And that's a valid choice. But I think it's in a narrative that didn't really permit enough time and space for characters to change meaningfully so Ashton is a bit stuck there whereas, while Caduceus didn't have nearly as much of a gap between who he already was and the hero he needed to be, he had far, far more room to grow.

[kookinglikeachef]

ATEEZ AS FRAT GUYS

Ot8 x F. Reader Content warning: Sexual language

kookinglikeachef: Was originally writing this for “The Sex Lives of College Guys” ff but I don’t think I’ll be doing it anymore because of internal doubts🥲

Hongjoong:

Obviously the fraternity president

He runs shit in and out of the frat house

Takes gender and theory studies courses

And bagged a lot of partnerships with local businesses for fundraising

He had to convince the dean many times not to expel certain members

*Cough* SanGi *cough*

He can be a bit of a snob and a little uptight

Sets strict drinking limits and instruct that the house is intact the next morning

20 minutes in and he’s convincing everyone to climb the chimney

Can usually handle his alcohol but when he gets piss drunk

He’s Debby Ryan-ing at every girl that talks to him

Seonghwa:

Alpha nerd

He only cares about his LEGOs and turning his assignments in on time

Locks himself in his room when there’s a party

Because he just got his new Star Wars set

Eventually joins halfway through

Only to judge everyones never have I ever scandals

But they won’t ever get one out of him

“Never have I ever been to a sex party”

Please he HOSTED and ORGANIZED

Laughing in his head cause not a single soul will ever know about it

Not even his members

And if you’re wondering how no one will find out?!

Well he’s got a fallback plan that proves he was at his fraternity in his room

During said day and said times

BUILDING HIS DAMN LEGOS

He’s also the one that take care of his brothers after a huge party

Probably the only reason the entire house hasn’t gone to shit tbh

Yunho:

The one with the girlfriend

They’ve been together since the second year of high school

And got into the same college

Still going four years strong

He’s majoring in computer engineering

So his servers are not the only thing that can sustain a long uptime *wink, wink*

His hobbies are taking photos of his girlfriend

Or trying any and every kink in the book with her

MULTIPLE PREGNANCY SCARES

Beer pong king

If anyone tries to hit on him he will not let them finish a sentence without making it clear he’s taken

Doesn���t mean that he dislikes getting attention from people that aren’t his girlfriend, though

Sometimes he’d flirt back

Says it’s not cheating if nothing physical happens

Definitely disregards his girlfriend’s feelings about it

He can be a jerk sometimes

Yeosang:

1stly

He don’t wanna be here

He don’t even know how he got into a frat in the first place

Yet he unexpectedly fit in well

Truthfully, he’s the one that’s attracting all the ladies to the frat house

Like roaches

The sorority girls LOVE him

And I mean they want him so bad

As a sister AND to get eaten out by him

Even though he only ever hooked up with one girl

She spread the news like jelly on bread and he’s suddenly that Pod the Rod type (game of thrones lmao)

Pretends to not understand why girls are in love with him

When his members ask him about it,

“I don’t know her” he’ll shrug

It’s always the quiet ones

San:

He’s definitely a legacy

Comes from generations of mischief

I solemnly swear that he’s up to no good

Also comes from money but doesn’t like to brag about it

He’s getting a Bachelor of Arts degree

And is a strip poker enthusiast

Never has a shirt on

He fucks every other week but not-so-secretly just wants to fuck his best friend

Bro bonding time is his favorite time

He loves to talk feelings and makes sure his members are okay

And actually enjoys the charity events

Even volunteers as the mascot

And daydreams about what it would be like to fuck his best friend in it

He and Wooyoung are infamous for their coma-inducing

“Frat punch”

The recipe is only known to them

But anyone who attends their parties are deeply warned about it

He forces people to listen to his drunk rants about how much he’s in love with his best friend of 12 years

Then blacks out under the table hugging a bottle with her picture taped to it

It’s not creepy

He’s just down bad

Still shows up early to morning lectures in blacked out sunglasses

And gets scolded by his best friend

Then he remembers when he told someone that he’s in love with his best friend

Thinks it may have been her

Mingi:

Mingki is the shy one

Or at least that’s what he wants people to believe

No guy on campus likes bringing their girl around him because

HE. WILL. TAKE. THEIR. BITCH.

