#like we as players know that they DO love the commander and will drop everything in a split second to run to their aid

[rosewoodroad]

Y’all I just realised--

The fact that everybody was so busy that they couldn’t attend Rama’s party? It’s a good indicator of how isolated the Commander must feel as well.

Dragon’s Watch, the Commander’s family, now have lives that no longer revolve around the Commander. Marjory and Kasmeer can’t even respond to Gorrik’s mail, and it’s easy to imagine the Commander’s letters meet the same neglect.

We also know Rytlock is busy politicking, Canach is running his business, Braham is still recovering, and obviously Taimi and Yao are busy as hell with the jade supply issue.

Without the dragons, without the bloodshed and war, nobody has a reason to hang around the Commander anymore.

[wxnheart]

Horangi - The bastard didn't fuck you, no matter how much you begged him to. What he did do, however, was run those large hands over your body, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and telling you every. damn. thing he was gonna do to you. He so loved a good game, and if you wanted to play the tease, he could play it too. And in this case, he'd play it better.

Can we have more details on this I'm a sucker for Horangi

𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐞 - 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

note: this was supposed to be a mixture of SFW and NSFW but, uh... yeah... 😳

Horangi whose risk-taking, teasing tendencies extends to... just about everything in his life. Including you. Especially you. What, you thought you were the exception?

Horangi who has learned many things from his gambling days like spotting and prolonging a good game. Your sexual endurance is a prime example. Because he's good like that. Because like any good game, like any good mark, he so enjoys prolonging the inevitable.

Horangi who makes it a point to discover your every erogenous zone and know your every whim. Horangi who, dick weeping and untouched, keeps you pressed close to him, large hands roving over every plane of your body and committing it to memory.

Horangi who, in soft tones, urges you to tell him every fantasy in whispers and whimpers. You feel his erection pressed against you and you wish the cocblocking bastard was inside you all the way to the fucking hilt. He's courteous enough to let you grind against him but the friction isn't enough. It's never enough. Once those hands of his roughly squeeze your ass, it's all you can do to keep from taking matters into your own hands. Patience, little tiger...

You want to kiss him, every part of him it seems like. You just want your lips on his flesh, you want—Fuck!—you want his dick in your mouth. You want Horangi to feel as frustrated and aroused as you were and dignity be damned, you begged for him in ways that would make the most hardened man blush ("Please, just let me... just let me suck you. Let me make you feel good, Horangi. Let me make you cum..."). You'll never know how much Horangi considered giving in when you said that. You'll never know how much restraint it took for him to walk away. They say a good player never shows his hand but shit.

Horangi who, when you try to kiss him, pulls away at the last minute with a chuckle. You groan in frustration and all it takes is a simple caress to send you reeling again. Cockblocking motherfucker.

Horangi who takes risks even in public. How, might you ask? With a simple touch, be it a brush against your shoulder, or a double entendre spoken. You're torn between wanting to punch the bastard and fuck him crazy.

Horangi who indulges your senses and gives you a show as you give him one. Horangi who encourages you to feel and hear the beauty of your arousal as you come undone under your own touch, as your fingers and his commands bring you to the brink of orgasm. Horangi who blesses you with the sight of his dick, throbbing, leaking, as he strokes it seemingly in tune with your moans. You lick your lips at the pearly drops of his cum and oh fuck. Careful now, little Tiger, don't want everyone to hear now, do you?

Horangi who was never a good player and gives in after one particularly desperate plea ("Oh god, just fuck me—"). Horangi who finally has you where he wants you, bent over, shaking with anticipation. Horangi who recognizes another good game when he sees one.

Horangi who has you groaning and seething with frustration yet again because he wants to make this last. And so he does. With the tip. With the fucking tip. Fuck you, Horangi. Cockblocking asshole

[bubbleguppyyy]

Encapsulated in Time: Pt.2

Bucky x fem! reader

~ Here's the part 2! Enjoy! ~

Story Synopsis: Bucky knew something was missing from his memories. Something important, something special. He had tried everything to try and recover what it was, but he never could grasp anything. However, he never expected to find those missing memories in a file and an old box of videotapes

There was a faint buzzing in Bucky’s ears. The edges of the video TV slowly started to blur the harder he stared. The Avengers had all left after Steve read the first part of the file out loud. Bucky had just stared at Steve as the Captain tried to get Bucky to say something, finally giving up after Bucky was more interested in the old VCR player Tony hooked up for him. 

The file still lay in his hands, flipped to an enlarged picture of you and him shopping in an open market. 

You were laughing at something he said (a horrible joke he presumes) and he was giving you the biggest smile as he watched you. The picture was of good quality, catching the small crinkles around your eyes and the way Bucky’s eyes shone with love. 

The sound of you giggling comes from the TV and Bucky realizes that he had been looking at the picture again. 

When he looked up, you were making faces at the camera as he filmed you cooking dinner. 

“Why do you always film me, James? You act like I’m gonna disappear from you or something.”

He listens to himself laugh behind the camera. He knows he’s probably blushing as well, still not used to you calling him by his first name. He has to bite his cheek to keep himself from crying after the film him starts talking.

“I just want some memories of you, baby. You know my memory is a little crazy from certain… things, I just want to make sure if something happens I can remember you. I know you won’t go disappearing on me, I’ll always keep you safe.” What you said after that didn’t register in his head until later.

Bucky truly was a liar. He had blatantly lied to you. Why did he think he could protect you? Why did he let his guard completely down? If he had just walked away when you asked him for directions, you would still be alive. You would still be living that life you always talked about, just without him.

“I want to travel the world with you. I want us to live here in Greece and buy plums from the market before we hop on a random flight to a random city. I want us to be free, James. Just you and me and the world.” 

In that video, you’re lying on your side in the small bed you shared with him. You’re in your silk nightgown and the moonlight illuminates your skin, causing his breath to hitch.

He had always said you were ethereal. You would give him a small smile and just giggle. He thought it was adorable.

He now remembers the night he killed you far more vividly than any of his other memories of you. He knows Hydra was behind that. They always found some way to make him suffer more. 

They captured him when he was on his way back to your apartment with groceries. He had to cut through a dingy alleyway. He never thought about how dangerous it could be, the only thought on his mind was what he was going to make for dinner. The last things he remembered were a bunch of agents surrounding him, the start of the trigger words, and dread filling him before the soldier took over. 

“Soldat?”

Bucky dropped the groceries, immediately falling into order. 

“Ready for Command.”

His “caregiver” at that time stepped forward. He handed the soldier a sniper rifle and a passport.

“Execute the girl and flee back to base. Be back before dawn or you get worse than the chair. Understood?”

The Winter Soldier didn’t even flinch at the threat, only throwing the rifle strap over his arm and giving a firm nod.

“Copy, sir.”

Next thing he knows, he’s laid out on the roof of the building directly opposite your apartment. You’re sitting in your favorite chair reading a book, not a care in the world. You sip on your tea before shutting your book and getting up to stretch. 

The soldier hovers his finger over the trigger, waiting for you to move into position. 

You step out onto your small balcony, basking in the afternoon sun. Your hair sways with the small breeze and you smile as you slip your eyes closed.

The soldier readies his shot, watching through his scope. He slowly puts his finger on the trigger.

Then, you open your eyes and look directly at him, practically looking straight down the scope. The soldier doesn’t hesitate but Bucky does, James does. He almost feels himself come back to normal, almost throws that rifle behind him, and rushes to get you to safety. 

But then, you mouth a word. A word that has the soldier immediately readying his position. His finger finding the trigger once again.

You close your eyes again and-

He pulls the trigger. 

You fall back through the sheer curtains leading inside, your blood smearing them red. 

“Shoot”

That’s what you had mouthed to him. To the Winter Soldier. You knew that no matter what, it was either give the order or you and him would never find peace again. 

James always knew you were right.

“You won’t always be able to protect me, you know that. They will come looking for you eventually. I might have to give an order one day, James. One that the Soldier won’t think twice about but Bucky will, James will. Promise me that no matter what, you won’t hold onto what you did. Promise me that you will continue to live, and be free. I love you, James.”

Bucky slowly closed your file and gathered all the tapes scattered everywhere, slowly stacking them back into the box. 

He lays the file on top of them all and puts the lid on. He lets his hands rest there for a moment. Then, he slowly gets up and walks toward his room.

The Soldier always followed orders and James always kept his promises. 

[polishtamales]

Magic 30th Anniversary Failed

“The 30th Anniversary Edition sale has concluded, and the product is currently unavailable for purchase. Thanks to everyone who joined us today!”

@wizards_magic

While most people ignored WotC’s biggest cash grab in 30 years, the remaining curious parts of the community were rewarded with what has to be one of the biggest conspiracy theory:

Did Wizards of the Coast purposely cut the release window of Magic 30th Anniversary to save face? Much less create more artificial scarcity to an already artificial product?

In my mind, they absolutely did. Totally and without any remorse. 

Not just for customer “goodwill” for the brand, but also to save the “collectable” aspect of their printed products. WotC has more to lose if Magic 30th Anniversary “sold out” in a few day than a few hours. Since the vast majority of orders occurred within the first few minutes of the product’s launch window (as do all their products online); WotC most likely saw next to little actual activity after the first 10 minutes. Sure, there were probably a few hundred bots set up to mess with cart and waiting queues, but nothing catastrophic like a DDOS attack.

You have to remember folks, Wizards of the Coast is under a lot of pressure after Bank of America gave a scathing evaluation of Hasbro’s stock. Not just for funny business for cooking their books, but the fact that WotC is sitting on millions and millions of dollars of unsold inventory of cards/merchandise. It’s not like these cards can be shipped and sold to down to other lesser chain stores, like ROSS or Five Below. Magic 30th Anniversary was their Hail Mary for quarter 4 earnings. It was suppose to stabilize what was already considered a bad year for Magic the Gathering. 

So what happens now?

It really is up to you, the player base. You already have WotC employees telling every single customer to not buy every product to avoid burn out. To be more selective of what products you engage with. Obviously, very poorly worded in business to accuse your customers to be so dumb that they keep buying everything...

Which doesn’t surprise me how they’ve been focusing so hard to market their products to mentally ill/challenged parts of the community. It’s not even an open secret anymore that a lot of video games and mobile services solely focus sales to whales and/or create an ecosystem of their products to be addictive as possible. A lifestyle some would say in corporate pitch meetings. This is why Secret Lairs have been so successful. Not just by the fear of missing out in small windows of availability, but also the elite status of being a MTG mega fan! The sunk cost of your commander/EDH alone is nothing compared to another $40 upgrade of foils next paycheck... 

For me, I hate to say it, but I’ve been done with the game since Modern Horizons 2. I used to love playing Modern/Legacy, where old cards can find new life after rotation. Where you didn’t have to constantly spend money every set just to stay relevant. Who doesn’t like owning a deck and keep in their closet for a few months or years, knowing they can just dust it off to a big Magic event or some old friends dropping by? 

Instead, these old non-rotating formats did get rotated and through blunt force of power-creep no less. You can’t really have the same experiences like you did when cards are created solely to sell you new boxes/cases of cards. It was not like this before in non-rotating formats; good cards trickled in the format, not by power creeping everything around it. It’s really insulting to downright malicious towards it’s own customers when these boxes/cases are almost quadruple than their old counterparts. 

I don’t really see Wizards of the Coast or Hasbro correcting any courses... maybe adjust lower print runs and make actual collector products collectable again... without artificially pricing them at stupid prices. One thing is for sure though. We won’t be seeing anymore blatant cash grabs of $1,000 official proxies anytime soon. 

[theghostpinesmusic]

Alright, one more and then even I will be Goosed-out for one day.

This is "Everything Must Go," also from the monster 4/7 show. I'll have tunes from the 4/8 and 4/9 shows eventually, and I already weighed in on the one jam from 4/10 that got posted to YouTube awhile back, albeit in an odd, sort-of backhanded way.

But for now, let's finish this sucker off.

That sounded bad. Oh well, too bad there's no way to edit text on the internet!

I've written about "Everything Must Go" already, so even though I still haven't gotten to covering the incredible Red Rocks '23 version, you can read about the song in general here.

This was one of the band's most consistently great jam vehicles in the months before Ben left, so I was happy to see it not only get dropped into the setlist for his debut show, but also get taken for another huge walk.

I think Cotter's drumming on the composed part of the song is semi-significantly different than the way Ben played it, but I'm not sure. Cotter's take sounds a bit more backbeat-y to me. Too bad there's no way to listen to old shows on the internet!

We get some good, long shots of Jeff doing his thing during the composed portion of this version, along with a shot at 2:45 that tells us that Peter hasn't even opened his grapefruit Spindrift yet and it's midway through the second set! C'mon, man! Some of us can only buy that shit when it's on sale!

I usually don't pay a ton of attention to the short instrumental break during the song that happens during this version at 3:30, but this version features a great drum breakdown. I'm not sure who's doing what, but both drummers are playing offbeat off and on, and I think it's Jeff who briefly plays a digital pad (it sounds like) right when and after the lights go out at 3:43. Regardless, it's super cool and I want more of it.

(Actually, at 4:19 it looks like Cotter is the one playing the weird effects. Whichever. They're both killing it during this song.)

At 5:25, we get a hard drop into the jam via a decisive key change, and initially Rick leads the way with a particularly dark tone. Peter plays off of him for a bit on the piano. Cotter continues being an absolute maniac.

Also, can I just say how fun the stutter/trill thing Rick does at 6:25 is?

I like how, throughout this section, Peter is adding to the jam on piano by playing around what Rick is soloing without falling into one particular, repeating pattern (like I was complaining about in the "Pancakes" jam).

The mood of the jam changes subtly at 7:58 and we move to something a bit more lighthearted.

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds into the jam is one of the many, many times I've heard Rick tease "Seven Below." I don't know if it's intentional or not, but I hope so and would love to hear them cover that great-but-semi-obscure Phish tune some day.

This is a great video/jam for getting a feel for what Jeff - often the least-heard player in the band - adds to their sound. For the record, I've never been a Jeff naysayer, but there are certainly times when he stands out to my ears more than others. This is one of those times.

The "Seven Below"-flavored jam continues in its buoyant vein for awhile here, a nice counterpoint to the mellower, moodier "Drive" and "Pancakes" jams from earlier in the show (and most of the longer, previous versions of "EMG" which tend to go dark). Rick also really commands the momentum of the jam here, rather than largely laying back as he did during the earlier jams in the show.

I really dig the lights at about the 12:00 mark. That is all.

This portion of the jam peaks around 13:15, and then as we come down the back side, Cotter switches up the beat, causing the rest of the band to move into a funkier space. Peter moves to the clav, which precipitates some gnarly rhythm playing from Rick. These transitions have always epitomized the band's jamming style, but I feel like they've somehow gotten faster and smoother with Cotter behind the drum kit.

Rick takes the wheel again pretty quickly after the transition and starts ripping off some "vintage" '19-'20-style licks. This is a super fun section.

Peter gets a neat little clav breakdown at 16:00, which lightens the sensory assault a bit while letting Rick switch to a tinnier tone. Peter moves over to the Vintage Vibe in response and Rick drops back out a bit, allowing Trevor to really dominate for the first time in this particular jam.

When Rick jumps back in at 17:15, it's to suggest a new key and set of chord changes. The rest of the band adjusts accordingly, and for a minute or so the jam is a weird combination of funk and distorted almost-90s-rock. In the end, the funk wins out.

At 18:40, with a look over to Trevor, Rick switches back to the "Everything Must Go" key and the band moves into the outro of the song proper. Peter stays on the Vibe because, hey, why not?

We get a little bit of an extended outro jam here, which is fun, but it's more of an exclamation point on the jam than some entirely new idea. Nobody tells Rick this, though, as he continues to destroy his guitar in grand fashion.

These guys are ridiculous. Maybe more tomorrow.

[chirpthebird]

the thing about me playing dnd is that i Cannot be serious on command. i can make jokes and be silly at light speed, i've created a lot of running bits and things on the fly, i can do anything as long as it's light-hearted.

but then last session i had to be the one to talk to a big boss for the first time. it was a dangerous scenario but it was important to my character to get information from this guy (a big-ass fire elemental) and it was important to our overall goal of Saving The City.

and i choked.

cause here's the thing: i'm not good at speaking in real life. never have been. i'm the sorcerer, a charisma caster, but our artificer has always been the face of the party, because i can't talk. there's lore justifications for my character not being the best speaker but functionally, my lack of eloquence as a player has always been the limiting factor.

and here we were. i'd had time to prepare. we'd discussed who would be doing the talking ahead of time. and it was terrible. i shuffled my way through simple sentences, scrambling for anything to make an impact.

