#i love getting stuff like this in my inbox because i have an excuse to endlessly talk

[yaralulu]

i mean i will always hold the things rhysand did in book one against him but that’s mostly because he had zero character growth since then, we were just asked to think there was because we were idiots who thought he was a murderer for murdering people. retconning =/= repentance

like yes lucien “endangered” feyre by playing a trick on her but he didn’t say “you know who you should totally get chicken nuggets with? my bestie the suriel!” (encourage her) how could he have known that the nagas were going to attack? people also bring up “he drugged her and laughed” and it’s like. they’re faeries. and he didn’t drug her so she could forget all the terrible things he was making her do - unlike some people - just like the suriel chicken trick has nothing on sending your future wife and mate into a known cannibal’s house to retrieve a fucking wedding ring

people talk about nesta like as if she was stood by the front door with a broomstick yelling “come back wihh the some meat or don’t come back at all, shoo!” feyre repeatedly says how pointless it would’ve been for nesta to try and stop her from doing anything (the convo about a brawl post mercenary scene comes to mind) so like???? nesta could’ve tried to lock her up so she wouldn’t endanger herself but we all saw how that’s received

it is genuinely irritating how feyre constantly disregards what she’s asked to do - even if it’s in her best interest and done with good intentions - but will demand an apology if said disregarding has consequences she did not like

Oh I will also always hold the shit Rhys did in TAR against him because like you said he hasn’t changed one bit since then. He’s never truly taken accountability or apologized which is unlike Lucien and Nesta,who yes were assholes in the first book but have had immense character development and have apologized and atoned for their wrong doings.Thats where my point differs.

It’s incredibly stupid to keep circling back to Lucien being a jerk to Feyre in TAR as an excuse or rationale for her mistreating him now.The argument just doesn’t hold because since then Lucien and Feyre’s relationship has changed drastically and Lucien has done so much for Feyre and he’s even acknowledged that he was a bad friend to her (not true but he believes it anyways which says a lot).

The suriel situation is so blown out of proportion because like you said Lucien couldn’t have predicted the naga attacking Feyre and he was literally standing by in case she screamed for help.Yes,he hesitated but he did end up running after her,Tamlin just got there before him.Lucien was never gonna let her die that was never the point and he literally stated that.He also felt bad about hesitating and gave her a jeweled hunting knife as a peace offering.Like that moment changed the trajectory of their relationship because Lucien saw Feyre in a completely different light after that.That scene was the building block for their entire friendship.It wasn’t some malicious moment where Lucien tried to kill Feyre,it was the start of their friendship.It had to happen.

And with Nesta,SJM kinda dug herself into a hole because she purposefully made the sisters the “evil sisters” stereotype in TAR which is why I literally couldn’t care less about anything they did then.But like also remember when Nesta hiked all the way to the wall to try and find Feyre? Yeah nobody wants to ever talk about that but let’s talk about the hunting debacle for the 175th time 🥱.

[sqgeism]

WAIT HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE ONES WHERE LIKE THE CHILD(REN) LIKE DISRESPECT (?) THE MOTHER (READER) IN FRONT OF THE FATHER ???? LIKE JUST TO SEE THE REACTION

THAT WITH PHAINON!!!!! (and whoever else you like)

(I'm so sorry for spamming phainon reqs 💀)

love mail — 🍒 ⨾ this crashed mid posting and i had to re edit EVERYTHING. dont pmo.. just a collection of blurbs for phainon in my inbox so they're all done LOL hi if youre the person/people who requested this i was too lazy to make individual posts im saurrey o(T◇T o)

(fem reader)

if you and phainon had a child—and they disrespected you—he probably wouldn't take it all that seriously. especially if he can tell if it's just to get a reaction out of him.

aits the little one down, one to one talk. tries to act tough but is so gentle with his scolding that it's funny, "don't ever say that stuff to your mama, alright?" while ruffling their hair. "if you do, i'll have no choice but to take away your cereal. yep, AND the building blocks too. no one talks to my wife that way, not even you."

although in a hypothetical situation where his child genuinely DOES respect angel, he's much firmer, strict. his sweet tone is gone and is playing NO games. ❌️ "you think cause you're big now, means you have the right to treat your mom like that? no way. absolutely not. better sort yourself out before i have to do it myself." he will NEVER have a child that holds any disrespect for their parents. he's locked in

phainon would LOVE it if you were gentle. like on everybodys soul. he'd kill to just be able to fall into your arms and be cared for and pampered for the rest of thw day. his killer combo is the "you okay, baby?", while resting on your lap, and your hands in his hair. BOOM. he's dead.

the next 6 hours are for you and phainon ONLY, mainly with him whining about how even if he's literally pressed up against you that he can never truly be close enough. he wants all of you, every inch and every part. he just wants to be all over you i fear </3

and shy? oh he loves it. totally a tease, going back to what i said earlier, he wants to be aaalll over you. probably likes to squeeze your waist just to feel you jump against him, it's his favorite reaction. and he doesn't mind the fact that he probably leads most of the conversation, but he loves to hear you speak. there's this air of grace yet humility to it that he can't get enough of.

absolutely smitten, i say. every and any version of his angel.

clumsy in the more hurtful type, phainon's probably the same. he likes to joke that it makes you two interlinked, 'sharing the pain' he says. but he also makes a great effort to stop you from bumping into things, keeping his hand on your head when you go underneath tables, pulling you away if you're about to run into something, all of that. he's probably just more cautious, and definitely makes sure to leave the big *sword he carries around at home when he's visiting.

'healing kisses' are also a pretty big thing he does, but it's really just an excuse to kiss you. he'll bandage you up and kiss the wounded area a couple of times to 'heal' you, and you play along with his little antics because you love him and it's cute. and what other reasons do you need when it comes to phainon?

(the wording kind of confused me 💔? sorry anon!)

he laughs, but not mockingly, as it's mostly in awe. he thinks you look great! not much of a difference, so he wonders why you make your life intentionally harder by not wearing them. makes sure to reassure you that you look perfect no matter what you choose to wear, but definitely suggests going back to using your glasses. he doesn't really care either way LMAO but please wear your glasses 💔

yeah, he probably would. flops ontop of you when hes exhausted and falls asleep a lot. probably wouldnt flirt with a blahaj, even if it was you, but he isn't leaving you to fend for yourself so i guess that's something!

i could see phainon being a kid with horrible acne, just the worst when he was a teenager. so if you're insecure about yours, he totally understands that. he offers a skincare routine that will hopefully help, ease the pain, stuff like that. but also he just thinks you're beautiful regardless to how your skin makes you feel. and when you don't love yourself, that just means phainon has to love you harder. which he reaaaally doesn't struggle in doing.

he is also very careful with touch! making sure to always have clean hands to hopefully not worsen the acne or anything like that, always trying to help you feel confident.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[nik0nk1]

I’m sorry to ask but can we please have more Beerus! Reader x mark content😩🙏🏾

There was this one scene from Dragon Ball I’m not sure which one tho where beerus meets cheelai and he kinda falls for her like instantly😭 can we have some moments between reader and mark and how they stop villains together and he attempts at making food for her but it’s not the best best but Debbie helps him make it more manageable and reader knows he tried and she eats it no problem and just overall sweet yet still crackhead moments with mark and maybe how she interacts with Debbie and Oliver :3

Author's Note: honestly nddbshssjss nddjdsjddj love it, also this will be the second to the last Beerus![Name] and the last will be the reactions of Mark's variants on Beerus![Name] please suggest other more ideas in my inbox(⁠^⁠.⁠_⁠.⁠^⁠)⁠ﾉ

So without further adu, here are some Beerus![Name] moments with some of the invincible characters( mostly Mark lol Also sorry if there isn't any romance moments jdjjjddjs:( )

Beerus![Name] Moments

[Name] Just Wants Food, Mark is Her Unpaid Butler Now, Cecil is Developing Stress-Induced Baldness, Debbie is the Only One She Listens To, Earth is Off-Limits Because She Said So, Mark Keeps Getting Dragged Into Fights, Everyone is So Tired, [Name] Moved In Without Asking, She’s Claiming Planets Like Trading Cards, Cheetos Saved Earth, Canon? Don’t Know Her

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

[Name] Claims the Planet & Moves in With Mark (Cecil Is Bald Now)

Cecil had never been more stressed in his entire life.

"YOU CAN’T JUST—" He inhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as his headache intensified. "YOU CAN’T JUST CLAIM THE PLANET!"

[Name], sitting on Mark’s couch, kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. "I just did."

Mark, standing next to Cecil, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are we at my hou-"

He gets cut off by Cecil "Why would you do that?!"

[Name] shrugged. "Because it was there?"

Cecil looked like he was on the verge of a stroke. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!?!"

[Name], sipping from a juice box, tilted her head. "Yeah. It means I live here now."

Cecil inhaled deeply. "No, it means every government on Earth is PANICKING because some unknown Viltrumite just casually declared ownership over the entire planet—"

[Name] waved him off. "Oh, that’s dumb. I don’t want their government stuff, I just wanna live here. That’s your problem."

Cecil visibly aged ten years in that moment.

Mark groaned. "Where are you even staying—?"

[Name] smirked. "Here."

Mark blinked. "…Excuse me?"

[Name] gestured around. "Your house. I’m moving in."

Silence.

Cecil stared. "I need a drink."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Meeting Debbie: The Unexpected New Roommate

Debbie had just walked in, holding groceries, when she was met with the sight of:

1. Cecil looking like he was on the verge of an aneurysm.

2. Mark rubbing his temples in pure exhaustion.

3. A complete stranger lounging on her couch with a juice box.

Debbie blinked. "What the hell is going on?"

[Name] turned, grinning. "Hi. I live here now."

Debbie froze. "…What."

Cecil groaned. "SHE CLAIMED THE PLANET, DEBBIE."

Debbie slowly turned to Mark, eyes narrowing. "Mark. Explain."

Mark sighed. "Mom, meet [Name]. She’s…technically a Viltrumite, technically super strong, technically declared Earth as hers, and—" He sighed deeply. "—she’s apparently moving in."

[Name] grinned. "Nice to meet you, Debbie."

Debbie stared at her. Then at Mark. Then at Cecil, who looked done.

Then she sighed, set the groceries down, and walked into the kitchen.

Cecil blinked. "Where are you going?"

Debbie didn’t even turn around. "To pour myself a glass of wine before I deal with this bullshit."

[Name] smirked. "I like her."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Settling In (Mark’s Personal Hell Begins)

Mark had no idea how his life spiraled into this mess, but here he was—watching [Name] casually make herself at home.

She stole his room.

She stole his bed.

She stole his snacks.

She was just…there. Constantly.

Like now, for example.

Mark walked into his own room only to find [Name] sprawled across his bed, eating his bag of Cheetos like she owned the place.

Mark sighed. "Why are you in my room?"

[Name], not looking up from her phone, casually replied, "Our room."

Mark choked. "WHAT?"

[Name] blinked at him. "I live here, Mark. This is our room now."

"YOU CAN TAKE THE GUEST ROOM!"

[Name] shrugged. "Nah, this one’s better."

Mark groaned. "I hate you."

[Name] smirked. "No, you don’t."

Mark left the room and walked straight into the kitchen, where Debbie was making coffee.

He sighed. "Mom."

Debbie, without looking up, replied, "She’s your problem now."

Mark groaned, dramatically collapsing onto the counter. "Cecil’s gonna kill me."

Debbie smirked, sipping her coffee. "Cecil’s already dead inside."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Mark & [Name]: The Most Chaotic Duo Ever And Stopping Villains Together

Mark had long since accepted that fighting alongside [Name] was not a normal experience. He was used to strategy, teamwork, and at least some level of planning.

And [Name]?

Pure, unfiltered chaos.(As usual)

Like today, for example.

A B-list villain named Overload had been terrorizing downtown, his electricity-based attacks shorting out power grids and causing city-wide blackouts. Standard superhero work.

Mark was mid-air, dodging arcs of electricity while trying to get close. "[Name], can you—"

BOOM.

The entire street shook as Overload went flying into a billboard, face-first, before tumbling down onto a car.

Mark turned, sighing.

[Name] stood there, cracking her knuckles. "What? He zapped my bag of Doritos."

Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. "You just punched him through a billboard—"

"Yeah, ‘cause he was being annoying. You were taking too long."

"He was mid-monologue!"

"Exactly. Annoying."

Overload groaned, barely conscious. [Name] walked over and nudged him with her foot.

"Hm. Not dead. Cool. What’s for lunch?"

Mark stared at her. "We’re still in the middle of a fight!"

[Name] shrugged. "I dunno, seems like we won."

Mark turned back to Overload, who weakly raised a hand. "…I surrender."

Mark sighed. "I hate that you’re always right."

[Name] grinned. "I know."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Mark Attempts Cooking (And Fails, But It's the Thought That Counts)

Mark had exactly one mission today: make [Name] a meal.

The problem?

Mark couldn’t cook for shit.

He’d tried. Really, he had. He even watched a few YouTube tutorials on how to make something decent. But by the time Debbie walked into the kitchen, it looked like a war zone.

The stove had suspicious burn marks, the counter was covered in ingredients (somehow including things that weren’t even part of the recipe), and Mark was standing there with flour in his hair, staring at a pot like it personally insulted him.

Debbie took one look and sighed. "Oh my god."

Mark groaned. "Mom, help. Please."

Debbie pinched the bridge of her nose. "Mark, what is this supposed to be?"

He gestured vaguely to the…thing. "…Pasta?"

Debbie stared. "You burned water."

Mark winced. "…Yeah."

She sighed. "Move over, I’ll fix this before she arrives."

After a lot of motherly intervention, the dish was technically saved. It wasn’t perfect, but it was edible. Which was a huge improvement.

When [Name] arrived, Mark was visibly stressed while she sat at the table, inspecting the food.

Mark coughed. "So, uh. I made this for you."

[Name] blinked. "Why?"

Mark hesitated. "…Because I thought you’d like it?"

[Name] stared at him. Then at the food. Then back at him.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a fork, scooped a bite, and ate it.

Mark watched her carefully.

She chewed. Swallowed. Paused.

Then nodded. "Not bad."

Mark exhaled, relieved. "Oh, thank god."

Debbie crossed her arms, raising a brow. "You’re way too nice. That was barely passable."

[Name] shrugged. "I’ve eaten worse. One time I had to survive on a planet that only had meat that regenerated while you chewed."

Debbie and Mark both stared.

Mark hesitated. "…I don’t wanna ask."

[Name] nodded. "You really don’t."

Debbie sighed. "Mark, if you ever cook again, I’m supervising."

Mark groaned. "Noted."

[Name] grinned. "Don’t worry, I still think it’s cute that he tried."

Mark turned red. "Shut up."

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

[Name] & Debbie: The Most Unexpected Friendship

Debbie never expected to befriend a Viltrumite Goddess of Destruction, yet here she was.

[Name], despite her terrifying power, was surprisingly respectful toward Debbie. And by respectful, that meant she actually listened whenever Debbie scolded Mark.

Like when Mark forgot to take out the trash.

"Mark, I told you to do it before heading out."

Mark sighed. "I was busy—"

[Name], lounging on the couch with a bag of chips, turned. "Mark, just do it. She’s right."

Mark groaned. "Not you too."

[Name] nodded. "She made me food, so she wins this argument."

Debbie smirked. "See? She gets it."

Mark threw his hands up. "Oh my god."

Another time, Debbie had been stressed from work. [Name] had noticed and, instead of saying anything, simply plopping onto the couch beside Debbie.

Debbie blinked. "What are you doing?"

[Name] shrugged. "I dunno. You looked tired, so I’m keeping you company."

Debbie stared. "…Huh."

[Name] then grabbed the remote. "Wanna watch bad reality TV? I heard humans find it entertaining."

Debbie hesitated, then sighed. "…Yeah, actually."

[Name] smirked. "Nice. Let’s watch people make terrible life choices."

And that’s how Debbie ended up watching The Bachelor with a god-tier Viltrumite who could destroy planets but instead spent the evening judging contestants like a drama-loving auntie.

Debbie decided she definitely liked her.

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Cecil’s Hairline Is Gone

Cecil genuinely considered retirement after this.

[Name], somehow, had hacked the system of life itself. She claimed the planet, got a free house, free food, and a free personal punching bag (Mark).

Debbie, at some point, just accepted it.

♪•|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|•♪

Overall: Chaos, Friendship, and Cheetos

Mark had no idea how his life ended up like this. His team-ups with [Name] were less about strategy and more about damage control.

And his mom somehow got along better with [Name] than he did.

But at the end of the day, when [Name] casually threw an arm around him after another insane fight, stealing his fries while grinning, he figured…

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Even if he was never getting his snacks back.

And Mark?

He was never getting his bed back.

Author's Note: HOPE YALL LOVE THIS ONE DJJDNJDDJ

ndbshshhshsjsejjeeejebddjssjjjddj a g. g h. hh h. hh. h. h h

[red-doll-face]

Heeyyy! Soooo I have a fun request idea that I totally came up with on my own with no help from anybody else, from my own mind and not some super creative person that answered my question about Arthur proposing to reader 🤣 it goes something like this:

-takes three months to work up the nerve and like another one to pick out one ring.

-chickens out at least two times bc the moment isn't right

-asks Hosea for advice 19 times (Hosea is tired)

-he's the trope where reader starts crying and he's like ohh goddd i fucked up of course you don't wanna marry my ass

-the way he would ride around for a week looking for the perfect spot to do it

-marks it on his map with a heart

-the essays he would write in his journal about this situation

-he's so cute i love him pls marry me Arthur Morgan

-awww once you say yes??

Hehehehe no pressure though!!!!! I just looooovvvveeeee this idea so much!