And he doesn’t even mean to

But he’s ultimately sweet and will never turn down sex

He sleeps around a lot as well as sleeping through classes

Missed and failed his exams

So his grades aren’t as hot as him

Gets told a lot that if he really applied himself

He’d be a great business major

But he doesn’t really gaf

Everyone thinks he’s failing

But he passes with flying colors

Did I mention that he fucked the dean’s wife because she promised to convince her husband not to expel him?

Wooyoung:

Everyone on campus knows about this mother fucker right here

Friends with literally everybody

He majors in history

And is THE life of the party

If he’s not there it’ll be lame af

Good thing he never misses one, though

And still manages to keep up clean grades

He gets invited to other fraternity parties

Thinks he’s going to die at every party

Genuinely believes that the hash slinging slasher is out to get him

That’s just a result of the “Frat Punch”

He does not do relationships

Only has friends with benefits and brags about his favorite ones

Texts “hey big head” whenever he’s horny

And would tag them in fwb memes

He’ll still invite them to hangout with his members

Even after being balls deep in them like five minutes ago

Jongho:

Will deny being in a frat unless you show up outside his door to prove it

Only joined because he heard the rooms are bigger

He does EVERYTHING

From theater to sports to board games with elderly residents

So you know he’s pulling the theater kids and athletes and a classmates auntie

He majors in one of two subjects

Computer Science or Architecture

You see what he does to those apples and watermelons?!

Those hands are God-given

Ask the swim team

At parties, he’s in charge of the playlists

And he sneaks some Wicked in there when everyone’s too drunk to notice

He’s banned from ordering kegs because he kept ordering wine instead

Beats everyone’s ass at pool

Wooyoung likes to hustle people into placing bets on him but he’d just give the money to any charity the sorority might have

[kurokawaia]

DON'T BE SILLY 彡 Shinazugawa Sanemi

WC; 800+ | TW/CW :: reader is very polite and timid, FEM!Reader, afab, fem!reader x sanemi, emotional distress, mentions of injury, mild language, themes of loneliness and insecurites, reader is called 'wife' + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 : (filled request) But I was wondering, if you are a viable could you do a one shot with either iguro or shinazugawa, where the reader misses them a lot since they go on missions but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to be clingy or anything. Instead they tell someone else (shinobu or mitsuri) who end up telling the guy about and they comfort the reader. - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Currently, you were at the Butterfly Mansion, trying to enjoy the time you have by yourself but it was really hard to do so, to enjoy it. Not even the sunset, which is beautiful, the soft glow which is about to disappear beneath the trees. No, you can't even enjoy that with the distress in your heart. Your heart aches deeply but you had to push those feelings down, you won't let your tears spill over. You won't cry. 

Sanemi is gone again, off on another dangerous mission, leaving his wife behind. You hate how much you miss him, all the smiles he shares with you, only you, his voice, his hands, how he clings to you like a cat when he wakes up. He haunts you when he's out on a mission. But you can't do anything. 

You didn't want to be that kind of person—the one who begged for attention

So, you kept it to yourself, bottling it up until you felt like you might burst. The words came tumbling out only because of Mitsuri, you can't lie to her shes your best friend, she knows when you're lying.

"I just... I miss him so much," you admitted. "I know it's silly, but I feel like I'm always waiting for him. And I can't even say anything because I don't want to seem clingy or selfish. He has enough to deal with already..."

Mitsuri gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as it dropped in shock. "That's not silly at all!" she said cupping your hands. "Sanemi should know how much you care. You're not selfish for missing someone you love."

"It's not like that! I mean—okay, maybe it is, but I don't want to bother him!"

"I'll handle this for you!" She announces already walking away from you.

Hours then passed until Sanemi finally came home. He was indefinitely tired anyone who saw him could tell that he was. He was about to head into the bath house before Mitsuri popped out in front of him, almost as if she was cornering him from going anywhere else.

"Sanemi!" she began, hands on her hips. "You're such a dummy sometimes, you know that?"

"What are you going on about, Kanroji?"

"It's your wife!" she exclaimed. "She misses you so much and feel too guilty to tell you because they don't want to seem clingy! Can you believe that?"

Sanemi froze. 

She feels what?

He pushed past Mitsuri and slides open the door abruptly to your shared room. Your head perks up to the door, seeing Sanemi standing there and you could see the worried expression on your face which made your heart ache, wondering if he is okay.

