#like you can see how disappointed and disheartened he is

[yukierree]

Now I’m upset fr

[incognit0slut]

i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom? 

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.” 

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie sighed as he turned to the bartender, “Can I have the cheapest beer you got? But you only let me have one?”

The guy nodded at him, passing one over with a sympathetic smile, “Designated driver?”

“Something like that,” Eddie said, his eyes wandering back to the dance floor. At least the two of them were having fun, giggling and twirling each other around. They were cute together, always were. No one could make Steve smile like Robin could, a fact that Eddie was just going to have to accept.

He sipped his beer as he watched them, smiling to himself a little at how happy they looked. Until someone was tapping on his shoulder. Eddie glanced up, surprised to see a guy standing there. He looked… good. J.Crew-esque with a bright smile.

“You don’t really look like the type to come in here,” He said, taking the bar stool next to him.

Eddie gave him a once over, deciding to be quick about not leading him on. He shrugged,  “I’m not, but the people I love are.”

The guy nodded along, his eyes trailing to the dance floor. Eddie followed the line of it, frowning when he realized he was looking right at Steve. Robin was in the middle of dipping him, both of them laughing. Eddie swallowed as he looked at them, watching the shine of the bright, colorful dance light cross over his face. He looked gorgeous, relaxed and giggly as he went to return the favor to her. Though now that Eddie was looking around he was realized he wasn’t the only one staring.

“Speaking of that,” The guy went on, “What’s the deal with the guy you came in with?”

Eddie’s frown only deepened at the question, “Who, Steve?”

“Is that his name?” The stranger asked, obviously interested. 

At least he had good taste, Eddie had to give him that. Even if the question had his eye twitching, “Yeah, that’s his name.”

"So is he single or is the blonde a permanent fixture?" He asked. 

Eddie snorted, “She’s a permanent fixture, all right. But she’s queer as a three-dollar bill, so not much to worry about there.”

That was the wrong answer if the excited look on his face was any indicator. 

“You know what kind of drink he likes?” He asked, already motioning for the bartender. 

Eddie swallowed, the sick feeling coming back. The worst part is that he could see it. Steve with someone like this. Handsome, self-assured, confident. Actually comfortable in their own skin. He couldn’t help but think they would look good together. 

The thought just wasn’t enough to stop Eddie from blurting, “Of course I do. He’s my boyfriend after all.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did he just say that? Eddie bit the inside of his cheek at the stupid lie. At how easily it had rolled off his tongue. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, disappointment coloring his voice. 

Eddie had ample time to correct himself, to say my bad. He’s my best friend. That was a slip of the tongue. To say anything else.  

He doesn’t.

No, not when the anxiety he had firmly nestled in the pit of his stomach finally started to soften. Besides, Eddie liked how disheartened he looked. 

He liked it enough to keep lying his ass off. He took another sip of his beer, feigning casual, “Hard to tell since the two of them have been hanging off each other all night. But yeah, he’s mine.”

He hadn’t expected for those words to feel so good.  

The guy sighed, “Well, good for you man. He’s a looker, I doubt I’m the only one who had my eyes on him.”

“He has that effect on people,” Eddie said, his eyes trailing around the room. Watching every face that was looking Steve’s way. He hated it on them just as much as he did on the stranger next to him. 

Fuck it, he was already in this deep. He might as well keep it going.

“Feel free to spread the word,” Eddie added as the guy stepped away, “It will save me some time.”

“Will do,” He sighed again before walking off, setting his sights on someone else. 

The bartender chuckled as he wandered off, clearly eavesdropping in, “You want me to spread the word too? I’ve already got four guys who are looking to buy him a drink when he gets off the floor.”

Eddie was barely surprised. 

“Spread it like wildfire,” He said easily, his eyes going straight back to Steve.

Part of him had expected some guilt when people started looking his way. Whispering to each other while Eddie glared at anyone who even looked like they wanted to get to Steve. He knew he could cut an intimidating figure when he wanted to. The way he dressed usually did most of the heavy lifting, but he didn’t doubt how harshly his expressions were coming off. It also helped that every last guy who came to saddle up to the bartender to try and get a drink going for Steve walked away disappointed once he pointed a thumb towards Eddie’s direction. It definitely earned him a disproportionate tip, despite the fact the Eddie was internally freaking the fuck out.

He didn’t feel guilty, but he felt… possessive. Offended almost that people didn't just assume he was taken. Something that he didn’t know how to rationalize. But that didn’t stop him from trying. 

from the latest chapter of this fic

[carolmunson]

almost fell into that hole in your life.

orange colored sky set list.

older!modern!eddie x thirties!reader summary: ficlet. you haven't been acting like yourself these days and eddie notices. unfortunately for you, eddie can't help but wanna make you feel better. tw: implied depressed reader, alcohol mention. implied praise kink if you squint really hard? still 18+ tho! songspiration: black balloon | the goo goo dolls

Eddie doesn't like it when things are too quiet, it makes him hear the static in his brain -- gets too aware. He can hear his eyes blink, the sound of his breath, so when you've been clammed up on the couch all night on your phone he can't help but start to make noise.

"Babe," he says from the kitchen, "Do you want me to make quesadillas or something? I have some shredded chicken I wanted to use up."

"Hm," you respond. He barely hears it, padding his way over in his 'house slides' that you like to tease him about. Such an old man.

"I was thinking quesadillas and I can make some margs, would you like that?" he asks, standing at the end of the couch. The way you're laying on your side, eyes glazed over, is enough to let him know that you haven't heard a word he's said for the last hour. Just scrolling with with a glassy look, numbing yourself ten times over.

"Peach," he says, albiet little sharply, "Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, no way, that's wild," you respond, a zombie in his midst -- replying just to reply, to fake like you're hearing him. Eddie bites his tongue and then his cheeks to sting the frustration out.

"Hey," he says again, ringed hand reaching down to squeeze your chenille blanket covered thigh, "You hearin' me?"

You finally look up and see his face and the world around you comes into view. In your trance, the world outside had become night, the TV was off, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you plopped yourself under Eddie's blanket on the sectional in his livingroom.

"Yeah," you squeak out, heart racing because you can tell he's disappointed, "Y-yeah I'm hearing you."

"Then what did I just say, huh?" he doesn't sound mad, or accusatory. Worse, he sounds disheartened. And even worse of worse, he sounds worried.

"Um...it was about um, you were asking about food," you try to answer confidently, and you know it was food adjacent, but you aren't sure.

"Do you want me to make quesadillas?" he asks again, "I have some chicken I wanna use up and I got all the stuff for 'em."

"Yeah," you nod, "Yeah that sounds nice."

"You wanna come help me?" he asks, "I can make us some drinks while we work."

"Uh," you start, that familiar pull tugging in your chest -- laying down feels good, getting lost back in your phone will feel better. It's so comfortable to hide under his chenille blanket and tune out. It feels better like that.

"Please?" You hesitate again, but you're not fast enough to redirect Eddie's attention, and it's then that he catches it in your eyes. The ache. He comes around the the front of the couch to sit in the divot of your thighs and chest, hand moving from your thigh to your shoulder. "What's goin' on?" his low voice twangs at your chest.

"Nothing," you urge, but your voice is too high and so are your eye brows. He doesn't believe you for a second.

"I don't like when you lie to me, peach," he confesses, "Don't lie to me, please."

"Psh, okay dad," you tease, trying to lighten the mood while you get up.

"I'm not kidding with you," Eddie's timbre keeps you in place, "I'm not playing around, babe. What's goin' on with you? You've been -- y'know -- you've been really I dunno -- inward this week. I'm missin' you."

"I'm okay," you urge again, but now you're too quiet. You don't mean it. He raises his brows and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I promise, I'm okay," you continue, "I'll be okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not making a great case for yourself." "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a lawyer," you joke again. He doesn't buy it.

"You're sad, baby," he tells you, reaching up to hold your cheek in his palm, "Why can't you just tell me? It's okay that you're sad."

"I'm not!" you try to say cheerily again, but the words get stuck in yout throat -- eyes stinging with wetness after hours of being open.

"I'm not sad," you say breathlessly, choking on the lie while a tear sneaks its way onto your lash line.

"Oh, sugar," he coos while you try to tread the water of your feelings -- flailing to keep your head above the pain in your chest.

"No, no, I'm okay -- I'm fine!" but you're starting to cry now and it kills him. Before you know it, he's made his way under the chenille blanket with you, nose to nose.

"Hey, hey, it's okay if you're not fine," he coaches you through your deep breaths while you try to guide yourself out of a full blown sob, "You can tell me. I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

"I'm sorry," your voice becoming a wraith of itself.