Yes !!! Yes of course I’ll write this!!! ❤️❤️💕💕🥰🥰😵‍💫😵‍💫😩😩As always it ended up running really long even though I didn’t even really flesh out a back story. 🥲 I’m glad you enjoyed my response ☺️☺️ I definitely had high honor Arthur Morgan in mind for this when I read it, I hope it’s ok and that you like it!!! I was so happy to see you in my inbox !!! @zae-heeyyy 💓💓💓💓💓 writing this was so cathartic and I loved the rdr1 setting so much so that I made this pre black water heist or whatever 😭🫶 from Arthur’s pov hope you like the characterization 🥹

Tags: established relationship, marriage proposals?? Arthur being a major weenie. Like huge weenie. He is soooo sooo sweet it’s almost like too much and I love love love sweet Arthur so very fluffy!!!! Pre black water !! Dutch being a jerk 😒 but cute dad Hosea moments ☺️

Arthur wants things to be perfect for you.

(High honor) Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur knows he’s made up his mind when he’s in the tailor’s shop in Blackwater, looking like a lowdown cattle rustler among all of the fancy fabrics on the wall. He and his spurs, his boots scuffed to hell and a leather satchel slung over his chest. He’s out of place and he knows it. But he’s here to buy a new shirt.

Yesterday, he had nearly driven himself insane looking for a shirt of his that wasn’t ruined, ripped and mended, dirty, stained irreparably. None of them were good enough for what he wanted, something nice to get down on one knee and ask his girl to marry him. And so he kissed you goodbye and rode into town in search of something better. He makes an effort at pretending to be interested in any of the fancy stuff, silk and linen suits that he sure will never be fitted for him. He clears his throat as the attendant drags his eyes away from the sunday paper.

A tight lipped smile consumes the man's face. Arthur already can sense the assumptions he’s getting but he pays little mind to it. He’s getting this shirt and that's that.

“How can I help you, sir?” Obnoxious and nasally, the thin and short man's voice already gives away his air of superiority. Arthur's eyes narrow but he isn’t too irritated yet.

“Here to get a shirt.” His words are simple. The attendant raises a brow.

“Just a shirt, not… pants or shoes?” the attendant lowers the paper to scan over the rest of Arthur’s clothes. Arthur can hardly ignore the burn of insecurity.

He gives a look that conveys how quickly he is losing his patience. “Excuse me?” He can only tell his posture changed when he observes the man's attitude change, clinging to the counter between them like it would make any difference.

“No, well sir, perhaps I’ve overstepped, I apologize. What kind of-of shirts were you thinking?”

“Listen, I ain’t here to cause no trouble, just show me what you’ve got,” The attendant hurries to show him some options, tries to sell him a vest but that isn’t happening with his budget.

In the end, he picks a blue french dress shirt. Costs a real pretty penny but he wants it to be special. Because you’re special. He stuffs it away in a saddlebag after thanking the attendant, who no doubt heaves a sigh of relief after he leaves.

-

He’s been collecting rings. In a special bag is a collection. A few plain gold bands, some with stones set in them. They’re pretty blue and red gems, some have filigree detailing. But he still can’t find the right one.

Worse then, is that they’re rings of all different sizes which he gets from his more sordid activities. Debt collecting or train robberies. It’s all stolen goods. It feels wrong to give you something like that but when he told Dutch his intentions, he clapped him on the back and told him to look in the collection box for more rings. He nodded then but it was half hearted. Somehow that was more souring. Did he really want to give you something he took from someone else? That someone else bought for their loved one with the express purpose of giving them something to symbolize how they loved each other? His own thoughts swirl circles in his head, why he had these scruples about it, he didn’t know.

It’s riding with Hosea that he asks for advice. They’ve been working on a job in Tumbleweed, trying to con some poor fool into giving money he shouldn’t by pretending to sell land deeds. They ride all the way from the yellow grasses of Hennigan’s Stead and it’s been mostly quiet over the stretch of passing though Armadillo. Arthur decides to speak up after they pass through town. The sun is beginning to dip a bit lower in the sky but they’ll be in Tumbleweed before then.

“I been-”

“This about you n’ the girl?” Hosea already has a knowing smile and Arthur rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should do it! You two would make quite the couple, she’s a sweetheart, that girl,”

“Yeah, she-she’s… I’ve been lookin’ at rings to give ‘er,” He grips the reins before going lax, riding easily along the path. Hosea murmurs, letting Arthur continue. He guides Boadicea down the dusty road. “I don’t think I wanna give her something I got robbin’, don’t seem right,”

“Then get her something new, I don’t think she’ll mind at all. But you do what you think you should. You could probably fence all the other rings you thought about and get her something quite nice with the cash,”

“Yeah, I could do that,” why hadn't he thought of that?

“That’s a wonderful thing, getting married. Don’t be afraid to, y’know, go through with it. If you’re thinkin’ about it. Maybe, once Dutch and I find the perfect spot for the gang to settle down, we’ll build you two your own little thing on the land,”

“You that confident she’ll say yes?” Arthur has an awkward and disbelieving laugh but Hosea keeps his earnest smile.

“Why wouldn’t she? Arthur, somehow, she has gone for a man like you, you should be over the moon, you should be whistling tunes everywhere you go,”

“Like me? What's that supposed to mean?” He knows what he means. A man like him had very little to offer you, a young woman who could easily charm some other well established man into giving you a home. Leagues away from his cot and the weathered canvas he put up to give you some small amount of privacy.

“You remember what happened with that Mary woman. This time, things oughta turn out better. This one’s got no old man to chase you around with a shotgun,” Hosea figures himself very funny and laughs, ending it with a shallow cough. Arthur furrows his brows.

Of course he reminded him of his disaster with Mary. He could never escape that woman, even when he severed ties with her. But how he had wanted to, especially with you. Yes, it was true, he had loved Mary. But now he loves you. He needs you. His idea of the rest of his life always includes you, laying in bed with him, gently stroking his chest, leaving him love notes in his satchel, telling him what happened in the camp while he was gone. He always listens, always wakes up smiling with you tucked under his arm.

“I remember just fine,” he grunts,

“Good, because you’ll forget about her soon enough. Month from now, I suppose. Where are you going to tell her?”

“Where? I didn’t think we was gonna go nowhere, just tell her when I was ready to…” he hadn’t even imagined a place when he first set out to do this.

“So you wanna propose; with Uncle standing behind her, drunk off his ass in just his soiled union suit?”

“I-”

“Take her somewhere special, somewhere to make her feel special! Women like to feel special, Arthur, you know that,”

“I do?” He says, with a sarcastic edge to his voice, though he tries on his attempt at sounding uninvested.

“You should. I didn’t do that enough. I should have before, well…” Arthur nods, bowing his head a little as if in remembrance. He hopes to always have you by his side. Otherwise he would be much like Hosea: carrying a torch for a woman who passed through his life too quickly.

-

He starts his journey looking for something special. Special like you are. Keeps his eye out, marking potential things in his map, and makes a list in his journal. Aurora Basin maybe, a pretty lake deep in the forest but getting attacked by bears doesn’t sound romantic in any way. There are some sweeping vistas overlooking the San Luis River in Rio Bravo. He isn’t quite sure about anything though, thinking it over deeply. He just wants things to be perfect.

He’s still thinking about it when he comes back to camp, close to Lake Don Julio, sighing. Thinking much too hard obviously, he doesn’t notice that you’re sitting on his bed, biting your nail nervously until you see him first. You look worried, happy to see him but worried. You stand, hugging your arms around yourself and then placing them on your hips to make you seem more upset but you just drop them when he’s close enough.

“Hey, darlin’,” He utters, opening his arms to give you a hug but you just look up at him. He drops them, mentally kicking himself before taking his hat off and sitting down on his bed.

“Arthur, you’ve been gone three days,”

“I know,” you’re disappointed in his answer. You take a breath and a pause, looking off to the right. He stares down at his scuffed and weather worn boots. He hates to disappoint you, hates when you’re upset. It takes a lot to get you there, too. You’re a forgiving soul when he knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. He looks away, like a dog who knew he shouldn’t have chewed those leather boots up to bits.

“You know. I asked everyone where you were and they didn’t know,”

“Honey, I ain’t gonna leave you, I’m not-”

“You leave other men out of this, Arthur,” you already predicted he’d bring another man’s failings to make up for his own. Maybe bringing up John’s shortcomings while you’re upset is a little below the belt but it worked better in his head. He puffs some air out in a laugh. God, he just can’t seem to find the right words to say.

“Is something funny? Is how much-how much I worry funny to you?” You look like you’re gonna cry, squeezing your arms tight around yourself. Your eyes flick around, thinking of all the people watching, never any goddamn privacy in this place. You start to back up, looking for a place to hide your tears.

“No, no, I- I’m sorry, don’t go walkin’ away,” You let him pull you back. Let him tug you into his lap. You sniff and tuck into his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says at least 5 more times. His hands pet down your hair, holding you. He hadn’t wanted to come back to such a harrowing fear in the pit of his stomach, the thought of you walking off without him. He thinks himself lucky that you haven’t had enough of him and decided to leave already.

Arthur pulls you in real tight, doesn’t let up til’ you start to calm down a little. “Shouldn’t cry for me, sweet girl, bastard like me ain’t worth them tears,” he wipes a few away. Seeing you like this could make him cry if he thought about it too much, how he had let you down. His nerves almost make him tremble, the slightest shake in his fingers when he brushes them under your eyes, shiny with tears. If anyone else made you cry, he’d knock their teeth out. But what is he supposed to do when it’s him? Sickness roils around his abdomen.

“Where were you, anyway?” You shake your head at his words. “Mac and Davey said…” he perks up at that. Those boys are a terror. His face screws up in an anticipated anger. He’d be angrier with them, they’re the ones who need to see it, not you.

“What’d they say?”

“No, they were just messing with me. I don’t think it’s true,” You look away. But he knows exactly how nasty those boys can be. He gives you a look and you give him a defeated one in return. An embarrassment leaks into your words. You can’t meet his eyes, twiddling your fingers.

“They said you were at the saloon in town. They said things that aren’t true and I know it but it isn’t nice to leave me here with nothing to say about it,”

“I know, darlin’, next time, you’ll be the first to know where I’m goin’,” You nod and wrap an arm around his shoulder while he pats your back, grabs your thigh so he can pull you to sit across his lap fully.

“Are you gonna answer my question or should I take their word?” you tease and he reassures you about those boys. They’ll be hearing from him soon enough.

“I’m gonna have a word with them, don’t worry about it,” he scratches his beard. How is he supposed to say that he went riding around looking for a place to take you so he can ask you to take his sorry hand in marriage? He had already disappointed you and saying it’s a secret is a laughable idea.

“Well, I was out, uhh- huntin’?” You frown and lean away.

“Arthur, you’re an awful hunter and an awful liar,” you look really hurt. You almost stand but he pulls you back. He needs something to tell you and fast.

“I was out lookin’ for somethin’ real special to give you. It’s supposed to be a surprise…but well, I can’t keep no secrets from you, sweetheart,” You fuss a little, a wariness in your posture. You study his expression. It isn’t a complete lie, makes it a bit easier to pull off. He really does have a surprise for you. He tries to keep his face neutral, but his lips twitch up when yours do to, a small smile shining through the clouds of your emotional turmoil.

“What surprise?”

“I didn’t find it, guess a surprise, it’s gonna have to stay,” You pout and wiggle, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Ok, but once you find it, you better take me to see it right away,” You kiss him, soft and sweet, holding his prickly jaw in one hand. He can feel how your pout gives way to a smile. The feeling of your soft lips on his is one of those things he’ll never get sick of, never get over.

“I will, promise,”

-

He’s found the perfect ring, really, by chance. It’s a little thing but it’s the right color, goes well with you. The rock on it isn’t very big but he saw it in a window while in town. Some big fancy jewelry store, showing off all the finer things that he never paid any mind to. Unless it was to steal it of course. But he had bought it. With money that may have been also robbed but it was from hitting a Del Lobo stash. A good deed, probably in a backwards sense.

The girls had ‘oohed’ at it, Mary-Beth had an excited tiny clap and Tilly rejoiced. Jenny nodded with a small smile.

“We’re happy for you Arthur! Oh my god, Arthur Morgan, gettin’ married…” Tilly giggles, putting her hands to her cheeks and clasping her hands in front of the skirt of her yellow dress.

Karen laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day,”

“Don’t listen to her, I mean we was hoping when we saw you two huddled up all the time,” Mary-Beth takes the ring from him, holding it closer, so that Jenny and Tilly can get a closer look.

“Hey, be careful with that,” he murmured, trying not to sound too desperate. He scratches his neck instead of snatching it back like his instinct wants him to. Evening is coming soon, purple dusk and soft coyote yipping and howling far in the distance marks the sun's descent. Meaning you’re probably finishing up whatever it is you’re doing. He hopes you don’t come around the corner at an inopportune time. Arthur turns his head this way and that.

“Where’d you get it? Looks new, ain’t scuffed to high heaven like everything else around here,” Jenny points out and the girls nod.

“Bought it in town,” playing it off doesn’t work so well.

They ‘ooh’ some more. “Fancy. Only the best for Arthur’s sweetheart,” Karen coos teasingly.

“Gimme that,” grumbling, he takes the ring back, bowing his head so they can’t see the embarrassment plain on his face. He meanders off after asking how things have been. Of course, they only give him updates about you, Karen jokes that that’s all he wants to hear about anyway. He scoffs and wishes them a good evening.

But the perfect spot is yet to be discovered. Evades him like just about nothing else. He almost gives up on the idea. He’s been taking you out, trying to get you in the almost perfect moments. Taking you out on the town in Blackwater was a good time, he bought you dinner and took you on a stroll down the cobbled streets, watching your face light up when you saw something pretty in a window, clutching his hand and pulling him in more. He almost proposed on the veranda at the Blackwater saloon. Only for a fight to break out at the poker table to interrupt.

Then he took you out to see the poppy fields in Great Plains. But he had let his anxiousness and his nerves overtake him. He had tucked the ring away. You had looked so beautiful standing among the flowers, it was perfect but he just…couldn’t. Instead, he wrote in his journal about his own cowardice. Wrote about if he should lock you to him for the rest of your life. If he’d end up leaving you a widow. Or if you were to be taken from him like Annabelle and Bessie. Leaving behind lonely men who longed for a woman gone from this world. Then he scribbled pictures of you, trying to draw the motion in your hair and in your dress and the beaming most enchanting smile he had ever seen.

Boadicea munched on the long wheat grass, waving in the wind while he kept a watchful eye on you, picking flowers in your pretty dress fluttering against the bright blue of the sky. You have a bunch of candy orange poppy flowers held together by your palms, a bright smile on your face. You walk to where he sits, leaning against the tree, next to a small broken down stone fence. Your smile falters when you see his pensive expression. You come close enough to touch. You dangle one flower above him before you tuck it into the frayed ropes banded around the crown of his hat. He lowers his head while you fuss. Smiling like a fool. You smile again too, sitting beside him. You both listen to the sound of the quiet plains, breeze in the branches above him. The shade is cool, light filters beautifully over your features, speckled like the back of a doe.

“Something has been going on with you, Arthur,” you state as pure fact, knowing him all too well. You had only really known each other a year and have only been together as a couple for six months but you knew him better than anyone else. You had let him be himself, let him just…be. He didn't need to say anything for you to understand him.

“I’ve just been… thinkin’ bout some things,”

“Really? I thought you said you weren’t very good at that,” you smile a little, nudging his shoulder. Hoping to lift his spirits with his similar brand of humor but when he hardly huffs a laugh, you frown. “Is it about you and me?”

“Yeah, in a way,” he says, unable to hide anything from you. Why should he bother? Saying no would make you more suspicious. Arthur closes his eyes and can feel the panic rising in you. He could have been better about saying it but he’s quick to deflect it away from his secret. “You happy with me?” low and grumbled, the severity makes his tone go way down.

“I don’t understand. Do I not seem happy? Arthur, I’ve never…I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re the kind of man any girl would be lucky to have,” You smile, leaning to face him. Softening up, your eyes track over his face.

He wanted to ask you right then and there. Tell you just how much you complete him. How lucky he was to have you, how there never was a happier time in his life. He doesn’t believe in that sentiment you have, he had failed the women in his life. But he had wanted to make a vow, to never leave you alone. It’s his own nerves that wrap tight around his hands, don’t let him reach in his satchel for the little treasure that will be your wedding ring.

“No, I just know I been gone, I don’t wanna ignore you. I just been busy,”

“You have things to do,” You sigh heavily. “I wish the other men would be as helpful as you. Sometimes, I watch Sean, Uncle, and Bill lay around all day while you’re out working. It doesn’t seem fair,” Your brows pinch in a small dissatisfaction with the idea. He smirks.

“I don’t know how much I trust Sean to get things done right. We’d probably eat nothin’ but leaded rabbit meat and whiskey if we left it up to that boy,” You giggle and nod. Happy to see him back in his joking mood.

“Arthur… You know I love you, don’t you?” God, those words make him shiver. Make his heart rattle in his chest. Could swear his insides turn about 3 times. So sweet, you look at him, hands on his thighs, leaning into his side. He opens his arm for you to tuck into, grabbing your waist to pull you close.

“Yeah, I do. Love you more,” he can feel heat flush up his neck and cheeks but he doesn’t care if he looks like a lovesick idiot. Your joy is worth it. The wind blows your hair over your shoulder, you let him sweep it back some more. Your pretty laugh when he bows over to lay you down on the grass makes him chuckle.

-

He’s finally found it. Montana Ford. A shallow spot in the river he discovered, looking for a short cut trying to cross from New Austin into West Elizabeth. He hated riding through the Del Lobo populated Thieves Landing, especially after they were catching on that it was Dutch and his boys robbed their stash two weeks ago. He sighed and then he veered off the road, looking for somewhere to cross. And the shaded river was perfect.

He stays there a moment, looking at the pretty grass growing alongside the water, the light glittering over the surface. The sound of the river rushing by fills his head pleasantly. You’d love it, you’d toss your boots aside and wade into the river, lifting your skirts high enough to hopefully not get wet. But you’d be wet anyway. He’d do it too, you made him feel like he was twenty despite his thirty some years on this earth.

