#might do something more in depth with his looks but idk

[t-u-i-t-c]

sasuke & casual looks

[steakout-05]

staffy expectations vs staffy reality (by someone who has an absolute sweetheart of an american staffy <3)

[arklay]

have a diana comm in progress again 🥰

[m1sa-w1sa]

hay so I was just wondering if you would do a sahsrau where all the PC's (playable characters) are obsessed with reader but when reader gets inside of hsr they are Immediately captured and sold as a slave and the PC's (maybe topaz or himko) fine the reader recognize the reader and all hell breaks lose for who idk

Also if I can can I be a emoji anon (if yes then I'll be 👹 anon)

Forgive us!

Sahsrau x Reader

Tw: Yandere themes, Mentioning ofAbuse ( not going in depth ), NOT PROOFREAD Death/Lil Describing of gore, I am aware that there might be two more mew characters, but they won’t be included becuase I don’t know them all to well at the moment!

I do not support people that think they are ‘ real yanderes ‘ or act on any of the things mentioned, if you do or think about these things please get professional help

A/N: Ty for requesting! I have a lot so they are a little slow but they are still all going to get to! And I’m happy to call you👹 Annon!

•You started playing Hsr when it first came out, you loved the designs and a characters! •But they certainly loved you back! I mean why wouldn’t they? Your just a sweetheart to them! •Kafka and Silver wolf the first ones knowing feeling your presence, hearing your soft voice complimenting them •Next, The Trailblazer, March 17, and Dan Heng knew next then Hiyoko and welt then so and so on •The characters you gotten is when they knew you were there, they KNEW you were with them •They heard your worried voice when one of them is low on health, apologizing over and over •Gepard and March 17 always try to make their shields better, Bailu and Natasha try’s to heal as much as they could, Hiyoko and welt trying to make you proud •Huohuo try’s to be more brave for you, Dr. Ratio always does harder in his studies •Serval playing her best at concerts in your honor, Clara makes sure she prays to you every day •They worshiped you like no other, every place had this one single law ‘ Don’t hurt the divine one.. ‘ •Simple, right? Wrong. When you got transferred to the game you were about to walk around, until a cloth was over your mouth •You woke up in a cage, weak, scrunched up like a dog curled in its own bed as you groaned ‘ She will make us a whole lot of money… ‘ We just can’t get caught.. ‘ ‘ You worry to much… ‘ •2 Women and one Man you heard, one of them pulling you out, throwing you at the wall as you fall down with a loud ‘THUMP!’ •They burned you, cut you, broke bones hardly fed you, blood all over your body •You were hosted at one of the prizes at a auction, Himiko and Welt was there as she looked around, her eyes spotted you, weak, legs shaking (Not what YOU think…) your body bruised, burned, painted with cuts and scratches •Welt quickly saw aswell, his eyes widened, Their grace… Abused like an object..? Slowly golden blood leaked from your forehead, you gotten more dizzy last thing you heard was a stern voice

‘ 1 Million Credits! ‘ •They took you back, not even paying the fee, but, your their god, their CREATOR, your more than just some stupid credits.. •March 17 stayed at the astral express with you, word got out about what happened… everyone was FURIOUS •Bailu, Loucha, and Natasha going to the express to try to help heal your wounds and to keep watch •Clara and Savorog keeping watch outside the room, Argenti, Archeon, Blade, Dr. Raito going to hunt the people down •Jing Yuan and Imbibitor Lunae, Figuring out the gruesomeness ways to make the people suffer •Kafka and Jingilu doing most of the dirty work, blood splattered everywhere •You woke up at so many people by your side it was overwhelming, Being able to talk to your characters made you smile, something you didn’t do in a long while •They are so sorry for not being there for your proper descent, they will do any for your forgiveness your grace

[moonselune]

Hey! Big fan of your work, would you ever do a hurt / comfort fic or snippet for the BG3 boys (rolan included maybe?) for durge after receiving the information / memories of what happened with Kressa Bonedaughter?

https://x.com/bhaalsprincess/status/1806146510930792898?s=46

sorry idk if the link works :(

For this we are going to pretend that Rolan is part of your party, also I realised after I got half way through that I wrote it as the boys hurt/comfort rather than durge hurt/comfort 😅 Hope you still like it tho <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s voice resonates in your mind like a chill wind cutting through the remnants of the day’s warmth. You remember her eyes glinting with unsettling affection as she recounted the memories of your shared past.

That night, you sit by the campfire, the flames casting dancing shadows around you. The others have retired, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The crackling of the fire is a comforting, familiar sound, but it does little to ease the strange unease that Kressa’s words have stirred within you.

Gale approaches, his footsteps soft on the grass. He sits beside you, his presence a steady, comforting weight. For a while, he says nothing, simply watching the flames. Then, he turns to you, and you see the tears glistening in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me it was bothering you?" he asks, his voice choked with emotion.

You look at him, surprised. "Gale, I told you, I don't remember any of it. It doesn't bother me."

"But it bothers me," he says, the tears spilling over. "The thought of what you went through… what she did to you… It tears me apart inside."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours. "Gale, it's in the past. I survived. I'm here now, with you. That’s all that matters."

He shakes his head, his grip tightening around your hand. "No, it's not that simple. The pain, the suffering—you shouldn't have had to endure any of it. And the fact that you don't remember… It scares me. What else might be lurking in your past? What other horrors did you endure?"

His tears fall freely now, and seeing him like this, so vulnerable, breaks something inside you. You pull him into your arms, holding him tightly as he cries against your shoulder.

"It's alright," you whisper, your own voice trembling. "I'm alright. You don't have to cry for me."

"I can't help it," he murmurs, his words muffled against your shoulder. "I love you, and the thought of you in pain… It hurts so much."

You hold him close, rocking slightly, the fire crackling softly beside you. The weight of his emotions, the depth of his love—it grounds you in a way you hadn't realized you needed.

"I'm here now," you say again, more firmly this time. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His tears have left tracks down his cheeks, and his eyes are red, but there's a fierce determination in his gaze.

"I know," he says, his voice steadier now. "But promise me something. If you ever remember… if those memories ever come back… don't face them alone. Come to me. Let me help you."

You nod, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to refuse. "I promise."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world feels right again. As you sit by the fire, holding each other, you feel a sense of peace. The past may be dark and filled with pain, but the present, with Gale’s love, it shines brightly enough to keep the shadows at bay.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

You return to camp, your body exhausted but your mind buzzing with fragments of memories and emotions, stirred up by the wicked Kressa's words. As you approach the campfire, you see Astarion pacing around it, his movements agitated and furious. His usually composed demeanor is shattered, replaced by a storm of emotions. He looks up as you approach, his eyes blazing with anger.

"How dare she," he spits, his voice trembling with rage. "How dare she do that to you!"

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Astarion, I don't even remember it. It's like hearing a story about someone else."

His fury only intensifies at your nonchalance. "A story about someone else?" he repeats incredulously. "It was you! She tortured you and you act like it doesn't matter!"

You can’t help but be amused by his passion, which only serves to infuriate him further. "Astarion, it's in the past. I can't remember it, so it doesn't affect me."

He stops pacing and steps closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "It affects me," he says through gritted teeth. "The thought of you suffering like that… it's unbearable. I wish I could kill her all over again, make her pay for every moment of pain she put you through."

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. "But she's gone, Astarion. We defeated her. It's over."

His muscles are tense under your touch, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You don't get it," he says, his voice softer but still filled with anger. "I care about you. I can’t just brush it off like you can."

You squeeze his arm gently, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away. "I know you care," you say, your voice gentle. "And I appreciate it more than you know. But right now, what I need is to focus on the present, on what we can control."

He looks into your eyes, his anger giving way to concern. "And what if those memories come back? What if you start to remember everything she did to you?"

You take a deep breath, the possibility of those memories surfacing a distant, unsettling thought. "If they do, then I’ll deal with it. And I’ll have you by my side to help me through it."

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his earlier anger dissolving into a protective, fierce love. "Always," he murmurs into your hair. "I’ll always be here for you."

You hold him close, the warmth of his body grounding you. "Thank you, Astarion. For caring so much."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "You deserve to be cared for," he says firmly. "You deserve to be protected from monsters like her."

You smile, touched by his words and the depth of his feelings. "And you deserve to find peace, too. We both do."

"Yes," He nods, his expression softening. "Yes, we do."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s words echo in your mind long after the battle has ended. Her disturbing attachment to you, the tales of relentless experiments, and her twisted pride in your resilience—these are things you can’t fully grasp due to the dark void where your memories should be. But now, she lies defeated at your feet, her body a testament to the horrors she wrought.