"Don't be sorry," he presses himself against you, enough so that you can feel the pressure of him and the pressure of the back of the couch on both sides, "Just talk to me."

"I don't..." you shrug, "I don't have anything to say."

"Just sad?" he asks, you feel an arm snake around you between your back and the the couch, pressing your chest to his. You nod, it feels pathetic, but you're cornered now and there's no use in arguing with someone who was born to win every argument he's ever had.

"Yeah," you mumble weakly, "Yeah, I'm sad. Think I'm more than sad."

He nods, his demeanor softening to something gentle -- heart reaching out to yours with caution like you'll run away, "Yeah, honey I can tell. You really haven't been actin' like yourself these days."

"I just don't wanna bother you," you confess, the brick coming off your chest, "I always get over it, I don't wanna like -- bum you out if it's not like...if it's not a big deal."

"I don't care if it's a big deal or a little deal," his heart bleeds for you while he speaks, "I don't care if you're gonna be over it in fiteen minutes. When you're hurtin' like this -- babe you gotta tell me. You gotta talk to me. Or else how're we gonna make this work?"

"It's just not important."

Eddie can tell that you mean it when you say it; he's never felt more frustrated with whoever convinced you that this was true.

"It's super important to me," he encourages, "Your shit is like, top of my list babe."

"Top of your list?" you crack a weak smile.

"You think the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep isn't on the top of my priority list?"

"Okay, well now you're doing to much, Ed," your face scrunches in the way that he loves, not letting you totally get out of his hold yet while you try to squirm away.

"Hey, look at me, before you get up," he cups your cheek again, gently, your eyes meeting his brown ones. Eddie leans in for a kiss, a soft reminder that he's not going anywhere anytime soon -- not that you'd want him to. Not with lips like that.

When you break away, his nose nuzzles yours, coasting up to press another gentle kiss on the center of your forehead. Long and intentional, warm enough to get you to close your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, "It's okay if you're not, but -- I gotcha until you're feelin' better, hm?"

You nod, sniffling snottily and wiping your wet cheek.

"I am ordering us quesadillas," he whispers, stealing another kiss from you, "Because if you're going to rot on my couch, I'm gonna make you rot next to me."

"We're rotting!" you cheer half heartedly, pouting when he gets up to get his phone for take out. When he finishes, he holds his hand out and you sheepishly put your hand in his.

Eddie curls bounce when he shakes his head, "Peach, you know what I'm asking for."

"No," you frown, "I need it to rot."

"Peach...please?" it's more of a warning than a question, and you slide your phone into his hand. He doesn't check it, but he knows that if you don't have it 'locked away' in his sweats pocket for a while you'll just end up zoning out the same way you did before.

"Thanks, sugar," he smirks, "You're so good."

Your cheeks burn at the priase, rolling your eyes with a grin that cracks against your features, "Don't. We're not doing anything sexy."

"Yeah I know," he shrugs innocently, finding his way next to you again, "But when you smile like that, who am I to deny you a lil' somethin'?"

He dims the lights in the open space from the remote on the coffee table, settling in while you make yourself comfortable in his side. Eddie keeps you close on nights like this, when he knows you're on unsteady ground. You're still quiet, but the start of another Twilight Zone marathon keeps you more alert than before. With steady breaths you start to relax in what he'd deem a healthier way than before, and the quiet doesn't make his brain too fuzzy this time around. In the still of the living room and the hum of Rod Serlings voice, he feels you squeeze his hand -- a silent thank you. He doesn't think he could be any more in love.

[scribs-dibs]

gilded

sunday x reader, established relationship i suppose, ooc sunday perhaps, refs to sunday's trauma and a lot of his unwelcomed thoughts, ummmm it's very short guys idk

wc ; ~700-ish words

this is my (late) submission from the stellaronhvnters sillay halloween event! i used the prompt foliage this time :-)

"doesn't he owe this to you?"

Sunday lived in a gilded cage, and he liked it there.

It was safe in there, sacred, with the bars perfectly, evenly spaced, just enough room for him to see out of, just enough to see what a proper child should not  do,  just enough to see what he should be better than, just enough for him to see what naughty, rowdy children look like.

So when the cool breeze reddens your nose, and your eyes peek at him from over your scarf, and you ask him:

"Sunday, wanna play in the leaves?"

Of course, his careful, calculated answer is:

"I'll pass, thank you."

He doesn't quite understand why your face falls the way it does, but it sends a shiver down his spine. That response was wrong.

But who can blame him, really? His shirt is crisp and clean, and the leaves have crinkled and curled on the ground for ages. They're dirty. Proper, well behaved children stay at Gopher Wood's side, back straight and posture proper, safe inside his gilded cage. He longs for it, sometimes. The safety. The sacredness. The cleanliness.

But this isn't all bad either, he muses. This is as close to safety as ever— your hand is placed securely in his own, your bared flesh against his gloved one, and every so often you make sure to give your joined arms a hardy swing. You've all but shut him out of his office for the day, the sky turning a mellow pink as the sun sinks beneath the clouds. "Autumn" you had called it; Penacony removed the harsh breezes and early darkness from this season, and its reality would be distasteful if not for your unabashed enjoyment of it.

Your favorite part of this time of year, you've told him, is how the leaves change color. Greens disappear into warm gradients, and he supposes he can see the appeal of that.

But that doesn't mean he has to roll in them.

You nudge his shoulder, and he realizes he's spaced off. Uncouth. Pay attention.

"Come on Sunday! Can't we live a little?"

Sunday allows a short, clipped chuckle to escape him. Your face is scrunched lightly, the way it always gets when you want to pout at him uselessly. You refrain from doing that, sure, but Sunday can tell it's only a few minute twitches away from forming such an expression.

"We? I never said you couldn't indulge," Sunday presses a finger against the knit in your brow, ironing out the crease formed there. Such an expression causes wrinkles. "You can go ahead. I'll be here."

You shake your head immediately.

"It's not the same," you sigh, and Sunday knows that tone. It's disappointment, hard and sharp and cold. Though it is faint, a different flavor when encased in your gentler, kinder, form, he can still detect it a mile away. "But it's okay, we can still go to the cafe as planned."

You don't seem disheartened. You've moved on, gracefully, with the ease he both envies and admires from you.

Everything was set out for him in his cage. He had a role to play, and fulfilled it properly. Played all his pieces properly, too, made sure everything set out for him stayed in its proper place. When that all shattered, he was lost. It was your guiding hands that found him and picked up what was left of him. You...loved what was left of him in fact.

Now that he plays the role of "boyfriend," doesn't he owe this to you? Would this simple act be enough to start balancing the scales for the sin of loving him?

"Sunday?" 

Pay attention. Uncouth. Shame on you.

"It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Your own finger rubs at the crease in his brow. Normally, his facade is perfect, practiced. Ease is supposed to be the neutral face for a leader. He let his guard down.

"Look," you point, and overhead the trees shimmer with their reds and oranges and yellows, shining with the little scraps of sunlight that remain, "This is enough, isn't it? We don't have to jump in the piles if you don't want to."

Your hand in his grows tighter, and the reprimands that Sunday has repeated to himself again and again suddenly feel distant.

"Walking with you is more than enough, Sunday."

Sunday had lived in a gilded cage. But he supposes life outside isn't so bad, now.

Sunday takes a deep breath, and walks with you amongst the leaves.

•------------------------•

ty for reading 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ rbs & comments are appreciated !!

[bonelyheartsclub]

for the swap versions of eachother (undertale/underswap and underfell/fellswap) what was it like seeing themselves essentially swapped with their own brother? and do you think the swapped versions of themselves get along for being like minded or are opposed to each other for it (at least when they first met i know they get along now lol)

Stretch: Was definitely…… overwhelmed when he met Papyrus and Boss. Imagining himself running around, doing everything like that every hour of every day made him feel tired just thinking it. More power to those guys. And he gets along with them as easy as his “lazy” counterparts, just conversation naturally oozes out with them.

Blue: Was absolutely astounded to see Sans and Red, how could he ever be that lazy in any universe? Though given he also shares their trait of lacking motivation in some things, he supposes he can relate. Papyrus was a great make-up gift, though, and the two became quick friends! Boss not so much, but that was for other reasons. Mainly dissimilar wavelengths. If anything came from it, though, it was nice to see that no matter the universe, his brother still kept his sweet tooth.