He decides to sit and sketch it and write about you. Just how excited he was at how everything was coming together. He feels like a kid, sappy but too devoted to care very much at the small heart he puts on his map. He’s almost embarrassed of himself. Even with no one to see. He folds his map up and stuffs his journal away, whistling his horse over. With a soft word or two, he mounts up and continues on to his destination.

-

It's been three days since he found the spot he would take you to and he’s had a ring in his satchel that glares up at him every time he opens it to pull out a cigarette. Of course, just as everything comes together, Dutch insists he go scouting for some new venture, looking to follow a treasure hunter so they could rob him. It ends up being a whole lot of nothing from a bad tip but Dutch has a ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ speech to try and lick his own wounds at Arthur’s expense. Arthur rolls his eyes. Feels his hands knot into fists.

“Maybe next time, it’ll be you runnin’ all over New Austin on some wild goose chase! And I’ll give you this bullshit. Wouldn’t that be just fine, wasting your goddamn time-”

“Arthur, calm down! I don’t have time for your complaining. Where is that girl of yours? Why don’t you blow some of that steam off with her? It’s obvious to me-”

“Dutch…stop pushing the boy,” Hosea remarks from where he’s reading a book nearby. Arthur postures to continue arguing and Dutch shoots a glare before waving him off. He looks to Hosea and backs away, huffing. But before he can go for a smoke to hopefully calm himself down so he could be with you, Hosea calls him over.

“So… have you popped the question?”

“No, I ain’t got time most days,” He sighs in defeat, dropping his weight on the seat next to him, resting on his knees, leaned over. He takes his hat off to adjust his hair before putting it back on. He hadn’t seen you in another two days on account of this stupid ploy to rob a treasure hunter who didn’t know left from right and east from west. What an idiot. But not nearly as foolish as he.

“Tomorrow, I’ll tell Dutch to leave you out of these plots of his. I’ll even tell Miss Grimshaw that she’ll be gone. Take her and ride away for a couple of days. I hope to see a ring on her finger when you get back. In fact, I’ll be expecting it!” Hosea has a smile on his face, the excitement is genuine. Arthur nods.

“And what if she says no?”

“Well you keep at it. Perhaps a little persistence is all you need but why do you insist on imagining the worst?” It’s as if after asking, he considers why Arthur might not want to change things irreparably, might have already put his heart on the line and had it thrown away before.

“Arthur, the sting of rejection must be pretty…pretty lamentable. But you wouldn’t be trying this hard if you really thought you didn’t have a good chance,” Hosea sets his book down. “Go get some rest… leave first thing in the morning,” Hosea pats Arthur lightly on his shoulder. Arthur looks up as Hosea wanders in the direction of his tent.

His heart does yearn to see you at his side, wearing his ring on your finger. To hear you referred to as Mrs. Morgan. But all he can see is an incredulous look on your face. ‘Marry? Me? Arthur, you must be joking,’ you laugh and laugh. You’d never be so cruel but whatever part of him hates his own guts imagines the scenarios with great fervor. The anger from the rest of his day and the anger at himself grit against each other. He growls low before marching off to his tent.

You’re already inside, looking very lovely, one of his mended shirts serving as something of a robe to wear over your underthings. You look up and smile. He could forget the whole world just by looking at you. You hum, scooting over in bed.

“Arthur…” the way you call his name, you hardly need to give him any pet names, just Arthur will do.

“Come out with me tomorrow. First thing in the morning,” He states. More like a command, the residual anger drips off his words. You look at him strangely.

“Alright but I’d like to know what all of this is about first,” You set whatever you were working on, perhaps brushing your hair as you set a horsehair brush aside. You give him a concerned look.

“Found that surprise,” he grumbles, sitting down and tugging his boots off. “Hope you’ll like it but…” he stops to tug his gun belt off, his suspenders too. Arthur rests his hat gently on the side table. “Can’t be too sure til I show it to ya,” You smile softly.

“I think if you think I like it, I’ll love it,” God, he hopes so. Anticipation bounces around in his head and in his lungs. He’s practically short of breath. How he’s going to sleep, he has no idea.

“Yeah?” you hum in agreement. Looking sleepy, he’s endeared by how your eyes blink slowly, how you wiggle onto his chest the second he lays down. Your hands rub down his chest and belly. You’re asleep in a matter of minutes. He almost wishes he had you for company still but he’d never wake you for something so selfish. Instead, he pets down your hair and listens to your breathing, the natural hush that covers the camp once it’s too late for much of anything but small chatter.

-

Like clockwork, he wakes early. He can’t remember falling asleep but you're softly murmuring, you won’t wake unless he expressly wakes you. He gives himself time to put on that shirt he bought and rub his hand over his face at how nervous and silly he feels buttoning it up. He pulls a jacket over it to hopefully hide how ridiculous he looks. The morning is a pale blue when he steps out, thinking to bring you coffee to wake you.

You dress, half asleep, when he comes back to you, humming into the cup he brought you. You wear something nice but not overstated. You put kisses on him to wish him a good morning after you’ve decided you’re cleaned up enough.

He helps you up on his horse, Boadicea already very used to you. The ride isn’t too bad and you certainly make it better, he’s quiet with nerves, responding as much as he can without getting lost in his thoughts. The sun has climbed up and blazed down on you for a while by the time you get there. But your face when you see his surprise is too precious, eager to slip off the back of his horse.

“Arthur, it’s so beautiful!” The summer sun is high in the sky, perfect for your plans as you tug your boots off. He ambles after you, hitching his horse to a tree. You’re already sighing and knee deep in the center of the river. Your stockings lay haphazardly tossed over your boots. You’re some fabled creature, come from somewhere else. He could see it. No woman shined like you did, at least not how he saw things.

Just like he imagined, he rolls his pants up and tosses his boots aside, the spurs jingle when they hit the ground. The light catches the river’s surface, shades of yellow and green, the earth's gentle brown. You’re excited to see him join you, taking his hand that he holds out to you, pressed to his belly and chest, just where you belong.

“You like it, sweetheart?” He mumbles, really fishing for compliments. He knows you do but he’d love to hear you say it.

“I love it, Arthur, how could you say I wouldn’t? Sometimes, you’re a silly man,” you laugh, sway with him in the river. Birds sing, the water is cool, it’s perfect. He pulls you up to a shallower part of the ford, the sun forms a halo around you, reminds him you’re pure heaven and he couldn’t let you go.

“I have something else for you,” his voice is shaky instead of the easy confidence he likes to portray himself as. You look up excitedly but the dazzling smile slips off your face, you're shocked as he pulls a ring from his satchel and kneels down in the river.

“I-uhhh…I-“ he had really planned all of this and didn’t think of a single word to say. He can't bear to look up, he’s sure he’ll lose his nerve. “I haven’t loved…anyone like I love you,” the ring looks tiny and pathetic in his fingers. They’re also calloused to hell but he continues anyway. “There ain’t anyone else for me in this world but you. I just wish I was a better man, you deserve more than I can give but… if you would have me,” he looks up and your hands cover your mouth and tears leak over your fingers.

He really had ruined everything, hadn’t he? How was he supposed to go on living with you? What would he tell Hosea? His face falls and his heart cracks but he’d be glad to take you back home and disappear for a few days.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, don’t know what I thought,”

“Arthur, just please…” you hold out your left hand. You wipe your tears, trying to compose yourself and when he sees your smile, your hand over your right cheek, he lets himself ease. “Nothing would make me happier than to be- to be your wife, Arthur, you are…you’re the best man I know,” you wiggle your fingers excitedly and he slips the ring over your ring finger. He stays stunned, kneeled in the water, his pants soaking it all up but he couldn’t care less.

The ring looks so perfect on you. He holds your hand, kissing it like a knight of old, looking at him down on his knee, still crying but that brightness in your eyes is all he needs. Your giggle makes him smile at you too. And you drop to embrace him, tucking into his chest, arms around his neck. You murmur his name, rub his back. Tangle your fingers in his hair. He settles with you, surrounded by your unmistakable presence, basking in it. Holds you tighter, trying to not squeeze the air out of you. He breathes you in, holding you through your overwhelmed clinging, wiping your tears on his shoulder.

You pull back a little, enough to kiss him, his relief is groaned into your mouth. He loses track of himself and slips, sitting in a river with you in his arms, giggling more into his kiss.

You sit with him on the banks, trying to dry out after he tipped over. So much for his fancy shirt. He thinks the both of you will look half drowned by the time he brings you back to camp but he isn’t sure he wants to go back. Just you and him for a few days sounds rather enticing. You keep looking at your ring, leaned into his shoulder. A pleased little smile blooms over your face. How can he not smile at how beautiful you look, hair wet at the ends, warm light casting its glow over you.

You look up at him, with a look that says you’re gonna cry again but you just give him a teary smile.

“I’m a lucky bastard, get to call you mine,” You wrap one tiny hand over his neck when you kiss him slow and deep, letting him consume the very air in your lungs, grip over your body to feel it. You moan just softly enough to pull on his need for you. But you part ways for you to continue.

“Did you really think I’d say no?” you give him a sad frown. As if upset that he would think such a thing of you. You brush your fingers against his skin. He looks away.

“You wouldn’t have been the first,” you sigh.

“Who could say no to Arthur Morgan?” You ask no one in particular but he huffs a small laugh.

“Many people,” a joking tone tinges his words. But then he dips towards the sentimental. “Don’t even remember, really, all I think about is you, darlin’…” You laugh before coming closer, unable and unwilling to part from him. He knows he’s a hundred and one percent sap but he lets himself melt in your presence.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” you wiggle your left hand in his face. He chuckles a little at your cute little fingers. “I’m glad…it means I get you all to myself,” The joy is boundless in his chest, he could light the night like a lightning bug with the flame in his heart.

“Arthur, I… I… sometimes I don’t have the words to tell you how much I love you,” you lean onto him. He shakes his head with what he’s sure looks like a stupid grin on his face. He wasn’t sure this would be in the cards for him but here he is, with you.

“Every part of me loves you, honey,” is all he has to say, paling in comparison to the pure power of your own words over him. They tumble clumsily from his mouth but you pull him down for kisses anyway. Your teasing ‘do you?’ has him nodding between your giggles and wet kisses.

-

Thank you so much for leaving me this request, I loved writing it!! It was so much fun and I really had fun including some parts of rdr1 map that were really special to me and brought me back to when I was a kid playing that game 🥹🥹🥹🥲🥲🥲❤️❤️❤️ any feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading 🥰🫶

[cricket-reader]

Lilacs On Her Lips

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

summary: You didn't mean to fall in love with her. Truly, you never meant for it to go this far. But as the lilacs begin to overtake your lungs, one thing is clear: Natasha Romanoff will be the death of you. Because you'd rather die suffocating on something as sweet as her love than ever forget what it meant to love her.

warnings: hanahaki disease, internalised homophobia, near-death, blood, infidelity, toxic boyfriend, female reader (she/her pronouns)

word count: 3,844

A/N: prompt fill for day 4 for @juneofdoom | "It's really not that big of a deal" | Denial

{Read on A03} | what i’m listening to

I love him.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

It’s easy to pretend when I’m pressed against my boyfriend’s side, his arm heavy around my shoulders—too tight, too stifling. It’s easy when he’s kissing me—too forceful, too eager; I tell myself that I don’t hate it—I just need to get used to it, that’s all. It’s easy when he lets his gaze wander, and I have to pretend I don’t notice. It’s easy when I see Natasha across the room, laughing with someone else, with her lips on someone else—just a reminder that I will never be on the receiving end of such affection.

I am happy with my boyfriend. He’s the good choice—the expected choice. The kind of man I am supposed to want—all broad-shouldered, confident and charming.

So I can ignore the knots that grow in my stomach every time his eyes turn hungry and dark, I can ignore the prickling of my skin when his hands wander too far, I can ignore the dread that suffocates me every time that we’re alone.

I love him, and he loves me.

It doesn’t matter how heavy my lungs feel when I see Natasha slip into her room with someone else—choking on jealousy as I force myself to follow my boyfriend into bed. Everything is as it should be.

The first time I cough up a petal, I stare at it for what feels like hours. Breath hitching in my throat, I run my fingers over the silken purple petal. I don’t need to be told who it is for. Deep down in my heart, I know there’s only one person who could evoke this kind of suffering. It doesn’t stop me, however, from trying to deny it. I clench my hand around the delicate object, crumpling the petal beyond repair. As if destroying the evidence could destroy the feelings taking root inside of me.

I swallow down the rising panic and tell myself it’s just a mistake.

I have a boyfriend that I love. A boyfriend who loves me.

It should be enough—it has to be enough.

Stuffing the petal deep into my pocket, I tell myself that I will get over it. I don’t love Natasha. We’re friends, and that’s all we will ever be—all we ever should be.

It seems, however, that my body doesn’t get the memo.

Soon one petal becomes two, becomes three and so on and so forth. I stuff them in my pockets, in tissues I discreetly throw away, in cloths or towels that find their way into trash bins before anyone can notice. I excuse myself when Natasha brushes against me, when her touch lingers too long, when the warmth of her presence makes my chest tighten, vines wrapping around my lungs.

I hold it down, swallow it back. Until I can’t.

The petals come in fits now—sudden, ruthless attacks that wrack my body with horrifying coughing spells. Tears burn in my eyes as I hack up another mouthful of lilacs, my body trembling violently. It’s becoming harder and harder to keep it from the team—my boyfriend doesn’t notice. He never notices anything, too wrapped up in himself to bother.

I barely make it to the bathroom in time, collapsing against the porcelain bowl as my body expels the evidence of my own denial. I’d gotten too close to Natasha, letting the redhead lean her head on my shoulder during the team’s biweekly movie night (my boyfriend had come up with a lousy excuse to miss it once again). It was almost as if I was trying to prolong my own suffering (the team always did say I lacked self-preservation instincts).

I flush the petals away. Watching them spin in the water, delicate even as they violently swirl away. I swish tap water through my mouth in an attempt to expel the sickening taste of lilacs from my tongue.

But it lingers even still.

It’s always there nowadays. Nothing I do will get rid of that sickeningly sweet taste.

No matter how much I tell myself that I don’t love Natasha—

My body knows the truth.

I love Natasha, and Natasha doesn’t love me back.

Sometimes, when we’re alone—late night hot chocolate simmering over the stove, I can convince myself that maybe Natasha does feel something for me. Maybe it’s only friendship—perhaps it's merely lust or curiosity. Whatever it is, it isn’t love; it won’t save me.

I sip the burning liquid to combat the flowers crawling up my throat. Listen absently as Natasha’s gravelly, sleepy voice lulls in the quiet of the kitchen. Let myself fantasise that this is what it would be like if I were Natasha’s lover. No more cold nights alone, wondering where my partner is. No more stilted conversations, needing to fill the empty space with nothing but noise. No more pretending I don’t feel hollow when being kissed, kisses that are more out of obligation than desire.

I shouldn’t want this—shouldn’t want her, but really, when have I ever been normal? All my life, I’ve tried to fit into that cookie-cutter mould, tried to be the person that everyone wants to see—never offensive, never different, never difficult. I wonder if the plant growing inside me is the universe’s way of telling me that I had failed. Had I been doomed from the start? Destined to be a spectacle even with my last dying breath. Destined to be different—to have that imperfection rooted deep within me as proof of that.

For all that I would never fault another, I can’t help the self-hatred that clouds my mind like a grey overcast. Inexplicably, I am the only one on the receiving end of my prejudices. Shame curls around my heart in iron-hot tendrils. The thought of anyone knowing the truth sends spiders crawling up my body.

And so I hide.

I put on an artistically crafted mask, something to hide my greatest shame, and I hope that no one will see through it. I play the part of the loving girlfriend to a man I hold no feelings towards, but perhaps resentment. I hold steadfast to my facade, never wavering despite the fact that it’s killing me.

No one can know.

I wake to a cold, empty bed.

It’s no different than any other morning, yet the smell of his sweat, the burn of his lingering touches makes my stomach twist. I long for cinnamon and sandalwood, yearn for lithe fingers and red hair, wish for lazy mornings spent kissing and snuggling.

Jolting upright, I hack a mouthful of blood-stained lilacs onto my lap. I stare at the blood staining the gorgeous petals and white sheets, my heart sinking. My time is running out. Soon I’ll be nothing but a memory—the girl who died suffocating on her love. I wonder if Natasha will care.

Tears roll down my face as the loneliness sets in. For so long, I’ve been hiding. I wish someone was there to wrap me up in a hug, to tell me everything is going to be okay, even if the words are nothing but an empty platitude. Instead of cleaning up the petals, instead of soaking the sheets before the blood has time to set into the fibres, I curl up under the sheets. Tears stain the pillowcase as I wallow away in solitude. Why would anyone miss someone like me? Why would anyone care?

I awaken to a crash, my eyes sore and nose clogged. Someone says my name, but I just want to go back to sleep. I could sleep for a century, and it wouldn’t be enough. Pulling the sheets over my head, I pray that whoever it is will leave me to die in peace.

“Jesus Christ.” The voice is closer now. Groaning as the sheets are yanked down, I glare at the offender with red-rimmed eyes.

Clint stares back at me, eyebrows furrowed and mouth downturned. “Who is it?” He asks, raising a gentle hand to push away the hair sticking to my face.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “They obviously don’t feel the same.”

Clint makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat as I hack up full blooms, sticky blood matting them down. He runs to the en-suite bathroom and returns with a damp rag. He kneels at my side, taking my face into his hands. “Have you thought about the surgery?” Clint asks as he wipes the blood from my face.

“No surgery,” I say, heart constricting at the mere thought of losing my Natasha. Clint just sighs, resigned—as if he knew that would be my response.

“What is taking you so lo-” Natasha’s voice cuts through the silence.

Throat constricting, I cover my mouth in a last-ditch attempt to hide what can’t be hidden. Without a moment’s hesitation, the redhead is at my side, eyes alight with fury as she takes in the massacre of flowers before her.

“Who is it? Tell me who it is,” Natasha says, voice sharp. “Is it that piece of shit you call a boyfriend? I’ll kill him!”