As you take a moment to catch your breath, you notice Wyll standing over her body. His face is a mask of rage, and his sword rises and falls in a relentless, brutal rhythm. He’s attacking her lifeless form with a fury that is both shocking and heartbreaking.

“Wyll,” you call out, your voice tinged with concern. “She’s dead. It’s over.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear you. His strikes continue, each one more forceful than the last, as if he’s trying to obliterate every trace of her existence. The sound of metal against flesh and bone is sickening, and you can see the wild, almost desperate look in his eyes.

You step closer, your voice firmer. “Wyll, stop. She’s dead!”

Still, he doesn’t respond. It’s as if he’s in a trance, lost in his own world of vengeance and pain. You can’t stand to see him like this, consumed by a rage that threatens to devour him whole. Summoning your strength, you reach out and grab his arm, pulling him back.

“Wyll, look at me!” you shout, your voice cutting through the haze of his fury.

He finally stops, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes are wild, filled with a mix of rage and sorrow. He looks down at Kressa’s mutilated body, then back at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

“She’s dead,” you repeat softly. “It’s over.”

He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “It will never be over. Not after what she did to you.”

You feel a pang of guilt and sorrow. “I don’t remember, Wyll. Whatever she did, it’s gone from my mind.”

“That doesn’t change what happened,” he says, his voice breaking. “It doesn’t change the fact that she tortured you, experimented on you like you were nothing. And you don’t even remember…”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reach him. “I know it’s horrible, but killing her over and over again won’t change the past. We need to move forward. We need to find your father."

He drops his sword, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I just… I can’t let it go. The thought of you suffering like that… it’s too much.”

You step closer, placing a hand on his arm. “We all carry our burdens, Wyll. But we have to find a way to live with them, not let them destroy us.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and something softer—concern, perhaps, or even love. “You’re stronger than you know,” he says quietly. “Stronger than any of us. But I can’t help but feel that you shouldn’t have had to be.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “Thank you, Wyll. For caring so much. But we have to keep moving forward. Together.”

He nods slowly, the fire in his eyes dimming but not extinguished. “You’re right. We can’t let the past dictate our future. But I promise you this—I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.”

“I believe you,” you say, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “And I appreciate it, my love.”

With a final look at Kressa’s lifeless body, Wyll steps back, his breathing finally beginning to steady. The rage that had consumed him ebbs away, replaced by a weary resolve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s twisted affection for your resilience, her pride in your endurance through countless experiments—these revelations hang over you like a dark cloud. Though the memories she described are shrouded in the void left by your lost past, they disturb you in ways you can’t quite articulate.

Back at camp, you notice a subtle shift in Halsin’s behavior. He hovers close to you, his eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, as if expecting danger to strike at any moment. When you sit by the fire, he sits beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. His presence is a comforting weight, but there's an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

That night, as you lie in your bedroll, you sense Halsin’s watchful eyes on you. You turn slightly, peeking through your lashes, and confirm your suspicion—he’s sitting nearby, his eyes fixed on you, his expression a mix of worry and determination. This has been happening every night since the encounter with Kressa, and it’s starting to wear on you.

After a while, you decide you can't ignore it any longer. You sit up, your eyes meeting his. “Halsin, why are you watching me sleep?”

He starts, clearly caught off guard, and then sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, my heart, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say softly. “I’ve noticed you doing this for a few nights now. Why?”

Halsin’s shoulders sag slightly, and he moves to sit closer to you, his hand reaching out to take yours. “After what Kressa said, about what she did to you, I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. About the pain you must have endured.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “But I don’t remember any of it, Halsin. It’s just a story to me.”

“To you, maybe,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “But to me, it’s a nightmare I can’t shake. The thought of you being hurt, experimented on like that… it’s unbearable. I feel like I failed you, even though I wasn’t there.”

“Halsin, you couldn’t have done anything. You didn’t even know me then.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel now,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I love you. And the idea of you being in pain, of suffering alone… I can’t bear it.”

You’re touched by the depth of his feelings, but also concerned. “Halsin, you can’t keep watching over me like this. You need to rest too. We both do.”

He nods slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I know. It’s just… difficult. I want to protect you. To make sure you’re safe.”

“I appreciate that more than you know,” you say, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “But we need to find a balance. We can’t let the past, even one I don’t remember, control our present.”

He returns your kiss, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re right,” he murmurs against your lips. “I just… I care so much. Sometimes it feels overwhelming.”

You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closing as you take comfort in his presence. “We’ll get through this together. But promise me you’ll try to sleep tonight.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I promise. But if you ever feel uneasy, if you ever remember anything, please tell me. Let me be there for you.”

“I will,” you promise, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “And thank you, my heart. For everything.”

You settle back into your bedroll, and this time, Halsin lies down beside you, holding you close. His presence is a shield against the darkness, and as you drift off to sleep, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that you’re not alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

As you make your way back to camp, you notice Rolan off to the side, his usually poorly hidden irritated demeanour now replaced with visible irritation. He’s pacing, muttering to himself, his expression dark and brooding. You approach him cautiously, sensing that something is deeply troubling him.

“Rolan, love,” you say gently, “is everything alright?”

He stops and looks at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “No, everything is not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharper than usual.

You’re taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his agitation palpable. “It’s what that…that monster did to you,” he says, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “The things she said, the things she did. It’s… it’s unbearable.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Rolan, I don’t remember any of it. It’s like it happened to someone else. I’m fine, really.”

“Fine?” he echoes incredulously, his eyes narrowing. “You think you’re fine because you don’t remember it? That doesn’t change the fact that it happened! That you were tortured, experimented on like some… some animal!”

You can feel the frustration boiling inside him, the helplessness he feels. “Rolan, I understand that it’s upsetting, but—”

“No, you don’t understand!” he interrupts, his voice rising. “You can’t understand because you don’t remember! But I do. I heard her. I saw the look in her eyes when she talked about what she did to you. And it makes me sick.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to ground him. “I know it’s hard, but we defeated her. She can’t hurt anyone anymore. And I have you and the others to help me through whatever comes next.”

He looks at you, his expression softening just a bit, but the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you suffering like that. Of anyone hurting you.”

Your heart aches for him, for the pain he’s feeling on your behalf. “Rolan, I appreciate how much you care. It means a lot to me. But we have to focus on the present, on what we can control. And right now, we’re together, and we’re safe.”

He takes a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I know. It’s just… hard to let go of the anger. To think about what you went through.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “We’ll get through this together. One step at a time.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and finally nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just… it’s hard.”

You smile softly. “I know. And it’s okay. We all have our breaking points. But we’ll support each other, no matter what.”

He pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Thank you. For understanding. For being here.”

You hold him close, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “Always."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oof this was a lot, my poor babies, who would put you through such a thing (it was me, I did, and I'll do it again)

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔

A/N: Hi guys! I promised another Sam fic so HERE WE ARE! This idea was originally for Dean, but I figured it would work for Sammy too. I tweaked it a little bit once I saw this GIF because OMG idk its just so cute. ENJOY <3

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader Y/N, Dean Winchester, Crowley

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: Demon!Reader, arguing, mild violence, guns, alcohol, biting, fluff, supernatural stuff, nerds, physical affection.

Summary: After the Winchester brothers barge into Crowley's lair, they meet you. You're already in a bad mood and they don't help. You can't help but notice the taller one, how attractive he is. After going to the bunker with them, you find yourself in an unexpected situation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I have never once gotten myself in danger! Why won't you let me do this?" Y/N screamed at the man in front of her. Crowley was like a father to her. He took her in from the depths of hell when she was little, turning her into the little princess of hell.

"Hunters get hurt. They die, all the time. Is that really something you want for yourself?" He questioned, crossing his hands in his lap. He was staring down at her from his throne and this irked her. She didn't like being talked down to, especially not by Crowley. She was not going to be treated like one of his servants.

"You are ridiculous. I am more than capable of killing a few monsters. I'm a mini you, for hell's sake!" He just shook his head and sighed. "I said no, Y/N. Do not make me repeat myself."

Y/N felt her jaw tick, her eyes quickly flicking to black, a low red glow illuminating from the corners. She wasn't a normal demon. After being with Crowley, she evolved into a different being.

Her arm stuck out and she flung him across the room, earning a loud groan from not only him but two new men. She snapped her head around and walked backwards towards the throne, claiming her rightful seat upon it.

"Did we interrupt something?" The shorter one chuckled as he nudged Crowley with his foot. The older man grunted and pushed himself off the ground. "Get out, Winchesters. We are having a family discussion."