Red: Felt right at home with Blue and Nox. Even with the switching, he just saw it as more people to playfully antagonize with puns and pranks a plenty. He knows himself, he'd enjoy some April fooling, even if they were a bit more uppity. Stretch and Rus were a bit odd; he never thought he'd see his brother be so lackadaisical about anything. It took a bit of adjustment, but he considers them good buddies now. Though he does try to tone things down a little bit for them, moreso than he does for Sans; the part of him that still sees his little brother deems it so.

Boss: The swap siblings were a bit of a surprise to Boss, initially. Though over time, he realized Stretch still had ambition in his own way. Maybe not for the same things HE did, but nonetheless. Blue was a bit more difficult to understand, but gradually he noticed more similarities with Red. Particularly in their need to mess with each other; something he was glad to not be a part of. He was most perplexed by Rus. Knowing he came from such a harsh universe, he was initially surprised someone so clumsy could make it out of there. Though seeing Nox, he supposed it wasn't too much of a surprise: his brother would look out for him in any universe.

Papyrus: For Papyrus, seeing other versions of himself was a little earth-shattering, since before he had assumed it was just he and his brother. At first, he's ecstatic that there's more skeletons!! More friends who understand, especially with Blue!! He does realize later on that not all of his alternates have had the best life, but he wants to make sure they're comfortable from now on.

Sans: Was initially a bit surprised by the swapped siblings (and he for sure had some thoughts about multiverse theory when he met them), but once he got over the moment of shock, he found it easy enough to get along with all of them. Both Stretch and Blue remind him of Papyrus at times, just in different ways. Nox and Rus don't exactly have that same odd familiarity, though he likes them enough to be a general nuisance to them.

Nox: Was defensive and confused at first; seeing different versions of himself and his brother disheartened and enlightened him a bit. Seeing that others had better lives than them had him disappointed, but knowing Boss and Red having similar experiences of the underground had him feeling a sort of comradery- especially with Boss, even if they don't see eye to eye all the time.

Rus: Was a bit overwhelmed in general by the different versions, but he finds them all to be good company now. Papyrus was the oddest version of himself to see, but he admires Paps' energy. Boss reminded him a little of his brother and Rus admires him for his drive and ability to get things done. Stretch is the easiest to get along with for him, and Blue is a bit perplexing to him at times. Sans and Red are odd and definitely different from Nox, but he likes them both well enough (as long as Red keeps any big pranks to himself.)

Via @/Buttergriffin332 (Stretch), @/DuskySkye (Blue, Red, Boss), @/Creative-poptart (Papyrus), @/Lost-immortality (Sans), @/ChrysanStarset (Nox), & @/Goatdadjaxx (Rus).

[takenbypeter]

Hii! I just saw Wonka for the first time and I loved it, everything was soo good I’d love to request something. Could I request something with Wonka x fem!(or gn)reader in which reader comforts him after everything goes wrong with his shop? He was so sad and it broke my heart when he said that his mum didn’t show up and everything was just a stupid dream, I wanted to give him a hug so bad. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you ofc, have a great day 💞

I Believe In You

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 658

Love love love this request💖sorry I suck at angst but I hope you still like it 

None of you could’ve ever predicted what just took place. 

Melted chocolate and burned candies surrounded all around as you stood there in disbelief. 

The crowd that quickly grew to love Wonka’s chocolates turned on them just as quickly. All because of something that wasn’t even his fault. 

You, along with the few others who helped, stood, unsure where to go from here. Noodle ran to Wonka trying her best to motivate him, but Abacus gently encouraged her to give him some time before he left. Then Piper left, and one by one the others followed. 

You stuck close to them, about to take your own departure and leave the chocolatier to his own thinkings, but you stopped in your tracks giving it another thought. You couldn’t just leave him there. It wouldn’t be right. 

So back you walked and you parked yourself beside him. 

You sat there noiseless, as you were unconfident of your next words. What do you say to a man who’s lost so much. 

“Willy this is just a minor setback,” you start. 

“No it’s not. This all is just some stupid dream and it didn’t even work. She didn’t even show up.”

Your brows furrowed together, the crease between them deepening. You know grief is difficult and different for everyone, no one reacts the same way and you knew Willy truly believed his mother would appear. Although you didn’t know Willys mother personally it broke your heart to see him like this. 

“She wouldn’t break a promise,” he whispered more to himself with his eyes downcast. 

You made a little, hm, noise pondering on your next words, “…maybe this wasn’t the time.”

Willy’s eyes finally raise, meeting yours and although they still hold emptiness in them you can spot the tiniest glint of curiosity. 

“Think about it. Things went wrong, horribly wrong. I mean it could not have gone any more wrong,” you said getting louder with every sentence and Willy couldn’t help but spit out a single self deprecating laugh at how true your words were. 

“So maybe this wasn’t the time…we try again and when things are right it will happen,” you say sounding more positive than you expected yourself to be, “she will be there. Maybe not in the way you think, but she’ll be there.”

“And what if she’s not.”

“And what if she is.” You said raising your brow in questioning. He seems to mull your comments over. 

“If not for yourself, do it for Abacus. Do it for Piper; Chucklesworth, Lottie, Noodle…do it for me. You have touched all of our hearts. You make us believe in our own dreams because you’re so passionate about yours. Even if you have to start everything all over again we will be right there starting over with you. So just…don’t give up. Please.”

Willy peers up at you, his expression still disheartened. He knew you meant well and he appreciated you for that. It did help to know he had a group of capable people following behind him. 

Willy loved making chocolate, that is a fact that would never change. The way his chocolate affects people is beyond all imagination. But to start over, especially after he disappointed you all. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could do that again.

You wait patiently as he sits there in thought. “Willy,” your hand rests on his giving it an assuring squeeze. “I will be right here with you.”

Willy finally expresses an appreciative smile while he turns his hand in yours, squeezing it back. 

With his cheeks a bit rosy from either the embarrassment he felt or the warmth of encouragement you gave him, he says, “it’ll take some time.”

You nod, “then it’ll take some time, that’s fine. Whatever you need.”

Willy didn’t know exactly how it would all workout but he could tell you truly believed it to be true and because of that…he started to believe it too. 

~

Feel free to request more Wonka pics I love this man!!!!!

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Take Me Away [Teaser]

Pairing: private investigator!Wooyoung x courtesan!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: While working on a new case in town, Wooyoung was captivated when he stumbled upon a beauty unlike any other. Just as he began to believe that he might have found a Lady Park of his own, word got out that she was merely the newest courtesan at the town's brothel. Disheartened by this revelation, he nearly abandons his pursuit of her until he hears whispers suggesting that she may not have been there of her own will.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"Miss Han, you fortunate little thing! Congratulations on securing your very first client. This dashing young man seems utterly smitten by you, to have reserved your company for the entire evening."

You tightly clenched your trembling fists to your chest, suppressing a terrified whimper as you listened to the brothel madam's devious teasing. You had prayed fervently that nobody would request your services, doing everything you could to remain inconspicuous over the past week, hoping they might see you as more suitable for hard labour; you'd much rather be the lowest servant than do any of this.

Yet, here you were, already with your first client, and not just any client—this man had gone as far as to secure your companionship for the entire day. Such occurrences were rare, even for the most sought-after courtesans in this establishment. You couldn't fathom who this person might be, how he had learned of you, and why he'd spend so much to buy your time.

"Wh-who is it? This customer..."

"Wouldn't you like to know? It's none other than the famous private investigator Jung Wooyoung, known for his significant role in aiding General Park's capture of former Minister Jang. I suppose even men with a strong sense of justice are still susceptible to desire," The sly woman drawled, winking at you, "Don't disappoint us, girl. A client of his calibre could become a valuable long-term patron. Treat him well."

Surprise, my lovelies! I bet y'all thought Mingi would be the first spinoff I'd unveil, huh? TEEHEE! This will either be a oneshot or if it gets too long, I might break it into two parts!

Just a heads up tho, it's the last two weeks of my final semester (which means I won't have as much time to write) but as always, I'll do my best to get this out as soon as I can.

Tag list (1/2): @itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline @green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive @vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho @vic0921 @foxinnie8 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid @sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @pay13 @kpop17 @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings @chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories @anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @kamabokogonpachro @chngbnwf @dollce-exe @jan-l @lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim @scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa @ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[luveline]

Hi! I just read Prince steve's shot of the steampunk au and god, I loved it. I saw below it said you could make a request for it, so I wanted to know if you could do one about the how they met. I know it's mentioned, but I'd like to see what it was like at the time, if it's not too much trouble.

PS: qmo how you write, you are one of my role models 💕.

prince!steve au ♡ fem, 1.1k

Young people stand like dominoes in the sun, teetering, waiting to topple in on one another if given reason. Nine days of bated breath, the city waits in a ramping anticipation for Prince Steven to meet his soulmate.