“Stop, Nat,” I choke on my words. “I’m fine. It’s really not that big of a deal”

“Not that—Not that big of a deal?” Natasha splutters. “You’re dying! You’re dying and you didn’t say anything! You… were you ever going to tell me?”

My heart constricts in my chest as I take in the tears forming in Natasha’s eyes. The tears I put there. It’s not Natasha’s fault that she doesn’t love me, it’s not her fault that I had to grow feelings for someone so unattainable.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” I confess, tears forming in my eyes. “I didn’t want to upset anyone.”

“You idiot,” Natasha scolds, her hand brushing against my clammy forehead. “Я не могу жить без тебя.”

“You know… You still haven’t taught me Russian,” I say before coughing up another bout of lilac blooms. It was one of those things we talked about over hot chocolate late one night—one of those things we just never got around to.

Clint furrows his brows as I stifle another round of lilacs from erupting onto the sheets. His eyes dart between Natasha and me, calculating—as if he knows—no he can’t, no one can know. He raises a brow at me, a silent question hanging from his lips. I cut it off with a sharp glare.

“I think I’ll leave you two alone,” says Clint as he pushes himself up from the bed. A look passes between him and Natasha that I can’t even begin to comprehend—their bond so long-formed that their thoughts have practically become one.

Natasha’s face twists up as he leaves the room, eyes shut tight. When she opens them, Natasha fixes her eyes to the dying woman before her, two bright emeralds shining with grief. Warm hands wrap around cold hands, holding tight as if that alone would keep me weighted to this world.

“Я не могу жить без тебя.” Natasha says, voice wobbling through every syllable. It’s almost terrifying, seeing the world’s most composed, strong woman being brought to her knees. “It means: I can’t live without you.”

My heart stutters in my chest. I’m not foolish enough to believe those words hold any more weight than that of a dear friend, yet the way Natasha says it…

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, for lack of anything better to say. I’m sorry for falling in love with my best friend. Sorry for putting her through the pain of losing yet another person she cares for. Sorry for not getting over the juvenile feelings that plagued me from day one.

“Whoever it is… they are a fool,” Natasha declares, that sweet furrow settling in between her brows.

“I am the fool,” I mutter, eyes lowering to our entwined hands. “For falling for someone who deserves so much better.”

Natasha’s eyes light up with a familiar spark of fury. “Don’t say that.”

“Nat… I never deserved this person’s affection. I was fooling myself for ever believing that I had a chance. I’d only drag her down.”

Natasha freezes. “Her?”

My heart stops in my chest, cold dread seeping through my blood. The secret is out. Grimacing, I say, “Yes. Her.”

“You… you like girls?”

Mortification curls deep within my soul. “Don’t tell anyone,” I plead, eyes brimming with shameful tears.

“Why not?” Natasha questions.

“I’m not… I shouldn’t… I can’t…” I can’t even finish my sentence without a burst of lilacs erupting from my lungs. They expel onto the stained bedding, adding to the disarray of bloodied flowers scattered around me.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, just calm down,” Natasha coos, pushing back the hair in my face. More flowers follow, crawling up my trachea and tearing up my throat. Tears burn in my eyes with the force of the flowers. I gasp for breath as Natasha kisses my hand, tears streaming down her lovely face.

“Please,” Natasha sobs, cradling my hand as if it’s something precious—as if I were something precious.

“Hold me?” I choke out, as the lilacs fill my lungs to the brim. I could die happy in the arms of my love, surrounded by her warmth and comfort. If the request is nothing but a selfish wish, something that will only hasten the flowers growing inside me, I would never say.

Natasha complies, her entire body trembling with the force of her sobs. She places a kiss to my forehead, murmuring in unintelligible Russian, words broken up by the shock of emotion welling up inside her.

“I love you,” Natasha cries, holding on for dear life. “Don’t leave me, please.”

I splutter on a cough at the words, heart working overtime. “Don’t say that,” I croak, voice thoroughly destroyed by the blooms. “Don’t.”

“I know it’s not a good time,” Natasha says, her hand weaving through messy tresses. “But I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” I protest, heart ripping to shreds. Not in the way I need you to.

“Yes, I do,” Natasha insists. Mourning the heat as Natasha pulls away, I try to crawl back into those loving arms, only to be held off. I stare into those green eyes, burning with such passion. “I’ve loved you for so long, Милая—darling.”

I shake my head, thoughts spinning out of control. My world tilts on its axis as Natasha murmurs to herself: “Why couldn’t it have been me?”

“What?” I question, convinced I hadn’t heard the redhead correctly. Certainly… certainly it cannot be so…

“I know I’m being selfish,” Natasha admits, “but if it were me… if it were me, you wouldn’t be… you wouldn’t…”

“You love me?” Words whispered so quietly, as if afraid to break the illusion.

“Of course, I love you!” Natasha says it as easy as if she were stating the weather. “I meant it when I said I couldn’t live without you. You are everything to me.”

“But… those other women…”

Natasha sighs, mouth pulling into a deep frown. “They were a poor attempt at distracting myself. You were already dating someone else, and no matter how much I wanted to murder him, Clint always talked me down.”

“You love me,” I repeat, disbelief coursing through my veins. All this time…

“Yes.” She furrows her brows. “We’ve already established that. It doesn’t matter, though. Tell me who these flowers are for, please. I can… I can make them-”

“Natasha…”

“Let me help-”

“Natasha!”

“What?” Natasha shouts, chest rising rapidly.

“They’re for you.” The words hang heavy in the air, almost as suffocating as the lilac bush inside my lungs. Natasha just stares, dumbfounded. Her intelligent eyes trace over my features, then to the blooms surrounding us both, then back to my face.

“They’re for me?” Natasha breathes out, her face pinched up. “But I love you.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Natasha flinches as if physically struck, her face contorting into the most pained expression I’d ever seen. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? You were dying because of me, and you didn’t say anything! How could you be so… so… so stupid?”

I open my mouth to retaliate, but stop as soon as I feel the roots inside me tear out of their iron-tight grip on the lining of my lungs. Screaming in anguish, I clutch my chest. Natasha is at my side immediately, a warm presence in the most agonising experience of my life. Her words are drowned beneath ear-splitting cries as flowers pour from my lips. The blood-stained lilacs join my pathetic arrangement, each bloom more painful than the last until, finally, the most excruciating thing crawls up my trachea, thick and hard, scratching at my throat as it expels from my body.

I stare down at the roots of my love, now sitting in my lap. A physical manifestation of my hidden desire for that which I shouldn’t. The room is silent, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

I look at the object of my desire, her eyes rimmed red, and the stains from her tears left behind on her cheeks. Even in this moment, she sparks the desire I’ve been tamping down, trying to suffocate it before it grew to this. And yet, in this moment, there is nothing more I yearn for than to kiss her—to taste those chapped lips, to feel her body pressed against mine, so warm, so soothing.

Against my better judgement, throwing all rationale to the side, I lean in. Slowly, so as to give Natasha ample time to pull away, to reject me if she so pleases. But she doesn’t. Her eyes bore into mine as she met me in the middle, tears still on the precipice of falling.

I close my eyes as our lips meet, suppressing the bodily shudder that tries to overtake me as I feel those warm lips move against mine. Never in my wildest imaginings would I have ever believed that Natasha would kiss me like this. So soft, so sensual, every bit as sweet as she is. Treating it as the most precious moment, treating me as the most important thing in her life. Every moment so tender, the care behind her lips more than I’ve ever even dared hope for in my lifetime.

Natasha pulls away first, and I open my eyes to see the wet streams of tears flowing down her face. “You taste like lilacs,” Natasha says, her eyes darting to the flowers strewn about the bed.

She sniffs once, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m still mad at you,” she says, voice still a bit unsteady from the overwhelming emotions of almost losing me.

“I’m sorry,” I say because I truly am.

“You could’ve died. You almost died because you didn’t tell me that you loved me.”

“You never said that you loved me either,” I counter, squirming at the way her eyes pin me.

“You were in a relationship,” Natasha protests.

“You were in multiple relationships.” A low blow, sure, but nonetheless true.

Natasha glares at me. “They meant nothing to me.”

“They meant something to me.”

Silence encapsulates the room.

Then, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I think we both messed up.” I sigh. “I… I’m not that comfortable with this kind of thing.”

Natasha raises a brow at me. “What do you mean?”

My face heats under her calculating eyes. “I don’t… I’m not comfortable with people knowing that I’m… that I like women.”

Natasha frowns at that, and for a second, I think that it’s over. No one would want to help pick up the shattered pieces of my self-esteem. Not even the most patient person could put up with such a thing. If I can’t love myself for who I am, who am I to expect someone else to? I couldn’t possibly ask Natasha to stay with me though I feel shame for our relationship.

“Why not?” Natasha asks.

“I don’t know.” For honesty is the best policy. It’s better for her to know that I won’t be an easy fix. That this insecurity runs as deep as the dark cave I buried my truth in.

“But you still want to be in a relationship with me?” Natasha questions, voice teetering on the verge of sounding hopeful.

“Of course,” I say, “I just don’t want you to be upset that I want to keep it private.”

“I don’t care,” Natasha insists, stubborn as always.

“Maybe not at the moment, but you will.” They always do. Not that I could ever fault them when their own girlfriend doesn’t want to even hold their hand in public.

Natasha narrows her eyes at me, taking in the certainty of my statement. “Comparing me to anyone else wouldn’t be fair.”

I swallow down the urge to berate her for being so observant. “You’re telling me that you don’t care if I’m not comfortable holding your hand in public? That you don’t mind us not showing up to events as a couple? That it might take years for me to ever be ready for even the idea of telling the team? That it’ll take even longer for me to be comfortable with the idea of marriage?”

Natasha smiles at my rant, only furthering my rapidly beating heart. “I love you. I don’t care how slow we take this. I just want you.”

“That’s not…” I trail off, unable to form a single coherent thought. That’s not what was supposed to happen. She was supposed to realise how much work I was—how loving me was a feat impossible to overcome.

“What about my boyfriend?” I gasp. “I kissed you while we were still-”

“He’s done more than that with others,” Natasha interrupts, voice downright murderous. “Don’t you dare feel bad about that. He’s a piece of shit.”

“He’s not that bad,” I feel obligated to say.

“I would murder him without a second’s hesitation.”

“Nat!” I scold, hitting her arm. Natasha grabs my hand, bringing it to her lips before placing a reverent kiss on it.

“I would kill anyone for you,” she smiles.

“That is the most awful thing I’ve ever heard you say,” I groan behind my laughter.

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” Natasha asks, pulling me into her arms. She brushes through my hair, the steady rhythm of her chest nearly lulling me to sleep. “Don’t ever do something like that again,” she murmurs into my hair, holding tight.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say that I won’t get Hanahaki again. Unless you stop loving me, of course,” I smirk.

“I’m serious.” She pulls away from me, a frown steady on her face. “If you even so much as a cold, I want to hear about it, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I dutifully respond.

She rolls her eyes at me. “You are something else, y’know that?”

“Hey, you’re the one that’s in love with me.”

“For better or worse,” she says, kissing me on the forehead.

Taglist: @harleycao @fxckmiup @hallecarey1 @filmsbyblair

[soapyblubbles]

*.•° 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 °•.*

pairings: poly!marauders x nymph!reader

summary: james introduces you to his two friends

warnings: implied “sharing.” do with that what you will.

a/n: who was gonna tell me that i actually have to check my inbox to know if i have asks 🙊 anyways this is set before pieces of me !! this is dedicated to the anon who asked me about nymph!reader back in august 😭

You tug roughly on James’ arm, mindlessly cooing as you pull him deeper into the cave.

He doesn’t understand anything that you’re saying, but still he nods along enthusiastically, intently focused on each syllable that leaves your mouth. You had been surprised when he showed up earlier than usual, especially when you realized he had brought others along with him.

The two trail behind uncertainly, their rising alarm resting sour on your tongue.

The long-haired one made you especially wary.

He doesn’t show any outward signs of being nervous but you sense emotions better than most. His wild energy puts you on edge. His aura is bitter, like the unripe fruit that dangles from the trees that tower over you when you journey into the forest. There’s also a hint of sweetness reminiscent of the nectar that the bees sometimes bring you.

If the long-haired one is the fruit then the tall one is the branches, balancing out his companions' wild nature with his never ending patience. That’s not to say he doesn’t have any chaos of his own. You can feel it writhing underneath his skin, especially when he shifts around every now and again, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Though you think that it might be because of how he’s forced to hunch over every now and again, the tips of his hair brushing against the jagged ceiling whenever the floor of the cave gets too uneven.

The taste of honey dew makes your mouth water, along with a richness similar to the dark colored treats James brings you every once in a while.

“Are we almost there?” James’ hushes them and a frown forms on both their faces. You peer at them with interest.

“James.” The tall one scolds, his throat raspy with sleep. “Don’t ignore us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, we’re almost there. Merlin, all you have to do is wait a few more bloody minutes.”

“Well excuse me if I decide to ask a couple questions when you drag me in the middle of the forbidden forest at this hour.” The tall one hisses back, looking far more lively than he had moments before.

You tug on James’ sleeve, straightening up as his attention instantly falls back to you. “Yes, love?”

You gesture to the cave, turning back to stick your tongue out at the two behind you. Although they're infinitely confused, there’s no doubting the fact that you’ve piqued their interest.

“Bloody brat.” The two mutter in unison.

James ignores them, trying his best to listen to your incomprehensible, but excited mutterings.

“Found the poor thing bathing in a creek when I was roaming around as Prongs.” James sighs, clutching his wand tightly as he walks the familiar path.

They stop just as you reach the entrance to what looks like a house, gazing around in awe as the glass bottles and mason jars start to come to life, fireflies moving around in them restlessly. The unnatural glow coming from the small pond by the back alcove couldn’t be from anything but magic. You lead them further into the room, pointing to the small collection of rocks and other random items, sorted in a chaotic manner.

“Wow.” The shorter one whispers breathlessly.

You push James on your makeshift bed, made up of moss and hay. You sidle up to his side with a contented hum. “Brought her some stuff when I could. But for now I figured I’d share her with m’best mates.”

They both pause at that.

“What?”

“Trust me, the poor thing can barely even understand us.” He assures his tall friend.

Seeing how unconvinced they still were, he sighs and turns to you. You perk up at his attention, letting the small stones you were messing with fall to the floor as you give him a bright smile.

“You’re just a dumb little nymph aren’t you?” He coos down at you. You nod along eagerly, eyes shining with adoration as he mocks you.

“Such a dumb girl, who’s my dumb girl, huh?” His voice was not unlike the voice one would use when speaking to a puppy and you just smiled along, practically bouncing in place at his upbeat tone. You latch onto his arm, fiddling with the fabric on his jacket.

James sighs at your actions, pulling you closer into him, your teeth making a soft ‘click’ every time you bite down on the material.

Sirius gives Remus a heavy look, the long haired boy looking doubtful when Remus walks over, hunching over you. His slender finger trails up and down your calf. “Such a pretty girl.”

You must’ve understood what he said because no sooner did those words leave his mouth, did your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him forward harshly.

With a speed that surprised even him, his arms shot out to either side of your head, letting out a loud groan as a few small rocks dug into his palms, just barely managing to stop himself from crushing you.

You let out a series of loud clicking and chirping noises, unaware of how improper your actions were. He lets out a huff, rising to his knees as you continue to babble nonsensically. “You don’t do that. You understand? Tha’s not nice and someone could’a gotten hurt.” His tone is firm and you squirm in place, peering up at him with wide eyes.

James had never spoken that way to you before.

Bashfully, you turn away from him, hiding your face in the crook of James’ neck. “Hey mate, don’t be rude to my best girl. Just cause I’m sharing ‘er doesn’t mean you need to be a prick to the poor thing.” He grumbles, petting your head softly.

Remus just sighs, shaking his head at you two before calling out, “Are y’just gonna stand there all evenin’?”

Sirius, who was still wandering around the cave, shook his head, as if coming out of a daze. “Sorry mate, s’just cool in here.” He moves to sit down, but freezes when your head snaps to him. You bare your teeth, hissing with furrowed brows as you eye the way he’s just a little too close to James.

James lets out a booming laugh as Sirius’ features morph into a scowl.

Remus slaps James’ arm. “Be nice.”

[sturniolo04]

I don't know if u write nate x sls but if u do can u write a fic where reader and nate have been in a relationship but only their patents knew not their siblings and reader had told the triplets she was staying the night at a friend's house but stayed at nates and she walked out of nates room in a bra and nates shorts but her brothers walked in the front door at the same time and saw her. Sorry that it's so long

sls!reader x bf!nate

A/n:  ofc! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll

You never imagine that when you finally started dating you were going to have to keep it a secret from not only your brothers but also from your boyfriends best friends which just so happened to be your brothers so you thought it was going to be easy. Nope

You and Nate have always had a thing for each other and I think the reason it took you two so long to get together was because you and Nate didn’t want your brothers to find out.

“ We can’t let them find out but we need to at least tell our parents”

You huff out as you are sitting on Nate’s bed at his house. Which is exactly what you guys did although, you couldn’t lie keeping the secret from your brothers was truly killing you, it was only a matter time before you two let it slip verbally or physically.

“Where are you going I thought we were going to hit the rink with Nate for the sake of the Christmas spirit”

Chris chuckles out halting you in your tracks and you had to think of something quick because this was true and that the triplets were going to pick up Nate from his house and then go over to the rink. So you knew you had to come up something.

“Um im going to get Starbucks”

You half lied shrugging your shoulders walking out the door hoping in your space grey jeep. You knew they wouldn’t question you going to Starbucks because it was a daily habit for you, literally.

You finally made it Nates house after picking up yours and his Starbucks drinks. You giggle at your boyfriend as he greets you by picking you up hugging you.

“Nateee you’re going to make me drop these you goofball put me down”

You squeal through fits of giggles as he listens to you. Your eyes glimmer up to his as you extend your hand handing him his drink.