The taller one glanced over at you, and his brother hooted. "Wow, a new wife? This one's a little young, don't ya think?" Her eyes widened and she instinctively slammed him against the wall. "He is like my father, you indolent pig!"

"Right, my bad." He choked out and the giant stepped forward. "Let him go." He said as he pulled out a blade. She just laughed, looking over at Crowley. He gave her a nod and she huffed, releasing the man from her hold.

"Well, aren't you a bundle of sunshine." He scoffed as he brushed himself off. She glared at him and he put his hands up in defense, making the taller one laugh quietly.

"Look, Crowley, we need your help. Difficult demon hunt." He explained as his brother still tried to compose himself. Crowley shook his head, an amused look on his face. "Very funny, Sam. Run along, you two aren't getting help here."

"Actually, Sam, you might. What do you need help with?" Y/N announced quickly, rising from the seat and stepping forward. "Uh... Just with some research, I really don't think you-" Sam started but Crowley cut him off. "You aren't helping, Y/N. Go to the back room, now."

"What's your name?" She asked the shorter man, ignoring the king completely. "Dean. This is my brother." He grinned, growing a liking to the young woman. Sam cleared his throat and looked down at her, "I would listen to your, uh, dad."

The older man nodded and gestured towards the doorway behind her. She shook her head and smiled up at him, an innocent look in her beautiful Y/E/C eyes. "I'm a big girl, Sam. He can't control me." She moved closer to him, standing nearly a foot away.

"He's the king of hell, the hell you mean he doesn't control you?" Dean questioned, disbelief mounting his features. She glanced over at him, her eyes morphing into dark pits enclosed by a ruby glow. "I'm the princess of hell. I have more power than you think, Winchester."

Sam stepped back, his brows furrowing as he lips flattened into a line. "Don't worry, I don't bite. I want to help." She blinked her eyes back to normal and grinned at the brothers.

"Y/N! What did I tell you!" Crowley shouted, using his powers to throw her to the floor. She hissed and got up, her eyes glowing brighter than they had before. "I swear to God, I will carve out your fucking eyes." She spat as she tossed him against a wall, her fingers closing tighter, slowly crushing his internal organs.

Sam rushed to her side and tried pulling her back, but she just kept going, slowly walking towards the king. When she reached him, her hand wrapped around his throat, a low growl escaping her. "I'm becoming a hunter, whether you like it or not."

Sam gripped her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "He's not stopping you, let's go. You're alright." He soothed, giving her a gentle squeeze.

Her brain stuttered, her force relaxing as her eyes shifted. "Fine." She stated simply before letting go of Crowley completely and storming out of the building.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had stopped at a diner before heading home to the bunker, all of them chatting and story-telling. The waitress came by to take their orders and she looked Y/N up and down, a look of distaste forming across her face.

"Well, you have an interesting fashion choice." The older woman spoke. Y/N bit her tongue, trying to remind herself that this was a conservative town and her outfit was very provocative. "Thanks, Hun. Anyway, I'd like-" The woman cut her off and put a hand on her hip.

"I'm just saying, young lady. That is a very immodest outfit. If I didn't know better, I'd think you work on the streets." Her southern drawl only made Y/N more irritated. Dean tried holding back a laugh, his beer nearly shooting out of his mouth.

"And I think you belong in a nursing home. Don't worry, hell has great hosts. I'd like some fries, please." She punctuated her statement with a flash of her eyes, the action earning a quiet gasp from Sam and roar of laughter from his brother.

"C-coming right up." The waitress murmured before skittishly running off, retreating to the back of the diner. "Damn, little lady. Didn't know you were that feisty!" Dean teased and she rolled her eyes. "Didn't know you were that reckless." Sam muttered and she sighed.

"Sammy, we're fine. What is she gonna do, call a priest on me?" Dean snickered some more. "You should really be more careful - for your safety." Sam warned, his brows knitted together.

"Awh, you care about me!" She cooed, a sarcastic undertone lacing her words. "We only just met, Sammy. We aren't that committed yet."

He shook his head and stared her down, his eyes so full and bright. "Those are the cutest puppy dog eyes ever." She added before kissing his cheek and excusing herself to the bathroom.

"Sammy's got a girlfriend..." Dean whispered in a sing-song voice, causing Sam to kick him under the table.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam was researching in the library, books sprawled out on the desk in front of him. He was fiddling with a pen in his hands, a concentrated look on his face as he jotted down a few things on a notepad.

"Whatcha writing, Sammy?" Y/N asked. She was sitting on a bar above him, the ceiling only a few feet away from her head. Her legs dangled mindlessly in the air as she studied him.

He raised a brow and looked up at her. "What are you doing up there, Princess?" He questioned back, slouching back a bit in his chair. "Watching you." She responded with a huge smile, her eyes glistening in the bunker light.

"Why don't you come down from there, yeah?" He offered, patting his thigh gently as an invitation. She giggled and bit her lip, leaning forward. Her hands slid beneath the cool metal and grasped the edge behind her.

She swung downwards, hanging there for a minute before dropping to the ground. "If you insist." She danced her way over, her hands meeting his shoulders as she crawled into his lap.

He chuckled and his hand began rubbing her back. She nestled her head underneath his chin and skimmed over the pages he was reviewing. Her legs were hunched up, knees level with his upper chest and feet planted on his other thigh.

His free hand gently wrapped around her ankle, his digits resting on the hem of her sock as his thumb traced random patterns on her skin.

She reached over and grabbed his beer bottle, taking a long drag and twirling it between her fingers. "That's mine." He mumbled into her hair, his hand moving from her leg, covering hers as he tried to reclaim the bottle.

"No. I want it." She retorted, trying to move the bottle away. He plugged the top of the bottle with his thumb so it didn't spill, tugging it away from her. "Well, you don't always get what you want."

She huffed and crossed her arms, her elbow digging into his stomach. "I got you." She bickered and he smiled. He set the bottle down on the table and pulled her closer, one arm hooked around her belly.

"I guess you're right, Princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed! This one was super fun to write <3 If you liked it, please follow, reblog and comment! All feedback is LOVED.

Send in requests if you have any! :)

[cnnmairoll]

First Kiss

Pairing: Kozume Kenma x Reader Genre: Fluff a/n: day one of me coping with fanfics............. idk how this fic made me feel

You strolled leisurely through the park, hand in hand with Kenma Kozume, your boyfriend of three months. The late afternoon sun bathed the surroundings in a warm golden hue, casting playful shadows on the ground. As usual, you were the one who had initiated the hand-holding, gently intertwining your fingers with his. Kenma didn't resist, but his grip was always tentative, as if he wasn't entirely sure he should be holding on.

"Look at that," you said, pointing to a group of children playing on the playground. "They're having so much fun."

Kenma glanced over, his cat-like golden eyes taking in the scene briefly before returning to the path ahead. He had his portable game console in his other hand, but it was off, a testament to his effort to focus on your time together. "Yeah," he replied softly.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar, comforting warmth of his touch. "You know, you could have fun too, if you let yourself," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Kenma's lips twitched in a small, shy smile. "I'm having fun," he said, but it was clear he meant it in his own quiet way. He was never one to get overly excited about anything that didn't involve video games or the occasional volleyball match.

"You call this fun? Just walking and holding hands?" you teased again, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

He glanced at you, a hint of amusement in his gaze. "Being with you is fun," he murmured, his voice almost lost in the gentle rustling of leaves.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Kenma wasn't one to express his feelings openly, and such a statement from him was rare and precious. You leaned in closer, feeling bold. "You know, Kenma, if you keep saying things like that, I might think you actually like me," you teased, knowing full well he did.

Kenma stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression was as composed as ever, but there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. "I do like you," he said, his voice steady.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden boldness. "Well, that's good to hear," you replied, a playful smile on your lips. "But you know what would be even better?"

Kenma raised an eyebrow, silently prompting you to continue.

"If you showed it more often," you teased lightly, poking his chest. 

Kenma looked down at where your finger had poked his chest, a faint blush creeping up from his neck to his cheeks. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through something. You were used to his quiet nature, his way of processing things internally before responding.

"I do show it," he mumbled, almost to himself, his eyes not meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle, leaning in closer. "Oh, really? Is this your way of showing it? Because I think you can do better, Kozume," you teased, knowing how to push his buttons just enough.

Kenma's eyes darted up to meet yours, a rare spark of frustration flickering in their golden depths. "You just don't get it," he muttered, his voice a mix of irritation and embarrassment.

You grinned, feeling a bit triumphant. "Well, then, make me understand," you challenged, stepping closer to him.

Kenma's gaze hardened, his shyness momentarily overshadowed by a surge of determination. He looked around briefly, as if to ensure no one was watching, then took a deep breath. "I'm gonna have to shut your lips with a kiss," he declared, his voice steady but the blush on his cheeks deepening.