You're almost hoping it isn't you so you can go home and rest your aching legs. Hours in the warm summer air, your worst dress sticking to the back of your clammy knees. You're not fit to meet the Prince. But… if you meet the Prince, and you were to somehow be his soulmate, you'd live an easy life. 

You'd live in a Palace, wear the finest clothes, eat the nicest foods (three times a day!). You could spend your days lounging under crystal chandeliers eating plates of fruit and expensive cheeses, air-conditioned and always smelling of vanilla, or sandalwood, or saffron. You've never tried saffron perfume, but it's the most expensive at the apothecary. 

The line mills shorter. You follow close to the heels of a girl dressed in better finery, a cherry red dress that looks like it's made of thin sheets of glass, her dark hair coiled in sweet cherubic curls at the back of her neck. They bounce with every step you take closer to the pedestal. You attach your attention to them, following the winding twist of them to the root over and over. 

You want very badly to be the Prince's soulmate. You'd be stupid not to want such luxury. But letting yourself believe that it's you out of the tens of thousands of eligible young people is asking to feel disheartened.

You convince yourself for the millionth time that it's not you as you follow the line inside of the royal gardens. Trees with weeping branches arc inward, their leaves kissing and sunlight dappled onto the people below. You feel it warming your skin as you take the final stretch. 

Apparently, for the King's soulmate search, he simply held out his arm and let women touch the inside of his palm with their pinky finger. He did this for two days. Prince Steven's search is taking much longer, as he's insisted on greeting and shaking the hands of everyone who's presented themselves. 

You wonder what that might feel like. He's a super pretty man, with exactly the sort of smile a Prince might hope to have. Whenever you see him on the holo screens you feel sick, wanting desperately to remain indifferent to him, but knowing you're just like every other silly young person in the kingdom. You want to be a special perfect royal. You want to take his hand and leave behind your disappointing life. 

Too bad it's a fantasy. 

"Next, please," says a young woman with red hair, looking at you pointedly. 

You bite your bottom lip between your teeth and walk determined to the top of the garden. Up three gentle steps and into a Palace of white, pearly stone. There's a long corridor lined with guards who eye you as you draw in. Deemed decidedly undangerous, they let you pass into a makeshift reception. You'd already had your name taken to be allowed in the line; nothing stands in your way of the Prince but chiffon pink curtains that shine like rose honey in the sun and a surprisingly small girl with a sword. 

And there, among an audience of officials and important people, sits the Prince. He looks smaller than you imagined, a little tired. The girl with the sword kicks his shin and he perks up, to the ire of the older members of his court. 

"Hey," he calls, "don't be shy! And don't be slow, either. Please. I missed dinner last night–" The girl clears her throat. Prince Steven takes on a more princely effect. "Please, come in." 

The audience isn't exactly paying attention. Any hope they had for a soul mate today has seemingly passed, and you can hear a few poorly muffled scoffs at your appearance. Surely the girl before you posed a more pleasing possibility. She looked like a princess. 

You stall a few paces from him. 

He frowns at you. In his garb, his neat clothes, a heavy platinum crown atop his head, he's strangely intimidating. You assumed he'd feel more familiar up close, like buying a gemstone from the catalogues and finding they've sent you zirconium, but it's the opposite. 

"Are you okay?" the girl asks. 

"She's fine," Prince Steven says, standing up from his ornate chair. He steps down from the short platform, even his steps a princely brand of perfection. "Well you're more than fine," he says to you, and you gather from the get go that he's not flirting with you, only joking to ease your nerves. 

He offers his hand. 

You take in a breath and approach him with measured steps. Being run through by his personal guards crystal sword isn't on your agenda this week. 

All you have to do is touch his hand and go home when nothing happens. You're nervous, but stalling any longer prolongs the awkwardness you've created. 

You step forward. 

Before your fingers can touch his palm, the feathered lines curled around your opposite wrists begin to glow. 

A silence falls. 

You take your hand back but the light doesn't fade. It's white, nearly cream in colour, with the density of fog but none of its cold. Prince Steven's eyes are wide and awash, the sun-kissed skin of his arm paled. "You–" he says, stepping forward again. 

You take his hand. You have to know. 

White light sears and then blooms, like petals unfurling, the source of it indistinguishable from your wrist or his. And then, when you're sure your heart might fall out of your mouth, the light dims. What remains is thin as fairy floss wrapped around your skin and his. 

He rubs the meat of your thumb with the tip of his, and that light glows soft pink, like flower jam. 

"It's you," he says. He sounds happy, as though you were a pleasant surprise. 

You tuck your hand behind your back, and the glow remains. It's you. You're Prince Steven's soul mate. 

"She doesn't look much like a princess," someone whispers. 

"I wouldn't say that," Prince Steven says, his eyes roving over you without apology. His smile is as authentic as they come. "I think you'd better meet my mother." 

"Now?" you ask. 

"Afraid so. Don't worry, though, you look pretty." He offers his hand again. "Come on."

He's a prince. You take his hand.

[eevees-hobbies]

Predator - NSFW (Fem!Reader x Kyojuro Rengoku)

Synopsis: What’s hotter than making your boyfriend chase you in the woods while dressed in a spooky costume? Nothing.

Author’s Note: It has been a while since I’ve written for the love of my life, so here we are. This is 100% self-indulgent and OOC for Kyojuro and is also not an accurate portrayal of the time period, but I am aware. Let a girl lust, yeah? This is for the "No, You Hang Up" Kinktober Ghostface Collab event. Reblogs & comments always appreciated.

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Kyojuro Rengoku. Degradation, dirty talk, cat-and-mouse, roleplaying, mention of claiming and marking, chasing in the woods, threatening to kill you, but pookie doesn’t mean it, choking/breath play, and ghost-face costume loosely implied but not explicitly mentioned. Tis Smut. Minors Do Not Interact. || Word Count: 2.2K

Banner by me. Divider by @sister-lucifer

“This is not an activity befitting of a Hashira,” Kyojuro grumbles, his voice uncharacteristically gruff and displeased, as he holds a plastic mask and black ankle-length cloak before him. He’s trying his damnest to appeal to your sense of sympathy and reasoning, but as he looks into your bright, lust-filled eyes, he knows your unwavering ability to reason is gone.

“Kyo! It’s fine. This is fine. Nothing you can do can hurt me, and I promise I can handle it.” 

Your voice drips with reassurance, but you’re practically salivating at the sight of the cloak he’s pulling over his head and now adhering to his muscular figure–the garment might be a tight fit, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Out of all of the Hashira, it wouldn’t hurt for Kyojuro to be a little less modest, you think, as the fabric strains against his muscles.

And even as you claim he can’t hurt you, you both mentally think about how that isn’t true. You, almost with reverence, and him with disheartenment of your fragility at the top of mind. 

Kyojuro can’t even begin to fathom who has been corrupting you in such a way that you get aroused at the idea of being chased through the woods by someone who wants to harm you. Don’t you get that enough in your profession as a Hashira with the ever-present threat that demons provide? But he can’t deny that he’s always ready to fulfill any request you may have, no matter how outrageous. He simply adores you far too much to disappoint you–some would call it love, but Tengen calls it being whipped.

“Ok, but we should have a safe word.” His remarks are muffled now that the mask is securely in place. It already annoys him how it tunnels his vision, but he can still see you clearly enough–so clearly that he’s watching you turn your back and dart into the woods. 

“No safe word then,” Kyojuro mutters, resigned yet still watching you with interest.

As he leans against a tree, he can’t help but admire your retreating form. The way your hips sway with each measured stomp of your foot, your thighs flexing as you maneuver around fallen tree branches. It all stirs something in him, some base instinct to claim and mark you, something he would never admit aloud to anyone.

And as he watches you, he kind of understands why you’re into this cat-and-mouse thing. It’s a way for you to live out this base desire to be chased in a no-pressure, non-life-threatening way he can provide. 

He figures he’ll give you a few more seconds before he catches you. You’re fast, but he’s much, much faster. Nonetheless, he wants to reward your apparent effort by allowing you to think you have a chance. But you’re naive if you think you can outrun, outmaneuver or outpower him.

He has to shake his head in disbelief—this mask makes him sound–and feel–like a predator. 

If you weren’t a Hashira, there’s no way you’d be as far out into the forest as you are right now. Years of training allow you to feel the expansion and deflation of your lungs as they move oxygen in and out of your body. You’re moving so fast that you feel like you’re soaring—you’re not even sure if your feet are touching the ground at this point.