“Here”

You smile softly at him as he takes the drink from your hand bringing it up to his lips for a sip.

“Thank you so much lover”

Nate chuckles out placing a kiss on top of your head.

“Okay can I borrow some of your hockey clothes”

You softly ask knowing you were really asking to wear one of his hoodie and sweat sets to the rink since you get cold easily.

“Of course lover im so use to you stealing my clothes”

Nate replies chuckling as you scurry upstairs to his room to pick out what you were wanting to wear. You quickly put them on hearing the doorbell ring assuming it might be your brothers, you hoped Nate would come up with some excuse or something as to why your jeep was in his driveway.

“Hey guys you guys read-“

Nate trails off getting them as he opened the front door as Matt immediately, they knew

“Is Taylor here”

Matt quickly asks him as Nates eyes widened trying to come up with something quick.

“I didn’t have any winter clothes suitable for the rink today”

You answer finally making your way down the step to the front room shrugging your shoulders in the process. Nick quirks and eyebrow up at the pair

“Why couldn’t you have asked chris for his stuff you know he and Matt both got a shitload of clothes like that”

Nick questions as you quickly roll your eyes.

“Ew gross why would I wear my brothers clothes that’s gross”

You shudder out walking past them getting ready to head to the rink.

“Why are they acting so strange dude”

Matt asks his brother as they following behind you and Nate into the rink as chris shrugs his shoulders in reply.

“They have to be dating there is no way”

Nick sates quickly as chris immediately  shakes his head in disgust.

“Ew no way that’s not possible”

Chris gags out as they finally get inside the rink spotting the pair mid kiss.

“Holy fuck”

Matt exclaims out starling the two as nick lets out a chuckle.

“Told you”

Nick laughs as chris and Matt roll their eyes as you two sport a new shade of pink on your guys cheeks.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @wh0resstuff @spicymuffins03 @stayingstromboli @emely9274 @ksturnz @chaoswithus @ivysturnss @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @chrepsi

[theyluvlyss]

𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬...

I saw sinners (twice)...

I don't even know where to start.

I have so many thoughts swirling through my head at such a rapid speed that I can't control.

it's all a jumbled mess of emotions, think pieces, and of course, possible plots/ideas for fics.

I do plan to watch it a third-fourth-fifth-millionth time the moment I get the chance to, and when I do, the plan is to start posting ... STUFF, idk, some of everything (but nothing is set in stone, though, because y'all know me - my upload speed isn't known for being the fastest in the west🥴).

but until then, send some requests in my inbox for me to look at‼️PLEASE‼️, and in due time, they'll get written.

REAL QUICK BEFORE YOU DO THAT, THO, SOME BOUNDARIES, because as much as i'm usually and typically down for writing whatever/taboo themes, i'm already starting to notice some of y'all cuttin' up and acting a fool sumn' REAL FOUL on here about this movie/these characters...

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

- NO, I will not do incest or (specifically in this case/fandom) stepcest (other fandoms I write for are free game - minus actual incest ofc - unless I decide to change my mind and state otherwise idk lol).

- speaking of taboo, though, I will do age gaps (nothing illegal, though, get outta here with that). it's vampire media - if you're coming into it expecting a lack of some questionable gaps, then maybe vampirism isn't for you lmao.

- the reader will be black/black-coded a lot of the time (unless requested/specified otherwise, but also, don't get pissy if I turn down something I don't like) (a.k.a., stay out of my inbox if you can't handle the fact that not everything is about/focused on white ppl).

- I can... try to do modern au's ?? won't be very good at them, fair warning, but it definitely helps if you get creative, and i'm always looking for ways to improve my craft :).

- I will write for...

the twins (obvi) stack (elias) & smoke (elijah) (fair warning, though, i'm picky with plotlines - i've never been an MBJ girly, but i'm IN LOVE with these twins personalities and his portrayal of them, so they might be a little hard for me to write sometimes, might not be other times - my apologies🥲🙏🏽).

bo chow (I could be living in the next town over by train, and i'd STILL find a way to get my ass into this man's shop every single day so I could catch a glimpse of this fine babe😻).

remmick (he's a vampire with a sexy southern-irish accent and a sexy face; need I say more😌?).

maybe sammie (preacher boy)?? (😃✋🏽give me something really good to work with, and i'll see what I can do lol).

and NONE OF THE KLAN MEMBERS,,,

without filter, evil lyssa™ ahead,,, 🥰kys🥰 if you're genuinely out here trying to excuse fucking/writing about fucking a literal kkk member. if all it takes is a deep-voiced southern, "hey, baby" for your morals to escape you, you're a weak minded slut with no backbone, and if you don't like that, get tf up or stay pressed🫶🏽 (notsayingitwasn'tsexyintheheatofthemoment/thewayitwasfilmed, itwas, butagain... STAND UP🗣‼️).

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

anyways🥰, with that being said and evil lyssa™ gone, go ahead and rack my inbox up :D !! i'll maybe probably idk be back with some think pieces regarding the movie and its symbolizms/meanings, and some thirst pieces regarding how fine everybody is♡.

'til then, byeeeee /ᐠ^3^マ/ !!

[asmogorna]

Okay so there’s this ww artist on ig called like tooth lilys or something and he’s always causing drama in the ww fandom and he mouthed off about your art and now heaps of insta ww fans are like talking about you :| free publicity?

ahhhh so thats whats happening .. lmao thats crazy

i checked out their story, and i sure doooo love how they leave some things out when talking about both situations that they mentioned to make me look worse ..

ok so

warning, yap session incoming

the "will wood in a (miku) binder" thing happened back in fall 2023 when i was still semi new to the fandom and didnt know a lot of things. so tho i to this day i dont think it was that big of a deal, i wouldnt do it today

it was an artwork made for shits and giggles, the context of which i have explained here before. i never meant to imply that will wood is trans and i certainly dont "headcanon" him as that. my curse is that even when joking around i tend to try and make my art look good, so i get why people thought it was unironic. and i know that it sounds like a lame ass excuse, but it legit didnt cross my mind that people would think i drew will wood as a trans guy or smth. legit my only thought process was "funny haha internet thing" + "my favorite thing" = "good idea"

now the usage of his real name is something i am genuinely sorry for, but it was an accident and a genuine mistake on my part. i remember seeing someone mention it casually in some comment section, and assuming that it was ok, since i didnt know he was in any way against it. (i also thought that it was the same name that he used in "the real will wood" in that one section cus it sounded a bit similar).

when i was informed about the fact that he doesnt want it spread around i deleted the post right away and apologized, so bringing it up like something i did on purpose and out of malicious intent is a tad bit .. misfitting, if you can use that word

now the hot topic of the day: my waywood art

i have said this before and i will say this again, how i feel about rpf is solely based off how the people involved feel about it

to clarify: i never drew anything inappropriate or even suggestive with them, the "worst" thing is 2 simple sketches of them smoochin. or. this.

idk if this is what they were referring to when talking about me drawing will wood and gerard way "making out" (specifically. because i think "making out" implies to be more sexual stuff than small kisses). and if so, then it once again feels like blowing things out of proportion

and now the point i want you to get: will wood wouldnt give a flying fuck

like i said earlier, i never drew anything inappropriate, because that would actually cross will's existent and real boundaries. you know, the ones that he stated

im not making some conspiracy theories about him being gay, like some people seem to imply in their inbox messages to me

im not sending a whole ass smut fanfiction to litwtc gmail or something, i dont bother him in instagram dms asking if he wants to fuck gerard way, im not shipping him with people who he actually knows personally and has to look in the eyes of from time to time

im not doing anything that he would actually care about

him and chris have joked about him being attracted to gerard before, and though im not saying that you can joke about everything theyve ever joked about, i feel like in our case its clear that will clearly doesnt care about the implications ? (i generally believe that ww fans would get their panties twisted about less things if more of them listened to what these 2 talk about so calmly on litwtc but i digress)

if he saw that some random teenager on tumblr is drawing him and gerard way (gasp of horror) holding hands, he'd laugh at it max and then move on with his day

people are treating the whole situation like i posted pictures of him from when he was a kid or leaked patreon content or drew him fully naked or anything else that, you know, would actually affect him in one way or another

what im doing is innocent fun which isnt even likely to reach either of them. will wood very rarely checks tumblr and, once again, i genuinely dont believe he would care. and gerard way aint got no internet + he doesnt care x 2

it is weird but rn this is what brings me the most joy, even if its silly to say. both will wood and gerard way mean a lot to me and putting them in situations together makes me happy. i am but a child full of fun whimsy

i wont be posting any more explicitly romantic art to avoid more drama, and i also wont be responding to all the anon messages i received because there are like .. too many of them. an overwhelming amount i'd say. sorry about that

i really didnt mean to cause such a fuss, and i understand why some people might be uncomfortable with what i do

i fully understand why you would dislike my waywood hyperfixation shenanigans, and i dont have a problem w you over that, but treating me like pure evil because of a thing so insignificant is just.. overdoing it

once again, i will be toning it down, but it really isnt the end of the world if i dare to draw will wood and gerard way being a tad bit gay (which is, i apparently need to mention, not me actually saying that will wood the alternative musician is a homosexual gay who is in a genuine for real actual real gay homosexual relationship with gerard fucking way the lead singer of my chemical romance. i think speculating on other people's sexuality and gender identity is boooo tomato tomato tomato)

sorry for the rant and sorry to all who were disappointed by my lack of remorse. come back in a couple years when i turn 18 and stop having fun and artistic freedom

thank you for your attention and i hope i at least cleared some things up to those who werent w me throughout every event where i get involved in fandom drama

bye bye

[scrupulosity-comics]

hey is racism one of your obsessions? also white and ocd. if it is, how u cope with it? i'm really afraid all the time to hurt my loved ones who are black people, and they're the majority of my loved ones. and how do u identify whats racism from whats an intrusive thought?

Most of my race-related OCD is abstract stuff like “if I move out of my parents’ house and try to live my own life outside of their control, I will have to find somewhere I can afford to pay rent, which will probably mean moving into a low-income neighborhood, which would mean inadvertently helping to gentrify the community, which would gradually push the original residents out of their homes and disrupt community ties and support systems and creating housing insecurity, so therefore I can’t move out or move on”.

I think that’s just part of a larger existential terror that I can only ever make the world worse by living in it—a net harm to the universe, molecule by misspent molecule.

I have been letting this ask sit in my inbox for weeks now because I’m convinced that anything I say will be destructive. What if my answer enables or excuses racism? What if my answer fuels the anguish of the mentally ill?

The rational and compassionate part of my mind insists that your loved ones (and mine!) understand that you (and I) are white, and have likely dealt with white peoples all their lives, and are capable of judging for themselves whether you are good to them and deserving of their intimacy. It is impossible to go through life without hurting and being hurt by people you care about—always you will have blindspots and miscommunications and competing needs. That’s just part of the curse of consciousness and being a social species. We all get a little blood on our hands eventually, one way or another… friendship involves knowing this, accepting this, and committing to avoid it and then, that failed, to make things right.

Again: your friends know you’re white. They have reason to expect the best of you or they wouldn’t be your friends. They choose to have you in their lives; trust them to trust you, and to recognize the difference between a beloved friend struggling with a treacherous and unkind brain and doing their best in an inescapably racist society, and a racist who whose bigotry makes them unworthy of their time and affection.

I do think racism obsessions are a particularly difficult manifestation of OCD to cope with because they’re hard to discuss at all without feeling like you’re implicitly asking for absolution. With other types of OCD, it’s common to seek reassurance that what you’re obsessively afraid of isn’t true—but what feels more racist than asking someone to reassure you that you’re not racist…? LMAO.

They say the “cure” to OCD, such as it is, is just to learn how to embrace the existential horror of uncertainty. Tall fucking order. Hell on Earth! But in a bizarre way I have found the rhetoric that “everyone is unconsciously and incurably racist” to be unexpectedly helpful… there is no total psychological purging and mental purification we can undergo, no amount of ritual self-flagellation that will drive the demons out, no pristine state we can aspire to and hate ourselves for soiling. Only mundane everyday commitments to compassion and empathy and solidarity and cleaning up our messes. But even then, a thought isn’t a mess. A thought I’d not a thing that happened or a choice you made. It doesn’t represent an alternate timeline branching off into a parallel universe where you have acted on it and hurt people.

Earlier this year I was playing a video game—during my lunch break I got to wondering what happened if you failed a skill check that I had passed in my own playthough, so I looked up a clip on YouTube and was so triggered by the answer (the player character calls his companion a racial slur in the heat of the moment, without meaning to, even if you’ve played him as a committed anti-racist) that I immediately spiraled and was close to throwing up in the broom closet, and when I got home I opened my own save and tried to make the player character kill himself as catharsis. It was an incredibly unreasonable guilt response to a completely fictional scenario that I hadn’t even gotten in my own playthrough, but in retrospect it was a safe way to explore fear of my own internalized racism hurting somebody and what might happen if my intrusive thoughts came true. It sucked and it was terrible and I was angry at myself for being crazy about it, but it ended up being a small dose of exposure therapy and practice at not repenting for nonexistent through self-abuse.

I dunno. This has been a long uncomfortably personal ramble but I hope it’s helpful. I don’t know if your friends know you have OCD (or how it manifests) and I don’t know whether telling them would help. But allowing yourself to trust others to trust you is far more useful than beating yourself up for thoughts you don’t want. I have on occasion warned people that I am cautious about doing certain things with them—particularly drinking—because there is a risk that I may spiral and show symptoms humiliating and uncomfortable to both of us, and I don’t want to put them in a position where they witness or feel like they have to help me manage the white guilt elements of my disorder. These conversations have usually gone well, and the mutual understanding to boundaries takes some of the tension out, which seems to reduce the triggers. It’s messy and awkward and maybe it limits who is willing to be friends with me, but IMHO it’s better than surprising someone.

As for determining whether something is an intrusive thought or actual racism, I guess my answer is: does it matter? Would you manage them differently? Intrusive thoughts may be an evil voice in your brain, but racism is an evil voice in society’s brain.

[nebrasska-alasska]

It’s me again…

Sorry for filling up your asks box I just love your work and interacting with people/you!

Excuse my idiocy if this question is stupid(ly phrased) because I know absolutely nothing about the dental field😅

What kind of, idk, “dental” doctor will you be? (Oh my goodness I hate how I said that LMAO HELP) What I’m trying to ask is do you plan on being an orthopedist, orthodontist, dentist, or something else? Just wanted to learn more about jobs within the dental line of work!

Hi there again! And omg don't feel bad about filling up my inbox at all, I love talking about this stuff! I didn't end up specializing, so I'm just a general dentist. In the United States, there are two types of degrees, the DDS and the DMD. They're literally the same (the history is Harvard's dental school made up DMD to be unique and a few newer schools have picked up on that since then), but I have a DDS! With this I can do virtually all dental procedures, but I have the ability to pick and choose what I want to do (for example, endodontists only do root canals, but my job has a pretty strict policy on not referring out root canals except for extreme scenarios such as retreatment, so as a general dentist I will be doing a lot of root canal work!).

I haven't really talked about my job much, but I was hired with the intent to do all of the restorative procedures in the office I will be working at while my boss does all the surgery/implants. So my main focus will be crowns, inlays/onlays/composite fillings, root canals, and traditional dentures that are not implant retained. It's going to be a tough transition, but I am truly very lucky for this opportunity to work in a private practice and have someone willing to train me in more complex procedures. It is unusual for new grads to land a position like this right out the gate (in the location I will be in no less), so I am incredibly fortunate!!! Typically new graduates without preexisting connections to a private practice will do general practice residencies, work in public health for a bit, or do corporate dentistry, so I am still in shock that I somehow managed to get a job this good. Really hoping that it goes well, I'm going to be pushed to my limit though I can already tell HAHA

[moonlight-tmd]

Prowlbee, ShockBee, Blitzbee

Kink head cannons.

Oooh dear- that was bound to get into my inbox at some point. Welp, here we go.

ATTENTION: this blog has a unique version of interfacing so read this post to know what's up!!

(CW: A whole lot of dirty)

ProwlBee

Prowl would defo be into breeding and all the animal-related kinks. Even tho Cybertronians have different biology from earth's animals he still finds ways for them to work stuff out. (octopus breeding, for example) They have a bunch of different poses to do the deed that they like.

Roleplaying as feral and broody are one of the ways they go at it.

Bee defo has some marking kink and loves to leave scratches and bites all over Prowl.

Prowl is mostly the bottom, although he doesn't mind having a go at Bee when the mini wants it.

They both love some sensory play- Bee's horns are sensitife to help him navigate the surroundings but also are very fun to play with during the act. Prowl is sensititve to sound and light so having Bee vent and whisper into his audial defo does things to him. Blindfold makes it even better.

I guess they're into bondage a little bit- I mean, most female animals are pinned down while the male breeds them therefore Prowl would be into being tied up/having limited movement and letting Bee wreck him while he helplessly struggles.

BlitzBee

Both of them are a bit of masochists- c'mon what did you expect.

They're reallly into marking, although Blitzwing has to be very careful because Bee is much more fragile than him.

They're switches, but Bee's topping score is a lot higher than Blitz's.

Blitzwing is into praise, he never really got any and loves when Bee whispers all those sweet things, dirty or not, into his audials while he ravages his insides. Bee is 50/50 on praise and degradation; he loves when Blitzwing tells him how much he loves him/his frame while also scolding him for trouble/being an aft.

Size difference. Bee loves to be strangled by Blitz's thick meaty tentacles and have that sweet sensory input all on him. Bee's tentacles are thin but quite long and very easy to get into all the little cracks and crevices at the sensitive spark chamber.

Blitz's glossa itself is a lot like a tentacle so Bee loves it when Blitz lick his tentacles and with it- Bee's still a little bit nervous when Blitz brings his intake close to something so small and fragile as his spark chamber but trusts him to not eat it. (which Blitzwing would NEVER do, not to his hummel)

Bondage for Blitzwing. I cannot stress enough how much he loves being tied up by Bee and having him do all the amazing things to him- he was scared at first but began to absolutely love it over time. Bee likes to have power over Blitz like that.