Your heart raced at his words. You had teased him like this before, but he had never actually followed through. "Go ahead," you replied, your voice softer now, almost breathless with anticipation.

Kenma stared at you for a heartbeat, his eyes searching yours as if looking for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, he stepped closer, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. You felt the world around you blur, the park, the children, the sunlight—all fading into the background as Kenma leaned in.

His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was brief, a mere brush of lips, but it sent a shockwave through you, leaving you momentarily stunned. Kenma pulled back slightly, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

You blinked, trying to process what had just happened. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your cheeks felt warm, and you were pretty sure your face was as red as his. "Kenma..." you whispered, your voice shaky with emotion.

He bit his lip, his own expression a mix of anxiety and hope. "Was that okay?" he asked quietly, his shyness returning in full force.

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands coming up to cup his face. "More than okay," you replied, leaning in to press another, firmer kiss to his lips. This time, Kenma responded with a bit more confidence, his hands steadying on your waist as he kissed you back.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless and blushing. Kenma's eyes were brighter than you'd ever seen them, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "I guess I can show it more often," he said softly, his fingers intertwined with yours once again.

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the sun. "I'd like that," you replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

The two of you continued your stroll through the park, the air between you now filled with a new sense of closeness and understanding. You teased him a bit less, content in the knowledge that Kenma's quiet ways of showing affection were just as meaningful as any grand gesture. And as you walked hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel that this was just the beginning of something even more special.

[koolades-world]

Can you do headcanons with all the characters of an MC that has scars on their body from maybe a car crash years ago and how they would react to seeing them? Can you also do an MC who’s really insecure about them and tries to hide them?

Please and thank you 🙏🙏🙏🙏

hello! sure thing :)

idk why this one got so long? slight angst warning for belphie's (lesson 16 reference) actually might write belphie's as a drabble! if y'all are interested in seeing the others as drabbles too, let me know!

enjoy <3

Mc who's insecure about scars from a car crash

Lucifer

he didn't think much of it, since he too prefers clothing that covers basically everything, even down to gloves however, the attention to detail came down to how you behaved and the way in which you vehemently avoided any situation in which you'd have to change into something you hadn't selected or needed to wear something more revealing

one late night, you ran into each other in the kitchen, and while he expected it to be beel, raiding the fridge again but he found you crying on the floor

of course, he asked what was wrong, and while at first you didn't say anything, he stayed by your side. when the tears had slowed down and you could speak again, you told him it was the anniversary of the devastating car crash and you confessed how much it took from you

that was the first time lucifer had ever hugged you, and for once, you felt at home in the devildom. for the years to come, he makes sure to spend that entire day with you to make you feel loved

Mammon

he's the first to see them and learn of their existence because of how quickly the two of you grow close. you had many movies nights together where you ended up asleep on his shoulder and he caught glances of the scars

he never asked, but he was forever curious. he wanted to wait for you to tell the story rather than intrude on your privacy, even if that meant he never learnt

eventually after you deliberated with yourself, during one of those movie nights, you turned to him and told him everything after mentally debating

you could tell you'd help satiate his curiosity, but of course he was very sweet about it. he starts coming home with things he knows will make you feel gorgeous and expects nothing in return

Levi

the two of you spend a lot of time gaming, reading, and watching anime together. your favorite characters are said to be a reflection of you, and he noticed that pattern after enough time

now, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that information, how he would even start to go about addressing that, or if it was just him and he was looking into it too much. maybe you just had a certain type you enjoyed, although part of him hoped it wasn't that, because that would mean your type wasn't him

nevertheless, he kept this information to himself and dwelled on it until one night, you brought that very topic up yourself. at first you hesitated, but once he told you to think of it as your "lore" you became more comfortable with the situation and told him

he wasn't quite sure what to say, but offered you comfort. you spent the rest of the night watching your favorite anime and from then on, you got to see this more gentle, loving side of him more often. maybe one day, he'd tell you about his "lore" in depth too

Satan

he felt like the entire situation was something right out of a romance novel, where the two main characters slowly grow closer like the two of you were, and the exchanging of backstory that inevitable happens at some point

but, he didn't expect yours to include something so devastating in nature and how it affected your life in the aftermath. he's amazed at the way you have been healing yourself over the followings years. he admires your strength, and he knows that the scars and accident don't define you

you spent most of your evenings together, either at an outing or just at home together. it was one of these evening sessions by the fireplace together in the living room where the two of you were cuddling, and he noticed them on your shoulders. of course he didn't mention it, but you noticed him looking

since there was nobody else around, you decided to tell him since you would've at some point eventually. he doesn't make a big deal out of it because you didn't, but he lets you know if you ever need someone to talk to, he would be there

Asmo

he noticed that your entire wardrobe, including sleepwear and formalwear was all long sleeve and basically covered you head to toe

to try and get closer to you, he took you shopping and still saw you only picked out things that fit into your current wardrobe despite seriously eyeing several other pieces of clothing that were short sleeved. you didn't get them, but he could tell you wanted them, so as a surprise, he bought all of the items for you and presented it as a gift

through your tears, you thanked him and decided to tell him why you didn't get them. he apologizes profusely, but you tell him it was alright and that one day, you'd wear them

once you're finally closer, you wear one of the short sleeved pajama sets to a sleepover with just him, and he can feel his heart swell with the amount of trust you'd put in his hands. expect to be pampered <333

Beel

while he's not the first to see them, he was the first to catch on to their existence. he's very good with reading your emotions and could easily tell when you were uncomfortable. every time, he saved you from the situation but he was afraid of how you might feel when he wasn't around

the two of you had just gotten done with a jog that ended in a park, where the two of you sat in the grass to relax before headed home. while there, your conversation got rather deep and you ended up discussing thing you never thought might slip out

the manner in which you told him was detached and while you mentioned it in passing, beel was insistent you go back to that topic. he held you close, despite the fact that you were both sweaty and gross, because the thing that mattered most to him was how you felt

of course he wouldn't pry, and he didn't, but he will guard your secret with his life now. anytime you need him or just want to talk, or need a hug, he's there unconditionally

Belphie

when you initially met, when he was imprisoned in the attic and you thought he was human like he claimed he was, whenever you'd chat he could tell there was something you were holding back

he asked upfront what the matter was, not realizing he'd strike such a nerve. you took it not how he expected you to and you stormed off, upset. he was concerned he'd jeopardized his plan but there wasn't anything he could do about it now

later that night you returned, you had cooled off and apologized, and told him why you had been so disturbed by his comment. you showed him the few on your upper back and neck, and told your story. he almost felt bad about what he'd done

when he held you aloft by your neck, that same part of him that felt guilty chimed in again and made him remembered the scars you'd shown him and the kinship you thought you shared together, when you thought he was a human. it was a shame not all of him felt sorry for you

[divinesolas]

would.. you ever consider.. a chad x reader x ethan threesome thing ? like reader admits to chad that shes sexually attracted to ethan too and chads like "oh really?" and all teasing like then she just goes "chad, im serious. what if we tried something new.. but ethan was included?"

so when they knock on ethans door to ask if he'd like to try something with them ethans quick to let them in and its just reader in one of chads huge shirts on her and chad in his boxers, both covered in hickeys from moments before.

and idk if u wanna take it from there but i could be more in depth (i love writing im just not good at it 💀)

just my thoughts about this, might do a full fic at a later time!

i feel like chad would be down, the though probably had crossed his mind once or twice in the past but had never brought it up in fear of making you uncomfortable.

he'll never admit it but he was relieved to hear you bring it up first and would be more than eager to go get ethan.

ethan was always a little (very) envious of your relationship. he didnt know who he wishes he was more tbh so he always tried to be out of the dorm anytime the two of you were over in fear of hearing something that would leave him throbbing and reaching his hands down his shorts.

today he couldnt leave despite the fact he wanted to. he had to study for his upcoming econ test, he would normally go to the library but it was closed today and it was raining so he coudnt even go sit outside, everyone elses dorms were occupied leaving him stuck there with his headphones blasting as he tries to ignore whatever the hell the two of you were doing.

when he hears banging he ignore it, finding it unbelievable the two of you were making so much noise until he turns around and notices the knocking on his door.

when he opens his door and are greeted by the sight of the two of you practically naked and sweaty, covered in hickeys with bruised lips he finds himself taking a step back to compose himself

"do you need a condom?"

you laugh at ethans clearly uncomfortable way of making conversation

chad shakes his head and eye's ethan up and down, "bro you know you dont own any condoms."