(we have fantastic dramatic roleplayers in our group, ones that have created the most heartbreaking, panic-striking scenes and monologues at the drop of a hat. i wanted that. i wanted to be able to do that.)

but i struggled and stammered and thought too long about what i wanted to say and the atmosphere was weird. our dm was in the trenches trying to meet me more than halfway and make the scene manageable and i felt awful which made me more nervous and the cycle continued.

eventually, the bard stepped in, who is played by one of the most charismatic people i've ever met. he proposed an elegant solution for all parties involved i never would've thought of. it was much-needed grease for a scene that had been squeaking along, everything ended up neatly resolved, i got a bit of a cool moment at the end, and we got the hell out of there.

it was probably the worst time i've ever had playing dnd. i'm not a dramatic roleplayer, and i don't know how to be, but i love writing dramatic characters. in writing, i have as much time as i need to make everything line up and have every character say exactly what they need to. it's not like that in real life.

i'm not entirely sure what to do about that. i don't know how to get better at doing dramatic improv, and i'm not certain that's something i'm actually capable of. that or i can just play comedic characters, but that's not a good solution— it would get boring to play and irritating to play with.

i don't know what i'm trying to say here. it's just that i felt pretty confident in myself as a roleplayer and now i've been wondering whether i've ever actually been good at it.

i don't know if anyone will actually see this, but advice or encouragement or anything is welcome.

[onsunnyside]

³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟏/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK themes and elements, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, manhandling, DD/LG undertones, stalking (implied), alcohol, drugs (weed, edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), daddy kink, size kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, dacryphilia, degradation, dumbification, p*ssy slapping, squirting.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.55K

𝗔/𝗡 | welcome to my first kinktober fic ever !! i’m very excited for you all to meet mr obsessive ex ari, after all, he was just thot of last week. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !! 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚��𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Hey, I heard you were going to the Halloween party tonight… I just wanted to say have fun and be safe. You know how Drysdale’s parties can be—”

“You unblocked him?” 

You jump, dropping your phone to the floor. At the doorway is your best friend, Wanda, with a black hat atop her soft auburn hair. She crosses her arms with a deep scowl, “Well? Are you going to explain yourself?”

You shrink under her harsh glare and nervously tug at the fur hem of your dress, “I got curious.” 

She stomps towards you, embodying the grumpy, grouchy witch she’s dressed as. With a swift motion, she grabs your phone off the ground and tucks it into her purse. “Do not drunk text or call your ex.” She commands as if scolding a child. “You aren’t crawling back to that dickhead, even if I have to babysit you tonight.” 

That was how plenty of people talked to you. Like you didn’t understand the simplest things and needed everything spelled out and demonstrated. 

And, you won’t lie—sometimes that demeaning exchange was what you needed, but other times it just made you feel stupid. 

This wasn’t the first time one of your friends has treated you this way, hell, you don’t remember when they treated you any other way. Ever since your breakup, they’ve kept you on a tight leash, snooping through your phone, keeping tabs on your whereabouts, and even passing you around like a baby who couldn’t take care of themself. 

The breakup was their idea—an ultimatum, more like it, “it’s us or him. We take care of you, and he—he treats you like a pet or a fucking baby.” 

You chose your closest friends over the guy who made your heart swell bigger than the moon. Even now, you still feel the ache in your chest, the gutting loss of someone you once loved and someone who made you happy. 

You’re happier now, that’s what Natasha told you every day. You’re happier without him. 

“I won’t!” You vow and reach for her bag, but she quickly steps away. “Wanda, please! I can hold my phone!” 

“No, because now I know I can’t trust you when you’re sober!” She snaps, “It’s been what? A month?” 

You wince at her volume, “Five weeks—almost six.” 

She groans in frustration, “Ugh, c’mon! He was always breathing down your neck and he never let you go out with us unless he was there. How could we have proper fun with a scary giant like him?”

Ari was on the rugby team, a D1 player, whatever that meant, you assumed it meant he was one of the best. He was tall and brawny, just over 6’10” with broad shoulders and a thick chest that nearly burst through all his button-ups. His firm arms were bigger than your head and his hand dwarfed yours. He used to wrap his bicep around your neck and tug you into him to kiss your cheeks—one of his love languages was touch. And his thighs, you mourned all the times you napped on his lap, rubbing your cheek into the coarse hair of his muscular flesh. 

He was so much bigger than most people on campus. His impenetrable presence towered over them. Oftentimes he’d manhandle you or carry you around. You thought it was cute when he had to duck through doorways sometimes. 

The first time he ever came to your dorm room, he didn’t even try to climb to your bed on the upper bunk. 

“You know, if we start dating, you’ll have to do some remodelling.” He smirked and tugged you to the edge of the mattress by your ankle, “Don’t you want me in your bed too, bunny?”

After a week of begging your roommate to rearrange the room, you both came to a compromise. Now, you were on the bottom bunk and she moved to the top. 

“You could sit here now!” You presented your clean, made bed with your dozens of stuffies all neatly sitting atop the coral covers. “Watch your head but just in case, I put a little cushion too.” 

Ari was popular and well-liked, he came from a good, wealthy family who hosted charity auctions and funded the college. His reputation was spotless, he was one of the top students, and he had many friends and admirers. If you two went out to dinner, it was guaranteed that someone would strike up a conversation. You didn’t care, you loved hearing Ari’s voice. 

You also loved when he introduced you as his girlfriend, always kissing your hand after saying your name in that creamy voice of his. 

“He isn’t scary… just intimidating.” You shyly countered, twiddling your fingers, “And he was there because I get nervous without him.”

“That’s exactly what we mean. You have to be your own person. Exist without needing someone to tell you what to do! Being so dependent on someone, much less some asshole like him, isn’t good for you.”

But Ari always knew what was good for you. 

You were never the brightest star, always fumbling and forgetful, ditzy and daydreaming every second of the day. Your grades not only proved how easily you got distracted but also your lack of drive and self-discipline. 

All your life you’ve flounced and fleeted, lived your days so blissfully ignorant to anything beyond the surface. That cluelessness made you vulnerable to any monster to sink their teeth into. It painted a self-portrait of your untouched, innocent soul, coloured like white chiffon. 

“I didn’t mind…” 

“You didn’t notice.” She corrects. “But he did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked that you were—” stupid, it goes unsaid, “—oblivious. It made you easy, hun. That’s why he so effortlessly controlled you.” 

Your friends could try as they might, but it will never change the fact that Ari made you feel safe, secure and loved. And without him, you’re lying back on that heap of sticky disarray without a hint of how to take care of yourself. 

“We’re trying to protect you, don’t you understand that?” Wanda coaxes, tilting your chin up with her knuckle. The corners of her red lips turn down to a frown, “We care about you, we want what’s best for you and you know that Ari is far from that.” She wipes your cheek, and only then do you notice you’re crying. 

You heard the first breakup was the hardest, but you never expected it to be like this. You’re lost and alone. Abandoned in the middle of a bustling city, it was blinding, overcrowded and so loud that you had to cover your eyes and ears just for relief. You’re overwhelmed and disorientated, nothing made sense, no matter how hard you try to decipher it. 

There was no direction without him. 

You roughly wipe your nose and meet your reflection. Aside from the fresh tears and glossy pout, your skin glistened from the glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones—bunnies aren’t shimmery, Maria said, but you thought it was cute anyway. And you loved sparkles, that’s why Ari got you so much jewelry. 

Jewelry that your friends got rid of. You grieve for the gold ‘A’ initial charm, either sitting in the city dump or in a hidden box that you’ll never find. They’re all gone, just like his hoodies and sweatpants, and your beloved Hazel, the softest stuffie you’ve ever owned. You miss his weighted body covered in beige fur, floppy ears and lifeless but sweet eyes. 

“I had to reward you for doing so well on that test.” That was a stretch, you got a ‘C+’ but that was better than the ‘D-’ you got last time. Ari beamed proudly when you buried your nose in the stuffie, cutely kicking your feet in happiness. “You take care of him, bunny, he’s our little baby, okay?”

Ari pampered you, took you on dates and walked you to class every day. You thought he treated you like a princess, not a pet. 

Ari wasn’t that bad. To you, he was never bad. 

Wanda fixes your bunny ears and rubs your shoulders, a pitiful smile on her face. “C’mon, let’s fix your makeup before we go.” 

“So, he treated you like a pet?” One of your friends asked. 

“…He just made sure I was well taken care of.”

“Didn’t he just plop you in front of the television while he did his own thing?” 

Yes, although his academic talents seemed natural, Ari was very serious about school and would spend hours at his desk, studying or perfecting assignments. Sometimes he even did your homework, “Dummy bunny, you just sit there while I take care of this, okay?”

You vaguely recall the times he would tell you to not make a peep until he spoke first, just to keep your glossy lips shut until he addressed you. To you, it was being respectful of his quiet time and letting him set boundaries. Your friends thought it was toxic and controlling.

“You’re a human being, not his pretty little pet to do whatever he says.”

The mansion is packed when you and your friends arrive fashionably late. The bunch of you are clad in costumes ranging from a bright red devil to a dead cheerleader to a dark and mysterious witch. Unfortunately, you stuck out like a sore thumb with your egg-filled basket, sheer dress, and white fluffy ears and matching tail. You were the only one not in classic Halloween attire. 

You’re grateful Natasha suggested fake eggs instead of real ones. Although you wanted the joy of painting real Easter eggs, you’ve already dropped a few on the way to the party. You dreaded the mess and smell if they were real instead of just empty plastic. 

You suppose they were right, you didn’t think things through all the time. 

The whole property is decked out, from the jack o'lanterns on the porch and the ‘Enter If You Dare’ sign in the front yard. Inside the big house, strobe lights flashed across the room in red, blue and green, colouring the other guests in neon shades. The walls were covered in bat and spider decals, little white ghosts hung from the banisters, and fake spider webs occupied the ceiling corners. 

It doesn’t take long for your friends to get the night started. After getting drinks from a frat boy dressed as an ice cream man, the group of you migrated to the energetic dance floor in the basement. 

The music was louder and the lights were brighter, blinding you every time they found your eyes. As the colour sparks across the walls, inescapable memories flash through your brain. 

The last time you were at a party, it was to celebrate another win by the rugby team and being the girlfriend of their best player, you had to dress for the role. You squeezed into your old cheer uniform and cheekily stitched each letter of ‘LEVINSON’ on the back. Oh, Ari loved when you wore his name. If he could, he’d have you clad in his jersey every damn day.  

This wasn’t a party hosted by his fraternity, your friends made sure of that, but a few of his friends were in attendance. You’ve caught glimpses of their tall and burly figures but didn’t dare to say hello. It would be too awkward. 

What if he’s here too? 

One by one, your friends disappear and you're left in the middle of the dance floor with your basket half empty. The eggs were going to be impossible to find, so you didn’t try. After weaving through the sweaty, grinding bodies, you returned to the less packed kitchen. 

With your ears still pounding, you squint at the bottles, reading each name and smelling a few. Eventually, you give up and dumbly mix whatever looks good. Judging books by their covers never got you far, but it got you something, and you wanted to have fun tonight. Party, dance, get drunk and have fun.

A shadow appears next to you, crowding you against the counter with its mass and height. When you turn around, a radiant smile explodes on your face. “Hey, Brian!”

“It’s Bryce.” The light-haired man corrects with a quirk of his lips. “Forget me already?”

Your eyes widen, “Oops, sorry! No, how could I forget the world’s best lab partner?” You set aside your cup and hug him tightly, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I just got here, I had to pick up some brownies that Jensen made.” He nods to the spread of snacks and punch. Like the rest of the house, the table was Halloween-themed with eyeball cake pops, blood-red punch, and the cutest spooky cupcakes. The surface was also decorated with old lanterns, fake candles and skulls. “You want to try?”

You shy away. The last time you tried Jensen’s brownies, you jumped Ari’s bones right in front of his friends, the baker himself included! You hadn’t felt like that before, that needy, desperate and wet. 

To this day, you’re still haunted by the memories of Ari slipping his hand up your tiny skirt and getting you off with just a few fingers. With his friends packed into the frat house living room, their eyes drawn to the sports game on the television, either ignoring or not noticing your quiet whimpers and the dull motions under the blanket on your lap. 

“Dumb little bunny, are you gonna come in front of daddy’s friends?” He whispers against your ear, locking you tightly in his lap and stuffing your soppy core with two thick fingers, “I want you to make a stupid mess in your pretty panties, cream yourself like a pathetic baby so daddy could clean you up later.”  

You shake your head, grasping his wrist under the blanket. 

Ari cruelly takes that as a sign to speed up his pumps, rubbing your swollen clit with the heel of his palm. Your wetness smears down your slit, soaking your skimpy thong and the cushion of the couch. Between the pauses of the sports game, you can hear the horrifying sticky sounds from between your trembling thighs. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, bunny? Daddy’s just helping you out. Poor girl gets all wet with just a lil weed.” 

You can still taste the chocolatey goodness. How shameful was it that you’d have another if he asked?

He kicks your legs apart and gets rougher, making you fall back onto his chest with a gasp, “Think I can fit another, baby? Or is your tight pussy still too little for me?” 

“T-Too small, daddy—not gonna fit.” You shakily reply, knowing all too well how he has to force himself into your tight walls. The thought of his girth stuffing your core has a wave of arousal pooling around his thrusting fingers, and your stomach tightening. 

He groans lowly, “Mhm, but you want me to try. Dumb little whore loves being filled to the brim, huh?” His ring finger slides alongside the other two, stretching your weepy hole as a burning sensation flows through you. “You love when I just pin you down and force you to take it. My bunny fuckin’ loves being used.” His bicep keeps you against his warm, muscled body, only reminding you how trapped you are, entirely helpless and vulnerable to his sinful actions. 

He was right, you loved it. 

A choked whine escapes your sealed lips, miraculously not catching the attention of the other guys. Your hips grind against his hand, practically riding his fingers as you topple over. You slap a hand over your mouth, silencing your moan as your juices spurt from your pussy. 

“Good girl, that’s it, use daddy’s fingers.” He spears into you relentlessly, hitting that rough patch with his long fingers and rubbing your clit with his palm. The lewd noises grow in volume, he doesn’t give a shit if his friends notice—he wants them to. He wants them to know you’re his and only his. “Cream yourself, ya little dummy. Make a mess in front of all my friends—let ‘em know what a filthy slut you are for daddy.” 

Your orgasm rushes down your leg, soaking his pants and the material of your leg warmers, and adds to the disgraceful puddle on the floor. Tears stream down your hot cheeks and your mind goes blank, drool dripping from your chin dumbly. Ari pulls away with a mean pinch to your clit and you spasm in his hold, uneven breaths shaking your frame. 

He growls and slaps your cunt, unable to resist rubbing your puffy button. “Fuck, I should’ve had you try those brownies earlier, could’ve gave this greedy little cunt what it needs.” 

It was safe to say if you wanted a brownie, you wouldn’t spend the night alone. 

“I don’t know… It isn’t even midnight yet.”

“C’mon! It’s a new recipe, similar to his usual stuff but not as strong. You’ll be fine, sweetheart.” Bryce tugs you to the table with a firm grip on your hand. “I’ll get you a piece, do you like corners or middles?”

You don’t want to tell him about the problem from the last time. Who knows what he’d think of you? 

Those worries didn’t only stem from embarrassment, but you grew up in a household where the topic of sex was forbidden. Everything you learnt was from your past boyfriends, mainly Ari since he was your first serious relationship. Openness about the subject was still difficult, regardless of the escapades you and your ex have shared.

“If you have one, I’ll have one too.” Bryce urges, tilting his head like a puppy. “That way neither of us will be alone. Does that seem like a fair bargain, m’lady?” He bows. 

Your gaze drops to his thin white shirt, hanging on by two bottom buttons and tucked into the thick belt of his jeans. Sweat glistens on his pale, taut skin, highlighting the dips of his abs. Your grip on the Easter basket tightens as your eyes follow the trail of hair from his chest to his belly button. 

Bryce takes advantage of your glazed expression and holds a square to your mouth, cooing softly, “Open up, little bunny.” You make a confused sound and he uses that opportunity to feed you the brownie and tilt your chin, making you take a big chunk of the laced treat. “There we go, a nice big bite for me.” 

He’s so close you can count every freckle on his clean-shaven face. Bryce has always been pretty, but with his hair slightly longer and a gold crown atop his head, he’s even prettier. 