Edging, these two cannot go without having as least a little bit of teasing. They both love to make the other one beg them to finally do some real action.

Vore. Blitz is adamant to squeeze Bee into his intake and have him be all snug and comfy inside...and maybe have some more kinky action going as well. Bee wasn't as excited for this as Blitz but it eventually rubbed off on him and he gets a little horny whenever Blitz licks or puts his limb into his intake. To Bee's surprise, Blitz actually put effort into preparing himself to eat Bee; Blitzwing has eaten a lot of stuff over his years of existence, many which were not made for consumption, his fuel tank could handle almost anything. He made sure his throat could fit something larger and that all the system commands worked perfectly so he wouldn't accidentally digest Bee (which was very alluring and kinky but he couldn't allow it.) They have one of those giant spools or wire that Bee ties around his leg/arm so Blitzwing can pull him out easier. Whenever he's inside Blitz, he has to have this protective shield-coat (think like a glove around his whole frame) over himself so his own exposed parts don't get damaged by Blitz's internal fluids... also his paint, he does not have an excuse to explain why he's missing paint/has to get new one so often. Blitz loves having an "internal massage" done while he (and Bee) self-service. Bee loves the tight space and its walls squeezing him everytime Blitz moves.

ShockBee

Shockwave/Longarm loves to be in control. He loves to immobilize Bee and tell him what to do/say as well as delay/force his overloads.

Bondage is a huge thing for both of them, Shock/Long doesn't even need a rope to tie Bee up and have him all exposed. Same with Bee, he'll just maneuver his way around enough and have Long/Shock tangled up in his own limbs and at Bee's mercy.

Shock/Long loves to praise Bee- just tell him every single thing he loves about him and how good he's doing.

Bee loves how Longarm's body is all thick and plumpy. Loves to grope it when the mech least expects it during the fun. He's surprisingly flexible which allows them to try out a bunch of different poses.

Now for the bonus fun! AUs!

Cyberbeast AU (ProwlBee)

Prowl knows Cyberbeasts are like earth animals and that they too have their breeding season once a year. During that one week Prowl is basically kidnapped and ravaged over and over and over again- Bee, quite literally, is trying to breed him real good and Prowl loves it.

Prowl is into doing it while Bee's in his beast alt. He loves when Bee growls and bites at everything he can and rubs his scent on him. Even in half alts he does it.

Bee loves getting praise, he puts on intentionaly displays to further enchant his mate. Prowl is half into body worshipping Bee on this- he's just so amazed by the beauty of his one and only.

Prowl is always the bottom, he has no choice (not that he complains) but to get pinned down, barely able to ventilate and get wrecked.

Prowl actually persuaded Bee into wearing collars and leashes while they do it. They have a pet/owner roleplay whenever that happens.

Warframe!Bumblebee AU (BlitzBee)

Brasshorn/Bumblebee loves having Blitz immobilized and left to his mercy. He loves to be in control but in a way that'll let him drown Blitz in pleasure and bliss and not command him.

Brass/Bee loves to praise Blitz and worshipping his frame as if it was the most perfect one to ever exist.

Blitz really wants to top but Brass/Bee doesn't let him, only for special occasions (he has to be functional for work).

Blits is into BDSM and really wants to be ravaged by his mate but Brass/Bee is always careful with him- unless he begs long enough, then he'll wreck him in the best ways possible straight on his workbench.

Civil!Blitzwing AU (BlitzBee)

Blitzwing loves when Bee dirty talks and degrades him, Bee loves when Blitz praises him.

Blitz loves a bit of pain play- he's full of dirty little secrets he has yet to uncover.

Part-Insecticon!Bumblebee AU (BlitzBee)

Feeding kink. After hatching from the cocoon, Bee can produce honey. Blitzwing loves to eat it, more so when Bee sits on top of him and feeds it to him- even more so when it's mouth-to-mouth and they can enjoys all the sweetest kisses in the world.

Praise and worship, wings specifically. fligh frames have in-build thing for wings; Blitz adores Bee's sparkly wings and knowing their history he doesn't hold back about them when he's praising Bee. Bee is often too overstimulated to do the same but he'll let Blitz know by grabbing his wings and caressing/pulling at them.

Bee has a valve under his abdomen after hatching, and it gets really leaky when the two have fun. Blitzwing has Bee (carefully) pinned down with one servo while he passionatelly make out with him, ravages Bee's insides with his tentacles, and roughly fingers the valve giving Bee way too much stimulation on all ends. Bee loves it, even though he's numb for the entire day afterwards.

Bee loves to rub himself on Blitzwing and leave the sweet perfume on him, Bee got claws too so he'll leave tiny scratches on Blitz- most often his wings, to claim him into the hive.

Sparkeater!Bumblebee AU (ShockBee)

Since Bee and Long/Shock can't really interface because of the risk of contracting the disease, they have to come up with other ways to pleasure themselves. One way is to self-service one another.

Long/Shock has acquired an improved lab protection shield-coat (force field that sits on you like a glove) before he came to earth, this allowed them to actually interface without (most of) the stress about transmitting the disease via energy/fluids. (it shift with the body but never lets anything inside)

It's a rarity for Bee and Long/Shock to play the life and death game, but when they do- Long/Shock brings Bee a live spark to devour before they have fun, Bee uses his sparkeater form to get all kinky with bondage and marking (always with protection). Long/Shock loves the sense of danger when Bee licks his tentacles, slowly inching closer to his spark chamber. Bee would never do this to him and with a tank occupied he's barely any hungry.

Also some stand-alone Bee kinks cuz I like him-

Bee loves dress up, he'll put on fancy lingerie for his beloved and behave the part of a good "caretaker" while pleasing his mate.

Bee is a certified top, sometimes he bottoms but mostly he's in charge. Tiny top bias showing-

Choking/Squishing/Size difference. He loves a good hefty mate, and almost everyone is bigger than him so it makes sense- the bigger the better.

Praise- this guy loves to get his ego rubbed, especially during fun times. He loves the attention thoroughly.

Always aftercare, he'll do his best to actually take care of his beloved after the fun.

[ateez-himari]

hi bb!!!!!!!!!!! I missed you so so so so much you don't even know😭😭 I know you missed me and my annoying questions hehehe(jk you're too cool to miss me)before I ask any questions........I hope you've been resting well,and that you're staying hydrated and eating well(I feel like an Asian mom when I say that) and how have you been lately?and good things happening and did your tattoo fully heal(I don't know anything about tattoos so please spare me😔😔) okay too much emotion now to the actual questions cause I haven't asked you any in like 3 weeks or something

1-ehm ehm(clears throat since I haven't talked in a long time) this is a question I've been meaning to ask for a long time and that is was your first love interest for hima gonna be any other idol than the ones she's dated,like was it going to be someone entirely different or were you always set on these choices?

2- are there any actors who have a crush on hima?like they don't have to say it publicly or something but maybe they've hinted at it? Maybe one of her costars has🫣🫣🫣

3- has hima acted in any dramas this year? And if so did she attend interviews and stuff like that?

4-Was hima invited to the gala🫣🫣if she was I know she'd eat it uppp. And maybe we can get some scoups and Mimi crumbs(as well as Jennie and Mimi)

5-last question I promise😭😭has hima tried to do those silly TikTok trends with mingi?like the ribbon one and those theories and stuff.

I love you so much bb!!!take care of yourself for me💓💓😽

OMG MY SWEET YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW EXCITED I WAS TO SEE THAT LITTLE BLUE '1' NEXT TO MY INBOX 😭 (Ermh excuse me I will NEVER be too cool for you, although I'm VERY VERY cool). I've been very well! Uni ended a bit ago so now I'm just resting and reading up on some upper year textbooks to get ahead. Unfortunately though my left wrist is wrapped up because I fcked it up during work and now it hurts badly 🥲 I'm eating very well! Drinking too! Resting is debatable because I've struggled with sleep lately (I usually do every few months dw). My tattoo actually healed a long time ago but I forget that I have it...I'll turn around before or after a shower, see it in the mirror and it almost scares the crap out of me sometimes. I'M SO EXCITEDDDDDD YOU ALWAYS ASK THE BEST QUESTIONS, TO THE ANSWERS 🩷.🩷

• There was actually so much back and forth when it came to our baby's love interests and while dating Mingyu was always planned in some way, ending up with Mingi was kind of a last minute decision when I launched the blog. Seeing as Hima had barely any friends from school and was not yet social enough to go meet people on her own, at least one of the '97 liners was a logical choice since Jungkook would have had her around them quite often, but I didn't think of her dating Eunwoo at first. So many idols went through my mind like Oneus' Leedo, The Boyz' Eric or Juyeon and even Seventeen's Dino, but eventually Eunwoo made more sense to me (also seeing him in Island was my last straw-). Jungkook crossed my mind for a second but I decided that they were much better off as best friends. In Ateez though Yunho and San were huge contenders before I settled on Mingi

• Hima is somewhat young compared to most people in the acting industry but an actor's hinted at not only meeting with her frequently for work but also having some kind of crush on her [drumroll] Byeon Woo Seok! Yunho MAY have gotten some butterflies in his stomach when the two of them had to film their kissing scene in Where We Fall...but he quickly reminded himself that she's his best friend's girlfriend. Lee Do Hyun stared slightly too long every time they had a scene together, but in truth it was just shocking to see her in person. Hima has a lot of feline features, cat-like eyes, little fangs, even her mouth shape is similar to a cat's (and of course those tiger scars) which don't always make themselves obvious on screens

• SO the only dramas Hima has acted in so far are Hellbound (2021) & Where We Fall (2023), but there's a project that has been in the works for some time involving T.O.P and her as the main -enemies - characters 🫣 (I've written the storyline several times so that it wouldn't fall into the whole cringy mafia plotline hole and am still in the process of reworking that, but I CAN tell you that at some point she gets choked so-). The titles I have in the works so far are 'Bleed For Me' and 'Won't You Die' but they'll very likely change to something more nuanced

• The way reading this question actually shocked me because I was in the middle of brainstorming something for the met gala article I'm writing...ANYWAY aside from your somehow fortune telling brain, Himari is Donatella's baby, her precious tiger cub, the light of her career, her Princess, there was absolutely no way this woman was going to let the Met Gala pass by without her on the carpet. I'm still thinking up some interactions (deciding to send her to the Met was a very last minute decision so I don't have much prepared yet) but I can tell you that even our naturally anxious Mingi feels more relaxed knowing that S.Coups is going to be with her.

Mingi knows they slept together a few times but he doesn't really care because not only does he trust his girlfriend, but he's come around to trusting S.Coups too. The older idol's also been very protective of Hima since the beginning and it's become a habit of his to place his hand on her lower back in case he needs to avoid someone with bad intentions or just to lead her in the right direction - she gets lost easily. The Met is going to be very stimulating noise-wise, so S.Coups is going to play a huge role in anchoring the maknae, which is why they were arranged to arrive in the same car despite being from different groups and brands. S.Coups knew this and prepared well in order to support her fully ; he learned more sign language, learned to work her hearing aid just in case, watched a lot of fan made videos breaking down her body language in noisy environments and even met with Mingi many times to learn how to care for her in these situations. Himari didn't know about this because she'd feel like she was burdening the leader in such an incredible moment, so everyone kept it a secret from her. The last thing I can tell you for their interactions (for now) is that it's the only time that Mingi has agreed to someone holding his girlfriend's hand for so long, because both men figured that not only would it be safer for her, but it would also help her focus on something other than the constant pressure in her non-hearing ear

• Hima has been working a lot this year ; producing for other idols, touring, releasing 'Sungyo' and 'Veil of Tears' with Sleep Token, doing university work along with other side projects so she hasn't really been keeping up with trends. Our mochi couple has also been staying offline lately because they want to spend as much time as possible away from public eyes to finally get a break and be as normal as they can be. Her kids however (BOYNEXTDOOR and Xikers) have been dragging their senior through at least half of their tiktoks because they're not sure when they'll get to spend time with her again, so they want to make the most of it. It's mostly dance challenges but Xikers have managed to make her do the ribbon trend (she in fact did not break it but they still posted it....) and BND dragged her into the 'I make the face, you make the sound'

......

UPDATE ON THE MET GALA ; As I'm writing this I was checking Twitter every few seconds and S.COUPS OH MY GOD FKEWKFJWE SCRUMPTIOUS. SEXINESS OF THE 30S INDEED (he's the second member of my bias line in case it wasn't already obvious...) I NEED ME AN OLDER MAN. HE'S GIVING OFF YAKUZA BOSS VIBES, LIKE...THE WISE, CALM, EXPERIENCED LEADER YOU KNOW?? I CAN'T OMG SOMEONE SEDATE ME. Anyway so in terms of interactions though here's what I can give you real time (ish) ;

Instead of getting into the car right away like the other celebrities he waited near the open door and watched Hima step out and take pictures (right after him). Like the absolute gentleman of a DIL - the voices, sorry - diligent leader that he is, he helped her get into the car and even stepped behind her to cover her back just in case. In the car he put his jacket over her to make sure she was warm

I love you so much more my sweet!!! 🥰🩷 I hope you've been doing well these days and that you're taking very good care of yourself! MWWWAAHHH 😘

[aliusfrater]

hiiiiiii

so I def yapped about this on my own blog but do you have any thoughts/hcs about that week between 1x01 and 1x02 that sam and dean apparently spent poking around stanford for clues about jessica's death? like it is very fascinating to me and it just leaves me with so many questions about them going back to sam's apartment, if any of sam's friends came around to see what/how he was doing, if sam and dean acknowledged or even realized sam was missing his interview, if sam told anyone where he was going or literally just dropped everything, sam (and dean's) emotional state at the time

also I don't think I've ever seen this explored in fics which is wild to me

anyway you don't have to answer all of these things but do you have Thoughts is my question

now that i think about it, i also have never come across any fics above that particular time period nor have i ever come across older supernatural posts that discuss it at length or anything, even from jessica fan blogs that tend to be huge enjoyers of sam's characteristics relating to his want to Get Out of the life. you're always in my inbox asking questions about reallyyy cool details and i love it thank you. i like to think that:

the week of sam and dean's personal investigations took place afterrr police investigations. it's probable to think that sam would've been interrogated about her death and asked to at least stay in town pending investigations, even more so after forensics and stuff revealed that the fire wasn't her cause of death but father the abdomen wound (depending on how much of her they'd be able to recover from the fire anyway). wouldn't put it past the police for them to consider sam a suspect beyond dean being his alibi. i think it's be like 2 weeks to about a month of that before sam and dean were in the clear and able to do their own investigations without suspicion or anything.

jessica's death and their apartment burning down made the local papers and the school he had his interview with reached out and postponed their interview with sam for quite a while. it wasn't until sam had applied for and gotten a leave of absence from stanford that the interview was postponed indefinitely.

one of sam's professors sent him a gift basket but dean ended eating and drinking most of the stuff in it.

he had to go back to the store where he'd shown interest in an engagement ring for jess and tell them he wasn't interested anymore and why.

similarly, when he and jess' parents had a sit down for jess' funeral, he mentioned wanting to propose to her when discussing the kind of jewelry she would've liked to buried in in passing, and jess' mom broke out in sobs so bad he had to leave and come back another time.

sam spent a lot of time researching the night gown she was wearing because she never dressed like that and he'd never seen it in her stuff before. he never really found an answer for that one.

sam was at the library for a whole day towards the end of the week because he hadn't had another dream about jessica's death since she'd died, which meant that his dreams had significance and he wanted to look into the probable why and what.

there weren't a ton of arrangements to be made with sam's help beyond the funeral. because of the fire, jessica didn't have any belongings that could've been put into a will and most of the stuff she was buried with were stuff from her childhood bedroom from her parents' house.

dean didn't really go to jessica's funeral. he was there but he insisted on staying out of the way. at the church, he sat in the back and at the burial grounds he sat in the impala waiting on sam. he said it'd feel weird being there but he also wanted to be there for sam. he joked about needing to be on the lookout just in case the thing that killed jessica showed up.

sam and his friends had a wake for jessica, organised by luis, which was basically just an excuse to be sad while hanging out and getting really drunk on cheap wine together. dean didn't go but one of sam's friends had to call him to pick sam up later in the night.

[dilutedconfusion]

I love the way you write! I love Kid! I need Kid!! 😩

Anyway, happy to rewad whatever you write, but if this request inspires you, by all means, I would LOVE to read it.

I'm thinking about some protective, possessive stuff! Reader gets kidnapped and subdued. Or gets beaten, life hanging by a thread.

And Kid just goes ape shit. NSFW obviously because Kid is going to rip some troaths and all that protectiveness makes reader a little crazy.

Does this tickle your fancy? Writer's choice on everything, really. I would just love a crazy protective Kid.

Kudos for all your work and thank you for sharing your talent! 👏🏻❤️

I’M SO DEEPLY SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME. I don’t know how long this request was sitting in my inbox but I APOLOGIZE and I hope this fic makes up for it 🧎‍♀️

OKAY besides that you didn’t have to be that nice 🫵 Like seriously making me blush and stuff you’re so sweet ilysm🤭 And since I literally cannot control myself I went a little overboard. I wasn’t planning on writing so much and I wasn’t planning on making it so intense I suppose. But you asked for possessive, life hanging by a thread, kidnapped scenario so here you go! I should’ve made it more NSFW in the more sexual way less gore way. But alas this request is more horror and fluff than anything. Oh and I also made the pronouns gender neutral because you didn’t specify so I hope that’s okay with you! I need to write more gender neutral readers anyways so it was a good excuse. I hope you enjoy it!

Shades of Red

Eustass Kid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You got kidnapped by bounty hunters. Suffice to say you and Kid aren’t taking it very well. Kid goes a little crazy and does some particular bloody things. It has a good ending though so no worries👍

Horror?? And Fluff I suppose.

Warnings: LOTS of explicit gore and blood.