"i... well i have that box you gave me."

chad shakes his head and looks at you one more time to confirm with you and you eagerly nod, your eyes unable to leave ethan and his growing buldge

"you wanna join us?" "dont just ask him like that?" "how else am i supposed to do it?"

ethan stares at the two of you bickering with confusion, "What?"

"we want you to join us ethan" "join you.. with what?"

he can only watch as you walk towards him and wrap your arms around his neck giving him a grin, "you know what silly."

chad finds his way behind ethan and lays his head against his roommates shoulder. "so we were just wondering if you wanted to join us-"

"yes."

you would laugh at his eagerness if you didnt want him as bad as you do

bringing his head towards yours you slam your lips against yours as chad begins to kiss down his neck

ethan feels like he's in heaven, maybe hes a little grateful the library is closed today

[blingblong55]

The sun and moon-Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

Okay, but I was on TikTok and you’re the only blog I know who really likes Makarov besides me and 🙈😭😫🥰🙈 if you know the audio, that goes like 🎶 me and the devil… walking side by side 🎵 it made me think of him and reader and just, like… idk. Becoming his queen and I just love the idea of him seeing all this (whether he saw it from the beginning or noticed it after a while/before anyone else) potential in you that no one else seemed to, and fosters that in you, making you two a power couple in your little dynasty. He may do the dirty work and have blood on his hands, but you’re just trying to do good and make the world a better place again, even if it’s by any means necessary. Idk. Maybe it’s also bc I also just love hades & persephone sm too and it also gives me the grumpy & sunshine trope as well in a way too but I thought I’d share bc I’ve been loving this thought so much 🥰😭🥰🙈 ---- F!reader, romance/fluff, established!relationship ----

A/N: making this honestly lets me be a little more creative so thank you! I just couldn't stop writing and I think this will be the best I've ever done

Russia is a place known to be cold, and really, for him this is what life is like. For you, on a different side of the world, it's more calm and beautiful.

In the world of cruelty, there exists a power couple like no other. Vladimir Makarov, feared and revered, walks the path of darkness, his hands stained with the blood of many. Yet, beside him stands y/n, his love, the queen of his heart and his guiding light. Together, they forge a new destiny, a dynasty built on strength.

He is a titan among men, commands armies with a flick of his wrist and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. To stand in front of him, it so is in the presence of death itself yet, there is one who walks beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery and clocked in the endgame of your own making.

Y/n, they call you, a name whispered in hushed tones by those who have glimpsed her fleeting presence. To some, you're a beacon of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness, your mere presence enough to quell the storm raging within Makarov's soul. But who are you, his angel, who holds the heart of the most feared man in the world? Some say you're his queen, his equal in every way, gaze as steely as his own, resolve unshakable in the face of adversity. Others whisper of a love born from the depths of despair, forged in the fires of war, a bond that transcends time and space.

As the world trembles beneath the weight of their combined might, one thing remains certain: where there is Vladimir Makarov, there too shall be y/n, walking side by side, their destinies entwined in a dance of darkness and light, love and war.

Amid chaos and carnage that define their existence, Makarov sits by a window, looking out to the gardens. In the hazy corridors of his mind, he recalls the first time he laid eyes on you, a glimpse of beauty amidst the ugliness of war. "What's her name?" He asks one of his men. You stood before him, gaze unwavering, spirit unbroken. "Y/n, daughter of-" "go away," he says sternly and walks up to you. "As beautiful as day, Y/N," he takes your hand and kisses it. "Who are you?" Oh, that soft voice of yours that melts his cold heart. "Vladimir but you can call me Vovo," his accent rich and smooth.

There is something about you that sets you apart from the rest, that ignited a spark of curiosity within him.

"Makarov, war is on," a man walked into the room. "If you must excuse me dear, I have some…stuff to do," he walks out of the room as if it's just another typical day for him.

Days passed, and you were told to stay indoors since you didn't seem capable of winning a war, much less fighting one. And with one knock on the door, he walks inside, interrupting your train of thought. "C'mon, I'm not letting your beauty rot in this room," he says, extending his hand and you take it without doubt. "Where are we to go?" you ask.

"To battle my dear, but you'll stick beside me," he mentions, guiding you through the dark corridors.

And as he is called back to attention, the beautiful memory fades. As it fades and the present comes crashing back, Makarov is left with a sense of longing, a yearning for a time when the world was simpler, when he and you were just two souls bound together by fate. And though the scars of war may never heal, he takes solace in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, he will always have you by his side.

As the years go by, you two navigate the treacherous landscape of warfare. Where his iron fist strikes, you are the steady hand that holds the light for him to come back home.

You've learned a lot from him, from fighting to learning that not all his wrongs are from pure hate and cruelty.

It's a waltz, a dangerous, blood-driven waltz.

In the middle of all the turmoil in their line of work, there are moments of intimacy between you two, moments when they cast aside the weight of their burdens and simply exist in each other's presence. In those fleeting moments, they are not leaders of armies or the rulers of wars but two souls bound together by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

And though the world trembles at the sound of your names, Makarov and Y/N stand unwavering, their hearts intertwined in a dance of passion and desire. For in each other, they have found solace in a world consumed by chaos, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds them.

"Vovo?" you say comfortably in his arms. "Любимая?" (darling) "Will there be a day where this will end?" "Yes, but until then, I'll just keep holding you close," his warm lips meet your forehead.

They've said before that Makarov reigns as a formidable figure, feared and respected by all who cross his path. His domain is a world of shadows and chaos, where darkness reigns supreme and few dare to tread. You, you're a vision of beauty and grace that was consumed by war.

As yet another storm is to come, you and him stand together. "Don't ever leave me, okay?" he pleas. "Like I ever was," you smile.

In the shadows, he lurks and in the sun, you dance. No evil, no war and no man can separate you from the other.

It's beautiful, how you can be so opposite. Vladimir was midnight and you were sunshine. He preferred a dark room and a sunroom. Dark clothes covered him and you with warm and beautiful colours. It's a peculiar kind of love and it's warm. Loving the devil, loving an angel. The same story is told just like Hades and Persephone.

Tags:

@cas-backwards-tie @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvivienner @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare @strawberrychita @anonymuslydumb @nobodys-coffee @rowrowrowyourboat13 @luvecarson @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @thegreyjoyed @marshiely @baruque-ya @tuihiatus

Join my Taglist

[kayewrite]

Falling in a wrong way

(blue sticky note ending #2)

skz lee minho x reader x ot8!! lee know x reader!!! word count: 3k

Blue note alternative ending 2 wherein; you choose minho and it felt wrong

an: i dont know if im still doing it right! i dont wanna hurt other memebers . chz TT an2: im having class starting tom and idk if i can update everyday. but ill do what i can

part 1 and part 2 first

As you walked out of that party, tears blurred your vision. The taxi ride home felt like an eternity, each second filled with the weight of the choice you knew you had to make. Choosing to follow your heart felt like a betrayal—either to yourself or to the friendships you held dear. The tears flowed freely, a silent acknowledgment of the impossible situation you found yourself in.

When the taxi finally pulled up to your apartment building, you stumbled out, barely holding yourself together. You made your way to the elevator, desperate to escape into the solitude of your room. But just as you were about to step inside, a voice called your name, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned around slowly, your heart pounding. There, standing a few feet away, was Minho, his motorcycle helmet in hand. His breaths were labored, as if he had sprinted to catch up to you. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with worry, regret, and something else—something deeper that made your heart ache even more.

Seeing him there, so close yet so far, brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. You couldn't hold them back as he took a hesitant step toward you. The concern etched on his face, the way he looked at you like he was seeing through all your pain, made you crumble.

Without another word, Minho closed the distance between you. He grabbed your wrist gently and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you as if he could shield you from all the hurt in the world. "I'm sorry," he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, your face buried in his shoulder, your tears soaking into his shirt. "I'm sorry too," you choked out, the words barely audible. "Sorry because I loved you." The confession hung in the air between you, raw and unfiltered.

Minho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "Why are you sorry for that?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Because… because I'm afraid," you admitted, your voice breaking. The pain of those words was almost unbearable, and you could see it reflected in his eyes.

For a moment, Minho said nothing. He just stared at you, his expression a mix of sorrow and determination. Then, without warning, he took your hand in his, his grip firm but reassuring. "Then let's run away," he said, his voice steady now.

Before you could respond, he was already pulling you towards his motorcycle. He put a helmet to you, still reeling from everything that had happened. You didn't protest, didn't question where you were going or what you were doing. You just followed his lead, trusting him implicitly.