“So well behaved. Does it taste good?”

You nod wordlessly, not realizing he’s feeding you the rest of the brownie until he turns back to the tray. The rich, chocolate flavour spreads along your tastebuds, it’s gooey and moist, almost making you forget about the other ingredient. 

Bryce pops a whole square into his mouth and chews slowly. “Mhm, way better than his last batch.” He washes it down with a sip from a childishly cute monster-themed solo cup. “We should wait a bit before having more.” 

“I’ve never had more than one.”

“Then you’re in for a night, bunny.” He flashes a charming smile, all too fitting for his costume. “You’ve got some chocolate, let me get it for you.” He pinches your chin between his fingers and licks his other thumb, then delicately wipes the corner of your lips, as a mother would to a child. The single action brings warmth to your cheeks that only grows hotter when Bryce sucks the same digit into his mouth, his white teeth digging into his knuckle. “Always such a messy girl, I remember how stained your lab coat was just after the first semester.” 

“That class was so hard—I don’t think I learnt a thing!” 

Of course you didn’t, what could fit in your head other than air?

He doesn’t say that obviously, but he knows it’s true. Everyone on campus knew you were just a ditzy, clueless airhead with an irresistibly sweet personality. Nothing up there but you were plenty to look at with all your sundresses, mini skirts and those fucking tight shirts that you never wore a bra underneath. 

You didn’t even know you were collecting people’s hearts like trading cards. 

“You look great!” He says instead, reaching out to touch your soft ears. “Give me a spin, sweetheart.” 

You giggle and twirl around, showing off your puffy tail and almost tripping over yourself. “Thanks! My friends thought being the Easter bunny was dumb, but I’ve had this nightie forever and wanted to finally wear it—that’s why it’s a little small.” You whisper, gesturing to your breasts. 

If you jumped too suddenly, they’d surely spill out and Bryce mmediately thinks of ways to make you hop like a real bunny. “It isn’t dumb, I think you’ve got the best costume here.” 

You preen under his praise, smiling so dumbly that you don’t notice his eyes locking on your exposed cleavage. Usually, you’re wearing some fresh hickeys or marks from your boyfriend, all while he wears you on his arm like a shiny bracelet. Levinson knew he had the hottest piece of ass on campus, and he made sure everyone knew you were claimed, like a damn slab of meat. 

Bryce hated him but he can’t be upset about that, because he’d treat you the same way. 

“I like yours too. You’re the first and only prince I’ve seen all night.” 

“Yeah? What’s your boyfriend dressed as?” He cuts to the chase, “I haven’t seen him yet, and you two are usually inseparable.” More like he never let you get more than three feet away. 

Your shoulders go slack and if your ears were real, they’d surely do the same. “oh, we broke up…”

Bryce blinks in surprise, caught off guard. A rush of glee fills his body, but he hides it with faux concern, “What? When?” Just like that, your eyes start watering again—and he can’t help but admire how pretty you look when you cry. “Did he break your heart, baby?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, swallowing the lump in your throat, “No, I-I dumped him.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” He isn’t, not one bit. “Do you want to talk about it outside?” 

Ari is fucking seething. 

Boiling with rage to the point where steam nearly blows from his ears. Under his black hooded robe, his skin is set ablaze as he watches you stumble after the brunet. You’re facing down but his sharp gaze follows those white and pink ears.  

He glances at his phone, the delivered sign right under the various text messages sent to you all night. He was checking up on you, making sure you were okay and not getting into trouble. 

Just because you were broken up didn’t mean he could instantly stop caring about you—that’s what he told his friends who were still wondering why he was so hung up on you. 

“You could get any other girl, man.” Steve rubs his back, the locker room emptier now that most of the team had left. 

The rugby team won the game, no surprise there, but while the rest of the guys celebrate the victory, Ari can’t relax. He can barely sit still. The image of the empty seat of the very first row is burned on the inside of his eyelids, patronizing him. 

“But, none of them are her.” Curtis dramatically sighs from down the aisle, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “What? You think just because she was your girl, that I can’t find her hot?”

“The decent thing to do would be to not say it out loud, asshole.” 

“Too bad it’s hard to forget a piece of ass like that.” Another unhelpful voice speaks up as a dripping wet brunet emerges from the showers, his long hair still soaked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like having her then losing her.”

“I didn’t lose her.” Ari huffs, tossing aside his phone so he didn’t have to look at the painful one-sided conversations. 

“Well, you had her and now you don’t.” Curtis deadpanned. “Sounds like losing her to me.” Bucky finishes with a snort. 

Steve, the only one with a heart, tells them to shut up. He hated seeing his childhood best friend so upset. “Have you tried going to her dorm?”

Every damn day. “She’s never there. Always out with her fuckin’ friends. Bunch of dumb sluts, all of them.” 

“Your precious bunny included?”

Ari rolls his eyes. “She’s got no brains anyway.” 

Bucky laughs, drying his hair with a towel. “You know, it wasn’t her choice. They all pushed her to dump you.” Oh, Ari knows that. 

“So technically, she isn’t to blame.” Steve agrees, he tucks his blond hair into a baseball cap. “I knew she wouldn’t make that decision by herself.” 

“‘cause she’s stupid?” Curtis smugly wonders, “Because we know that already.” 

“No, because she loved him.” 

Loved—that isn’t right. You still love him. You had to. You were his sweet girl, his dumb baby, his bunny. He couldn’t fathom you just being you. Someone entirely detached from him, free of his authority and influence. 

That kind of independence was high over your head and you’d never reach it no matter how hard you tried. You could climb skyscrapers or trees that kiss the clouds, but it’ll never be enough. You needed him to lift you up and get you there, and fill up your empty little head with a false sense of self-rule. 

You should be thankful for him and kiss the ground he walks on, not break his heart over text. 

You’d be nothing without him in the same way he was nothing without you.  

After you met him, your perceptions and ideas, desires and fears were no longer your own. He fixed the little puzzle in your head, he did all the thinking and decision-making since you clearly couldn’t do it by yourself. 

He was electric and charismatic, and you were pure and gullible. 

The itty bitty seedling in a field of mature, vibrant flowers. Everyone crowded over you, stealing the golden rays and fresh breeze—that was until Ari came along and tucked you into an ivory pot, and took you home. 

He gave you everything you needed and then some, always putting your well-being above his own. He watered you, raised you towards the sun and made you into his slice of heaven. He made it so you couldn’t grow and flourish without him. 

Then, you took his heart and stomped on it like a bug. 

“She’s just an airhead who does whatever people tell her.” Curtis affirms, “Ain’t nothing up there but pixie dust and cotton candy.” 

Ari can’t deny that. He knows all too well about your naive obedience to orders and your wide-eyed, credulous view of the world. You were always focusing on the bright side, always holding other people’s opinions above your own—that’s what made it so easy to drill the hunger for his acceptance into your head. 

Bucky hums, “If anything, you’ve got to get even with her friends. If they’re out of the picture, who do you think she’ll run back to?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hehe I think i'm in my sleazy daddy and airhead!reader era. i bet you aren't ready for ari fucking reader in mating press.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! see you on oct. 6 for part two !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[stainedglassthreads]

I think how Noelle and Kris react to the Snowgrave route directly parallels how Chara and Frisk react to the No Mercy route. 

Elaborations below cut. 

It’s easiest to compare Noelle and Chara in this analysis, because they are the two most easiest observed. 

As we proceed down the Snowgrave route, we see Noelle frantically trying to cope with what we, the Player, are making her do through Kris. We see her blacking out after getting the ring and completing the puzzles. We see her justifying the commands as just Kris helping her ‘grow stronger’, and how growing stronger is a good thing, right? Her friend is helping her. She should be grateful. And eventually it reaches the point where she meets someone else she knows, her own classmate, and at first can’t see him as anything but an enemy. And even if Berdly’s really annoying, she tries her hardest to resist using Snowgrave-- but she can’t hold out against our commands forever. 

We don’t see Chara’s corruption so clearly. Only rarely in the game do they slip up and describe their true feelings or actions. But we sure fucking see the end result of the path Noelle was going down, when Chara finally confronts us in No Mercy. 

Chara straight up tells us the reason they were killing. Not out of hatred for monsters, or bloodlust, or a desire for revenge, or a desire to end the world. 

Because you, the Player, told them through your actions and commands that the meaning of life is to grow more powerful, no matter the cost, no matter what you must sacrifice. To the point where they say they ARE the feeling of whenever a number goes up. You took this child who loved monsters so much they painfully died so monsters could be free, and made them incapable of seeing their family as anything more or less than ‘the enemy to be defeated.’ 

And of course... Chara calls themself the demon who comes when you call its name. 

Who is the only one of Kris’ friends who comes when you whisper their name? 

Frisk and Kris are harder characters to track. Frisk isn’t very present even in the True Pacifist Run. All we truly know about them is they’re determined(or maybe it’s our own determination), they’re nosy(or maybe it’s our own curiosity), they’re not a murderer, they’re a child who uses they/them pronouns, and their name is Frisk. 

It’s much easier to get a grasp on Kris’ character. Frisk is a newcomer to the Underground, and no one knows what actions are normal or strange for them, but in sharp contrast, Kris grew up in Hometown and many people comment on Kris’ actions in the game being strange for them. They’re usually far more asocial, and in Chapter 2 we get a lot more of their personality and opinions as characters respond to how Kris says or does something. For example, it’s remarked how enthusiastically Kris tells the Queen they want to perish, how unwillingly Kris says they want to join Berdly, and how after the Spamton NEO fight, they either say ‘no, I’m fine’ very strained, or shout that yes, they’re not fine. 

On to the parallel, it’s harder to see than what happens to Noelle and Chara, but Kris and Frisk both seem to become more withdrawn and numb, completely shutting other people out as Snowgrave and No Mercy go on. Whether you believe Kris is a bad person or not, it’s been made very clear they enjoy their adventures in the Dark World and care for their friends. If you drop the Balls of Junk(implied to be their Dark World inventory), they feel bitter, and if you drop the Cards that are Lancer and Roulxs, they struggle to defy your actions and catch them again. But in Snowgrave, when Ralsei tries inviting them to imagine what’s happening between Susie and Noelle, perhaps so Kris and Ralsei can speak privately like in Chapter 1... they don’t respond. They just seem to totally ignore him, and not at least humor him like they would on a Pacifist route. Likewise, when they go to fight the new final boss, Kris must go and fight Spamton NEO totally alone, without waiting for Susie and Ralsei to come and assist them. 

Frisk, as stated previously, is a much more difficult character to observe. The Underground doesn’t know how they act normally at all, and it’s not made clear that we, Frisk, and Chara are very separate people until very late in the game. But there is one very noticeable detail that says a lot about both Frisk and Chara throughout different routes. 

“It’s you, Frisk!”/”It’s me, Chara.” 

You can get the narrator, Chara, to remark ‘It’s you, Frisk!’ only at the very end of a True Pacifist Run, but so long as you’re not on a No Mercy run, they will keep remarking that ‘It’s you!’ or ‘Despite everything, it’s still you’. Even if you’ve killed half the Underground. 

Only when you seek power above all else, does Frisk... vanish. Leaving just Chara. 

So what happened to Frisk? 

When Chara confronts you at the very end of No Mercy, there are a number of parallels to Flowey confronting you at the end of True Pacifist. In both cases, a soulless Dreemurr child talks to you about the end you’ve reached, talks about your actions and their result, and asks you not to play this route again-- or in Flowey’s case, asks you to delete his memory if you do so. Both can acknowledge that you’ve probably or definitely played this route before... but there is one interesting difference. 

Flowey refers to Frisk as a separate person, and implores you to ‘let Frisk live their own life’ 

Chara... never mentions Frisk at all. Only talking about you. Your choices. Your Determination. Your power. You are above consequences. Your Soul. Your choice to Erase. 

...So what happened to Frisk? 

By the end of Snowgrave, Kris is still there. At least a little. When calling out to Ralsei and Susie during the Spamton NEO fight, it says ‘Kris called out for help... but nobody came.’ When we use Noelle, it emphasizes ‘You whisper Noelle’s name.’ 

Kris is still there. 

For now. 

But if things had continued... would they end up the same as Frisk? 

Do monsters in the Soulless Pacifist route ever truly meet Frisk? Or has Frisk locked themself away so thoroughly after being made to watch their own body slaughter an entire race, in an attempt to shut it all out and protect themself? Chara was thoroughly corrupted by the time of the Soulless Pacifist ending, it’s clear... but is Frisk so used to just being treated as an empty vessel that they let it happen? 

‘Your choices don’t matter’ is a recurring theme in Deltarune, and it’s clear this also affects Kris... but did Frisk’s choices ever truly matter, either? 

[thefanficmonster]

When You Put It Like That

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: After a long time of trying to convince the angel-like Y/N to utter a single bad word, Corpse’s attempts are finally met with success but not the way he expected.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for this fluffy request, it was a ton of fun to write! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but here it finally is and if you happen to come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy the experience hehe. Love, Vy ❤

“Wait, wait, wait, what did I miss?“ I say as I hop into the Discord call and the Among Us server, running five minutes late since I got carried away reading my chat. My fans tend to do that to me - make me lose track of time and everything else. That’s why I usually try to connect to the call and game before I turn to look at my chat. Unfortunately, I forgot that bit today.

“Omg, Y/N! Put the cat ears on! It’s for the greater good, just trust me!“ Rae commands urgently. Amusingly enough, in the background, muffled a little by her voice is Corpse’s, telling me not to.

“Not that I need a reason to wear cat ears...“ I trail off, equipping the cat ears both in-game and IRL. Yes, I own a pair of cat ears, is that so surprising? “But can someone fill me in on what’s happening?“

“’Cat girls are ruining my life’ just surpassed twenty million views on YouTube, so we’re celebrating! And Mr. Popular Pants over here keeps being a party pooper, saying it’s not a big deal and refusing to put on cat ears.“

That’s when I notice that Corpse’s avatar is the only one wearing a different accessory than the rest of us. It’s this kind of tantrum-throwing-toddler that gets me laughing my butt off every single time. Add to it the witty sibling banter between him and Rae, fun for the whole family. Well, ok, not quite for the whole family with the curse words they sometimes drop left and right.

Speaking of cursing, I don’t do it. I was raised in a household where a curse word would earn me and my siblings a punishment - always different and never not creative but most importantly - always intense enough to make us regret saying a no-no word with our parents or grandparents around. That’s kind of stuck with me and I can’t really get over it. Even when I’m upset, the first thing that comes out of my mouth is that censor word YouTubers use to not get demonetized. I’ve been using those words all my life: shoot, freak, frick, crap, darn etc. - so my channel is always kept kid-friendly in that aspect.  Now with that context in mind, you’ll understand better the shock I received for this next move I made.

“Corpse, Corpse darling, listen to me. It’s not a big deal, it’s a HUGE deal. Don’t play the humble card with us, we know you too well. Allow us to be as excited as you were when you find out!“ I start off sweetly enough, “Sounds good?“

Corpse hesitates for a second, mumbling something under his breath before replying, “Ok, I guess.“

“Great!“ I clap my hands together, “Then put on the fucking cat ears!“

To say everyone in the call, especially Corpse, is stunned would be an understatement. Hell, I’m even stunned for a second or two, my eyebrows raising at my own out of character words. And, as a person who’s only cursed a countable-on-the-fingers-of-one-hand times in her life, boy did it feel freeing and relieving. Why haven’t I been doing it sooner, for fuck’s sake?!

This must be a huge success for everyone present, once again - especially for Corpse who’s been trying to get me to curse basically since the start of our friendship. He seems too shocked to even claim and flaunt his win over my willpower to keep my language clean, which I honestly appreciate.

“Well, when you put it like that...“ He finally mutters, his voice barely reaching me through the ‘oh my Gosh‘ squeals from Rae, Poki, Lily and Leslie who never thought their tries would lead to success. On the screen, I watch as his little black colored avatar equips the famous cat ears, “...How could I possibly complain?“

“Hell fucking yeah!“ I shout, clapping my hands together, “Wooo fucking hooo!“

“Ok, how the hell are we gonna stop her now? Is there a switch we can flip?“ Toast asks, faux concern in his voice.

“Shut it, Toast. I’ve worked far too hard to have her going back to being an angel!“ Corpse retorts, sending me and the rest of the players in a fit of laughter.

It’s true! He’s been working hella hard to get at least one curse word out of me, bribing me with immunity, threatening to kill me first in Among Us, offering an alliance or being my bodyguard or whatever else I could possibly fall for.

Hey, at least I didn’t get bribed into it, right?