Word Count: 8.1k

Water was thicker than blood.

Well, you had always known that. From your first cut as a child that was an otherworldly sting. It had felt so foreign from your previous non-existence. Pain was juvenile to you. Something to be feared in its unknowing nature. Something that would stain clothes. Stain water.

There was specific soft vignette of red reminded you of the way light looked behind your eyelids. Warm with light yellow tones around the edges. The tingle of your smooth skin left you to almost sparkle. A man adorned in all shades of red as if it was the only color that fit him.

As if it was the only color you ever wanted to look at. A color you desperately tried to view positively despite what was happening. Despite the splatters around you.

You hadn’t felt the sun in a while. Skin growing paler and colder with each passing night. The sun was a mere sixty feet above you since the earth swallowed you whole. An insistent dripping against your scalp made you want to snap your jaw in half. Digging into your skull to rip out the part of you that could still feel.

A puddle of water lay at your feet. The water from the unstable ceiling would constantly drip downwards. Drifting onto the chains that held up your arms to keep you on your knees. Swirling down your bruised wrists and dripping from your elbows. Going down your spine with a consistent cold shiver running through you. Your eyelashes dripped like crystals as your head hung low. Watching the water drip off your chin or the tip of your nose.

The puddle of water beneath you was stained red. Letting you watch as your blood swirled in its mirror-like gaze. Face to face with yourself until another drop landed and ripples formed.

The same sight over and over again. The same pain over and over again for what felt like weeks.

But you knew it hadn’t been that long despite how the hours crawled forwards. It took a lot of work being captured but at least the water kept you clean.

Your kidnappers wouldn’t want their little plaything any other way.

There was no enjoyment in watching you bleed if you were already bloody. They liked to start a fresh slate to give the blood some contrast.

Nothing has been explained to you. Not a single peep of why you were here, what they were trying to achieve, and why they decided to keep you alive. Any person who walked through the iron door in front of you stayed close to silent. Only opening their mouths to give orders or berate you. Those orders were always just to eat your food under the watchful eye of a guard. To get up and follow them to the bathroom during scheduled times. Not another beaten to near-death person in sight. It seemed like it was just you and them down here surprisingly. Either that or they wanted to make it seem that way. There wasn’t even a request made or some form of labor being put onto you.

You always listened because frankly, you had no other choice. These chains were tight and you were always guarded. As strong as you were, you were still weak. And as smart as you were, you had made the horrible decision to venture off on your own.

Some stupid fucking idea Kid would’ve called it. You could hear his yelling and screaming over you now. Pacing the tiny cell and telling you how much of an idiot you had been. How he had ordered you to stay with your assigned group on this last mission. That he expected more from you and he’d never seen you act this stupid. How he would leave you behind next time because he didn’t want to deal with your shit anymore.

Yet he cried the first time you got badly injured. Held you like a baby and took you to the infirmary just to scream and break an innocent chair. You never took his fits seriously because underneath it all you could feel guilt coming off him in waves. You could see the fear fermenting in a supposedly fearless man's eyes.

You supposed that keeping you captive, keeping you docile enough to not try anything, was a way to lure Kid into some kind of trap. He was a man with a high bounty and a lot to lose. And they must’ve guessed his lover was something worth fighting for.

But it had been too long and your throat grew tired of screaming and cussing out the world. They had you locked up tight, underground, on an island you traveled to by boat with your head stuck in a sack the whole ride there. Every box was checked off when it came to the perfect kidnapping. Nobody had even seen it happen so they had to have left some sort of cryptic note for the crew to find.

Or at least you hoped so.

There was a slim chance that they had no idea what happened to you. That this place was just a pit stop until you got sold to the Celestial Dragons. Or maybe until they worked out a deal with the navy for your head.

You desperately pleaded and hoped that these people were greedy. That whatever amount of money the dragons would pay or the small sum of your bounty wasn’t enough for them. They wanted Kid and all his other higher-ranking members so at least they would know where you are. They would be coming after you.

Yet thinking like that kept you in a whirlwind of guilt.

I fucked up. I deserve to die here. They shouldn’t…no…they can’t get involved in this. Their dreams are too important to get caught right now. Right when we were so close.

At some point your pain, your suffering, and self-loathing almost became…comical.

The mirth of it came out in crazed laughter. Looking down at yourself in the puddle's reflection as your laughing permanently bounced around the stone walls. A big smile on your face yet your eyes were screaming. Leaving an ominous, nearly insane echo to be heard throughout the facility.

The room was small and enclosed around you. Your eyes were dizzy as the world spun. Before the weight of reality struck you again, bringing you down from your manic high. Heart beating in your ears as you gasped for air, tears streaming into the bloody puddle once again.

Pain wasn’t juvenile to you anymore. But the more you lost yourself, the more you started to wish it were.

—————

This pain was juvenile. New and fresh despite being torn from an old wound. As if someone had dug into Kid's brain just to remind him of exactly how it felt to lose. Exactly how it felt to be hopeless once again.

He thought he would’ve known what to do, how to handle this. And for the most part, he did.

But in the empty cold spaces when no one was around. Whether that was the bathroom, his room, or the silent deck in the night, he broke.

There was no more sucking it up, no more biting his lips, no more anxious scratching of his skin or grinding of his teeth that could save him from the way he felt.

It should’ve been me.

Oh, how he wished he was angry and dare say he was. When Dive had informed him that you weren’t with her. That during a raid in your small group off in the safer corner of the fight, away from him you, had disappeared.

Just poof into thin air without informing anyone of where you went.

He had lost it.

That village burned that night. Warm fires in every inch, every crevice, and every person mauled. Each one of them did not know what happened. Not a boat spotted leaving the island. Not a single trace of where you had gone.

That anger hasn’t stopped. It’s still just as potent, just as ferocious and terrifying. More blood-curdling and scream-inducing than hell itself. Kid had felt more people's bodies go cold in his grip in the last few days than he had most of his life.

He wanted to feel it. He wasn’t killing for convenience so an annoying crowd surrounding him would break. He wanted to hurt people, to kill the right person as brutally as he could in case they had any chance of being involved with your disappearance. He took down that village of thugs, burned and quartered every man on a passing ship, and started bouncing to all the nearby islands looking to do just the same.

But so far he’d come up empty. Not a sign, not a note, not a welcomed reunion between the two of you. He’d walk into a building or down into the deeper levels of a ship screaming your name. Eyes blurring to find no one but the dead. All that hope in him snuffed out to embers. His crew watching little parts of him die.

So amid silence, when the pain that he should’ve been handling, that he should be familiar with resurfaced, he cried. He’d kneel over on the floor or press himself against a banister to weep. That low rugged voice gasping for air as he struggled not to choke. Wiping his eyes, his hands reaching out and grasping at the air for childlike comforts. The remembrance of your soft skin dancing along his fingers. Your soothing voice told him that it was going to be okay. He could nearly see you in front of him. Those eyes of yours filled with so much love for a fool like him. His chest hurt so bad he could feel bile building up in his throat. Swallowing it down through wet sniffles and snot-covered lips.

He was a mess. If he didn’t find you soon…he didn’t know what he would do. He wondered if you left on purpose. That you didn’t love him anymore and left without saying anything. Without taking any of your belongings because you were so utterly desperate to get away.

Finding his touch disgusting, his love suffocating, and his personality exhausting.

He wouldn’t have blamed you if that was the truth. It took a lot to love someone like him which is why it's never happened before. At least not in a romantic way.

He never told anyone that he thought this. Because he knew that they would all brush it aside. Saying that you would never leave him and you were far too in love with him to do something like that. But the idea dug in like a lobotomy through his eye. It was piercing him until he tore apart into someone he wasn’t. His face just shards in a broken mirror.

He needed to know what had happened even if you did leave on purpose. Because on the chance that you didn’t, that someone had hurt you, then there was a price to pay in blood.

And Kid intended to squeeze out every last drop of it.

—————

It had been a normal day underground.

The newspaper was in his hand as he slumped slightly in his chair. The hallway is just as cold as ever. The watch on his wrist ticked and the camera's persistent red light monitored the area.

He knew he couldn’t doze off. After the captives' recent round of hysterical laughter, he knew they were on edge. Of course, he had solved the problem as was ordered. Bringing earplugs just in case the laughing kept going on but the brass knuckles seemed to do the trick. But of course, he and the other men had made a bit of a mess. The whole room smelled of copper from the blood and could nearly smell it oozing out of the cracks of the door.

It was as if it was still painting his skin with that lovely shade of red. Darkened and dried into the cracks of his hands as he washed it off. Now leaving him without a trace, hoping to chase that high again despite this person being ‘precious cargo’.

Though you couldn’t have been that precious considering they were pawning you off to the navy. They usually wanted all bounties dead or alive. But this was a special case where the navy wanted you alive for questioning. And that no matter how much his boss wanted to, they couldn’t question the captive under certain terms. They were bounty hunters, not pirates, so any shred of information about this big-shot Eustass Kid was like gold to them.

I don’t know why we’re not interrogating them anyway. They already look like they're losing a couple of screws, might as well dig deeper and see what pops up. It's not like the navy will figure it out.

He let out a little grunt of anger, flipping to the next page with a grimace. His boss was a careful man with very specific plans. Finding this little victim perfectly alone and ripe for the taking was a strike of luck. But because his boss was always prepared for an opportunity, they snatched you up while on the run off an island. Taking to sea as a raid ensued and followed suit to their hideout so hidden not even the town uptop knew about it.

They had done this before and they would do it again. There were even a few other inmates locked up in different sectors. They were never allowed to see each other just in case they tried some kind of revolution. So they all roamed the halls and went to the bathrooms at different times. It was the perfect kidnapping scheme. Letting them slowly rake in the big money without putting themselves in danger.

He heard a rattling of chains from inside the room. Starting slow but slowly getting a bit louder. A light rumbling came from it as the unstable ceiling pinned with metal to hold up the chains groaned.

He slapped down his newspaper in his lap, turning his head towards the door with a yell. “Shut the fuck up in there! You need something, you're going to have to wait for it!”

He turned back to his newspaper letting out a little groan as the rattling stopped. Not a single word came through the door so clearly it was for nothing.

Goddamn, I swear they just do this shit to mess with me.

He shifted a bit in his seat to get more comfortable. Smacking his lips as he eased down. Taking a quick look at his watch to check how long it was until they were given another scheduled bathroom break.

An hour? I swear if this motherfucker pisses themselves again I’m going to hose them down till they bleed.

Another grumble of annoyance rose in his throat. Rolling his eyes a bit as he scratched at the back of his head. Suddenly he heard the same stupid chain rattling. This time much louder and quicker as it scraped and groaned at the ceiling. Cracking his jaw before slamming down his newspaper on the floor and getting up. Opening the small slot just at eye level to look inside.

“I swear to fucking god if you don’t quit that shit right now say goodbye to food for a while you piece of shit!” He watched you with a burning in his eyes. Your face tilted downwards towards the floor like always. Unresponsive and half-dead looking from all the wetness crawling over you. Like some sort of bog demon rattling at the chains and tugging on them incessantly.

He slammed on the door trying to gain your attention. The loud metal banging didn’t make you flinch in the slightest. “Hey! Do you hear me right now you crazy bitch? If you don’t stop I’m coming in there and you know what that means.” He nearly growled, his voice presently hungry for another beating session.

You didn’t stop, if anything you made it worse. Flinging your weak body a bit as you gripped onto the chains. Putting your weight into it so the metal slammed against itself. The stone ceiling crumbling a bit as a rumbling ensued.

“God fucking damn it!” He screamed, his slightly sweaty hands gripping the key on his belt. Ripping it off him, he undid the latch and pushed the door open. His feet walked over blood stains and wet puddles as he latched the keys back on. Cracking his knuckles as he hovered over you. “Is this what you want?! Wanna feel my fucking hands beat into you?!” He quickly grabbed you by the hair tugging your face up to look at him. Your face vacant and almost lifeless.

You finally stopped rattling the chains and pulling at them. Hands falling limping and racking against the cuffs. He held his fist in the air ready to punch you. Looking forward to that sweet silence he oh so craved. But for some reason, the rumbling didn’t stop.

Your chains had already stilled. The ceiling still shaking slightly and sprinkling dust. A crescendo of rumbling shooting across the floor and up into his bones.

He looked up and around the room. Still holding onto your hair tightly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Is that an earthquake?

But the rumbling got louder. Nearly chattering in his skull. His grip loosed slowly, letting you set your head down but you didn’t. You stayed looking up at him. Sweat was building in his palms when suddenly the lights went out all at once. Sharp static flickers and fuses snapping in time.

But then rumbling stopped. Filling the room with a dark silence so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Grabbing onto his flashlight at his side he felt this horrible feeling of anxiety growing in his gut.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’re prepared for an earthquake and this power outage is probably just part of it.

His thumb traced over the button to turn on his flashlight. But through the open door, he heard it. His body freezing in place as if he was frozen in ice.

It was screaming. Not just a light yell of panic or someone barking orders. It was true blood gurgling screaming coming from somewhere in the facility. Echoing off the stone walls as he slowly turned his head around. Pointing his flashlight at the cell entrance before flicking on the light.

It quickly filled up the space with a warm circle of light. But instead of the light shining onto stones in the hallway, it hit something else.

A wall of blood in the shape of a man.

Bright and rich in color it reflected into the guard's eyes. It was visibly dripping and he could nearly feel the heat coming off of it. Not a spec of skin or clothing was visible from how thickly it managed to glob onto his wide demeaning chest.

The guard blinked as if caught in a dream. His mouth moved to say something but it was far too dry. As if all the life had been sucked out of him at that very moment.

He saw some sort of metal arm on the monsters left-hand side. His eyes carefully tracing down it in the dark to spot the shiny glimmers of blood of what looked like a human spine in its grasp, half of it trailing off onto the floor. The bones cracked loudly under his grasp, making the guard flinch backward, almost stumbling into you behind him.

The man sucked in a gasp of air. Tears filled his eyes at the horrid monster in front of him. Tilting the flashlight upwards until it reached the monsters face.

If he knew any better, he would’ve never done that.

His face was equally covered in blood. Slightly smeared around so bits of his pale skin shot through. His shiny scars and pinned-up goggles on his head gleamed light back at him. Damp hair from all the blood lying down onto his skin.

But the worst part was his eyes.

That burned into the guard's mind. So horrid. So piercing he felt his breathing stall. Almost choking on nothing as he felt himself passing out. The darkness around him turned darker but the monster wouldn’t allow that.

The monsters body bounded forward. His metal hand letting go of the spine as he dropped it with a wet thud on the floor. The wall of blood came closer with each loud thundering footstep. He grabbed the guard by the head, fitting his entire skull into his metal fist. Picking him up off the floor easily and clamping down around his skull. Feeling it splinter and almost cave under the pressure. The guards screams were muffled as he clawed at the metal arm. Kicking his feet in the air and almost hitting you in the process.

The monster turned towards the door once again, away from you before the final snap ensued. A loud deafening crack and then nothing but the sounds of warm blood sputtering on the floor. The man's flashlight fell to the ground. Rolling across the stone to cast an eerie light across you.

The room stayed silent for a while before he dropped the man's body to the floor carelessly. Blinking tirelessly to spot the monsters shadow in the dark with tear filled eyes.

“K-Kid?” you murmured. Your voice was so rasp and weak he could barely hear it. Turning around to face something he could hardly stomach to see.

His eyes traced over you like he almost didn’t think you were real. Soaked from head to toe in water, you kneeled in front of him in a pool of blood. Dark deep bruises on every visible limb. You’re lip cut and swollen as it wobbled from the tears. Tears coming out of a very prominent black eye with red lacerations all around your face. Your clothing torn and in shambles, as they stuck uncomfortably tight to your wet skin.

Kid had seen the inside of many men but the sight of you nearly broke him apart.

Your disheveled features and colorless lifeless skin made his breathing hitch. Tears instantly flooded his eyes just to drip down his face. Mixing in with the blood now drying on his skin. His heart tore in two as he nearly fell into you. His large knees hit the hard ground and splashed up the puddle of blood. Wrapping you in a warm gooey hug he gripped his hand into your hair, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m s-sorry…I’m so sorry…I’ll never let this happen again.” He croaked out into your ear between sniffles. Your hands were still bound so you couldn’t grip him. Just tugging at the chains helplessly as you let out a wry whimper of pain.

“K-Kid…” you mumbled, the crying getting even worse, “I thought I was dead…I-I missed you so fucking much. I’m so sorry I fucked up…I..” You trailed off into a whimper. Words escaping you as reality became as sharp as a knife, yet comforting as his touch.

Hearing your voice caused him to let out a weak gasp of pain. Trying to be gentle as he gripped his flesh arm around you a bit tighter. His metal one at your side, both arms desperately trying to not put pressure on your wounds. With a little flash of purple lightning escaping his hand and tingling the back of your head, your chains came off. Bruised weak wrists getting an instant relief as your arms swung down to land weakly onto his shoulders. The blood rushed back into them as you gripped him tightly, pressing your chest flush against his despite all the blood.

Without a word, he tucked his metal arm under your legs. Scooping you up easily, he kept your face pressed against his chest. Walking out into the hallway as his feet dodged the guard's body and left over spine.

“I want you to keep your eyes closed okay baby? Just stay up against my chest until we get out of here.” He mumbled to you softly. Listening to your staggered breathing as you cried on him.

You barely even heard him. Just shoving your face further upwards until you reached the crook of his neck. Closing your eyes as you tried to take deep breaths. Fingers nearly clawing into his sticky blood-stained back as if he was going to disappear.

Kid traced his bloodied footsteps back from where he came from. Finding a few splattered bodies along the way. The worst of it was at the entrance. Clasping onto the back of your head a bit tighter he dug his hand into your hair. Glancing weakly over at the piles of dead bodies still warm and oozing onto the floor.

Every single person in this underground facility was completely slaughtered and he made sure of it. The rest of the inmates the crew found in separate cells set free. Running out into the night with a smile and urgency like never before.