Sanemi then suddenly sat down next to the futon, elbows resting on his knees as he gazed down to you, analyzing your pretty face and he could see it, the worry on your face. 

"You missed me?" he asked.

Your eyes widened. "What? No—I mean, yes, but I—" You groaned, burying your face in your pillow. "Mitsuri told you, didn't she?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "She did."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. But then you felt his hands move around your body, pulling you up into a hug, arms tightly wrapped around you and you feel as if you were going to cry because it's been so long since you've felt safe in his arms.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" he asked softly. "I'm not gonna think you're clingy or whatever crap you've been telling yourself."

"I didn't want to make things harder for you," you muttered. "You're already out there fighting for your life. The last thing you need is me whining about how much I miss you."

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "I go on those missions because I have to, yeah. But you're the reason I come back. Don't ever think for a second that missing me or wanting me around is a burden. Got it?"

Tears pricked your eyes and it wasn't too long before they began to fall and your arms tightly wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him in closer.

"I missed you too, you know," he murmured against your hair.

He rested his chin on top of your head and his heart begins to ssync with yours, this is the first time he has felt at peace for days ever since the mission ended, he doesn't think he will ever feel calm unless he has you in his arms.

"Next time, just tell me, okay? Don't bottle it up. I'm tough, but I'm not so tough I don't want to know how you feel."

You nodded against his chest. "I will. I promise."

"Good," he said. "Because I'm not going anywhere. Cling to me all you want."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[paigesbasketball]

Hii sorry I wanted to ask if you could make a shadow x chubby reader for our chubby queens about him encouraging them and showing her how much he loves her and her body

His Flower

Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader Warnings: Self mental harm Notes: No need to be sorry guys requests are open!

The evening was drawing near, and the anticipation of the event was palpable in the air. You were getting ready for a special evening, but instead of feeling excitement, you felt a growing knot in your stomach. You had been looking forward to it, but now, as you stood before the mirror, adjusting your dress, doubt started to creep in.

The dress was beautiful, an elegant, flowing piece that fit you perfectly, but as your eyes scanned the reflection in the mirror, all you could see were the things you didn’t like. The curves you always tried to hide. The softness of your body that had once been something you cherished now felt like something to apologize for. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity gnawing at you.

"Maybe this isn’t the right choice," you muttered, shifting uneasily. You tugged at the fabric around your waist, trying to smooth out the areas that felt too tight, too revealing. The reflection in the mirror seemed to highlight all your perceived flaws, and you felt your confidence slipping further away.

It wasn’t long before you heard a familiar sound—footsteps approaching from the hallway. Shadow had been getting ready in another room, but you hadn’t realized he was so close.

The door creaked open, and there he was. Shadow, his usual stoic expression softened with concern as he looked at you. "You’re still not ready?" he asked, his voice steady but warm.

You gave a small, forced smile, trying to mask your inner turmoil. "Yeah, just... a little nervous, that’s all."

Shadow’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something deeper beneath your words. "What’s going on, [Y/N]?" he asked, his tone gentler now. "You don’t seem like yourself."

You bit your lip, looking away from him, unable to meet his gaze. "I don’t know, Shadow. It’s just... I don’t feel good in this dress. I feel... too exposed, too much."

For a moment, there was only silence. And then, Shadow moved closer, his presence surrounding you like a steady, comforting wave. He reached out, gently cupping your face with one gloved hand, guiding you to look at him.

"[Y/N], look at me," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "You are beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful."

You shook your head slightly, unsure. "I don’t feel like it. I feel like I don’t look like what people expect."

Shadow’s gaze softened, and his thumb traced gently along your cheek, wiping away a tear that had silently slipped down your face. "You are as beautiful as a flower, [Y/N]. Every curve, every inch of you is perfection in my eyes. Your body is a work of art, and it’s your art. I love everything about you—your strength, your kindness, your body."

You were taken aback by his words. The sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes softened with affection—it was like he was looking at you for the first time, yet there was no trace of doubt in his expression. It was all love.

"You don’t need to change a thing," Shadow continued, his voice steady but full of affection. "You’re exactly what I want, exactly who I need. You’re perfect, just the way you are."