Fuck.

But then you see it. You see a flicker of light subtly bouncing off the trees–if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, and you know when your other half is approaching, so quick on your heels that you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. 

But then it becomes so bright that it’s almost like the sun is starting to rise behind you. Despite that, you know better than to look over your shoulder. Looking behind you would mean getting caught. You’ve made that mistake before during sparring sessions, and each time, it resulted in him on top of you, breathing in your ear from behind and asking if you want to yield in a husky voice that never failed to make you shiver.

As you feel the unmistakable sensation of heat on your clothed back, you make a sudden turn. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a hand shooting past your face.

For an instant, you think you might have tricked him, and you let out a barely restrained, triumphant laugh, but then the upright trees are not upright anymore, and neither are you.

As Kyojuro’s body collides with yours, his hands reflexively moving under you to break your fall, you can’t help but be excited that you’ve lost because, truthfully, you’re about to win in all the ways that matter.

“Is this what you wanted, my flame? To feel like you’re in danger? Do you feel like your life is on the line?” He’s hovering over you, mask muffling his usual booming voice, but you can hear him quite clearly despite the sound of your heavy breathing and blood rushing in your ears.

You’d answer him honestly—tell him it’s impossible to ever feel genuinely in danger with him—but you’re too busy trying to recoup all that oxygen from running for your–theoretical–life,  so give him a head shake instead.

Under the mask, Kyojuro chews his lip, wondering what you need to feel or hear to make this experience worthwhile. But deep down, he knows, and he’s willing to give in to yours and his base desires, even if that means he has to act less like a Hashira and more like someone he would and could never be. 

He moves his hand to your neck, his fingers pressing against the pulse point that’s drumming erratically. He watches the corner of your lip twitch upward into an almost smirk that he all but wipes away when the entirety of his fingers wrap around your throat with the pressure that elicits a gasp from you. 

“I don’t have to do much to snuff out your life,” he informs you, his voice low and gravely, which is a far cry from his usual jovial tone. The way he says snuff is punctuated with the tightening of his grip as it threatens the air you just worked hard to recuperate.

Yet you somehow manage a “you’d snuff a cute girl like me out?” 

“You? I think I’d keep you around for a bit. You look like you might be good for something—scratching an itch, perhaps.”

Use me!

Let me scratch your itch, Kyo, your brain all but screams as he presses himself between your thighs. He doesn’t need much to convince you to spread yourself for him; the motion is almost automatic for you as his hands push up your skirt and pull the seat of your panties to the side.

“No foreplay?” You inquire with a purr as he moves the cloak out of the way enough to grab his hardening cock and press it against your heated cunt. He can feel how desperate you are with the way your sex is clenching in anticipation and the heat radiating from your core; it makes him smirk as he teases the entrance by dragging the fat head of his cock against her that only makes her weep your arousal and coat the forest floor. 

You reach up and snatch the mask off his face, and your breath catches in your throat at the sheer intensity of his gaze–it’s dark and hungry, which is a far cry from the usual reverent look he holds when he looks upon you. But this dark and hungry look? It makes you ache.

He looks down at you, eyes cold—a look you’ve only seen him wear a handful of times for the most troublesome of demons. As you stare up at him with bated breath, you can’t help that his look is appropriate because surely you’re haunting him with your little fucked up fantasy.

“Are you the type of girl who likes to be fucked on the dirty forest floor with leaves in her hair and her cunt exposed to the elements?”

Before you can answer, he’s bottoming out inside of you, and you didn’t need foreplay, but the lack of checking in from him–something you’ve certainly grown accustomed to–is jarring. 

You arch your back, expecting him to wait and allow you the chance to breathe, but his hand finds purchase on the column of your neck once again as he holds you down while starting the quick propelling of his hips, stretching you out as his pelvis connects with yours but then pulling out until the tip so much so that your cunt barely has time to grip him.

But Kyojuro can feel how she desperately tries to squeeze him like a vice, how she flutters and tries to embrace his cock in warm and wet blanket of velvet flesh. You feel like heaven and sin all in the same filthy stroke.

You reach up, your hands wrapping around his wrists in an attempt to get a grip on the situation, him, anything because you’re not used to this side of him, and he can see the shock and disbelief in your eyes. 

Fuck, he likes it. 

He leans down, lips brushing against yours, words coming out sickly sweet as he taunts you.

“Don’t tell me you bit off more than you can chew, my flame. You thought you’d be in control here? You thought I wouldn’t savor the opportunity to split you open on my cock right here when you’re offering yourself up to me so nicely?”

As he speaks, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off airflow to the point that you can feel yourself growing lightheaded; the only sensation that becomes apparent to you is the way his cock feels plundering into your cunt.

His lips remain skimming yours, occasionally opening as he lets out gasps–because even though Kyojuro is committed to the bit, he’s still so deeply affected by you and how you feel wrapped around his cock.

“So wet for me, pretty girl. Well, if you want to act like a bitch in heat offering yourself up to me until I mount you on the ground and sheathe myself inside of you, I’m going to act like a dog and take it,” he grunts with another exaggerated jut of his hips.

Kyojuro’s half-lidded eyes meet yours as he looks down at you. The leaves that have turned a rusty brown during the Fall season create a halo around your head, framing your magnificence in a way that feels justified to Kyojuro.

Fuck, you look so beautiful, especially when you’re taking his cock.

Tears are starting to prick at the corner of your eyes as he bullies your g-spot unrelentingly. Your mouth is opening and closing with only shattered moans and whimpers escaping from your parted lips as his hand squeezes the life out of you. 

You look so perfect like this, but, fuck, he realizes, you might pass out. He loosens his grip around your throat, and the way you gasp for air makes his cock throb because, honestly, the power he could hold over you is intoxicating.

“Thank me for not snapping your neck,” he whispers in your ear through gritted teeth. Oh, he’s close, so fucking close that he can feel his balls clench where they smack the curve of your ass. 

He’s not usually very comfortable with dirty talk, often fumbling the words as he speaks, his cheeks heating up as you reassure him that he’s doing just fine, but at this moment? In this moment, it feels right.

“Thank me for taking your cunt and not your life.”

“T-thank you, K-kyo!” A harshly punctuated thrust of his hips, thick-cock head driving into the sensitive ridges of your pussy serves as an unspoken warning for you to get it fucking right.

So you correct yourself, tilting your head back and practically screaming it for the entire forest to hear, “T-thank you, Kyojuro, for not snapping my neck and taking my cunt!”

Quicker than the last syllable can leave your lips, he’s crashing his mouth down onto yours, swallowing your moans and gasps, drinking them up like wine in an open-mouthed, messy kiss. He’s pouring into you as much as you’re pouring into him with a kiss that speaks to your deep connection and intimacy.

His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he holds it over above your head and rolls his hips deeper. The only sounds you’re privy to are the sounds of the leaves crushing under your bodies, your muffled moans as you exchange them mouth-to-mouth, and the obscene squelches coming for your cunt as he pushes deeper into you.

You’re so deliciously close–until you aren't, because you’re falling into a torrent of intense orgasmic waves, Kyojuro quickly following after you with a guttural moan released into your mouth.

After the ripples of your pleasure pass, he rolls off of you, the mask forgotten along with the roleplay as you both attempt to catch your breath again.

“Was that good, my flame? I’m sorry for the filthy things I said.” He looks at you with bright eyes, like he did all of this simply to please you, but you know better.

“Nah, you liked it.”

“I liked it.” he concedes with a chuckle as he brings your knuckles to his lips to place kisses laced with another unspoken apology for committing to the bit far too well.

@hayatoseyepatch @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn

[seventeenytiny]

Skz, most likely to get upset because they wake up and you're cooking breakfast instead of still being in bed with them.

MTL - Get upset to see you making breakfast instead of being in bed

Author's Note: a combo of two things I never do: get out of bed early and eat breakfast. Anyways, thanks for sending!

Most Upset

Felix - I think he might be the most cuddly/clingy member, so I feel like he would be a bit disappointed to wake up and not see you beside him for morning snuggles. However, he would obviously be very thankful for your efforts in making breakfast. He would probably pay you back with a lovely dinner date

Jisung - He's also a big morning cuddler! He would wonder why the bed felt so cold until he smelled the delicious scent from the kitchen. His nose would then lead him to you like a cartoon character floating towards a scent trail. The only thing is, he might be a bit pouty about not getting a morning kiss right away.

Minho - He would be upset because he feels like he should be the one in the kitchen making breakfast, not you. He would come up behind you while you're cooking and envelop you in a big hug, then kindly ask you to let him take over and finish making breakfast.