As you climbed onto the back of his bike and wrapped your arms around his waist, the world around you seemed to fade away. The roar of the engine filled the silence between you, and you pressed your face against his back, feeling the warmth of his body through the leather jacket. The wind whipped past you as Minho drove, and for the first time that night, you felt a sense of peace.

You didn't know where he was taking you, and it didn't matter. As long as you were with him, you felt safe. You let go of everything—the party, the confusion, the fear—and allowed yourself to simply be in the moment, with Minho.

You loved Minho. From the playful banter that always made you smile, to the way he showed his care in subtle, thoughtful ways. You appreciated everything about him, even the teasing that others might have mistaken for indifference. It was in those moments that you saw the depth of his feelings. The teasing was just his way of showing love, and you understood that. He loved you in his own way, just as you loved him. But the friendship you both valued so much had always held you back.

Tonight, though, all those barriers seemed to dissolve. It was just the two of you, riding through the night with the moonlight as your only witness. You held onto him tightly, savoring the feeling of his presence, knowing that this moment was yours and his alone. For once, you let yourself not care about anything else—just you and Minho, under the stars, running away from the world together.

Minho brings you somewhere—a place only the two of you know. It's a small, cozy house nestled right in front of the beach, a secret hideaway that has always been your sanctuary. The moment you step inside, you’re overwhelmed by the familiarity of it all. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the faint scent of the ocean air.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. You hold him as if letting go would mean losing everything. He hugs you back just as fiercely, his hand gently caressing your hair. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into your ear, his voice soft and reassuring.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “We’re here now,” he says, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “Together.” You nod, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, the fear and doubt momentarily forgotten.

Minho then leads you to the couch, where you both sink into its plush cushions. For a moment, the world outside disappears, and it’s just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his love, pure and unspoken, but deeply understood.

-

The next morning, you wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains. You stretch lazily, realizing that you're wearing one of Minho’s oversized shirts, the fabric smelling faintly of him. It’s a comforting scent, one that makes you smile as you sit up and take in the surroundings.

The sound of clattering pots and pans draws your attention, and you find Minho in the kitchen, cooking something with his usual focused expression. The sight makes your heart swell with affection. Unable to resist, you quietly tiptoe over to him and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

He glances back at you with a smile, his eyes warm and tender. “Good morning,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Sit down, I’m almost done.”

You do as he says, settling at the small table. Just as you’re about to get comfortable, a familiar white cat leaps onto your lap, purring contentedly. It’s the cat you both adopted from the animal shelter—a sweet, fluffy companion he named after yourself. You smile, petting the cat, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

A moment later, Minho places a dish in front of you, and the aroma makes your mouth water. He’s always been an excellent cook, and today is no exception. He hands you a glass of milk, the small, thoughtful gesture making you grin.

You take a bite, the flavors rich and comforting, and you can’t help but smile up at him. He’s watching you intently, waiting for your reaction. “It’s delicious,” you say, your words filled with genuine appreciation.

Minho chuckles, clearly pleased. You scoop up another spoonful of food and, on a whim, offer it to him. He raises an eyebrow but leans in to take the bite, and you both end up laughing at the simple, playful gesture. The laughter fills the room, light and carefree, making the moment feel almost surreal. For the first time, you allow yourself to be completely true to your feelings, to enjoy this fleeting happiness without worrying about the future.

Later, you both find yourselves outside, lounging in a big hammock that sways gently in the breeze. The ocean stretches out before you, a vast expanse of blue that seems to go on forever. You’re sitting between Minho’s legs, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. The warmth of his body against yours, the sound of the waves, the scent of the salty air—it all feels so right.

Minho tightens his hold on you, his chin resting on your shoulder and he whispered ,“I’m willing to risk everything for you,” he says quietly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache.

You shake your head, turning slightly to look at him. Eyes started to well up.

“Minho ---That’s not what I want,” you called him. "It’s okay if I’ll step away, as long as you stay the same. You’ve been with them for so long—you’re like family. I don’t want to be the reason to end it.”

Minho’s eyes darken with determination. “Whatever happens, I’ll choose you,” he says firmly.

His words are like a knife to your heart, and you can’t stop the tears from welling up. “But you’ve spent eight years with them,” you say, your voice cracking. “You have dreams together, and I’m just going to break it?”

You feel like you’ve fallen in love in the wrong way, at the wrong time. The guilt and fear threaten to overwhelm you, and the tears spill over, streaming down your cheeks. Minho gently wipes them away, his touch soothing.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispers, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll take care of it, I promise.”

You want to believe him, to trust in the strength of your love. So you close your eyes, leaning into him, and for now, you let yourself be comforted by his presence, holding onto the hope that somehow, everything will be okay.

-

The weekend with Minho flies by too quickly. You wish you could stop time, hold on to these moments a little longer, but you know that’s not possible.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to Chan’s studio. He’s always been the one you could talk to about anything, a steady presence who feels like a big brother because of how mature and understanding he is. As you approach the door, you manage a small smile and gently knock.

“Can I come in?” you ask, your voice soft.

Chan looks up from his work, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Of course,” he says, nodding towards the chair beside him. You hand him a cup of his favorite coffee as you sit down, and he takes it gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a sip.

He studies you for a moment, concern flickering in his eyes. “How are you?” he asks, his tone gentle.

You take a deep breath, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan’s expression softens even more. “It’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “Everything will fall back into place, eventually.”

His words are meant to comfort, but the uncertainty in your heart remains, and Chan knows it.

Chan always know you. He knows what words you need.

“As your friend, and as someone who cares about you a lot, seeing you happy, following your dreams and wants, that’s what would make me happiest too.” The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. "So choose what's your heart saying." He’s always been honest with you, but this feels different—more personal.

He tries to lighten the mood with a joke, his smile returning. “Besides, feelings fade eventually. Who knows? Maybe feelings will just disappear in a day.”

You chuckle softly at his attempt to make you laugh, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple. You know it all too well. After the laughter fades, you look at him, your expression turning serious.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

Chan’s smiles, understanding shining in his eyes. “You don't need to be sorry of the things that wasn't your fault,” he replies softly. “And no matter what happens just know that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Chan’s presence, steady and reliable, gives you comfort. You smiled at him and he smiled then ruffled your hair.

-

You helped Felix move out of his old apartment, a task made necessary by the noisy neighbor who had been causing him endless frustration.

You were relieved that Felix never brought up the awkwardness between you two, which meant you could focus on the task at hand without dwelling on the unspoken tension.

As you both worked, Felix’s usual teasing and jokes brought some normalcy back into the day. You laughed at his comments, the sound of your laughter mingling with the clatter of packing boxes.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke the rhythm of your work. You both paused, and Felix’s neighbor appeared, his face a mix of annoyance and frustration.

“Hey, can you keep it down?” the neighbor said sharply. “You’re disturbing other people.”

The words struck a nerve. You could feel your anger rising, and before you could think twice, you shot back, “Look at what you’ve done to my friend! He’s moving out because of you. Maybe you should be more considerate yourself!”

Felix’s hand landed gently on your shoulder, a subtle reminder to keep calm. He stepped in front of you, his tone even but firm. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll handle this. Thanks for letting us know.”

The neighbor’s expression shifted to one of guilt. He muttered a half-hearted apology and quickly retreated. As soon as he was out of sight, Felix couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Well, that was interesting,” he said, still chuckling. “I talked to him about this before, but I can’t believe he’d actually come here to complain.”

You joined in the laughter, the tension of the moment easing away. “I’m just glad he’s gone,” you said. “Moving day is stressful enough without dealing with that.”

You continue your work and when the packing was done, you were ready to bring it downstairs to the unit beside you. When he stopped you with his words,

“I’ll be moving a bit farther away." he flashed a soft sad smile, "Hyunjin’s roommate moved out, so I’m going to crash at his place.”

Your heart sank a little and got surprised at the news that was different from what you had expected. But before you could express your disappointment, Felix patted your head affectionately. “Don’t worry, it’s not because of you,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just a better fit for now. Everything’s going to be fine.”

You weren’t entirely convinced, but Felix’s warm smile and reassuring words helped to ease your worries.

Felix’s grin widened. “Everything’s fine,” he repeated, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Thanks for helping me today. It means a lot.”

You smiled back, feeling a mix of relief and lingering sadness. As you watched him finish packing up the last of his things, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of finality, but also an appreciation for the way Felix had managed to make the best of a difficult situation.

-

The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over everything. You were sitting alone, and the serene moment was interrupted by a familiar voice calling your name. 

You turned to see Minho standing a few feet away, a playful glint in his eyes. He walked over and sat down beside you, his arm slipping around your shoulders, then patted the cat that was purring and resting comfortably in your lap.