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[sehunniepotwrites]

let’s break the ice | m.l | one

🏒  SYNOPSIS— in which you’re attending your college team’s hockey practice with your best friend and embarrassment ensues.  🏒 GENRE— fluff, humor, crack, college!au, hockey!au 🏒 PAIRING— hockey captain!mark lee x reader 🏒 WORD COUNT— 1.4k 🏒 WARNINGS— sexual innuendos made! 

🏒 AUTHOR’S NOTE—i would like to thank whitney for tweeting the inspiration for this fic and my chaotic ass group chat for all the ideas. i also know nothing about hockey. (read through it twice to edit but i might’ve missed some errors!)

(11/27/2020: edit! surprise! it’s now a mini-series!)

| next > 

It’s so cold in the rink but your face is flushing as you blatantly stare at the hockey team gearing up for practice. You don’t exactly understand how the sight of college hockey players gets you riled up but hey, they’re delicious eye candy and their games are extremely entertaining, so you’re one hundred percent here for it.

They’re so close but so far— close enough to hear their conversations but far enough to be separated by the glass. 

You’re practically sinking in your seat, ogling the handsome boys hunched over the player’s bench, and Jaemin is shaking your head at you. He pretends to swipe at your lips and then rubs his hand on his pants. “You’re drooling, missy,” he chuckles at how shamelessly you’re admiring the players who also happen to be his close friends.

Bringing up a sleeve to wipe your mouth with your sleeve, you peek down to see nothing wet staining the material. You shoot your best friend a deadpanned look and he snorts at your reaction. “I didn’t bring you along to fawn over this lot of idiots, you know,” he says with a raised brow. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, waving him off with your hand, eyes still glued to the players on the bench. You spot Jeno looking in your direction and he smiles at you before the brightest grin breaks out on his face upon seeing Jaemin. 

“You brought me to be the third wheel for dinner tonight; what a great best friend you are, Nana.” Turning to your side, you see Jaemin waving at his boyfriend with a matching grin. You’re almost jealous at the fact that Jaemin had found love in such an amazing guy like Jeno and you constantly find yourself wishing for something just as great as their relationship.  

“I could always introduce you to one of the guys on the team and invite them too if you want,” Jaemin nudges your side and you laugh at his suggestion. You debate on taking up that offer, knowing your meddling best friend would actually do that for you, before declining it. “Break the ice and your streak of being single.”

“Nah,” you say, “they’re all cute but I think the only one I would actually be interested in is the cap.” 

Captain Mark Lee— your university’s golden boy. He’s the unbelievably endearing third year that’s dedicated to both his sport and his major. He can easily win your heart through the love songs he composes on his guitar and the sound of his sweet voice. If you meet him on the rink, however, you’ll find yourself going against a beast— his level of competitiveness is off the charts, and the concentrated glare his brown eyes give off is something no one wants to experience. 

You’ve seen both sides of him, being in his major’s cohort and a close friend of the hockey team, and it somehow led you to crushing on Mark. But really, who wouldn’t?

“Ah, yes, the golden boy,” Jaemin hums. You hear shuffling coming from the steps behind you and you shrug it off as one of the other players heading in late. Probably Yangyang— that boy always loses track of time.

“Hmm, yeah,” you sigh, dropping your head to lean on Jaemin’s shoulder. “Mark could honestly slam me against a shield guard and I would say ‘thank you.’” 

Before Jaemin could reply, you hear a yelp followed by the loudest thud come from the concrete steps. You and Jaemin turn to find Mark sprawled out on the staircase, his bag and hockey stick tumbling down to the player’s area.

Mark looks up at you with widened eyes from his spot on the steps like a deer caught in headlights. There’s a bright shade of red that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck and you’re sure you’re mirroring his embarrassing state. You can’t believe he actually heard you say that.

Jaemin and the other boys on the team snicker at the awkward situation and you just want to dig a hole into the ground and jump into it. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak out. You’re gripping Jaemin’s sleeve, fingernails digging into his arm as he continues to cackle at your misery. 

““Oh, um, um, I don’t think t-that’s a good idea, like, that hurts, like a lot,” Mark replies, flustered as a boy could ever be. He tugs on his earlobe before his hand rubs the back of his reddening neck. 

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Why is this happening? And why is he so cute?

“Yeah, right, of course,” you breathe out, biting your bottom lip before looking to Jaemin for help. He does nothing of the sort and continues to laugh at your misfortune. Some best friend he was.

“Nice to see you here today,” Mark says, his voice cracking at the end and he clutches his throat at the unexpected break. It sends your best friend and the players into another laughing fit and you glare at them for reeling in Mark’s embarrassment. The captain runs his fingers through his blond hair and gives you an awkward smile before gathering his belongings and making his way down to his team. You hear him muttering something to himself but it was too low for you to catch.

As soon as he makes it to the bench, his teammates slap him across the back and you see Ten ruffling his hair. A childish whine leaves his lips as they continue to tease him and you can’t help but smile at how close they seem. 

Jeno whispers something to Mark, causing the captain to sneak another peek at you. You meet his eyes and you both look away with heated cheeks. 

The teasing continues to go on as Mark laces up his skates and takes off his blade guards but it all halts when his facial expression changes into something more serious. His voice drops in pitch as he commands the team to start making their way to the ice and it sends butterflies flying about in your stomach.

Something inside you wishes he talked to you in that voice and suddenly, your imagination is running wild. Jaemin, noticing how quiet you are, shifts his gaze from his boyfriend to you and shakes his head at that hopeless grin that’s taken over your lips.

“You’ve seen how incredibly clumsy Mark is and you still want him to smash you against the shield guard?” your best friend questions.

You’re a bit out of it when you reply, “I mean I want him to smash something else but that works, too.” Jaemin is bubbling with laughter at what your words are hinting. You grin at him and he playfully shoves the side of your head.

You watch as Jaemin cups his hands around his mouth and you realize what he’s about to do a second too late. “Hey Cap!” he yells. Mark nods your way as he steps closer to the ice, letting Jaemin know that he’s listening. He slips his helmet on, making sure it’s nice and secure.

“She said she still wants to smash; you up for it or nah?” your best friend shouts loud enough for the whole rink to hear. 

One moment Mark is stepping on the ice, the next he is slipping. He falls face flat on the cold surface and instead of checking on their beloved captain, the boys are laughing their asses off, using their sticks as support to hold up their shaking bodies. He groans in pain and you wince, two bad falls within ten minutes must hurt.

“Everything is cool, it’s cool,” Mark says to no one as he pushes himself off the ice. He looks up at you and you catch him nibbling on his lip through the wire cage.

“I mean, we would have to break the ice first but why not?” he manages to shout back before skating away to bark warm-up commands to the other players. His teammates ignore his calls, choosing to skate over to tease their captain. They playfully whack him with their sticks and Mark’s yelling at them to focus on their warm-up exercises.

Mark’s unexpectedly smooth words leave you in a bumbling mess, hands coming up to feel how fast your heart is racing against your chest. Your head is filled with Mark and only Mark. 

“Wow,” Jaemin says with raised brows. He smirks at you, “Guess your wildest dreams of being smashed against the shield are so close to coming true.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Nana,” you say, fighting back a smile. 

God, you love hockey. 

© sehunniepotwrites, 2020

[redorich]

Is dream floating in zed stomach or smth? If not what happen?

"Hello."

Dream whips around, disoriented by the vast expanse of nothingness. It's almost like the void, but just barely not quite. His head spins. The last thing he remembers is the World Chewer.

He looks up, down, to all sides, but sees nothing save himself. The black emptiness buffets his body.

"Who's there?!" Dream demands.

"It's been so long since I saw a human..." a man's voice says covetously.

Dream frowns. "I'm not human."

The unseen man rasps like sandpaper on wood against the grain. "Player, hybrid, prototype... you're all humans to me: individually insignificant. But oh, your magic! You can do so much, and you squander your potential."

"Show yourself," Dream commands, reaching for an axe he doesn't have.

"As you wish," the man mocks, and coalesces into a man of average height, with a black beard and a plain brown tunic. He bows mockingly. "My name is Notch."

Dream raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Notch gets a weird look on his face, like something sour and rotten and bittersweet. "No, I suppose it wouldn't."

Throwing his arm across Dream's shoulders, Notch smiles bracingly. "You're going to be here for quite a while, Dream--"

"You know who I am?" Dream throws Notch's arm off his shoulders.

"Of course I do, I've been watching you through Zedaph-- he lets me have a peek every now and then, you see," Notch says. "You remind me quite a bit of myself, actually."

With a drop in his stomach, Dream thinks he can remember where he's heard the name Notch before. "Didn't you... steal magic from players to fuel your updates?"

Notch spreads his arms wide with a crooked grin, as though gesturing to an overworld which neither of them can see. "And weren't they beautiful?" he says. "Redstone? That was me. Creepers? Me. Ocean monuments, fossils, golden apples! Mineshafts!"

Dream takes a step back at the raving tone the man has developed. With a feverish light in his eyes, Notch steps closer.

"God apples used to be called Notch apples," he says with a tremor in his hands.

"And now you're here," Dream hears himself say.

"And now I'm here," Notch agrees, "but so are you. The way you ruled your server with an iron fist, allowed them their rebellions only so that you could quash them to assert yourself as more powerful than them-- I respect that. You're called a god among men when it comes to combat, and I've seen why."

Notch grabs Dream by the sides of his face, peering straight through the cracked mask to make direct eye contact. Notch does not blink. Dream wants to recoil, but he can't. Notch's fingers feel like snakes on his jaw, a vise.

"You broke the child's spirit more thoroughly than I ever could have," Notch rasps in admiration.

Dream's joints are all locked up, unable to move, unable to look away. "T-- You mean Tommy?" He should be proud that someone recognizes the work, the talent that went into taming the fiery brat, but all he feels is dread.

"Yes," Notch says, almost like a hiss. "With your power, and with mine-- yes, together, we could escape from here. We could show them all! The humans, they'd worship us as the gods we are..!"

Notch shoves Dream back, letting go of his face to compulsively twitch his fingers. "Join me, and together we'll rule it all."

Dream...

It's everything he's ever wanted, really. Power, no strings attached. Only violence, vengeance, and superiority. He has no friends left to love, no adoring fans or respectful constituents. But if he follows this path, he can see what he'll become: the man in front of him.

"I'm not like you," Dream says uncomfortably.

"You could be," Notch entices.

And look where that got you, Dream thinks. He takes a step back. "I'd rather be like me, thanks."

Notch's face falls, crumpling into a mottled red canvas of contorted fury. "I give you the world on a platter and you deny me? You fucking deny me?!"

"Yeah, I do." Dream stands up straighter. "You're weak. Without godhood, you're nothing."

"We are the same!" Notch rages, raising his fist. "You think you're so different, but look at me! Look at me! I am your future."

Dream raises an arm to block the telegraphed haymaker, but Notch's arm phases through the defense and his fist lands solidly on Dream's jaw, sending him sprawling.

"What the fuck?" Dream says, holding his cheek as he scrambles back to his feet.

Before Dream can regain his balance, the angry god kicks him in the chest. It knocks Dream back onto the invisible ground, head bouncing roughly against a floor that doesn't exist. Dream tries to back away, to get to his hands and knees, to do anything to get into a defensive position or at the very least to make the world stop spinning. Notch just keeps advancing, every step accompanied by an assault.

Fear wells up in Dream's throat. Is this how Tommy felt?

All of the sudden, Notch freezes. The air around Dream contracts and expands, kneading him like a cat.

"No," Notch says. "No, you're not escaping already... I've been here for centuries, you've been here for a day!"

With an unpleasant feeling like being stuffed through a tube, the world around Dream fades to black. Distantly, he hears Notch howl in decrepit despair.

Dream opens his eyes to a world he is not the admin of. There are no signs of human life, and he knows deep in his soul that he is alone.

[dubersbutt]

Take a Bow (4) - Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,

Warnings: Babies, anxiety/feelings of heightened anxiety, smut

It’s not that Connor hates kids. They just make him uncomfortable.

Like when his aunt had a baby when he was 13 his mom asked if Connor wanted to hold him. Connor was fine when his mom gently placed the baby in his arms. Up until his mom told her to be super careful with his head or else he could snap his neck and kill him. Or if Connor accidently pressed his soft spot it could severely detriment his brain development. It was too much responsibility.

At least that’s what he used to think.

He fell in love with Emilia the minute you walked through the front door with her in the baby carrier. The dogs were excited by the tiny squirming arms inside the carrier, he had to hold Lenny back so he didn’t crush her.

“This is going to sound super cliche,” Connor says as he coos into the carrier where Emilia is trying to open her tiny eyes, “but she is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a lot cuter now that her head is a normal shape,” you joke, munching on a cookie Connor had set out for you.

“Can you stop making fun of our daughter’s cone head?” Leon rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t see it, it was terrifying.”

(Connor googles a picture of it later. Babies are fucking weird.)

He helps you up the stairs to the waiting cup of tea on the mug warmer in your bedroom. He lets you get settled, handing you the TV remote and giving you a kiss on the forehead before going back downstairs to meet his daughter (step-daughter? Connor didn’t really know).

“Can I hold her?” Connor asks when he finds Leon and Emilia in the living room.

“What happened to the three month rule?” He raises an amused eyebrow.

Connor had created it after the incident. He didn’t hold a baby that was younger than 3 months.

“I’m feeling brave.”

Leon scooches over so Connor has room to sit comfortably. Leon gently places Emilia in his arms, and gives Connor a pillow to prop his arm on. Emilia’s blinks at him before squirming and stretching her little arms over her head. Connor feels all warm and fuzzy in his chest.

“Hello, Emilia,” he says, with a smile on his face, “I’m your other dad.”

~~~

Connor’s not inherently a jealous person.

Or at least he thought he was. But ever since Emilia came home he’s been feeling it. He loves Emilia, don’t get him wrong. Well, actually, he should backpedal for a second.

Connor is still annoyed at Leon.

He knows he should probably bring this up (because look what happened last time) but he hasn’t because Leon was trying to make things right with you. He obviously was trying with Connor as well, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was an afterthought. Some days were better than others, but everytime Connor thought about how he woke up and couldn’t find Leon in the penthouse he felt like puking.

Emilia eases the pain. He truly does love her like his own. The only time he uses the “she’s your kid” card is when it's 2 am and he’s too tired to get up. But he rarely even does that because Connor’s always been the heaviest sleeper out of the three of you. But other than that, he volunteers for bathtime, plays with her while you’re in the shower, he doesn’t even hate changing diapers that much.The puppies love her too, they’ve transitioned from napping on the dog beds in the living room to the spot on the couch closest to the bassinet to keep an eye on them. He regularly has to stop Lenny from trying to jump in and crush Emilia.

Back to Leon (Connor tends to get side tracked when talking about Emilia). Connor’s still annoyed and he’s been working up to talking about it. But it never seems like a good time. First you were pregnant, and Connor didn’t want to upset either of you. Then it was playoffs and Connor didn’t have any time to think about anything else. Then they got swept and Connor did nothing but eat ice cream for a week like he just had his first heartbreak. And after that…well, he just hates confrontation.

He keeps telling himself that he’ll get around to it, that he just wants to gather his thoughts but he knows he’s stalling at this point. Mostly because -

“So did you do what we talked about last session?” Sophie, his therapist, asks him at the beginning of his appointment.

-his therapist calls him on his bulshit. And he realizes that’s the whole reason he pays her, but it’s still rude.

“About that…” Connor trails off.

She gives him an amused smile, “Connor, you know I don’t like telling you what to do but I strongly suggest you talk to Leon.”

“Sophie, my girlfriend gave birth, we started playoffs and got swept all in the last two weeks,” he says with an exasperated sigh, “I deserve a little time for myself. Isn’t that what you told me last week?”

“I was getting to that,” she says.

Connor almost didn’t show up to his first session. He spent the whole ride over that he his therapist would be a quiet homophobe and who’d sell his story to the presses and ruin his life.

But then he went in and saw the framed photo of Sophie and her wife and their twins. He let out a sigh of relief and felt more comfortable telling her about his life. She didn’t even really watch hockey and she told him that he thought he was a “good player” for his age. Connor always has to stop himself from laughing whenever she tries to compliment his playing style. She’s adorable.

“And what about  (Y?N)? Have you thought about what you were going to say to her?”

He knows. He just doesn’t know if you’ll want the same thing.

“I have, a little bit.”

“And would you like to share what you’ve been thinking about?”

“I-uh,” he swallows, “I want another baby?”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t think so.”

Sophie sends him home with the same homework he had last week: try to slowly figure out what he wants to say when he’s eventually ready to have a talk.

When he comes home, Leon’s standing in the kitchen by Emillia’s bottle warmer. He looks stupid hot holding a baby and Connor’s only mildly annotated about it.

“Hey,” he flashes Connor a bright smile when he notices Connor’s presence, “Can you hold her while I make her a bottle?”

“Sure,” He takes Emilia from Leon before sliding the dimmer down on the light switch. Her eyes slowly open in the dim light and her gumless smile warms Connor’s heart.

“Hello sweet girl,” he coos, watching as she somehow wiggles an arm loose from her blanket, “I love you. I hope you had a good morning.”

He doesn’t expect her to answer, obviously, but she does start to open and close her mouth, indicating she's hungry.

“Leo, you’re too slow,” he taunts playfully, watching as Leon carefully measures out the formula, “she’s starving over here.”

“I can only move so fast,” he laughs.

When Leon finally gets Emilia her bottle Connor relaxes into the dining room chair as she eats her lunch.

“How was therapy?”

Connor told you and Leon that he started going when he came home from his session. Connor didn’t divulge everything that happened in his sessions but it felt nice to have someone ask.

“It was good,” he says, leaning over and resting his head on Leon’s shoulder, “I only cried a little this time.”

Leon chuckles, “Does that mean therapy’s working?”

“Probably.”