A wave of emotion surged through you. His words hit you deeply, and the knot in your stomach started to loosen, but it wasn’t just the words—it was the sincerity, the way Shadow’s voice was steady, unshakable, as if there was no doubt in his mind about how much he loved you.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but it was hard. Shadow could always read you better than anyone else.

Slowly, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. His chest was solid and comforting, and the scent of him—a mix of earth and calm—surrounded you as you nestled against him. The weight of the world, the self-doubt, and the insecurity all seemed to fade with each beat of his heart. He left little kisses long your neck to soothe you and remind you of your beauty

“You’re beautiful,” Shadow whispered again, his voice low and soothing. "I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I love you. And I will love every part of you, always."

The warmth of his words filled you up, the coldness of your self-doubt slowly melting away. You buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself to take in his warmth, to feel his steady presence against you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for loving me."

Shadow’s arms tightened around you just a little more, his hold firm and unyielding. “You don’t need to thank me. This... this is what love is. I love you exactly as you are.”

After a few moments, he pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up gently with his fingers so you could meet his eyes. "Now, how about we show the world just how amazing you are, huh? You don’t have to hide, not when you’re this beautiful."

You took a deep breath, feeling lighter now. For the first time that evening, you felt ready. Ready to step into the world with him by your side, knowing that no matter how you looked, Shadow would always love you.

He smiled, his crimson eyes filled with pride. "You’re perfect, [Y/N]. Don’t ever forget that."

And with that, you finally allowed yourself to feel the same way. You had Shadow’s love and admiration, and that was more than enough. With one last, loving glance, you both made your way to the door, ready to face the event together—with confidence and love that could never be shaken.

Most Importantly. You were so ready for that party

[tuesday-teyz]

Butterfly Reign chapter 40 😧

Hi!

First of all, I just wanted to say how much I love Butterfly Reign—your writing is incredible, and I’ve been absolutely hooked from the start. I think I started reading when there were only about 10 chapters out, which feels like a lifetime ago!

I just finished chapter 40, and I’ve been thinking a lot about the direction the story took, particularly regarding Theseus and Wilbur. Their relationship has been such a complex and emotional journey, and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them work through their issues. Honestly, it’s crazy to think back to when I first started reading, and how I would’ve been rooting for Theseus to get his revenge, but now, with everything that’s happened, I didn’t expect the story to take such a tragic turn.

While I’m still deeply invested in the story, I’m curious about a few things—particularly the choice to have Wilbur die. I’ve been wondering, how long have you had this planned? I noticed the MCD tag from the beginning, so I’m wondering if this was always the direction you intended to take their characters or if it evolved as the story developed?

I’d also love to know your thoughts on Theseus’s actions here (without giving away any spoilers ofc). In the context of the story (obviously not condoning murder in real life 😭), do you think Theseus did what he had to do? Do you see him as someone who is still redeemable, or do you think that this was a mistake in his journey? I ask because, even though I’ve been the number one Theseus defender (his rights and wrongs) throughout the story, I found myself struggling with this moment. It’s the first time I’ve felt so conflicted about his character. I’m really curious about your perspective as the author, especially when it comes to the moral complexities in his decision.

Thank you so much for sharing this story— and I can’t wait to see what comes next! (even though i'm not yet willing to except that it shall continue BR!crimboys-less) at least give me hope for Br!discduo if nothing else

Hi, thank you for the ask, it made my morning!

To answer your questions, it's a little complex when exactly the decision came about. In my original outline back in 2022, this whole scene did not actually involve any fire. Instead, it was Theseus and Fundy stranded on the lake as ice begins to crack. Wilbur gets Fundy to safety first, and then when he comes back for Theseus, they fall through. From there on, there were two versions of this scene that I fluctuated between: one, Wilbur cuts the rope connecting them and lets himself drown, and two, the same happens but both of them get saved by a third outside force. This is followed up by Wilbur falling into a coma and being absent for the rest of the fic, sans the epilogue where we see him awake. Simply put, it was never my plan for Wilbur to be present in the final arc; he simply has no place there. His story was always meant to end in this chapter.