Minho's eyes twinkled, and then he laughed, "I was actually calling our cat." 

You rolled your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at your lips. "Why did you name it after me?" you asked, feigning exasperation.

Minho chuckled, his laughter warm and infectious. He pulled you closer, his touch reassuring and tender.

You leaned into him, enjoying the comfort of his presence. The cat, sensing the affection, rubbed against your legs, purring contentedly. You looked at Minho, seeing the joy in his eyes, and then shifted your gaze back to the horizon.

The sky was now a canvas of vibrant colors, the sun dipping lower and lower until it was just a sliver above the water. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful, and it felt like the perfect backdrop to your moment together. You both fell into a comfortable silence, simply savoring the tranquility of the evening.

Minho's fingers lightly traced patterns on your arm, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The earlier worries and complications seemed distant now, replaced by the simplicity of this shared moment.

You turned your head slightly to look up at Minho, who was gazing at the sunset with a soft smile. There was a sense of peace in his expression, and you felt a similar calm settle within you. The world seemed to slow down as you both took in the beauty around you.

The sun continued its descent, casting long shadows and bathing the beach in a golden glow. It was a perfect ending to a challenging day, a reminder that amidst the chaos and confusion, there were moments of pure, simple happiness to be cherished.

You took a deep breath, feeling grateful for this serene moment with Minho, and the two of you shared a contented smile, knowing that no matter what lay ahead, this was a moment you would always remember.

----

an: might continue the next one if this will get 80 likes TT

[whereforarthur]

I Didn't Know Punk Girls Blushed

Request: Can you do a Chrismd imagine where he’s into an edgier girl? Like maybe she has tattoos and piercings and is the complete opposite of him? Idk how i want the story to go so you can have free range lol

Pairing: ChrisMd x Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

*****

Chris sauntered into the dimly lit vinyl record store, his eyes immediately drawn to the wall of albums that seemed to breathe the very essence of London's vibrant music scene. The sweet, nostalgic scent of old records filled the air, a stark contrast to the bustling street outside. He was on a mission to find the perfect gift for Arthur Hill's birthday, something that would make his old pal's face light up like a Christmas tree.

Behind the counter, a girl with a shock of different streaks of colored hair and a smattering of tattoos peeked out from under her beanie. She was the epitome of edgy, with a piercing gaze that could cut through the fog of a London evening. Her name tag read 'y/n', and she looked as if she'd rather be anywhere but here, serving customers in a store that seemed to be a relic of a bygone era.

Chris approached, a smile playing on his lips, "Hi, I'm looking for something special for my mate's birthday. He's into some old school stuff, you know?"

Y/n nodded, her expression unchanged. "What's his taste?"

Chris thought for a moment, "Arthur's a classic rock kind of guy, but with a bit of a twist. Nothing too mainstream."

Y/n's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the rows of records. "I've got just the thing," she murmured, slipping behind the counter and disappearing into the labyrinth of vinyl. The sound of her boots tapping against the wooden floor echoed through the store, and Chris couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement. There was something about her that was different from the usual girls he encountered at games or in the pubs.

When she reemerged, she held a vintage-looking album with a faded cover. "This is 'The Dark Side of the Moon' by Pink Floyd. It's a classic, but it's got that edgy vibe to it." She placed it on the counter with a gentle thud. "Your mate Arthur might like it if he's into something with a bit of depth."

Chris's smile widened. "Perfect! I think he'll love it." He watched as she pulled out a dusty record sleeve and slid the album into it with a practiced ease. Her hands were adorned with rings that glinted in the soft light, hinting at a hidden creativity beneath her tough exterior.

As she worked, y/n spoke up again, "What's your name?"

"Chris," he replied, watching her closely. "ChrisMD."

Y/n looked up, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Ah, the football YouTuber," she said, her tone flat.

Chris's cheeks flushed slightly. "Yeah, that's me," he said, trying to keep the conversation going. "What's yours?"

Y/n rolled her eyes and tapped her name tag. "It's right there."

Chris felt a twinge of embarrassment and leaned in closer. "Oh, right," he chuckled. "So, y/n, do you work here often?"

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, he saw a spark of something—amusement, perhaps? "It's not the worst gig," she replied, sliding the record into a paper bag with the store's logo stamped on it. "Keeps me in vinyl and coffee."

Chris felt his heart flutter in his chest. He wasn't usually one to get flustered around girls, but there was something about y/n that threw him off his game. Her edgy allure was like nothing he'd ever encountered before, and he found himself desperately trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound like the cheesy, over-eager fanboy he feared he was coming across as.

He took a deep breath, willing his cheeks to return to their normal color. "So, y/n, do you like football?" He cringed internally, knowing it was a cliché question, but he was desperate to find some common ground.

To his surprise, she looked up at him with a smirk. "You know, I've been known to kick a ball around," she said, handing him the bag. "But I'm more into the indie scene myself."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Indie music and football? That's an interesting mix."

Y/n shrugged. "Life's full of surprises."

Their conversation was interrupted by the jingle of the shop door as it opened, letting in a gust of cool air. A customer walked in, and y/n's demeanor shifted, her eyes focusing on the new arrival. "I've got to get back to work," she said, turning away from Chris.

Chris felt a pang of disappointment but nodded, understanding. "No worries. Thanks for the help." He took the bag from her outstretched hand, feeling the warmth she had transferred to it. "Maybe I'll see you around?"

Y/n glanced back at him, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Maybe," she said noncommittally before returning her attention to the new customer.

*****

The next few days passed in a blur for Chris. He found himself counting down the hours until he could return to the vinyl record store, hoping to catch another glimpse of y/n. He'd never felt this way about a girl before—his usual type was more of the cheerleader variety, not the edgy, tattooed girl who seemed to see right through him. But there was something about her that drew him in, a challenge that he couldn't resist.

On the third day, he mustered the courage to return. The bell above the door chimed as he stepped inside, and y/n looked up from the stack of records she was organizing. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in her eyes that made his heart race. She didn't look surprised to see him, just… resigned, as if she'd been expecting his return.

"Back again?" she asked, her voice holding a touch of amusement.

Chris felt his cheeks warm, but he held her gaze. "Yeah, I had to come back. That Pink Floyd album was a hit."

y/n nodded. "Thought it might be." She paused, her hand resting on a nearby record. "So, what are you looking for today?"

Chris shrugged, playing it cool. "Just browsing, really."

y/n raised an eyebrow, her piercings glinting in the soft light. "You're not here to see me, then?"

Chris's heart skipped a beat. "Well, that's not entirely true," he admitted, a grin spreading across his face. "I just wanted to, you know, say thanks and maybe get to know you a bit better."

Her expression remained neutral, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitch. "What's there to know?" she asked, a challenge in her voice.

Chris took a step closer, leaning on the counter. "Everything," he said, his eyes scanning her tattoos, trying to decipher the stories they held. "You're like a walking mystery, and I'm a curious guy."

Y/n's smirk grew into a small smile. "Alright, what do you want to know?"

Chris's mind raced with questions, but he decided to start simple. "How did you get into vinyl?"

Y/n's eyes lit up, a softness coming over her features. "My dad," she said. "He had a collection that was his pride and joy. When he passed, I inherited it all. It's how I keep him with me, you know?"

Chris nodded, feeling a sudden kinship with this girl who had, until now, been a complete enigma to him. "That's really cool," he said, his voice earnest. "I bet he had some amazing records."

Y/n nodded, her eyes misting over slightly. "He did. Some of the best." She paused, then took a deep breath, as if deciding whether or not to let him in further. "He taught me to appreciate the artistry of music, beyond just the sound. The feel of the vinyl, the smell of the sleeves, the way the needle hits the record… It's all part of the experience."

Chris found himself drawn into her world, a place where the music wasn't just background noise but a living, breathing entity that connected people in profound ways. "That's beautiful," he murmured, genuinely moved by her words.

Y/n's eyes searched his, as if looking for signs of mockery or insincerity, but all she found was genuine interest. "You get it," she said, sounding slightly surprised.

Chris nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She looked so pretty when she talked about something she was passionate about, her features softening and her eyes lighting up with an inner fire that made his heart race. He'd never seen a girl transform so completely when discussing something she loved. It was mesmerizing.

"I do," he said softly. "I think that's what's been missing from my music experience. Just playing it on my phone or computer doesn't quite capture that… magic."

Y/n leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Exactly! That's what makes vinyl so special. It's not just about the music; it's about the connection to the artist, the history, the culture."

Chris nodded, feeling more at ease now that they had found common ground. "So, what's your favorite record?"