Changbin - He would be a bit bummed to not see you in bed with him, but he would also be pretty thrilled to have breakfast being made for him. I feel like he's one of those people who really enjoy eating a big breakfast too. He would be very thankful for your efforts.

Jeongin - He values his quiet morning time, and he likes to spend that with you. He'd be disheartened to see the bed empty at first, but once he realizes it's all so you can spoil him he'd be ecstatic.

Hyunjin - He's a snuggler in his sleep. With that being said, I think he would be surprised that you managed to get out of his grip in the morning without waking him up. However, he'd be excited to see that you have laid out a meal for you two to enjoy together.

Seungmin - I could see him as the type of guy who particularly enjoys home-cooked meals. Making homemade food for him could be part of your love language because he always has the biggest smile while eating something delicious. He'd appreciate being occasionally spoiled with a good breakfast.

Bang Chan - You know how they say the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Well, that's Chan. He works so hard that he would absolutely love the surprise of breakfast in the morning. He doesn't get spoiled much, so this would be a big treat for him

Least Upset

[ijwrsmff]

I would like to request a Riddle Rosehearts x Reader where reader really struggles with studying so he has to come up with a “reward” system :3 - 🥀

Hi hi!!! My first TWST fic! Riddle is good boy, I used to think he was kind of annoying. But that was before I really got much into the story and now I completely agree, that he is precious baby boy. He got some issues, but who doesn't? XD

Here's a cute lil fic for the boy! Enjoy <3

Word: 1,552

“I’m sorry, housewarden…” You mumbled, looking at the ground ashamed. It was supposed to be a simple test, but you had nearly failed it. Riddle wasn’t one to tolerate lower grades, and wanted to be the best house in the school. At least, that’s what he pretended to want more than anything. He really just wanted everyone to have the chance to succeed. You knew that, and it only made you feel worse when he began scolding you over the grade. 

He sighed, and rubbed his face as if to hide the irritation he was feeling. “This is your first semester here, you need to be able to keep up with your studies if you want to succeed. I won’t stand by when one of my housemates is fumbling on a simple test.” He glared at you, but the glare softened as your face only looked ashamed. There was a twinge of pain in his heart at the look, and he took a step closer. 

“Look, if you’re struggling with concepts, you can come to me or your housemates. There are plenty of students here who have struggled with those topics, but we’re here to help each other.” He straightened his back slightly, and tried to give you a reassuring smile but it seemed almost forced. Riddle almost left it at that, but something was nagging at him. 

“We’ve talked numerous times, you’re exceptionally smart…I don’t see how these concepts are difficult for you.” He turned to look at you fully, his expression curious as he tried to figure it out without you even answering. It obviously didn’t work, but his mind had run through numerous scenarios in the short amount of time it took you to speak up in response to his question. 

You felt a bit embarrassed, and a small blush crept onto your cheeks from his gaze. You shrunk in on yourself slightly, and mumbled a small, “I’m…I’m really bad at studying. I just can’t seem to focus on it for very long at all…” Tears were nearly falling down your face, ashamed to admit that…focusing on things you didn’t like was straight up impossible most days. You hated the fact that you’d made your house warden disappointed in you, and it made you feel like a failure. 

Riddle made a surprised gasp when he saw your tears start to fall, and took a step closer to you, reaching out hesitantly. “H-Hey! It’s alright! We can…we can work on it together, okay?” His voice was panicked, and it seemed like he thought he was the reason you were crying. He’d continue to beat himself up over that, but for now he needed to comfort you somehow. He put a hesitant hand on your shoulder and said softly, “We’ll figure it out. I think I know how to help. Give me some time, I’ll be back.” 

With that, he rushed out of the room and you heard his door slam shut behind him. Your jaw dropped, and you wondered what he had planned. But he just left you here to cry! That’s so rude! Though…he did say he would try to help. You hadn't exactly had an overwhelming amount of conversations with him, so you weren’t sure what he intended to do. You wouldn’t even find out until two days later, since Riddle seemed to be talking to everyone in the door aside from you. 

It kind of hurt, how he said he would help, but numerous other students you considered friends mentioned Riddle talking to them about you. If he had something to say to you, why wouldn’t he say it to your face? Even your friends were keeping the secret on what he talked about to them. You tried to pry the answers out of them, but they all said variations of the same thing. 

“I can’t afford to have another ‘off with your head’”

It was disheartening to say the least, but tonight when you were in the common room attempting to study, Riddle approached you directly. He looked determined, and a little smug, as if he’d solved all the world’s problems. “I’ve devised a plan.” He spoke, and sat down next to you with his phone in his hand. It confused you immensely, considering he rarely used the thing. 

“A…plan…?” You tilted your head and waited for him to continue, and he pulled out a binder the size of three full length textbooks. It had your face turn pale and your jaw dropped, terrified of the thought of having to memorize all of that. Though Riddle saw your look and gave a small chuckle. 

“These are my notes, not yours. But they’ll help.” He opened his phone and showed you the game he’d installed. It was…one of your favorites of all time. You’d play it when you got too stressed over studying, and it gave you mixed feelings. For one, it was relaxing, but the counterargument being that you were wasting your time playing it when you should be studying. 

“Since when did you start playing that? I love that game!” You gasped, and he opened the game. He wasn’t near the level you were at, but you’d been playing for several months. It seemed like he’d been playing for a couple…that or he’s using someone else’s account. You looked at his gamer ID, and bio and concluded this was really Riddle’s account. That or someone is copying him exceptionally. 

“Two days ago.” He spoke, nonchalantly. “I got it for you.” He blushed slightly when he said that, and cleared his throat to continue explaining. “I’ve taken notes on every possibility, enemy, and outcome when it comes to the game, and devised a strategy to get through every story and level in a proficient manner while minimizing time spent.” He looked proud of himself and stared at you until you understood his meanings fully…even though it didn’t work.

“How…is that going to help me study?” You were impressed by his efforts, and you didn’t even know it was possible to have so many materials and weapons in such a short period of time. To say you were confused would be an understatement, and you found yourself mirroring his blush. “You…did all this to help me?” You mumbled, looking at his binder full of supposedly everything you would need in the game. 

He cleared his throat to hide his blush, and tried to look composed as he continued. “It will help because your friends mentioned you enjoy rewards for getting things accomplished. I have three hours of free time within the day, and I expect to see your results and papers on the questions you need help with or need corrected.” He took a deep breath, and spoke with determination in his eyes. “I will be giving you the materials you need based on how you score. And for each time slot around my freetime you work, I will spend my free hour time slot playing your favorite game with you.” 

It blew your mind how much time and effort he had put into his plan…it made you tear up again. No one has ever been that thoughtful for you and your needs like he is right now. You had friends, yes, but Riddle was a busy person. He even said he only had three hours of free time in his day, and he was willing to spend it with you. You sniffled as tears started to fall as he gasped and looked petrified. 

“I-I made you cry again! Is the plan insufficient? I thought it would be enough, I-” He reached out to you to try to comfort you, and you held his hand and smiled through your tears. You effectively stopped his panicked ramble, and spoke with sweetness in your voice despite the shakiness. 

“The plan is perfect. I would have even accepted holding hands as a reward. It’s…really just any time and anything I get to do with you.” You blushed, but closed your eyes from how wide you were smiling at him. The second your eyes closed, you felt his lips on yours. It made you open your eyes in shock to see his eyes closed with a blush that covered his face. The moment seemed to stop, and you both put tenderness into the action, not wanting that moment to end. 

He pulled away, and tried to scowl, but it really looked more like an adorable pout. “I suppose I could do that again for your rewards. But only if you get your work done!” He scoffed, and looked away from you when you looked at him with nothing but enthusiasm and adoration. 

“Okay! I’d…I’d really like that.” 

From then on, you would always study together. He had classes at different times than you did, but all of the free time you both had was spent with each other. Apparently, Riddle had fallen for you the moment you teared up from his lecturing you. He mentioned how you had a form of sensitivity and tenderness he hadn’t seen in a long time. His feelings solidified when he saw you crying, and made a point to never let you get sad enough to cry again. He’d make sure no one hurt you, and even if they did…

He’d be right by your side. 