However, as time went on, I realized that using a coma is a very cheap (for the lack of a better word) way to write off a character, and his death by sacrifice did not feel right. As I mentioned in another post, br!Wilbur was, off and on, for nearly a decade, br!Tommy's abuser. To have someone who caused so much pain for him die saving him didn't sit right with me. Tommy was working for so long on accepting his past and unlearning the behaviors Wilbur brought up in him that it felt like an injustice and a poor message besides to basically say 'oh well he loved you at the end of the day'. And exploring his death from the point of view Tommy being relieved by it and feeling guilty at the same time is too repetetive of the story itself from when Wilbur ran away the first time. That's when the decision for Tommy to kill Wilbur was born.

So short answer: Wilbur's story was always meant to end at this moment. The idea for murder hatched during the travel arc.

I could not tell you exactly when did I realize that the plot was heading towards Tommy killing Wilbur, but I very firmly stand by the point that it's something that has been brewing up in the background unbeknownst even to me. The thing, Tommy has always been a killer. You have always known him as one (Clara was killed by him 3 years into the past), even though you didn't know his full backstory. An important part of this arc in its entirety is that it's Tommy unpacking and healing from the trauma he experienced 6 to 3 years ago. When Tommy gets sick and Wilbur takes care of him – that's 11 year old Tommy getting closure from Wilbur leaving him behind, and trading their family for the life of a commoner and a family of his own. It's not about them learning to be different in the future; it's about them mending the past. At no point at all this was meant to be about redeeming Wilbur.

Off to the next question: was this necessary? Did Tommy do what he had to?

Not at all. I address that in the chapter itself. I believe it's three different times that an image of Clara tells that Tommy must do it, meaning kill Wilbur, but the only time Tommy voices that thought himself (after the dialogue with Warden), the must changes to can. It's him taking agency over his own choices and acknowledging that he has this option and it's his decision to proceed with it. He tells Wilbur not to make excuses for him for Clara's death, knowing he's about to commit the same crime again.

As to how to feel about his actions – that's entirely up to you. You're not meant to feel a certain way about any of the characters, and especially not Tommy, but I am curious to hear your guys' thoughts and analysis. What do you think?

[stillwithmeisonlyyou]

What if pandora never got over the fact that she lost all of her friends in the span of a couple years?

What if she shut off her emotions for so long after that, threw herself to experimenting with potions, because it reminded her of the simpler times when she and regulus brewed stuff in slughorn's lab that reg had special access to, as their friends chattered.

What if she felt as if it was solely her shortcoming because she saw all of this unravel before, she was just too scared of her visions, or rather what they implied if they were true; she never believed for a second his boys would turn out to be evil, so she ignored it all till she couldn't?

What if Evan wasn't there anymore when her gift became too much to bear?

What if her unwavering belief in her friends and who they could be clouding the reality became the reason for all of their downfall in the end?

What if the experiments were a distraction that let her live in the delusion that these people she still cares about so deeply despite everything; are still alive and well somewhere, that she didn't fail at protecting them, that it didn't all go up in flames.

What if her unchanging wish for all these years was that the smart red headed girl she let slip through her fingers got to raise her kid?

What if she was distant like her parents because it hurt to feel? What if she wanted Luna to know about her chosen family, let their memory live on, but it was so painful talking about them that she felt like she could never get it right and shut down? What if she became the mom to Luna she swore she'd never be, distant and dismissive? What if she felt like she failed in the end?

What if she never went and looked for Harry because she was failing at being a mom as it is? What if she swore she could feel Lily's disappointment in her? What if she felt like she let her down the most?

What if it wasn't an experiment went wrong or a precaution forgotten to be taken? What if she just didn't care anymore? She just missed her people and hoped to be with them, leave her guilt behind?

What if her last thought was that she failed everyone?

And what if the last thoughts of the rosier twins mirror each other?

What then guys like do i shoot myself

[cookiestar360]

Character Sheet

Character- Star

Name- Dummy

Nicknames- Star, Light, Bright, Cookie

Gender-

Species- Angel Dummy

Occupation- Guardian "Angel", Training Dummy

Text Color- Gold or Desaturated Yellow

You can ask them questions :)

-Depiction of Star. Note that I am not very good at art.

Overview

Star is classified as a sentient dummy. After coming across a guardian angel, Star was so excited to see the angel, having heavy admiration for the angel's work that eventually Star was inspired to try and become a guardian angel themselves. Despite not being an angel and having a heavy lack of strength, Star tries their best to defend those who don't have anyone to protect them. Star's devotion towards trying to be a guardian angel derives from the concept that a dummy is supposed to help people... typically by getting injured as a training or testing dummy.