Honestly, he didn’t even realize he had gone so far until it was over. Having slashed every single person that came his way into loose mangles. Usually, he’d move on to the next person when a deathly slash was inflicted on them. But he couldn’t stop, rumbling the whole underground facility as he tore into stone and bone. Effectively splattering his entire body with a thick layer of blood.

A part of him still hadn’t calmed down since then. His eyes were still jumpy as he used his haki to check his surroundings. There was no relief for him until you were home, safe, and healing. No amount of blood could quell how his heart clenched for you.

His crew, who was guarding the entrance for any extra visitors, saw you curled in his arms. Some opened their mouths to say something but Kids eyes stopped them. Your sniffles turned to silence as you stilled against his chest. There would be no grand reunion until you were home. Exhaustion covered you like a blanket as he walked you out into the warm air of freedom.

—————

It was an aching feeling. First at the crux of your back on something far too stiff then into a plush embrace. Your head lulls backward into something to catch you. Tight itchy fabric fumbling you awake. Peeling your slightly crusted-over eyes open and expecting to see that same blinding light from before. To hear only the muffled voices of those around you as you barely stayed lucid. But the world had cleared and surprisingly you weren’t somewhere sterile, you were somewhere warm.

The rafters of the wood above you creaked as the boat shifted on the sea. The room was dark and drafty as a window nearby blew in sweet cold air. That familiar scent of the briny seaweed lapping at your nose. You tried to sit up and immediately were met with a warm hand across your chest, pushing you back down.

“Quit moving.” With a turn of your head against the pillow you saw Kid lying mostly naked on his stomach beside you. His hair was loose and hung a bit over his eyes and the back of his neck. Soft and relaxed and not spiked like most people saw it. One side of his pale face squished against the maroon pillow. Blinking at you tiredly in the low light of the dark.

“Shouldn’t I be…in the infirmary?” You mumbled, softly touching his hand now laying on your chest. Feeling along his fingertips and the deep scars on his skin.

He immediately grimaced at that, letting out a gruff groan as he sat up slightly to roll onto his side. Now facing you more directly but keeping his hand softly over your chest as if to feel your heartbeat. “I’m the Captain and I’ll put you where I want you. You didn’t need to stay there anyway. The worst is over and I’m watching over you. Like that doctor could ever take care of you like I can…”

He rolled his eyes, knowing damn well no one knew you like he did. He may not have the medical experience but he was going to take care of you, it's the least he could do. You watched him silently for a moment, chewing your otherwise slightly split lip tenderly. Your other free hand feeling at the bandages around your hips. The doctor seemingly left you only a roll or two away from being a mummy.

“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened.” You said a bit hesitantly. Everything after him saving you felt like a fever dream. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Kid could see the uncertainty written deep into your brow. Taking his hand and running it up to swipe his thumb over your cheek.

“I brought you home and patched you up. You mumbled and cried the whole time in the infirmary. Clinging onto me and whimpering like a dog through all the stitches,” he said with a slight huff of a laugh before mellowing back down into something solemn, “but you’re okay. Nothing severe.”

A little part of you eased into that knowledge. His hand against your cheek feeling like perfection.

I’m okay. You repeated in your head. Your eyes fluttering slightly as they became more foggy with tears. Wet crystal like droplets in the corners of your eyes.

Kid saw this and slightly panicked. Not wanting you to cry anymore, your eyes still puffy from all the tears you had already shed. He slipped his hand off your face and started to sit up. His big body making the bed shake a little as he started to stand up.

“I can go grab you some food. They put you on a IV from all the blood loss so you must be feeling shitty.” He mumbled, the cadence of his words a bit hitched and frantic. You quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging on it slightly to bring him back down.

“No…no it's okay. Maybe in a bit but…” you paused, his head turned back towards you as he watched the tears well up even more, “Kid I-”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He had cut you off. Leaving you to nearly let out a whimper of pain. You’re chest swimming with guilt as he lets you ease him back into bed. Sitting up and looking down at you with his legs crossed.

His face was starkly stiff as he watched you. Those golden globes of his muddy with feelings yet you barely even noticed. Having trouble looking right at him as you stared down at the bed. “But I fucked up. I mean I badly fucked up. I put all of you at risk and I acted so selfishly thinking I could go out on my own-”

“Baby it's fine.” You let out a shaky huff of air when he cut you off again. Not feeling at all comforted despite his version of ‘fine’. With your face becoming a mess of lines and reddened cheeks he could see you were hanging off the edge. And no matter how much he wanted to drag you off of it, no matter how much he didn’t want to see you cry, he let you talk. Your voice coming out in barely composed gasps.

“But it's not though. I just…I want you to know I’ll never do that again. I won’t go against your plans. I won’t be overly confident in the face of battle. I got myself in that mess and I can’t imagine how hard it was to try and pry me out. All that time wasted…” At this point, a tear had already slipped down your cheek. The side of your face pressed deeply into the pillow as if you were trying to burrow your way out of this. Not looking at him once. Just curling yourself up into a ball of shame in front of him.

He hated every second of it.

“Wasted? It wasn’t a waste because I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. Every person I killed and every single moment spent towards finding you instead of going after my goals was worth it. I’ll set aside days, months, years-shit my whole fucking life to find you. So stop that.” He paused, looking around the room for a moment to gather his thoughts. Your whimpers had gone a bit quiet. Looking up at him almost a bit anxiously from his annoyed tone. Not feeling any better despite how passionate he was about saving you.

You still were curled in a ball with tears in your eyes and he wanted anything but that. So taking another deep shaky breath he continued in a softer tone. “You can do whatever you want during a battle and we all know my plans aren’t foolproof. If I didn’t listen to you, if this whole crew didn’t listen to you on occasion, this boat would be 100 feet under. You didn’t put us at risk, we’re always at risk.” His voice was stern but sincere. Looking down at your gorgeous face despite the tears just hoping and wishing you understood how he felt.

“Quit making it sound like you did something wrong…” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head lightly.

You didn’t say anything right away. Letting his words stew and ferment in your mind. They eased down into something more manageable. The silence between you is a bit uncomfortable but necessary. Kid eyeing you with a worried expression as you slowly composed yourself. Using the back of your hand to wipe your tears as you sniffled lightly. Unfurling yourself a bit and un-shoving half your face out of the pillow.

“Did they leave a note or did you just find me?” You murmured out, voice weak but more steady. Kid didn’t expect that to be your first question, he wanted to hear you forgive yourself but he supposed seeing you calmer was enough. His fingers fiddlingwith the legs of his boxers a bit to distract himself from how nervous he felt.

“There was nothing. I went to all the surrounding islands before I landed on the one you were at. The ‘boss’ of that so-called operation was planning to give your head to the navy. Spineless slimy fucking bastard should’ve never touched you. Shoulda never left you out there.” He didn’t look at you much as he spoke. Chewing on his words a bit and thinking it over. He could still see that boss in front of him. Spine ripped out clean as he lay there on the floor. His little spineless joke had made a few crew members laugh, but he held himself back from trying it on you. It wasn’t the time.

“Kid, you were busy fighting the big shots. That’s how it always works. I’m the idiot who got swept up when no one was watching.” Your voice came out more pleading. Not expecting Kid to be talking bad about himself for what happened. To you, it seemed like it was completely your fault, but clearly, Kid thought differently.

“First off, you're not an idiot. Smartest damn person I know.” He exclaimed, pointing his finger at you. His eyes meeting yours in a much more serious tone. “Secondly, I’m keeping you closer from now on and we're making you a vivire card. I don’t know why I haven’t until now. What a fucking idiot move that was.”

You watched as he swept back his hair again. The very soft-looking curls of his hair becoming more fluffy as they sat in a cute-looking wave on his head. You eyed him a bit, eyes narrowing as you regarded yet another way he was putting himself down. “Well if I can’t call myself an idiot then you can’t either. So stop that. You…thought you were enough to protect me. To keep me by your side at all times. That’s not an idiot move because you do protect me. You always have.” You tried to say that with so much certainty that Kid could feel it. But of course, he still seemed a bit pissed. Looking away from you again and back down at his lap.

“Well, aren’t you being too kind to a guy who let you down…” You frowned at that. Knowing for a fact Kid wasn’t the kind of guy who liked talking about his feelings you didn’t decide to dig deeper. But you still wanted to know what happened. Why Kid seems so bummed despite you being safe.

“You…you were covered in blood when I saw you down there. What…happened?” You asked quietly, picking together parts of your memory to try to make sense of it.

He hesitated. Swallowing thickly before giving you the only answer that wouldn’t make him out to be so…horrible. “I did my job.” It was a good enough answer. He could see by the way your eyes squinted it wasn’t quite what you wanted but you didn’t say anything more. “And don’t worry. The crew hosed me down before I got on the ship. Didn’t want to stain the tub. I knew you woulda clawed my eyes out if I did. But I washed us nice and clean. Under your nails and behind your ears and everything. You just conked out on my chest…which was rather cute by the way.”

The idea of you asleep against his chest as he washed you made your heart skip. Feeling a small smile quirk at your lips imagining him taking care of you so well. “I…I missed bath time? Dang it. I can never convince you to take a bath with me usually.”

“Well, you can put me in another one of those death traps soon if you want to.” Kid let out a sigh, feigning annoyance but smiling down at you regardless.

“Good because I was going to guilt you into it again anyway.” You quipped, your smile becoming more mischievous as you gripped onto the blanket near you and hid part of your blushing face.

Kid couldn’t help but laugh at that a little. Eyes narrowing as he watched you, his voice coming far out more smooth and sweeter. “Of course you were.”

“Oh and umm…thank you for cleaning me up. I wasn’t going to claw your eyes out necessarily. Getting covered in blood wasn’t your fault or anything.” You mumbled, fingers now tracing the texture of the blanket as you spoke.

Kid watched you for a second before responding. Chewing the truth and deciding to ask just in case you did remember too much. “It sorta was…I mean I overdid it. You don’t…remember too much of it right?” His voice hitched a bit at the end there. Eyes more wide and expectant as if he knew you were going to nag at him for how…extra he had been.

“Too much of what? I mean…I remember the guard getting…crushed. I don’t think I could ever forget that. And seeing you all covered in blood is still pretty vivid in my mind.” You said innocently as if even that didn’t bother you. You knew Kid could be a cruel man in battle and had gotten used to it. So you didn’t get what he seemed so worked up about.

“Well…that’s not exactly ideal but better than nothing.” Kid stroked his hair again, a nervous habit that always gave him away. The corners of his eyes tightened and his gaze went anywhere but you.

“What? Did something bad happen after you saved me?”

“More like…before I saved you. And it was all over the ground. Lots of guts and gross shit I don’t need you seeing.” Kid's answer rolled off his tongue awkwardly and slowly as if he was cringing the whole way through it.

“You saying I can’t handle gore and stuff? You know I can.”

You piping up defensively instead of in utter disgust for him was a bit of a shock. Kids lack an eyebrow raised in confusion. Looking over you and seeing that in fact you weren’t barfing in your mouth a little.

Well then clearly they didn’t see it. They weren’t lying.

“Well it was especially…gross this time. Even Killer complained that I accidentally splattered him.”

Your eyes widened at that. Finally putting it together just how far Kid must’ve gone when battling that crew. You looked him up and down a bit more carefully and still didn’t see a single wound. Which meant it wasn’t for fighting reasons, it was for you.

“Really? Well…shit. Killer is like…the king of being chill with a bunch of blood on him. Must’ve been bad.”

Killer really was the king of being okay with blood and gore. It's one of the reasons Kid had become so proficient in handling it himself. So for Killer to complain despite being the very man that taught Kid how to rip spines out cleanly was unexpected. Dare say concerning.

“It…was.” Kid swallowed a bit thickly, still almost ashamed of how he acted despite how good it felt. He was mainly just worried about your opinion of him. He didn’t want you knowing how brutal he could really be but from the light smile on your face, he realized you took it more as a compliment than anything.

“Then um…thank you for protecting me and my soft little mind.” You reached out timidly and touched his knee in front of you. Patting his thigh softly before mindlessly tracing little patterns on his skin. It made sparks fly up his spine feeling the soft pads of your fingers on him. His cheeks turning red as he watched your hand. Not at all interfering with the little ways you showed him you cared.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He said quietly, pausing for a moment before chewing on another thought. It made him nervous to say this. Hell, he would rather talk about anything else. But with a feigned layback attitude, he let it go. His heart far too heavy to keep it inside anymore. “Ya know…for a second there I thought you mighta left me. Got tired of the whole pirate life. Found some other man…to wash behind your ears.”

You listened to his soft mumbling, eyes hazy with tiredness now turning sharp from the shock. “Wah-Why would you ever think that Kid? I’d never leave you. Even thinking about it is making me uncomfortable.” You stopped tracing his thigh. Instead, planting your hand firmly onto it. Your head perking up out of the pillow to look at him more.

Kid half expected you to say something like that. You were always the more vocal one about your feelings compared to him. Whilst you were screaming at the tops of your lungs how much you loved him, Kid would only croak it out in private. Pale skin always cast in an embarrassed flush despite how long you two have been together. “I know I know. I bet the crew woulda said the same thing if I had told them. That you’re too smitten and in love with me to just…leave.”

“Well of course I am! I’m pathetically in love with you and if I ever did leave, which is never happening in a million years, I would have told you beforehand. I’m not some sort of…cruel person to just slink away like that.” That last part made you both frown immediately. Your face strewn with pain and Kids full of guilt.

“I know you’re not, I know. I just got…scared that maybe…I was the one who made you go away.” He could feel his stomach drop saying that. Immediately regretting that he even brought it up. You were back and safe and telling him you loved him yet he still felt like he was the problem.

You could see that look of unsureness written all over his face. It made your voice go firmer, hand gripping his thigh a bit tighter as you leaned your body upwards. “Kid I got captured and nearly beaten to death. Why would I ever choose that over you?”

“I know that now but when I was looking for you…god, I don’t know. This conversation is stupid.” Kid flopped over onto his back. Bouncing the bed slightly as he pressed his head into the pillow. His eyes closed yet his lips tilted into a twitching frown. As if he was trying to tackle something going on in his head.

You’re brow furrowed and your heart ached. Bridging the gap between the two of you as your chest softly pressed against his arm. He popped his eyes open, feeling you move around and press up against him. His mouth immediately opened in complaint. “Stop moving already you need to-”

His words were cut off as you tucked his lips into a deep and needy kiss. Propping your elbow up and laying your chest against his wide one. One of your hands tracing up his pec, the other going up to softly play with his hair. Usually, he always took the led but you beat him to it. Lapping your tongue against his unpainted lips before slipping inside. Drinking him in with slow languid movements that were slightly rough from passion. His rigid body relaxed beneath you as his hand made its way to the arch of your back.

Biting softly on his lip as you pulled away, a surprisingly soft loving smile adorned your rosy cheeks as he stared up at you, nearly bewildered. His sharp honey eyes were wide and glassy. His sweet-smelling skin a beautiful shade of pink.

“I love you, okay? I won’t ever stop loving you. No amount of pain or mistakes or anything you think is wrong with yourself would ever deter me. You bleed for me, you bleed others for me, and you are the reason my heart's still beating. And even if you didn’t do any of that, if you were the most unsuccessful and incapable person on this planet, I would still love you. So please stop making up reasons why I wouldn’t love you because it's an insult to how much I do. Which is a fuck-ton if I needed to say it clearer.”

You simply smiled at him as he took all of that in. Blinking in surprise as a little gasp of air came out of him. The kind of breath that he was probably holding in. But as soon as he did he softened even more, a light smirk on his lips as his hand ran up your back to touch your hair. “Did you have that speech prepared or does being perfect just come naturally to you?”

You let out a little giggle at that. Kid always had a way of turning even the most intimate moments into something sweeter. “Well it was originally supposed to be a part of my wedding vows to you but I tweaked it a bit to fit the moment. Did I do a good job?”

“An amazing job. Though you thinking about marriage already is going to give me heartburn. But if I had any feedback to give, I would say keep the fuck-ton part in. Lays it on thick ya know?”

“Will do handsome.” You mumbled through a smile. Easing yourself into a more comfortable position and laying your head on his soft chest. His hand immediately pressed against your lower back. Rubbing his rough yet warm calloused hands across you. Staring up at the ceiling as he let out another deep sigh.

“I love you.” He whispered. Voice a bit more rasp and his face full of bliss.

“I know ya do dummy.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Your last story about virgin reader was amazing. Do u think after that she would get kinda addicted to doing it with könig and he just happy to show her all the moves with tips and tricks sometimes make she cry because shes too oversimulated 😼 have a nice day 💕

Asdfgjs anons you can't just drop stuff like this in my inbox and then simply walk away… No but seriously speaking I love how both of you imagine König overstimulating the shit out of our poor sweet innocent reader because that's exactly what he would do!!

Now having branded her as his, König wants to show her everything, teach and guide and introduce her to the world of pleasure – it’s basically his duty now that he has taken her purity.

Man gets so addicted to pleasing her (especially when there's no other form of distraction or activity for him to throw himself into), and because he's super petty and competitive he has to overdo himself every time; show her something new, take things a little bit further, pry a new noise out of her... Suddenly, it’s not about getting his needs satiated; it’s about making her cum, louder and harder, or better yet make her cum two times. Three times. Make her squirt or cry, make her shatter so that she can’t even walk (and therefore, can’t leave him.)

And he doesn't have to do anything else but wait, because his pretty girl always comes back for more. She's practically begging with those soft eyes and shy attempts to flirt, even if she still insists on tiptoeing into his room with a book or a box of cute little cupcakes as her chaste excuse to visit. Usually those items end up sitting on his table, untouched, as he dedicates himself to eating her pussy instead. He even allows her to use him as a fucktoy – as humiliating as it sounds, he loves it when she straddles him and starts to use him in whichever way she wants. He doesn't even have to do anything: he gets to simply watch and enjoy the show.

And lord have mercy when his back gets better... He can finally show her how it feels to be taken by a real man.