~~~

Connor can’t help but laugh when he rewatches the interview of Leon talking about Emilia. He manages to somehow be adorable and sarcastic at the same time. You’re settled against his chest with your ipad resting on your lap and he can feel your giggles as Leon gives his short, glib answers to the journalists' annoying questions.

(Congratulations, she’s very cute.

“I know. She is my daughter after all.”

Your girlfriend’s not going to get mad about that comment?

“She’s gonna get mad if you keep asking questions about her newborn.”)

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this yet,” Connor says as he runs his fingers through your hair.”

“Neither can I,” you giggle as Leon looks into the camera like he’s on the Office.

Leon rolls his eyes as he emerges from the bathroom, now freshly shaven.

“It’s not that funny,” he says.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leo,” Connor says, gently hooking his fingers in Leon’s chain to pull him down for a kiss, “You’re very funny.”

“Why did you shave?” you say as Leon turns to give you a kiss, “Your beard looked so good.”

“It was also getting super scratchy,” Connor says.

Leon gets under the covers on Connor’s otherside, “Yeah Emilia’s been distracting me from the beard routine.”

You scoff, “the scratch is the best part, Con.”

“Tell that to the scratch marks on my ass,” Connor says without thinking, and then immediately blushes.

You groan, “Don’t talk about anything remotely sexy when my poor vagina is still healing from pushing out a whole watermelon.”

Leon laughs, “Don’t worry, baby, the beard will be back by the time you get your 6 week all clear.”

~~~

(5 weeks later - after your 6 week all appointment)

“Guess what bitches,” you shout as you enter the kitchen, “I can finally have sex again.”

“Mhm,” Leon hums, feigning disinterest, “And what would you like me to do about that?”

“You’re mean and not funny,” you say lightly hip-checking him, “Besides I have two boyfriends for a reason.”

“Yeah about that,” Connor stretches and yawns, “Emilia kept me up last night so I was gonna take a nap.”

You blink, “I will go to Whyte Av and find some rando to screw in a coat closet, don’t fucking test me.”

Leon grabs your hips and pulls you against his body so your back is flush against his chest before walking forward and pressing your hips into the kitchen counter.

“As if I could pass up the opportunity to fuck this sweet little pussy,” he grinds his hips, pushing your hips further into the counter.

“What have you been cleared for?”

“L-light, non-strenous sex.”

Connor laughs, “Boring, but better than nothing.”

“Davo, take her upstairs,” Leon commands so Connor scoops you up and carries you bridal style to the bedroom.

“Wait wait,” you say when they reach the top, “Where’s Emilia.”

“She’s napping in her crib,” Connor says as he drops you onto the bed, “Leo’s gonna check on her before he comes. So you can turn your brain off for a little bit.”

Connor doesn’t wait to hear your answer, just presses his lips to yours. He fels you moan against him. Connor’s hands slide under your shirt, slowly exposing skin. When he gets it over your head he trails his kisses down your body, unhooking your bra as he does. His kisses move in between your breasts to your belly.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as he kisses your belly button, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

He hooks his fingers on your shorts, pulling them down your legs. He settles himself on the bed as he spreads your legs to press kisses to your inner thigh.

“Perfect,” Connor says, lightly nipping at the sensitive skin.

The tiny hitch of your breath causes all of his blood to rush straight to his dick, but he can’t bring himself to care. He takes his time, warming you up with kisses to your inner thighs, gently scraping his teeth against the skin. He kisses your pussy before running his tongue through your folds. His tongue gently caresses your clit with his tongue. Your hand comes down in his hair when he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your hips start to move against his face, grinding down to give yourself more friction.

“So impatient,” he hums, fucking one finger in you.

“It’s been six whole weeks,” you say,  “I haven’t gone six weeks without sex since I was a virgin.”

Connor chuckles, “Easy baby, we’ll get there.”

~~~

Connor can’t help himself when he sees you changing Emilia’s onesie in her nursery. He walks up behind you, wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he says, planting a kiss on your cheek, “And good morning to the world’s most adorable baby.”

Emilia gurgles but doesn’t retort. Smh, someone needs to teach her how to be humble.

“Morning,” you reply, buttoning up her fresh onesie, “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” he responds with another kiss, “Except when you kicked me in my ribs.”

“I take offense to that,” you raise an eyebrow, “I am an angel in bed. And, yes, pun intended.”

Connor snorts, “We both know that's a lie.”

Both Connor and Leon have been victims of your aggressive sleeping style. One of these days he’s gonna tie all your limbs down, and not in a sexy way. But not in a murderous way either, let’s make that clear. In a Connor-wants-one-singular-night-to-not-get-punched-in-his-sleep way.

Oh god, his brain is rambling. Oh god, he does not want to do this.

“(Y/N),” he says before he can talk himself out of it, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

“About what?” you ask, holding Emilia close as you sit down in the rocking chair.

“I…” Connor has never been this sweaty in his life, “I want another baby.”

“Oh,” you say, indifferent, “Congratulations.”

His brow furrows, “what?”

“On growing a uterus,” you arch an eyebrow, “Because I sure as hell am not using mine again for like 3 years.”

Connor laughs, “I wasn’t saying right away. But, I just want to know if it’s something on the table.”

“I want another baby,” you say, “And as long as you’re willing to wait, I don’t see why it would be an issue.”

~~~

And Connor definitely feels lighter after his talk with you. And he even impresses Sophie by actually doing his homework for once:

“So did you talk to Leon yet?” She asks after he’s finished giving his rundown of his week.

“No,” he says sheepishly, “But I did talk to (Y/N) about having another baby.”

She has the professionalism to not look shocked, but Connor is getting a little better at reading her. Or at least he thinks he is. He still gets anxious whenever she writes things on her notepad, “and how did that go?”

“Honestly, it was better than I expected.”

“How so?”

He shrugs, “I guess I was just expecting the worst?”

“And why is that?”

He shrugs again, “Isn’t that something that you’re supposed to figure out when you psychoanalyze me at the beginning of every session?”

Sophie throws her head back in laughter, “You do know I can’t read your mind right.”

It sure feels like she can sometimes. Which is why he pays her but still, it’s rude. ~~~

Connor thought he was sweaty and anxious before talking to you. However, when it comes time to talk to Leon he also feels nauseous. Like, he might throw up in the kitchen sink again nauseously. But he’s been sitting on this for a few months now - but what if Leon hates him. What if he doesn't want to be with Connor anymore. What if he asks for a trade?

No, Connor’s spiraling. Leon’s a rational person; he's not gonna hate Connor for talking about his feelings, something Leon encourages because Connor tends to bottle things up until he explodes.

But what if-

No. No spiraling, yet.

“Leo,” Leon hums against Connors chest from his spot on the couch next to him, “You still awake?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “But I was thinking about going upstairs soon.”

Connor shuts the TV off, “Um, actually before that can we...talk?”

Leon sits up and stretches, “What about?”

Connor takes a deep breath, “I think - I think I’m mad at you?”

Leon looks a little confused, and Connor can’t say he blames him, “You think you’re mad at me?”

“I-yeah,” he takes another breath, “I know you’ve been trying really hard to reconcile with (Y/N), and that’s great, and I’m definitely not trying to say I take priority over her, but it kind of feels like you’ve put me on the backburner a bit.”

Leon nods, “How so?”

Connor shrugs, “I mean, when you came back and you apologized it was definitely pointed towards her. And it’s the little things, like you always make what (Y/N) wants for dinner and not me. It feels a little bit like there’s a hierarchy here.”

“Do you...feel this way with (Y/N) too?”

“A little bit,” he says, “But mostly with things concerning Emilia, so it’s not as big of an issue.”

Connor realized he feels a bit…scorned, for lack of a better word. Connor was with you first, and that’s not something he feels jealous about but now it’s all coming up. Connor never left you, Connor was the one who held back your hair and wiped your tears when Leon was MIA. Connor was there, Leon left.

...maybe he did need to talk to you some more.

~~~

Connor and Leon spend a long time talking on the couch before they join you in bed. Eventually, Leon puts his head in Connor’s lap as the conversation turns mundane and they just enjoy each other’s presence. It’s been a while since they’ve done that. They end the night with a little make out session that doesn’t lead anywhere more. It was nice.

The next morning Connor’s on baby duty. Not that he minds, it’s always nice to start his day with a smile from Emilia. He changes her diaper and puts a fresh sleeper on her, listening to the little baby noises she makes. When he’s finished he takes her downstairs to the kitchen where you and Leon are making breakfast.

“Good morning, babe,” Leon says when Connor turns the corner, “Do you want strawberries or blueberries on your french toast?”

Leon was making his favourite breakfast. Connor can’t stop the smile from spreading on his face.

“And how’s my favourite girl?” he asks, giving Emilia a little kiss on her forehead.

“A pooping machine,” Connor responds to her, and Emilia laughs at him.

“Did she just-?” you get from your spot on the barstool and run to Connor’s side.

“Her first laugh?” Connor says, “Yeah.”

He tickles her belly in an effort to get her to keep laughing, but she chooses that moment to be a stubborn newborn and frowns instead.

He looks at Leon, “She is absolutely your baby.”

“I smiled when I was a baby!”

“No, Leo he’s got a point,” you say in between funny faces, “your mom said she has one baby photo of you smiling because you would refuse to smile for the camera.”

“I was shy.”

“You’re a robot,” Connor says.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you scoff.

~~~

“Connor please,” you pant, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Connor holds back a laugh, watching the sweat drip down your face, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Leo!,” you yell, catching his attention from across the room, “Tell Connor he’s being an ass.”

Leon does not hold back his laugh, “He’s got a point.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting bullied right now.”

Connor wraps his arms around you and pulls you close into his body, “It’s just some squats, baby, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It is when you keep adding weight!”

“Because you’re stronger.”

You just stare at him and, honestly, Connor feels a little scared.

“Tell you what,” he leans down so he can whisper in your ear, “If you make it through your sets, without complaining, Leo and I will take turns eating you out tears run down your pretty little face.”

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky.

Emilia’s being babysat by her grandparents so Connor feels no qualms when he links his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Promise what?” Leon pipes up from his place on the leg press.

“Connor offered up your body in exchange for squats,” you say, shouldering the bar once more.

“And what did Connor say I would do?”

“You’ll find out,” Connor says, waving a hand at Leon nonchalantly.

“I don’t even get to know how I’m being used as a bargaining chip?”

“Nope,” Connor says with a smile, popping the ‘p’.

~~~

Leon learns what the exact terms and conditions are of the agreement about an hour later. And, just like Connor expected, he does not complain.

He even has the audacity to wink at Connor as he’s tongue-deep in pussy. Ugh, he forgot what the butterflies in his stomach felt like when he’s not constantly annoyed with Leon. He can’t help himself, he gets up from where he was giving his jaw a break, and slides his fingers over Leon’s hole. Leon tenses up ever so slightly, he breaks the momentum he had on you, evident by how hard your ankles are digging into Leon’s shoulders.

“Don’t stop,” Connor grunts, slipping one digit past the rim, “You don’t cum until she does.”

He slides his finger all the way before uncapping the lube and lathering his fingers up and adding a second. Connor knows when he hits Leon’s prostate when He lets out a low groan into your cunt.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, writhing against the sheets.

Leon pushes back on Connor’s fingers at the same time your hips start to grind down feverishly on Leon’s face.

“Make her cum, Leo,” Connor says, removing his fingers from Leon’s ass and teasing his hole once more.

Leon’s focus changes completely. His fingers dig into your hipbones, pulling you closer to him so he has a better angle. Your chest is rising and falling quickly, heaving off the bed when Leon finally sucks your clit. You cum with a shout, tumbling over the edge, pussy clenching around Leon’s tongue.

Connor wastes no time, grabbing Leon’s hips to steady him before spreading Leon's cheeks and swiping his tongue in long, broad strokes. Connor’s not the biggest fan of rimming, but Leon loves it. Leon groans as Connor teases him, starts to rut against the bed when Connor’s tongue dips into his hole, loses it when Connor starts to fuck him open with his tongue. He reaches over to jack Leon off, pumping him as he continues to take him apart. Leon goes limp beneath him, reduced to nothing but moans. Connor speeds up his ministries, revealing in the way Connor’s name falls weakly from Leon’s mouth. Leon bucks hard against the bed, cums with a shudder. Connor takes his hand off Leon's cock, and places it on his own but doesn’t quite relent on his tongue, working Leon through the aftershocks' pleasure. It doesn’t take very long for Connor to cum, finally letting up on Leon and effectively ruining his boxers.