Appearance

True form

Skin tone- #7f7f7f

Height- 5`4 (accurately a Dummy would be 4`6 but I don't wanna use that...)

Weight- 90 Lb

Physical appearance- nothing of note. Just a gray person.

Pretender form

Height- 5`4

Weight- 97 Lb

Physical appearance- A dummy with two pairs of wings on their back, the top pair is golden and sparkles, the bottom one is white. There are two pairs of wings on the head too. Star also has two angelic rings around their head covered in eyes.

Sometimes they'll appear with medium lengthed white hair with a similar color to their head wings.

The wings they have do not work at all. They can be flapped around but Star cannot fly.

The eyes surrounding Star's head DO work, allowing Star to see in every direction alongside seeing ghosts and other things not visible to the average human eye. These eyes cannot close, even while sleeping, but they can move and depict Star's emotions.

Star's two normal eyes are blindfolded, because of this, you will nearly never notice if Star is crying.

Abilities

Shapeshifting

Star is a shapeshifter, they can shapeshift their body to their own will. Star uses this to form the wings, eyes, and halo on themself. Shapeshifting takes energy to do and Star can wear themself out if they overuse it. Instead of using a weapon, Star will shapeshift into a scythe and throw themself at their opponent. This scythe is uncreatively called "Angelsknife"

Necromancy

Star can use magic to revive the dead. This sounds useful, however Star only knows how to use it on themself. Star can bring themself to life and no one else, and they cannot perform this spell while they are dead... If Star uses necromancy right before they die, they can bring themself back to life. This allows Star to effectively avoid death as long as they know they're going to die.

Behavior

Star has barely any care for their life. Star thinks that they are supposed to die in the name of someone else.

Because of their lack of care, this leads to them having no fear or extra respect of beings with far more power than them, including gods.

Star has impostor syndrome, meaning they doubt their own skills and feels like they aren't fit to be a guardian angel. (However, they quite literally are an impostor of a guardian angel, so the feelings are justified.)

Star will become extremely upset if they fail to protect someone, Which can have harsh consequences.

If Star gets overwhelmed, they will begin to lose control of their muscles as they will start to rapidly and randomly shake. This includes Star's heart, so if Star gets too stressed out or upset, their heart will explode.

If scared, (which doesn't happen often) Star will use shapeshifting to distort their face to appear disturbing. This is done in an attempt to appear intimidating.

Star sometimes lacks comprehension of social cues and can often act in ways unwarranted to whatever situation is going on.

Star sometimes wonders if the other training dummies are also sentient and just cannot move, being subject to dying over and over with no one ever knowing they're sentient. This deeply disturbs Star.

The only show Star watches is Family Guy. There is no explanation behind this.

Star's favorite Pokémon is a Substitute Doll (the Pokémon that gets summoned when you use the move substitute that takes damage for the Pokémon using the move.). They refuse to believe anyone who says that isn't an actual Pokémon.

Relations

Family

Star considers every single other dummy like them to be family. Nearly every other dummy isn't sentient however, and just stands still. Parent- Workspace Grandparent- Game (huh, what do you mean those don't count?)

Other

Seth, Burger, Max, Unpleasant, pleasant, Jaws, Lenora, Gabriel, Cinyu, Zephyros, Marth, Grat, Ultra, aevry, Asa, Zandee, Astereal, pancakepieman45, Unus, Randumb and Korissa

Star views Daisy Bell and Alice as siblings/cousins and heavily cares for them.

Star is inspired by Zailyn and Lamentia and views them as role models.

Songs

Yes. They're all just generic royalty free songs. This is because Star is generic.

Also, Their voice sounds like an old text to speech program without the inaccuracies of a machine.

Star's first ever design was made by @abagofstalechiips

Character- Cookie

Name- Cookie K. Star

Gender- Male

Text Color- Green or Purple

You can ask me questions I guess.

Subpar Person

This is just me "Out of Character"

I'm decently different from Star.

Wears a top hat

No I don't like family guy, but I think the characters are funny.

I made the little header page dividers in this sheet myself, thats just how dedicated i am!!1!1!

I don't typically ever do anything like this so my writing is not the best.

I'd say more about me but that's not important, is it?