[artdcnaldson]

HOW DID I MISS IT, prodigy au my beloved, cat you are so smart and talented and beautiful

oh how i need art "the snake" donaldson to make me dependent on him. he just wants to take care of her so bad :( hes willing to gamble her career and reputation to get what he wants. he knows people will be scandalized over his own role, so much older than you, his glaringly obvious daddy kink, calling you his little girl. he knows people will be disgusted with him... for a bit. and then they'll forget. hes already left the spotlight behind, they wont talk about him for long.

but her. shes still trying to leave her mark on the world, make a name for herself, have a career worth remembering. and now shes without her sponsors, being badmouthed and slutshamed on every platform out there. every person in the stands have seen her at her most desperate and vulnerable. they've all seen her beg for daddy's cum, beg art to fuck her ass, beg him to spit on her. its mortifying, almost enough to make her quit tennis altogether. but she couldnt do that to art, hes put so much work into her game. he took a chance on her, she cant let him down :(((( and he's eating it up. she thinks she has to everything in her power to make this up to him, she feels gulity for jeopardizing his reputation like this, not knowing he's the one who caused this mess. shes on her knees begging for him, for his cock, his forgiveness, his love, every second shes not out practicing on the court. determined to make this all up to him and fulfill his wishes for her. in the meantime he will gladly take care of her. WOOF!! I NEED THEM. hes so evil but so sexy

also i love the very natural transition from mean stanford art to evil retired art, its such an important part of his character actually

-🐞

hehe <3 mean Stanford to evil retired art hehehehe

His poor girl :(( You barely leave his bed for the first few days. He keeps you satisfied, though— eats your pussy until your head goes fuzzy and you can’t think about what everyone’s saying about you anymore, sinks his dick into you and tells you it’s okay, daddy’s here. You melt into him, sweet and needy, seeking comfort only he can give you.

After a few days, you release a statement about violated privacy privacy and consensual relationships. How disgusted you are that something so personal has been leaked for public consumption. How disheartening it is to be dropped by your sponsors and brand partnerships. It doesn’t help. Not you, not Art.

Art Donaldson was respectable before you. He’d been a highly respected member of the community, a pillar of what a tennis star can achieve, the life they can build. You’d toppled that carelessly, like a child playing blocks. Now controversial age gaps and inappropriate power dynamics are mentioned in line with his name. Once you stop wallowing for yourself, you start begging for his forgiveness.

Art’s not mad. He tells you over and over, but you don’t care. You need to make it up to him, need to give him a reason not to think you’re a complete waste of his time, that you didn’t ruin his reputation for nothing. You prove it to him with your mouth, sinking to your knees like you’re praying to him, accepting his cock onto you tongue, down your throat. Let him fuck you however he needs— rough or slow, mean or loving. He can take whatever he wants— whatever hole, whatever position, you’ll be nothing more than a fleshlight if it means he’ll still see you as his special little plaything.

On the courts you’re losing, and he’s disappointed. You’re distracted by sneering opponents and whispers in the crowd. You don’t know if you can keep doing this, but until you can’t take it anymore, you’ll just bottle it all up inside. You’ll do that for him.

[lavylesby]

The Holidays (a Mario fanfic)

There's something special about this time of year.

I'm sitting here on this thing called a laptop, celebrating this thing called Christmas, doing this thing called typing. I never thought Mario would ever have anything to teach me, but writing here's way more convenient than cracking countless pencils and pens.

But really…there's this certain air about "the holidays." Many people, across time and space, have many reasons to celebrate. Some are religious, some are traditional, some are simple, and some are, well…extravagant. I can still hear Luigi lamenting the commercialism of "Black Friday" and the holidays in general, and he yearns for the "magic" to return.

But,

what does he mean by that?

What does he mean by magic?

Christmas isn't the only holiday. In Peaches' kingdom, people smile when the first day of snow comes, and to celebrate, they make giant "winter wonders." Cakes filled with all kinds of flavors, like chocolate, cinnamon, nutmeg, and even potatoes. And they're all topped with some sort of "snow icing" that they REFUSE to give me the recipe for.

(It's so good. 🥺 Oh yeah, I figured out these "emoji" things. They're so silly.)

No matter the occasion, no matter the kingdom, people always seem to find this thing called joy. But where does it come from, and how do you get it? And why does it bring so much…

…union?

For years, this question confused me. Baffled me.

I thought maybe it something you could learn, like little children learning to read. But no one ever taught me joy.

I thought perhaps it was something you could buy, or acquire. But I'm one of the richest people ever, the King of the Koopas, and I've never been happy.

I thought…maybe something was wrong with me. And so, I eventually gave up, disheartened, disappointed…determined that it would never be mine.

Until Junior burst into my life.

The moment my baby boy was born, it hit me. Suddenly, everything made sense. People were initially skeptical about the origins of Prince Bowser Tortulis Jr., not realizing that Yoshis and Koopas are asexual (though not necessarily in the queer sense). But I didn't care.

I finally understood.

See, I didn't realize how insensibly foolish I was. I didn't realize that there are things that unite every living creature, every living soul. Joy was one of them, being one of the most prominent. Of course I couldn't buy it, but the things I buy can create experiences. Of course I couldn't learn it, because I already knew it even before I opened my eyes.

And as I look into the gleaming, gleeful eyes of my sweet son, watching him befriend those I once considered my sworn enemies, I'll ask again:

Where does the magic come from? Where does joy come from?

The answer, dear reader, is a bit strange, but quite simple to understand. Remember this:

Life will never be equal, because hate…will never equal love.

"Daaaad!! You're supposed to be helping with the tree!"

My son stomped up to me, indignant. Flecks of leaves from the tree were speckled across his tiny tuft of hair, and ribbons garnered his body. He looked so utterly adorable, and I couldn't help but let a chuckle slip.

"Writing diaries is way cooler than decorating trees," I teased, scooping Junior into my lap and kissing his forehead. "Besides, why would I ever do such a thing with Luigi, of all people!"

"Your dad's right. I should be mortified if his hand should even brush the ornaments!" Luigi said, joining in. Junior playfully stuck out his tongue in response.

"Well, we're only serving our Winter Wonder Suprises to our esteemed decorators!" Mario called out, followed by Peach bringing a platter of said surprises.

Junior leaped from my lap and ran, overflowing with excitement. "But that means I won't get any!" I protested.

Peach and Mario smirked, sharing a glance of amusement. "That can be easily fixed! All you gotta do is put the star on top," they said.

I squinted suspiciously. "But you're only saying that 'cause I'm here. None of you are tall enough to put up the star without getting a ladder!"

"Exactly," Peach replied slyly. Mario grinned from ear to ear.

"Oh HO, so you're bribing him! I love it," Luigi laughed.

I faked rage. I gently put the laptop down, and not-so-gently rose from the couch. "This is treachery, against the King of the Koopas!" I yelled in an over-the-top, kingly voice. "The likes of which have been perpretrated by you two!" I continued, scooping up Mario and Peach in one fell swoop.

"Help, help!" they cried mockingly. "His Majesty has captured us, Luigi!"

Luigi pretended to faint. "I could never lift a finger against my darling king!"

I stooped over Luigi, and kissed him as if he were Sleeping Beauty. "I have granted thee my royal power, my eternal might! Surely you can save these damsels and dames now!"

Luigi rose like an angel, and flexed his arms to show his muscles. "Never fear! I shall save you at once!" he cried in his fluffy pajamas.

In an instant, he grabbed the star, jumped on my back, which dislodged Mario and Peach, and placed the star on the topmost tip of the tree. His landing was actually graceful, and I did my best to hide my ruby red cheeks.

"Yaayyy!! You saved us!" Mario and Peach ran to Luigi and hugged him tightly, and I could see his cheeks had also suffered the fate of the burning tomato. Junior, meanwhile, was busy stuffing his face.

"Manf, you guyrs coork WEY bertter than Dard!" he said, crumbs cascading everywhere.

"Thanks, son," I grumbled, flopping back onto the couch. Luigi kissed my cheek tenderly.

"It just means you need to practice, Bowsie," he said soothingly, finally going to enjoy his surprise cake.

"DON'T CALL ME BOWSIE!" I growled, as Mario chuckled joyfully and Peach let out a few giggles.

Happy holidays!! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! No matter who you are, or how you choose to celebrate this holiday season, I hope you'll always remember that God is with you, and that loving our friends AND enemies is the best thing we can do, as human beings. I also hope you enjoyed my first ever fanfic! I've written things before, but never a fanfic.

@peaches2217 @akiiame-blog @blankalisek @megamagimugi @katlyntheartist what do you guys think? ^^

[dutchdread]

Hi Dutch. Since you have answered many questions about Cloti, what is your thought about Zerith in Rebirth? I saw many people disappointed or having no hope for them but others said the devs are creating angst. Do you agree?