“Aw Leo,” Connor says once he can catch his breath, “We have to watch the duvet cover now.”

~~~

“Where is my baby?” Connor teases playfully when you walk through the door, baby carrier in hand.

“Calm your tits,” you say, placing the carrier on the kitchen counter and allowing Connor to take her out, “She’s home, and just woke up from a nap.”

“I wish I took a nap today,” Connor says as he rocks Emilia in his arms. She gives Connor a toothless smile and Connor just wants to smoosh her.

“Has anyone ever told you, you look really good holding a baby?” Leon says, giving Connor a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good enough to have another baby?” Connor asks.

You roll your eyes, “Two years, Con.”

“I’m just teasing.”

And, yeah, Connor finally starts to feel like he’s home again.

[svnflowervol666]

Pinky Promise (dad!Harry)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Harry introduces a certain special someone to the newest addition of his family.

Author’s Note: Surprise! Here’s some boy dad!Harry on this fine week night. I feel like Harry is almost always written as as girl dad (guilty as charged tho), so I wanted to show the boys some love. I didn’t really call this one an ‘x reader,’ because this one’s mostly about Harry and his bub, but the missus is still there, don’t worry! I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback of any kind, likes and especially reblogs are super helpful to keep me motivated to post more. Take care and TPWK.

     The Styles household was always filled with noise. Whether it was contagious laughter echoing off of the walls in the kitchen, the pitter patter of pudgy feet bursting through the back door from the garden, or the low humming of the secondhand record player coming from the living room. The sounds were comforting, reassuring to those that lived there. While the ruckus caused by something like which Joni Mitchell song Harry should play on the guitar before bedtime or what color everyone’s nails should be painted each week might seem chaotic to some, it represented a kind of tranquility that at one point did not seem possible to grasp.

    But today, in the modest, ivy-covered cottage with a pastel-yellow door, it was quiet. The sun poured in from the two open windows of the living area, filling the room with a still brightness that only London could emote. Dust particles danced in the light, drifting along through their own invisible current. The beginnings of the city could be seen in the distance, visible in a foggy haze with promises of sweet treats and adventue-packed days. But no sound, as the newest member of the Styles family had commanded the attention and affection of everyone within its walls.

    “She’s so little,” the youngest spoke up. Although he was now technically the oldest. He outstretched his hand out to caress the petite foot that stuck out from beneath the periwinkle-colored muslin blanket.

    “I know,” Harry replied, watching the swaddled newborn’s toes curl in reaction to being tickled by her brother, “I remember when you were this tiny, too.”

    “I was?” he asked, scratching at his chocolate brown curls that never laid flat.

    Harry nodded in affirmation, recalling the early morning when his son had been born prematurely. He’d spent nearly ten days resting in an uncomfortable vinyl recliner beside his girlfriend’s, who was now his wife, hospital bed counting down the minutes until the nurse would give them the “ok” to go visit their bub in the NICU. Harry stared in awe at his newborn through the glass of the incubator, using the open portal on the side to reach in and stroke his cheek with the faintest of touches. He was covered in wires and tubes, surrounded by monitors and beeping machines, all tasked with keeping his underdeveloped organs afloat. It was the most pitiful thing he had ever seen, and Harry still has those nights where he’s plagued with memories from the hospital. While the day he became a father was most certainly the best day of his life, it was one of the most traumatic experiences he’s ever been through.

    “Mhmm. You were actually even smaller when you were born,” Harry prodded, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at him.

    “No I wasn’t! the toddler jabbed back, crinkling his nose up at his parents, his aquamarine colored eyes turning into tiny slits on either side.

    “Umm, yes you were,” Harry’s wife replied with a chuckle from where she sat beside the rest of her family on the couch, “We bought the tiniest size clothes we could find and they still didn’t fit your teeny little bum.”

    The boy sat confused, trying to comprehend how a person could be smaller than his sister, let alone be so tiny that clothes didn’t even fit them.

    “Well, I’m big now. Right?”

    “Much bigger,” Harry reassured him, “But now that you’re bigger, you have t’ take care of your sister. You have to teach her how to be kind and share your toys with her. Think yeh can do tha’?”

    “Yes! C-can she swim with me in the pool?” he stumbled over his words, overjoyed by the idea of someone always being around to play his sacred water games with him in his nana’s pool.

    “Not yet, bubba,” Harry laughed, tickled by his son’s enthusiasm, “We have t’ wait until she’s a little bit older. But I’m sure she’d love to swim with you at Nana’s when she knows how.”

    “Okayyy,” the boy replied, slightly defeated.

    “Do you want t’ hold her?” Harry asked, gesturing to the sleeping bundle in his lap, her puffy eyelids closed peacefully as tiny, sporadic grunts left her little belly.

    “Yeah, but I don’t know how,” he professed, his plush, pink toddler lips turning down into a frown.

    “’S alright, I’ll show you,” Harry then carefully shuffled from his position on the couch, turning so that he was facing his son.

    “So, first, you have to make sure you hold her head because she can’t keep it up on her own,” Harry started, reaching over to place the baby girl into his son’s arms.

    Unlike the last time, Harry’s hands didn’t shake. He wasn’t afraid like he was before, when his arms trembled as he took his newborn son into his arms for the first time, petrified that he was going to accidentally smother him or drop him and that the worst thing he could imagine would come true. No. This time, his hands were sturdy, protective over his new daughter as he was preparing to introduce her to his firstborn for the very first time.

     Harry’s wife looked on lovingly as his son took the baby from him excitingly, his left hand cupping her head gently. Her tired eyes were filled with love when he wrapped his arm protectively around her little tufts of peach fuzz in the best way that a five-year-old with mediocre hand-eye coordination could.

    “You also have t’ hold her bum so she doesn’t squirm out of your arms.”

    Harry took his son’s hand into his, guiding him to place his tiny forearm along the baby’s back with his palm resting on her diaper-clad bottom. When he was confident of his son’s grip on the infant, he pulled back. He made sure to hover over him with his brawny, tanned arms just ghosting over his son’s. Just in case.

    The boy was elated. His sister was warm and soft, and she looked like one of the stuffed animals that he slept with every night. He couldn’t believe that the person he talked to in his mother’s belly every night for nine months and gave kisses to each morning before nursery school was here and real and now she gets to live with him forever.

    “She’s so cute,” he spoke in gentle whisper this time, remembering what his mum had told him about being quiet around the baby so that she doesn’t wake up cranky.

    He was absolutely smitten over her. Everything about her was the cutest thing he had ever seen in his brief time on Earth: her button nose that sat perfectly above her lips, her miniature fingers wound tightly her fist as if she was ready to fight, her little tongue that barely poked through her mouth each time she yawned. He could stare at her forever if he could.

    Instinctively, he pulled her into his bony chest for a hug, squeezing a little too harder than he should have. The baby girl tensed in his grasp at the motion, the beginnings of a shrill whine escaping her pruney lips.

    “Whoa, bub. You have t’ be careful,” Harry intervened, loosening his son’s arms so that the baby rested peacefully in the boy’s lap again.

    “She’s fragile. You can’t squeeze her like that,” the boy’s mum reminded him.

    “Sorry, Baby,” said the boy as he reached down to press his tiny lips to her eyebrow.

    Her forehead wrinkled up at the contact, similar to one of auntie Gemma’s baby puppies, thought the boy to himself. He also thought that she kind of looked like one of the puppies too, but he kept that to himself.

    Harry and his wife watched their children interacted, how his son was brushing his thumb along her skull, how her face relaxed at the steady motion. They were already in sync with each other, already comforting each other just by their presence. They were both besotted with their daughter, but Harry thinks he might be just a bit more in love with her than his wife. Harry had gotten used to raising his son, while he taught him to be a kindhearted and gentle creature, there had always been a degree of roughness to which he interracted with him. His daughter, however, was made of glass, Harry had convinced himself. He vowed to do whatever it took to make sure she never shed a single tear because of him or anything else he had control over.

    Now, Harry had two babies. One boy and one girl, just like his family before this one. The similarities slightly terrified him. His son was soft and gentle and loving, just like Harry had been as a child. He was sensitive, always yearning to be held and touched in the way that Harry had when he was his age. His daughter, even though she was only a few days old, was already a stubborn little fighter like his sister. She cried her lungs out within her first few hours of being born, kicking and screaming until it looked like her face was turning blue. She hated the harsh lights that the doctors shone in her eyes and their cold hands that poked and prodded at her belly like she was a science experiment. It wasn’t until she was in the arms of her family that her wailing subsided.

    It was thoughts like these that felt surreal to Harry. He never saw himself as someone that could be in the position he is now. He’d always thought he’d be an eternal bachelor, someone who only ever stayed with someone for a certain period of time before everything inevitably blew up in his face and he’d be back at square one. He never thought that he’d be the type of person with a wife and a white picket fence and a slew of babies; he never thought that he could be the type of person who could be this happy.

    “Bubby, can I ask you to promise me something?” Harry asked as he scooped the boy into his lap, making sure the baby was secure so that the three of them laid in one pile on the couch.

     He pulled his wife closer as well, making sure they were shoulder to shoulder and he felt surrounded on all sides by the ones he loved the most.

    “What?” his son asked, peering up at his papa with huge eyes that resembled saucers, his long, dark eyelashes brushing his brow bones.

    “I want you to promise me,” Harry began, wrapping his arms tighter around his two babies, resting his chin in the crook of his son’s neck, “tha’ whatever happens t’ the two of you, no matter how many times you get into fights. No matter how mad you might make each other. That you’ll love her. No matter what. That you’ll always be her big brother.”

    Harry hadn’t realized, but his voice trailed off near the end. His voice was just above a whisper, so quiet that only his son could hear. He pressed his lips to side of his bub’s forehead, an attempt to soothe both his son and himself.

    “Can yeh do that f’ me?”

    The boy in Harry’s lap pondered his father’s words. His finger went absentmindedly to stroke his sister’s hand, astonished when her fingers unfurled from the tight fist they’d been bound in all day. He slipped his pinky into her palm just as her muscles relaxed so that she was now clutching tightly to his digit.

    He had no idea of the weight that Harry’s words carried. He had no idea of the thoughts of uncertainty that haunted Harry about never getting to this point in his life. He doesn’t understand the cruelty that exists outside the walls of his home besides the pesky little boy in his class that borrows his crayons and doesn’t give them back. He doesn’t know that other children don’t grow up in homes with parents that love each other like his do.

    He didn’t know any of these things, but he sensed that it meant a great deal to Harry, and he wanted to make sure that his father knew he could count on him for anything because he loved him with all of his heart and Harry proved that to him every single day.

    “Pinky promise, papa,” the boy responds, loosening his hand that was wrapped around his sister to offer it to Harry.

[shazos]

Rouxls is Hiding Something Big: A Deltarune Theory

FORENOTE- For some needed context, it may help reading my previous Deltarune theory here for important details that I will cover in this post. (My previous theory provides notable evidence on why Gaster is indeed the “Knight” figure talked about by multiple characters in Deltarune.)

Now, this is going to sound crazy. But after much time of poring over and analyzing Deltarune, I have come to a conclusion. One that I’ve been convinced of for awhile now. Something that’s been lying right under all of our noses without many of us even realizing it. We have all been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. Tricked. Why, you may ask?

Because the comically stupid and inept Duke of Puzzles is actually... not an idiot. No, he’s the complete opposite. He is a downright mastermind.

As collective players, we are all falling into the same trap once again. Putting faith into a character’s preconceived personality !

When their true personality turns out the complete opposite of what we expected...

It is here, my evidence for this claim begins—and we delve into the true identity of Rouxls Kaard. Buckle up everyone, cause this one’s gonna be a fun ride. 👀

So, to spill the beans up front, and get it over with. I believe Rouxls Kaards identity... is none other than W.D. Gaster in disguise.

Now. I didn’t immediately become invested in this theory—I was skeptical at first like everyone else. But, once I began examining Deltarune and all of its characters a bit closer...things weren’t exactly adding up about the Duke of Puzzles.

Point #1: Anagrams

I initially began to become suspicious of Rouxls Kaard because of his odd name. Sure, it is a play on the words of the term, “Rules card”. But it is spelt in such a peculiar way. If it were just simply a play on words, I think that there would be a much better way of going about spelling it rather than just jumbling a bunch of random letters together. There is a very intriguing reddit post found here that goes more into depth about his name that ties well into my theory. The thing that stood out to me in particular, is that Rouxls’s name is actually also an anagram for “A Dark Soul RX”, (with the left over RX typically being used in terms relating to doctors/medicine.) Not only is Gaster a Doctor, but he’s also always associated with darkness and the research of souls. Toby loves his anagrams—so I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if this was intentional. But it doesn’t end there.

I’ve noticed that Toby Fox has a tendency to tease certain things about his games through merch. And wouldn’t you know it—he has in fact, a particular item on fangamer of a “dark heart.” One which description describes the Angel’s Prophecy. Hm...

But let’s back on track onto my second observation, shall we?

Point #2: The Physical Resemblance to Gaster

Now, there seems to be some interesting foreshadowing related to inverted colors in Deltarune. Before Ralsei takes his hat off, he appears black. But once he takes his hat off, voila, his colors are inverted, and he is revealed to actually be a white goat highly resembling Asriel.

In addition, the entire Dark World is literally just. An inverted version of a normal world.

The Dark World could have hypothetically been the created world/experiment that Gaster had fallen into in the first place. After all, his experiment had to do with “darkness”, and “negative” photons--AKA the Dark Fountains, and the negatively/inverted landscapes of the Dark World.

And how does Rouxls Kaard appear inverted anyways? Well, he looks like THIS.

He even has the strange dangling lip thing—which another character said to directly resemble Gaster, Seam, has as well:

In addition, if you look at Rouxls’ text-box profile very closely, his eye colors are actually mismatched which is a rather interesting detail!

Point # 3: His Accent is Extremely put on.

I think anybody that has read any sort of Shakespearean/Old English writing, can instantly realize that Rouxls is as bad as imitating an Old English accent as a high-schooler reading Hamlet for the first time. Rouxls absolutely butchers it. He practically adds eth, and est at the end of any word he chooses, and calls the job done. What is even more interesting though, is when he gets nervous or panicked, he drops the act all together and talks normally.

Point #4: He is Pretending to be Dumb; His Puzzles are Actually Impressive!

I found it intriguing how there are countless puzzle traps in all the forest areas and in the Card Castle prison that were actually very well done. You have to flip the spades, diamonds, hearts, etc to unlock doors, and open secret chests. They require a decent amount of thinking skills, and are actually competent. But who made them?? Oddly enough if you observe one of them in the forest areas, it appears that Rouxls Kaard vandalized one of the puzzles to make it harder for the player to beat it—which further implies that he actually indeed made those puzzles himself. This shows that Rouxls is much more competent than only being able to make a single box shove puzzle that is comically easy. Where else do we see a place full of plenty of rather well made puzzles + traps seen? All throughout the Core in Undertale—a place which Gaster himself created!

Point #5: Rouxls IS Aware the World is a Game--AKA DON’T FORGET TO READ NPC DIALOGUE FOLKS!

I think it is well aware by now that Rouxls likely wants us as the players to underestimate him--and deem him a fool so we wouldn’t bat an eye at what he’s actually up to. But the most biggest give away to this is something that I have surprisingly seen no one mention at all. And oh boy, it is the most damning evidence that Rouxls is no idiot to be trifled with.

To the left of Seam’s shop, there can be found a little group of former puzzle-makers that used to live at Card Castle, until they were fired and replaced with Rouxls Kaard. They are now all out of a job, and are just barely scraping by since the Spade King didn’t give them any severance pay. However, Rouxls Kaard offered them a way to get money--by selling the tutorials he made.

These tutorials go over TP, stats, information about Susie, Ralsei,  and Kris. Rouxls Kaard has never once met any of the players yet--and he knows everything about them. He knows about stats. He knows the world is a game.

HOW??

In addition, when you talk to Rouxls in his shop, he calls you three the Heroes of Legend. He is well aware of the Angel’s Prophecy. He knows.

Whenever any character in the world of Undertale & Deltarune knows that the world is a game, it is an instant red-flag. It goes to show that they know much more than they let on. Flowey and Sans are big examples of this in Undertale. Pure hearted, dorky idiots that we trust earlier in the game--but wind up seeing the real side of them later on.

...So why should we treat Rouxls any differently?

Point #6: The “Control Crown”

Something that I immediately thought was kind of weird, was the fact that Rouxls Kaard was able to control the K. Round with a “Control Crown” device. If he is so stupid, how was he able to create a full on mechanical device that can brainwash a life-form into being violent/cause it to triple in size?! That is genius material right there!

But things start to take on a much darker side when you begin to look at the subtext of this realization, which I will get to in a moment...

First of all, Seam claimed these exact words.

The remaining king was the Spade King-- as the King of Hearts, Diamonds, and Clubs are seen to be locked up in the Dungeon. Therefore, the Spade King put the Knight, and his strange son into power. IF it were the Spade King in power, the dialogue box WOULD have said “himself”. Therefore, the Knight, and his strange son were put in place to control the kingdom. And who are they?

Gaster/Rouxls Kaard, and Lancer.

Evidence to back this up:

Lancer calls Rouxls his “Lesser Dad”. And Rouxls calls Lancer, his Strange little darling/son.

The Spade King is not in charge. During his boss-fight, he states that he obeys the word of the Knight.

If you observe more of Lancer’s dialogue in the scene right before the gang enters Card Castle, he states that his dad, (Spade King), recently forced his troops to listen to Lancer instead. Therefore, Lancer is by all respects actually second in command to the Knight.