Hi, thanks for the question. Yeah, I understand being disappointed with the Zerith content in Rebirth. The developers spent a lot of time hyping up Zacks importance, not just with Remake but also with developer interviews and such. To have such a build-up and then have him relegated to just a few playable intermissions, to not get a Zack Aerith reunion, and depending on who you listen to to have him being brushed aside in favor of Cloud in regards to Aeriths affections, can understandably feel disheartening.

But really this is just a lack of understanding concerning story structure, to put it simply, Rebirth is EXTREMELY Zerith.

When reading Harry Potter I always knew that Snape was most likely going to end up a good guy, despite the seeming back and forths. And do you know which moment to me proved that he was a good guy? When he killed Dumbledore at the end of book 6. I knew then without a doubt that he was a good guy, because there was still one book to go, and it was obvious that that book would have the final ultimate reversal.

Rebirth didn't have a lot of Zerith pay-off, but if anything that's a good thing. If it did I would be worried about what would happen in part 3 to flip that pay-off on its head. Instead Zerith has gotten a lot of build-up that is now screaming to receive pay-off in part 3.

We have shots of Zack desperately trying to come back to Aerith. We have Aerith admitting she still has feelings for Zack. We have Aerith desperately trying to recreate her time with Zack. We have Tifa and Aerith talking about Zack. We have Aerith sensing Zacks touch in the cave of the GI. We have Aerith singing songs about meeting again. We have Aerith admitting to seeing Zack again in Cloud. We have Aerith instantly going to Zacks parents. We have Cloud talking about how Zack is head over heels for Aerith. We have Zack in Nibelheim talking to Cloud about their respective girlfriends

And the question you need to ask for all these things is "why?" Why would they include all these scenes if it's not getting a pay-off? Why show scenes of Aerith trying and failing to recreate her days with Zack interspersed with scenes of Zack trying to get back to her if that ultimately isn't of importance? Why show Zack positively contrasted with a negatively presented Cloud if the message you're trying to convey is that Zack has been replaced? Why show Zack to be an amazing guy if you want to end his arc with people being ok with him being rejected? Why make a themesong with the desire for meeting again at its core and have Zacks entire story in the game being about trying to reunite with Aerith if the point of that reunion is heartbreak?

The answer is that a writer wouldn't do those things, they make no sense. If you want your love story to feel positive then you need to disassemble the alternatives first. You need to show how the other pairings don't work, minimize their importance, or in some other way make it clear to the audience that the "main couple" coming together is the desirable outcome.

If you want to show that Aerith is getting over Zack you don't spend your limited screentime showing Aerith pining over Zack, you instead show how she's no longer occupying his mind as much. If you want to show Aerith getting over Zack you don't have her talking about still loving him, you instead have her talking about how she DID once, but that that was a long time ago. You don't end her arc with a date that remind the viewer of the existence of Zack, but one that is fully between Cloud and Aerith. If you want to show the compatibility of Cloud and Aerith then you don't make it so that everything goes wrong, you make it so that the dream date goes "DREAMY"!. And if you want to sell the idea that Aerith is over Zack and has come to the conclusion that she truly romantically loves Cloud then you DON'T place that confession right after said horrible date, with Zack scenes left right and center, a Cloud thats talking about you being "nakama", and Aerith dialogue that at best says she's not sure about what she feels, and at worst is a straight up friendzoning. If you want to replace a very positively portrayed romance then you will need the end all be all of chemistry and certainty in the new one, and talks about "well, I like you, but there is liking and then there's liking" is NOT a recipe for that.

In short, if you want to sell the idea that Cloud has truly replaced Zack in Aeriths heart and more importantly IN THE NARRATIVE, then you don't put emphasis on the existence of Aeriths feelings for Zack, and you don't put emphasis on Zacks feelings for Aerith. Those things all serve to maximize the connection between Aerith and Zack when what you need to do if you want to sell Clerith is minimize it. The reason being that this romance is in narrative conflict with the supposed Aerith Cloud romance, and the stronger the Aerith Zack connection is presented, the more extravagant the bond between Cloud and Aerith needs to be written for the story to make sense.

And that won't happen when you have Cloud deriding Aerith for the way she tries turning everything into a date the one moment, and then a scene showing Zack taking care of Aerith while in a coma the next. It doesn't happen when you show a scene of Cloud bonding with Tifa in one scene and almost kissing her, and then show Zack bonding with Aeriths mother in the next. It doesn't happen when you show Aerith failing to recreate her date with Zack and asking Cloud to find her in "her place", and then show Zack waiting for Aerith in "her place" the next.

All these things signal the same thing "Zack good for Aerith, Cloud bad".

You can extrapolate this idea beyond Rebirth of course. If Zack and Aerith isn't getting a pay-off what is the point of re-releasing Crisis Core before Rebirth? If the point is to show that Zack is no longer in the picture what is the point of showing off an entire game all about how important he and Aerith are to each other and about how desperate he is to get back to her? What is the point of showing that the bow Aerith is always wearing was gift from him. What is the point of her always wearing the clothes that she said she'd wear in anticipation of seeing him again. What is the point in bringing up the fact that she wrote Zack 89 letters and has been waiting for him for 5 years if Zack is replaceable in 2 weeks? What is the point of writing that Aeriths one wish is to spend more time with Zack if her literally spending time with a Zack stand-in isn't relevant? What is the point of writing it that Aerith didn't just see Zack in Cloud because they're similar...but because he's LITERALLY putting on a fake persona based on Zack, if Zacks presence in Clouds persona is irrelevant to Aeriths feelings regarding him?

If you want us to believe that Aerith likes Cloud for Cloud then these are all very questionable writing choices, especially when you also keep harping on about her wanting to get to know the real Cloud, which implies that she doesn't know him YET. It's not that you can't still have it so that Aerith does actually prefer Cloud despite all this, but if that's the case then you've failed as a writer because this would be VERY incoherent storytelling. If the writers want you to believe that Aerith has moved on from Zack, then they shouldn't and wouldn't have spend so much time showing Aerith not having moved on from Zack. Ultimately the question is one of focus, a story about Aerith falling in love with Cloud, and a story about moving on from Zack might look superficially similar, and entail the same basic events. But the difference is the focus. Is that focus on Cloud and what he means to Aerith? Or is the focus on Zack? In rebirth there is a heavy focus, not on the developing bond between Cloud and Aerith, those are limited almost exclusively to Tifa, but there is a heavy focus on Aeriths feelings in regards to Zack. There is no storytelling purpose to Aerith telling Cloud she still loves Zack 3/4ths of the way through her story if the focus of the story isn't Aeriths feelings for Zack, but her feelings for Cloud. If the writers wanted you to think Zack doesn't matter they wouldn't spend so much time hammering in the idea that Zack matters. These moments are all in service to Aerith and Zack, not Aerith and Cloud.

Even things like Zack discovering that Aerith has started developing feelings for Cloud only makes sense to include if the pay-off for that is them reuniting and him showing Aerith what love really is. So if we saw in Rebirth wasn't a "lack of Zerith", then what DID we see? Well, to reiterate what I said earlier:

If you want your love story to feel positive then you need to disassemble the alternatives first.

This is what we saw in Rebirth, Cloud and Aerith being disassembled, so that part 3 can get us to the pay-off. We see Cloud and Aerith bonding, yes, but it's ALWAYS contrasted with Tifa and Zack. If we have a scene where Aerith tries to engage Cloud in talks concerning food he will be shown to engage with the same discouraging passivity of the average woman on tinder, then that scene will invariably be followed by a similar scene with Tifa where he is enthusiastically trying to keep the conversation flowing. If we see a scene where Aerith is trying to get a certain energy from Cloud and failing, it won't be long till we see a scene of Zack having that same desired energy naturally.

In short, Rebirth was filled with scenes that "serve a purpose in the overall narrative". But the only way those scenes WOULD serve a purpose in the overall narrative, is if the overall narrative is: "Aerith is trying to get over Zack and is trying to move on through Cloud. But by doing so she discovers that it's just not the same. While Cloud helps Aerith move on and accept the past, he can never replace Zack". If the overall narrative is: "Aerith used to be pining over Zack, but now she has truly replaced Zack in her heart with Cloud and Zack is a relic of the past" then none of these scenes would make sense to include. You can also look at it like this, why didn't Rebirth have a Zerith Reunion scene? Because apparently that's too important of a scene to quickly tack on to the end of part 2. Nomura has already hinted at something very important to include in part 3 that wasn't in part 2, something that he thinks will make people very happy if done right. And I am pretty freaking confident that what he's talking about is the long-awaited Aerith - Zack reunion. And that is why this game is extremely favorable to Zerith, so be excited for part 3.