One of Rouxls main interests is...Lawmaking. Even though he is just supposedly an innocent Duke of Puzzles.

Another one of Rouxls main interests is...Cages, and long strolls in the dungeon... 

There are innocent puzzle-makers locked up in the Prison who are terrified--they were arrested for the simple act of making a puzzle without a license. HM, I wonder who could have possibly locked them up? *Wink wink nudge nudge*

And what ties this all together, is perhaps the most obscure, tiniest detail that no one would have likely observed on a first play-through. If you go to the first floor of Card Castle and click the description tablet next to the elevator to the Prison, it claims that the Prison used to just be a Basement Which Just Happened to Have a Lot of Cages. This is backed up by the caged animals in the basement, who say that they miss the “good old days” when they used to be the only ones there in cages, and not a bunch of people behind bars.

In summary, Rouxls is locking up a bunch of innocent people, and playing nice to our faces. He IS the knight. And he is not to be underestimated.

Point #7: Rouxls’ Plan is Already Set in Place

The part where this theory gets a little dark, ties back to my mentioning of the control crown earlier.

If you observe the throne room, it looks like it was recently torn apart in a sort of...conflict.

Why was the Spade King the only king left un-caged to begin with? Why wasn’t he locked up too?

Well...Rouxls Kaard needed someone to put him in charge. But not only that—he needed a scapegoat. Someone to blame. Someone to be “The Bad Guy” for the Heroes to fight.

The Spade King...is actually innocent. He is obeying the Knight, because he is being controlled by a Control Crown. The throne room is in ruins because the Spade King likely fought against this at first, but Rouxls won and successfully put the Spade King under his command. I thought it was strange how the King was so...violent. So irredeemably evil, and even murderous toward his own son Lancer. Yes, it could be argued that this is indeed his true personality, that he is a complete, abusive jerk. But, the whole ending battle of Deltarune chapter 1 feels so...set up in a way? It feels so starkly good vs evil, black and white. Almost like a play.

And oh boy. I think I was onto something.

If you pay close attention to the fight with the Spade King, there is a brief moment at the beginning where he is completely shrouded in shadow. Except. For. His. Crown. It glows stark white in comparison to himself. Like a Chekov’s Gun if you will.

And even more interesting, in the supposed good/pacifist ending, the Spade King is locked up in Prison, the other three kings are still locked up in cages, everyone else is freed, and Rouxls and Lancer now have full control of the kingdom...

Guys. We just played right into Gaster’s hands.

Point #8: Seam Knows that Rouxls is the Knight...

The final observation that genuinely makes me convinced in this theory, is a small detail I noticed at the end of the Pacifist run of Deltarune. Once you have beaten the game, and all of the prisoners are freed, everyone comes to celebrate at Card Castle for your victory. Everyone, except for Seam. That is because Seam knows what the “Strange Knight” did to Jevil. He knows who the Strange Knight is. And he knows what the Knight’s true intentions are.

Point #9: Extra Tidbits I noticed:

When compared to the other denizens of card castle, Rouxls seems out of place. He is the one vaguely humanoid character among a bunch of card and chess themed Darkners. 

His puzzle is... too easy.

Rouxls is oddly excited about overthrowing the king/taking his place. 

Rouxls is well versed in calligraphy of all things. (Relation to fonts + letters.)

Rouxls “sparkles” have an odd resemblance to the shining save states...?

He makes pop culture references, such as ones seen here and here. Could just be random throwaway jokes, but often times more “aware” characters such as Sans and Papyrus are keen on breaking the fourth wall at times/making references to relate with the audience.

His hair looks strangely out of place. Especially the hairline which is really receded to an unnatural degree on the left side. It’s a wig guys...

He gets a suspiciously new position for no reason at all. In any normal situation, he would be extremely unqualified for it if he were as stupid as he makes himself out to be.

Rouxls is literally wearing armor, akin to a medieval knights.

If you pay close attention, Rouxls has a few very subtle similar speech patterns to Gaster. They both occasionally repeat words twice. They both use the words wonderful and truly a lot, etc.

When Kris and the gang beat the K. Round, Rouxls said it was just to test their abilities.

Rouxls theme has leitmotifs from Gaster’s theme.

End of discussion. Deltarune’s finale is legit going to be Gaster getting his wig snatched.

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day nine

kageyama tobio - knees 

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list

NSFW warning featuring: oral sex (reader receiving), a bit of role reversal other tags: pro volleyball player kageyama, some angst, an argument leading to making up (with Sex), mentions of reader being uncomfortable, tobio getting Sassy fem reader

word count: 2140

-

“Tobio, we need to talk.” 

As things usually go with Tobio, he’d been gone for two weeks for work without a single call to you. He was in a different country for weeks, and even though his life as a volleyball player was busy, you knew he had time for at least one call.  But sometimes, it felt like when he was traveling, he stopped being your boyfriend until he got home. He didn’t care about you unless he wasn’t busy. 

And when he got home that night, as usual, all he wanted was one thing. 

“I don’t want to talk.” 

Of course, your feelings went over his head. 

“Tobio.” 

“Can’t it wait?” 

His lips were on your neck, his fingers were unbuttoning your pants; he missed you, obviously he missed you - right? 

He pulled you closer, kissing you the best way he knew how. There was only one thing on his mind. You didn’t know how to make him want anything else; years of knowing him did nothing to teach you how to pull Tobio away from the things he was focused on. 

Right now, he was focused on you. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

His lips trailed down your neck; you watched as he palmed himself over his shorts, rather than attempting to rile you up. Usually, the view alone would do the trick. 

“I want you,” he said, and you felt him attempting to push you toward the floor. “I want your mouth - come on, get on your knees, babe.” 

You cringed, because, “I don’t want to do that.” And everything stopped. 

Right now, Tobio was focused on himself. 

“Oh.” 

He pulled back from you, he got a good look at your face. And it seemed to hit him, all at once, that things weren’t okay. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

The insecurity in his voice almost made you feel guilty. “I don’t know.” 

“Can you tell me why?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He scooted away from you to the other end of the couch. “I was gone for two weeks - didn’t you miss me?” 

“Obviously I missed you,” was your rebuttal. 

“Then why are you mad at me?” 

Discussing a disagreement with Tobio without hurting his feelings was nearly impossible, and you had always known that. And his first instinct was to defend himself, to accuse you of things as a way to have a trump card. It took patience to get through this, which you didn’t often have, so a discussion turns into an argument like burning wood turns to ash. 

“So because I don’t want to suck your dick, you think I’m mad at you?” 

“You said we needed to talk, and you’re always like this when I get back. You always need to talk about something.” 

“Because you leave for weeks without even texting me the entire time, and when you get back you only want one thing from me. Do you miss me, Tobio, or do you only miss my mouth?” 

“Both!” he said, but when he saw your face, “Okay, wait - that was the wrong answer,” and you were already storming to your room. 

“I can’t believe you,” you said through a groan, mainly to yourself because you didn’t realize he was following you. “You fly across the world without even calling to tell me when you land, but you think the moment you’re home I’ll just drop to my knees and serve you. It’s always about you - I’m done.” 

You had every intention of slamming the door in his face, but he was right behind you, in your bedroom before you could even turn around.  

“What do you mean? You don’t mean that.”

You hesitated to reply. 

Tobio didn’t move. 

“What if I do?” 

He didn’t even look up. But he said, “I know you’re right,” and you could hardly believe it. “It’s just hard.” 

Tobio wished he could be successful in his intentions. He felt like he had so much to say, but it felt stupid trying to put his thoughts together. He thought coming home and showing you how much he wanted you would show you how much he missed you - apparently, he was wrong. He assumed you would be too busy to answer any calls or texts from him while he’s away - that was wrong, too. 

But more than anything, he wanted to get it right. So he would explain himself, and get over feeling stupid for a minute, because keeping you was worth it. 

“I don’t like doing long distance - it just makes me sad to call you while I’m away. Makes me miss you more. I don’t know. I don’t want to waste your time with my stupid calls - I don’t know.” 

“They’re not stupid,” you argued. “They make me happy.” 

He jumped at this chance, “Then I’ll call you more,” but your mood didn’t change. “I will. Everyday. I’ll make time - before I go to bed, or… or after I wake up, or you could call me whenever you want. I want to make you happy.” 

He was telling you what you wanted to hear, and you could only hope he meant it. 

“It’s not that easy -” 

“At least let me try,” he said. “I’d rather do long distance than not have you at all. And if I fuck it up you can kick my ass, alright?” 

His seriousness made you break into laughter, but he didn’t budge. He meant it.

“Okay,” you replied. “We can try. I want to try. But don’t think this is going to make me get on my knees for you.” 

He shook his head as he pulled you into him, holding you close. He was happy you were letting him. 

“Shut up.” 

He wanted to kiss you, but wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to. He wanted to show you that he missed you, because telling you never worked how he wanted it to. 

He took a chance and gave you a kiss, one so short and awkward that it made him cringe, but he was happy when you pulled him down for more. And he kissed you like he meant it, the way he always wants to after he gets home and gets to take a break from being on a professional volleyball team. It was deep and messy and hot; it was the definition of his desperation for you. 

When he pulled his lips away, he pulled your body closer to his, and he let his next words slip without even thinking, “I’m the one who should be on my knees for you.” 

“Get on your knees, then,” was your mumbled response. As if on command, Tobio pushed you to the bed, watched you lie down, and then dropped to the ground. 

His eyes were locked on yours as he pulled off your pants, and he was putting on a stern face. Like he was proud to be there, on his knees for you. And while his movements were desperate, they were still delicate. 

He only took his eyes off of yours so he could take a look at your body, and he couldn’t stop looking at it. “I should have done this half an hour ago,” he said honestly. 

Tobio was kicking himself for putting his own pleasure before yours. He always knew he should focus on you more, but this new position only made that fact even more obvious to him. 

But none of that mattered, he was going to make sure of it; now, he was there for you, on his knees and ready to serve only you. His own pleasure didn’t matter - only yours did. 

He tugged you down to the edge of the bed, he threw your legs onto his shoulders, he made himself comfortable between your thighs as he proved to you how determined he was to focus on you alone. 

You sighed his name as his tongue teased your clit, and it made Tobio grin. He knew that he was good at this, and he knew that you were right where you wanted to be. 

He wouldn’t tease you or deprive you of anything you needed; he would let himself do what he knows best, what he knows works, what he knows you love. He pushed your legs open with his hands flat on the inside of your thighs, and as he examined your glistening heat, a once forgotten ache in his pants returned. 

He loved it; he loved you. He didn’t know how someone could be so pretty - he didn’t know he would want someone so much. If he didn’t love the taste of you so much he would have spent the rest of the night looking at you, teasing you, testing you - but that isn’t what either of you needed. 

Tobio would bury himself in you if he could - it felt like that’s what he was trying to do as he dove in, lapping you up. And you felt him everywhere, in the deepest parts of you, places he’d never touched before - it was raw and overwhelming and more than you could take. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was him. And you had missed his touch more than you ever realized - you didn’t need perfection, you only needed him. 

When you started calling his name, his eyes lit up - you looked down and saw striking blue admiration staring back at you, and that was it. You felt him grab your hand and squeeze it, like it was his way asking you to let go for him. 

You held onto his hand and let go of everything else - an orgasm washed over you like ice cold water that left your thighs shaking and your entire body weak. 

Tobio had never felt so proud of himself; finally, he was making you feel good - finally, he was doing something right. 

He didn’t take his mouth off of you until your whines perked his ears, and it was enough to show him that you’d had too much. 

“God, I’ve missed you - I love you,” he admitted as he let his lips trail up to your hips. 

You were too breathless to reply, but you pulled him up so he was off of his knees and hovering over you. 

You had soaked his mouth but you kissed him anyway, hungry and deep. It lit Tobio up inside, a fire was burning in his core - but he ignored it. 

“Stop,” he said when your hand traveled toward the bulge in his pants. “Don’t. I don’t need that.” 

“Don’t you want me to get you off?” 

“No,” he replied. “I want to focus on you. I’ve been selfish for too long, so just let me work for you tonight, alright?” 

You couldn’t argue, not when he was so determined, so you didn't. 

And all night Tobio spent hours spoiling you, never once letting his mind drift to what he wanted - and you couldn’t complain, because you had been needing it for awhile. 

You didn’t take that time for granted. 

In just another week, he’d be in a different country again. 

Like always, your limited time with him went by too fast. And like always, dread pooled in your stomach the moment he was gone, because you were sure you wouldn’t hear from him until he returned. 

You didn’t let your hopes get too high, because you had been let down too many times. 

The first morning waking up without him in your bed was always the hardest. You hadn’t gotten used to waking up in a cold bed yet - missing him hadn’t quite mellowed out. Usually, those mornings are when you want to hear from him the most; usually, you’re disappointed to find he hadn’t reached out. 

That morning, you had one voicemail. 

“Hey,” is how it started, and you smiled as soon as you heard Tobio’s tired voice. “I - uh… I called at a bad time, it’s the middle of the night there… but it’s morning here, so… Yeah. God, this is weird, um… I… I hope this is okay, you know. Good enough. Maybe you can call back in the morning when you get this, if you want… I’m sorry if I don’t answer, I’ll probably be asleep, you know… but leave a message. It’ll be nice to hear your voice, even though it’ll make me miss you more… I already miss you. Uh - anyway - this is awkward, so I’ll go. I just wanted to check in, like I should. I hope it makes you happy or makes you smile, at least. I love you. Good morning, by the way. Okay. I’ll call tomorrow, I will. I love you.” 

You didn’t hesitate to call him back and leave a message for him. 

He was trying. It wasn’t perfect, not yet, but it was him, and it was all you needed.

- 

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 10: promise 

[moonbeambucky]

I Promise (Part 2/2)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader Word Count: 4722 Warnings: fluff, light angst, pregnancy

Summary: Before heading to Mars Chris Beck reconnects with his best friend, unaware of the outcome of their night together. With the burden of his mission will Chris make a promise he can’t keep?

A/N: A big thank you to my love Allie @all1e23​​​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ gif source (x)

PART 1

In the months that passed Chris had been able to keep up on email with a bit more regularity though it still took some time in between messages. Video calls were less frequent but you still had them. You stood back from your laptop and faced sideways, lifting your shirt to reveal the protrusion of your growing belly. 

His smile was bittersweet, wishing he could be there in person to watch you grow, to feel when the baby starts kicking. You were having a boy and decided to name him Oliver. After you first spoke Chris waited for you to tell your family first before he told his over email, and you followed up with a visit to see them.

His parents, Michael and Lori, were so happy to see you again. They always knew you and Chris were close but now with a grandchild on the way they were thrilled. Along with your parents they offered help immediately, everyone overwhelming you with to-do lists and essential shopping you hadn’t thought about at that point.

“My dad’s going to help make the storage room a nursery.”

Your apartment was technically a one bedroom but there was a small room adjacent to yours you’ve been using as extra space to hold anything random you couldn’t find a spot for anywhere else. It was on the narrow side and currently overcrowded with junk, not the most picturesque nursery but it would have to do for now, as soon as you get rid of things to make space. 

“I wish I was there to help you,” he sighed, not speaking solely about helping you clean. “We’ll be descending for Mars soon so I won’t be able to keep in touch until we get back on the Hermes.” 

You understood. Chris would be there for about a month and you assumed it would take a little longer to hear back from him once they got back on board to begin their journey back. 

It was an unassuming morning at home. You were trying to find a comfortable position on your couch, adjusting the cushion you bought for extra support. You’re tired, finding it harder to fall asleep comfortably with a bigger belly. At 24 weeks your baby was apparently practicing to be a soccer player, his kicks growing stronger every day. You loved this part of pregnancy but you also couldn’t deny how terrible you felt. Your feet started swelling, your skin was itchy and you thought you were going crazy every time you tried to read but the words were blurring. Changes were expected but not in the way you always thought. 

A news report breaks on TV, a red banner that flashes words that have your heart beating rapidly – ARES III ASTRONAUTS COMING HOME. Tears flood your eyes as you hear the news, Mark Watney is dead. Nausea washes over your body in waves and you clutch your stomach, forgetting to breathe until you hear that Chris was safe. You exhale with relief though your heart aches for the crew and Mark’s family. You rubbed your belly in gentle circles, speaking softly to let Oliver know that Daddy was alright and he was coming home. 

It was late December when Chris finally had a chance to call you. Tears glisten in his eyes as he sees you, thanking you for the picture you emailed him from your latest sonogram. The 3D technology showed a clear picture of Oliver’s sweet face and Chris longed to meet him. Your belly had grown as well, with less than three months to go before your due date. 

The nursery was complete and you really owed a lot to your family and Chris’ for helping it come together. Chloe arranged a baby shower which helped fill the nursery with everything you needed, from drawers full of diapers to a wardrobe of clothes, a lot of space themed outfits you couldn’t wait to send Chris pictures of. 

Though you were overjoyed at everyone being there it was hard to keep up a smile. Everyone knew the situation and there was no way getting around the fact that he wouldn’t be home for another year. Still you pushed on and tried not to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“Wow,” Chris marveled as you showed him your bump. “You’re so much bigger since I last saw you.” The flat, unamused expression you shot Chris made him quickly stutter on his words. “I meant your bump, it’s… you look beautiful, I promise.” You smiled a little, trusting him even if you didn’t quite believe it all the time. 

Catching up came to a halt when Chris began to open up about what happened. You knew it was coming. It was ubiquitous in the news cycle but hearing it from Chris directly made your stomach churn. You wished you could be there, to wipe away his tears and hold him close as he mourned for his friend. You wished even more that you could tell him the truth… Mark was alive. 

You received communication from NASA just before the public learned about it though you were specifically instructed not to tell Chris about the information. According to them the crew needed to focus on their mission home and honestly you thought it was a bunch of bullshit. You felt nauseous the whole time speaking to Chris, trying to hide the truth you so desperately wanted to tell him. Lying was not something you and Chris ever did to each other and every second you held your tongue felt like you were betraying all the years of your friendship. 

When the call ended you shut your laptop, hanging your head low and breaking down into tears. It was a deep, messy faced cry with guttural sobs. You were crying for everything. For Mark, mistakenly left to die on a planet of isolation, for Chris and lying to his face, for Oliver who can’t have his father around like you wanted him to be.

As time went on you felt better, emailing and speaking to Chris whenever he could. It’s February and your heart feels lighter as you await the video connection. You try not to get sentimental with Valentine’s Day having just passed. You and Chris are not anything officially, just two adults who have known each other their whole lives having a baby… but the idea doesn’t scare you. 

You think back to your thirtieth birthday and what would have happened if you were single. Would Chris have mentioned the promise? It’s a silly thought. He was so busy with his career he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it but you can’t help thinking about the “what if.” And now you were single, single and pregnant with his child, so what if…

Your thoughts are cut off immediately when you actually see Chris. His eyes were rimmed red, eyes glistening with tears that made the tiny red veins scattered across the whites of his eyes look like they were bleeding.

“Mark is alive,” his voice shuddered through a heaving sob. 

Your mouth dropped open as you listened in shock. How does he know? 

Chris rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, eyes squeezing tight as he exhaled another heavy sigh. “I’m the one that called it, did you know that? I told Commander Lewis he was dead and they knew…” 

His words dropped, his voice failing to speak but Chris’ grief turned to anger just as quickly. “They knew… they knew for two goddamn months that he was alive! Do you know how that feels?”

Your heart was breaking for him even more and there was nothing you could do but offer words of comfort as he vented. “Chris I’m so sorry. Who told you?”

“Mitch Henderson, our flight director, he– wait.” Chris’ body stiffened, eyes narrowing at the screen. “What do you mean who? Did… did you know?”

You dropped your head in shame, unable to answer him in words.

“You knew? Y/N look at me!” he shouted. 

Your head snapped up to see Chris’ nostrils flaring, jaw clenched tight. “You knew my friend was alive and you didn’t tell me?” he grit through his teeth, anger burning hotter than the sun. 

“I’m sorry Chris, I couldn’t.” 

He scoffed, cutting off your explanation. His tone raised to a level he’s never taken with you before. “You couldn’t what, Y/N? You looked me in the eye and lied to me about everything!”

Though Chris may have been justified in his anger it shouldn't have been directed at you. Just as quickly you retorted, “I’m not the only one Chris! Everyone knows, your parents, Chloe; this isn’t on me. NASA told us not to say anything to distract you.”

“Oh but telling me you’re pregnant wasn’t a distraction?” he snapped.

Chris knew he made a mistake but it was too late, the words came out and he couldn’t take them back. He watched you sink in your chair, your lips beginning to quiver. You dropped your head down to hide the tears but he could see them leaving wet puddles on the fabric of your shirt. 

He was upset, feeling guilty about leaving Mark stranded even though he knows there was nothing he could have done. His biometer was damaged, he thought… they all thought he was dead and if they didn’t leave they’d all have died too. There was nothing he could do to change the past but this isn’t what he wanted. 

Chris was angry and frustrated with everything. He wanted his friend to be safe on the Hermes, he wanted this mission to be over, he wanted… to be with you. You were due in three weeks and the closer the date got the more he hated being up in space when all he wanted was to be by your side. 

“Y/N… Y/N please… I’m sorry,” he sniffled, wiping away fresh tears that began to fall. “I didn’t mean to take this out on you… please…”

Tears still fell as you lifted your head slowly towards the screen to find Chris looking just as upset as you were. You cleared your throat, wiping the wetness away from your cheek as you spoke, “If you don’t want to do this–”

“No!” he cut you off immediately, “Y/N please, I was wrong. I was upset and I didn’t mean that. I want this more than anything. I’m sorry.”

The sincerity was clear in the depths of his eyes, staring at you as if he was unworthy of your gaze. You took a moment to think of what he’s going through; the world had time to process everything that was happening with Mark but for Chris this was new and upsetting and you understood.

“I’m sorry too. I never wanted to lie to you.”

“Stop, you don’t have to apologize, I was an asshole.” Chris immediately stops your protests and you let him, feeling yourself smile again the longer you continue to speak. “I miss you a lot, do you know that?” His smile returned as he spoke, asking how you were feeling with your upcoming due date.

Your smile stretches wider across your face. “I miss you too. I’m…” The smile curbs a bit as you let out a sigh. “I’m nervous honestly, excited but scared I guess, I don’t know. I know it’s unrealistic and maybe even a bit selfish to say but I feel like if you were here I’d be a lot better.”

He apologizes again though you find yourself doing the same, not meaning to add to the guilt he already lives with. “I wish I could be there but I know you’re going to get through it, and Oliver already has the best mom in the world.” 

Your mouth gasped open and you placed your hand on your bump. “He just kicked when you said that, I’m not even kidding!” 

“See, it’s true,” he grinned widely. 

There was a faint noise in the background and you saw Chris looking off to the side. When he turned back to face the screen you could tell by the tension in his face that he was needed for something. 

“I have to go now, but… I love you Y/N.”

Though you’ve heard those words so many times before and have spoken them yourself, this time they felt different. You wondered if he meant to put that new emotion behind it and if you felt the same.

There wasn’t much time to ponder these thoughts as two weeks later you were in the hospital, with your mom and Chloe by your side getting you through labor. It was an excruciating ordeal with contractions that were so intense you were in tears. They helped you breathe through them, letting you squeeze their hands as you received an epidural and finally a few hours later it was time to push. Chloe recorded the birth over your shoulder for Chris and with a strangled cry Oliver came into the world. 

Tears of joy ran down your cheeks as you held him against you. He was beautiful and you could see so much of Chris in him already. A bittersweet sob wracked through you, wishing he was there. 

Chris called the whole crew in to see photos of Oliver as he opened his email. There were a ton, his family making sure they took pictures from every angle. There were close ups of his little toes, pictures of him sleeping and Chris’ favorites of you holding him.

“Congratulations Beck!” “Welcome to fatherhood.” “He’s beautiful.” 

Chris saved some things for himself like Oliver’s birth and a special message you sent him. The phone was held out in front of you, the unforgiving hospital lights showing off how tired you looked but to Chris you were beautiful and shining as bright as the stars.

“We did it.” Your voice was soft and strained, but you still pushed on to speak to him. The camera flipped towards the bassinet beside your bed with Oliver sleeping peacefully. “Say hi to Daddy,” you whispered softly. There were a few moments of silence watching him sleep, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as Oliver’s mouth twitched. “I can’t wait for you to meet him Chris,” the camera flipped around again, “I know you’re going to be an amazing father. I love you so much.” 

When the video ended Chris couldn’t help but kiss the screen, wishing it was your lips that his were pressed against. He’s eagerly counting the days and soon enough he would be.

Chris sat uncomfortably in his chair, elbow resting on the glossy white table as his hand covers his mouth, hiding the worry and tension of his lips. He feels like he swallowed a bag of rocks, his stomach is tense and tight, cramping in all the worst ways. He tried to hide it, shifting in his chair as he listens to his Commander lay out a plan to save Mark.

It goes directly against NASA’s orders and he’s not sure what the consequences would be for mutiny but he doesn’t care about that, not if it means they can rescue their friend.

“...If we do everything perfectly we add 533 days to our mission, 533 more days before we see our families again, 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong.. If it’s mission critical, we die.”

He shifts again, his stomach twisting in all directions as he ponders what to do. He missed your pregnancy, Oliver’s birth. He could be home in six months and his heart swells at the thought. He is ready to happily spend his nights changing diapers and preparing bottles, bonding with his son and allowing you the sleep you need. 

Chris’ shoulders slump. He doesn’t know much about fatherhood but he does know he wants to be someone Oliver could look up to and he wouldn’t be that person if he didn’t stay true to his heart and make a tough decision. 

“Well, it has to be unanimous,” Commander Lewis said, scanning her head to lock eyes with each member of the crew. 

It would be another year and a half before Chris saw you and Oliver and the thought hurts him deeply but he knows it’s for the best. “Let’s go get him,” he said, his voice wavering between excitement and trepidation. He knew this was right and he hoped you would believe him. 

Once the Hermes corrected their course it was official and NASA knew they would have to send them the resupply probe for their extended mission. Now all Chris had to do was tell you.

It was hard to watch the tears stream down your face as you broke down, you weren’t even able to wipe them with Oliver sleeping in your arms. Chris is crying too, looking at the sweet face of the son he has to wait even longer to meet. You know why he’s doing this and you can’t exactly be mad at him. Even growing up Chris was always the person to do the right thing no matter the consequence. 

“Y/N… if anything happens…”

“No!” you cut him off, letting out your anguish as softly as you could so you didn’t disturb Oliver. “Chris, don’t say that.” Your eyes pleaded with him, hating that he made you even consider the worst.

“Please, if anything happens I want you to know that you and Oliver…” His voice gives out, even Chris has a hard time accepting a very possible reality. “I made sure you’ll be taken care of.” 

He stared straight through you and you understood what he meant. Adjusting your grip on Oliver, you quickly wiped the wetness from your cheek and rubbed at your nose. “You have to come back to us, promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wants to keep his promise but it’s not something he can guarantee. Oliver stirs in your arms, his face twisting as he lets out a piercing cry as if he also knew the stakes at hand.

You soothe your son as best as you could, feeling he needed a diaper change. Before saying goodbye you looked into Chris’ eyes through the screen, wishing you could reach out and cup his cheek as you proclaimed, “I love you, Chris.” You meant every word, more than ever before. 

His cheeks pulled into a warm smile as he said it back. The screen goes dark and he sits quietly starting his countdown over for the day he can say it to you again in person.

A year has passed and you’re sitting on the floor with Oliver in your lap, holding a book out in front of you. This was your nightly routine before bed, letting him pick out a story from his little shelf against the wall and reading it together. He was very interested at this age, helping you turn the pages or pointing at the pictures that you would describe and try to get him to repeat.

He’s grown so much and every day you find more ways he looks like Chris, especially when he scrunches his nose, putting up a fuss when eating bananas. 

Oliver’s first birthday was two months ago, it was a small party at Chris’ parents house filled with cake and presents but the best gift was that Chris was able to call in. You cried immediately, holding Oliver up to the screen and pointing at Chris. “Dada! Look Oliver it’s Dada!”

There were pictures of Chris in your house and every time you passed them you would show Oliver, hoping the connection would eventually sink in. Oliver grinned at the screen showing off four tiny teeth in the center of his smile. “Oliver it’s Daddy!” Chris said, waving his hands. “Hey buddy. I love you Oliver. I’ll see you soon.” 

It didn’t feel real that Chris was actually coming home this year since he’s been gone for so long. You’ve been keeping in touch, emailing him as many pictures and videos of Oliver as you could. Everyone loved the professional shots taken when he was six months old, dressed in pajamas printed with planets on them, holding a bottle shaped like a spaceship. In others he was dressed as an astronaut tethered to a bright and colorful rocketship laying against a starry background made to look like he was floating in space, just like his Dad.

With Oliver in bed you went to the kitchen to make yourself something to eat though you could barely focus. You were on edge, watching the live stream of Mark Watney’s rescue on your phone. 

Your head lifted to the TV as you waited like the rest of the world, watching the rescue in real time. It took an hour before there was confirmation that Mark was safely on board and the relief brought tears to your eyes. The whole world was celebrating and you couldn’t imagine how happy Chris and his crew were to get him back and soon enough Chris would be home too.

While some people were opening up presents on Christmas morning you were opening suitcases and getting ready to pack things for yourself and Oliver to fly to Houston to see Chris. The crew landed two days ago and seeing footage of him being pulled from the capsule brought tears to your eyes. You pointed to the screen for Oliver, “Who’s that? That’s…” 

His face lit up, his little hand slapping at the screen as his squeaky voice said, “It’s Daddy!”

“That’s right. Good job!” you beamed, planting a kiss to his soft cheek.

Oliver did a lot of growing up in the last year. He was a few months shy of two, a little ball of energy that brought smiles everywhere he went. He was playful and kind, he loved to splash bubbles during bathtime, and wiggle his body to music. 

Chris was able to see his emerging personality whenever you spoke to each other. Oliver was shy at first and a little confused, looking back at you instead of the screen as Chris was trying to talk to him. It took a lot of patience but you got there, pointing at Chris and saying “It’s Daddy!” enough times for Oliver to finally recognize him. Chris would smile and wave, calling him his little buddy and Oliver waved back. He was hesitant at first but regular video calls normalized their relationship and soon Oliver would press his lips to your laptop, leaving a big wet kiss on the screen meant for his Dad. 

It was hard knowing Chris was back on Earth but you couldn't see him yet. He was undergoing physical evaluations and you were certain more testing would be necessary in the future considering he and the Ares III crew have set a record, spending nearly three times the amount in space than ever before. You chuckled to yourself, knowing Chris would probably want to take on the study himself although part of you knew he was more anxious to spend time with you and Oliver, a thought that made your heart swell.

A week later and you were at the Johnson Space Center, in a waiting room meant for the family of returning astronauts. Oliver is playing with Aunt “Coey” as he called her, holding his spacecraft toy and making it fly above armrests of the row of blue chairs you’re so tired of staring at. Whenever you heard noise in the hallway you quickly rushed towards Oliver, brushing his hair in place with your hands and adjusting the bottom of his striped blue shirt. 

This time you were right to be prepared as a man opened the door. You all scrambled to stand up, holding Oliver in front of you with your hands on his shoulders. The man nodded, giving a quick smile and suddenly you felt overcome with nerves. After two and a half years you were finally about to see Chris again and your heart was beating wildly. You tried to steady your breaths, holding a nervous smile as you waited for him to walk through the door.

The moment he did you were overcome with emotion, bursting out with tears of joy, a smile stretching from ear to ear. He was here, he was actually here. Chris had a smile that beamed as bright as the stars, his eyes glistening with tears as he looked at you and Oliver who had grown restless of standing and made his way into his grandpa’s arms. 

Chris walked unsteadily towards you, thinking Oliver could probably walk better than he can at the moment as he was still adjusting to gravity. You ran forward meeting him more than halfway, throwing your arms around him for a crushing hug. As you cried against his chest your own legs nearly gave out when you felt his arms around you. 

“I missed you so much,” you muffled against his shirt, pulling yourself back to stare into his eyes once more. 

“I love you,” he said, a clear admission of the feelings in his heart, no longer meant with platonic innocence. 

You were always close and while the two of you never saw each other as anything but friends it certainly surprised everyone around you when you didn’t end up together. Things were different now and you both felt the shift in your relationship since he’s been away. It was more than the bond you had by having a child together; Chris always had a place in your heart and you wondered why it took this long to see it. 

“I love you too,” you cried again, feeling the relief of his lips against yours as they pressed together for a sweet and long overdue kiss. 

Lori kissed her son, hugging him quickly as did Chloe who was eager to record Chris and Oliver’s first official introduction on her phone. Michael placed him down and you kneeled beside Oliver. Chris eased himself down, feeling his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. In the last few years he’s been through countless stressful situations, none of which were more nerve wracking than meeting his son for the first time. 

There’s a nervous look on Oliver’s face as a room full of people are all watching him and he turns to look at you, his eyes pleading for help. You reassured him that everything was okay and like the many times you’ve done in the past you pointed towards Chris. Your voice wavered as the words you spoke bubbled out of your throat, “Oliver, this is your Daddy.”

Chris smiled softly, keeping a short distance between himself and Oliver because he didn’t want to overwhelm him. It was clear Oliver was unsure of what to do, looking back and forth between you and Chris. 

“Hey buddy, it’s me. I’m your Daddy,” Chris said and finally Oliver’s face lit up with recognition. 

He grinned, waving to Chris in front of him as they had done through the screen so many times before. With a proud smile Oliver picked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his tummy and strung together a sentence of mostly recognizable words that meant, “I have a belly button!”

A tear squeezed out from the corner of Chris’ eyes as he laughed, “Yeah you do buddy!”

The ice was broken between them and Chris looked over his shoulder at someone who discreetly handed him something behind his back.

“I’m so happy to meet you Oliver. This is for you,” Chris said, handing over a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut. 

He jumped as he took the bear, squeezing it in his arms with the happiest smile. With some encouragement you had him thank Chris and Oliver pursed his lips forward to kiss Chris’ cheek. Oliver let Chris hug him and he smiled through his tears, finally experiencing what he’s been imagining for years, holding his son in his arms. 

Chris thought his days among the stars were over but together with you and Oliver he’s surrounded by a whole galaxy of love. Each day shines brighter than the last and Chris has no doubt that one day soon he will finally keep his promise.