Y/n's eyes sparkled as she thought. "It's hard to pick just one," she said, scanning the shelves. "But if I had to, it'd be 'The Queen is Dead' by The Smiths."

Chris nodded, scribbling down the name in his phone. "I'll have to give it a listen," he said, his thumb hovering over the screen. "You know, I've got a turntable at home that's been collecting dust. Maybe it's time to put it to good use."

The conversation flowed easily between them, a dance of shared interests and laughter. Chris found himself drawn to her sharp wit and her ability to challenge him. He'd never felt this way about a girl before—like he was discovering something new and exciting, something that made his heart race just a little bit faster.

Finally, as the shop grew quiet and the last rays of sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, casting patterns on the floor, he took a deep breath. "So, y/n," he began, his voice casual but his heart hammering in his chest. "I was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a coffee or something, maybe show me around some of the local indie music spots?"

Her gaze remained on the records she was sorting, but her hand stilled. "Why me?" she asked, her tone teasing.

Chris felt a thrill run through him. She was playing hard to get, but he could see the curiosity in her eyes. "Because you're the vinyl whisperer," he said with a grin. "And I've got a feeling you know all the hidden gems of London's music scene."

Y/n finally looked up, meeting his gaze. "Flattery won't get you far," she said, but her voice held a playful note. "But okay, I'll bite. How about tomorrow night?"

Chris felt his heart soar. "Really?" He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, not wanting to scare her off.

Y/n nodded, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, really. But don't get your hopes up, football boy. I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Chris chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. "Fair enough," he said, trying to play it cool. "Where should we meet?"

Y/n thought for a moment, her eyes scanning the ceiling as if the answer were written there. "How about The Lock Tavern?" she suggested. "It's got a decent selection of records, and the coffee's not too bad either."

Chris nodded eagerly. "Sounds perfect. What time?"

"Eight," she said, her eyes finally meeting his. "Don't be late."

Chris couldn't believe his luck. He'd scored a date with the edgy vinyl goddess of his dreams. "I'll be there," he promised, trying to keep his voice steady.

*****

The following evening, Chris found himself pacing in front of The Lock Tavern, his heart thumping in his chest like a drum. He'd chosen his outfit carefully, aiming for a look that was casual but cool—a nod to her indie style without completely abandoning his own. He glanced at his watch. 7:58. Two minutes to go.

As if on cue, y/n appeared around the corner, her hair a riot of color in the streetlight. She was wearing a vintage band tee and a leather jacket that made her look like she'd just stepped off the set of a music video. She spotted him and raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

Chris took a deep breath and walked over to her. "Hey," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You're early," she said, sounding slightly surprised.

"I didn't want to be late," he replied, his cheeks reddening. "So, shall we go in?"

The Lock Tavern was a cozy, dimly lit pub with a distinctly vintage vibe. The walls were lined with shelves of records, and the air was thick with the scent of beer and good music. The jukebox in the corner played a mix of indie hits and obscure tracks that made Chris feel like he'd stumbled into a secret club.

They found a table in the back, the light from a flickering candle casting shadows on y/n's face. She ordered a black coffee, and Chris went for a pint, hoping it would calm his nerves. They talked about music, her favorite bands, and the history of vinyl. Chris found himself hanging on her every word, her passion for the subject contagious.

As the night wore on, the conversation grew more personal. y/n talked about her life growing up in London, her love for the city's underground music scene, and her dreams of becoming a music journalist. Chris shared stories from his childhood, his love for football, and his journey to becoming a YouTube sensation. Despite their differences, they found common ground in their shared love for the art of storytelling—whether it was through music, videos, or the written word.

Their laughter grew louder with each shared anecdote, and the tension between them grew palpable. When the topic of tattoos came up, y/n leaned in, her eyes locked on his. "Do you have any?"

Chris felt a shiver run down his spine. He'd never considered getting inked before, but the way she said it made him want to show her something only she knew about him. "No, I don't," he admitted. "But I've always been curious."

Her smirk grew. "Well, if you're going to keep hanging around these parts, you might want to get one," she teased. "It's practically a rite of passage."

Chris swallowed, his heart racing. "Maybe I will," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you come with me."

Y/n's eyes searched his, and for the first time, he saw something other than amusement or challenge in them—there was a softness, a hint of vulnerability. "Alright," she said, her voice just as soft. "But only if you let me choose the design."

Chris nodded, feeling a strange thrill at the idea of letting her mark him in some way. It was a bold move, but he was ready to step out of his comfort zone for her.

The night grew late, and the pub began to empty out. They lingered over their drinks, the conversation never waning. It was as if they'd known each other for years, despite their stark differences. But as they sat in the warm glow of the candlelight, sharing stories and laughs, it was clear that they had a connection that was more than just skin deep.

When y/n suggested they head out, Chris couldn't hide his disappointment. But as they stepped into the cool London night, the buzz of the city seemed to energize them both. They strolled down the cobblestone streets, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet. The stars above were obscured by the city lights, but the magic of their evening was undiminished.

As they approached the tattoo parlor, y/n's hand slipped into his, and he felt a jolt of excitement. The shop was small, nestled between a vintage clothing store and a tattooed bakery, the neon sign flickering in the dark. The walls were lined with flash art, a kaleidoscope of images that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the punk rock playing in the background.

The artist, a burly man with a gentle smile, took one look at the nervousness etched on Chris's face and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't worry, mate," he said, his voice gruff but kind. "You're in good hands."

Y/n whispered the design into the artist's ear, and he nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're sure about this?" he asked, turning to Chris.

Chris looked at her, her edgy beauty illuminated by the neon glow. "Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "I trust her."

The process was surprisingly painless, the needle a gentle hum that seemed to sync with the rhythm of his racing heart. As the artist worked, y/n held his hand, her grip tight and reassuring. When it was over, he looked down at the fresh ink, a simple but meaningful design that represented their shared love of music and their blossoming friendship.

They stepped out into the night, the cool air soothing the sting of the tattoo. y/n turned to him, her eyes shining. "So, what do you think?"

Chris smiled, feeling a sense of belonging he hadn't felt in a long time. "I think it's perfect," he said, squeezing her hand. "Thank you."

Their walk back to the tube station was filled with a newfound ease, the awkwardness of their first meeting a distant memory. As they parted ways, the promise of future adventures hanging in the air, Chris couldn't help but feel like he'd found something special in this edgy, pierced girl who'd turned his world upside down.

In the weeks that followed, they explored the city's hidden music venues, discovered new bands, and shared quiet moments that felt like secrets whispered between friends. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, the lines between fan and crush blurring into something more substantial.

Chris found himself looking forward to their meetups with an anticipation that was both thrilling and terrifying. He knew that the girl who had once seemed so unattainable was now someone he could see himself with, not just for a fleeting romance but for something real.

The tension grew with each shared smile, each brush of their hands. And when y/n finally leaned in and kissed him under the glow of a streetlamp, the music of the city fading into the background, he knew that he was falling for her—for the girl who had shown him that sometimes, the most beautiful melodies were found in the most unexpected places.

*****

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

In this house we believe in MASTER KOHGA SUPREMACY!!!!!!!! 🍌

I know this might look like "oh haha Veronica likes another fictional guy go figure 🙄" but NO. You dont understand. this goes so fucking deep, I LOVE this man. When his ass showed up on screen I SCREAMED. Literally no different from a girl at a Harry styles concert or something, except in this case it's me in my living room, and a fat old dude (who is VERY silly mind you) from a video game. We're almost encroaching self ship territory, but thankfully link is here, and to quote our lord and savior austin powers, he’s the town bicycle and EVERYONES had a ride. I can live vicariously through him. Let me tell you a little about my master kohga journey (totk spoilers)

So way back when I first played this game in 2017 or something, I really liked him, and when he fell down that hole I was CONVINCED he wasn't dead. I had a theory that link would go down in the hole in the sequel and kohga would be there, stuck. I remember I told this theory to someone and they actually LAUGHED!! well GUESS WHOS LAUGHING NOW BITCH!!!!!! MY FUCKIGN BOYFRIEND IS ALIVE!!!!! My theory was basically right, I just didn't know about the depths at all obviously. I came across kohga at the temple and I shit you not I was SCREAMING like an insane person. Like actual cringe fangirl shit in my living room. I was SO happy, that actually made my whole day and the days afterward. I'd just be sitting there and my brain would go "DUDE master kohga though" and then I would go ":)" I'm gonna go meet him in the gerudo depths and i’m excited to see him again :) This is what I have been doing between commissions. This is what keeps me sane somehow. Pear shaped king 😔💞 I hope you like my design for him sans the mask. He is so tricky to draw so idk if I'm gonna draw more of him BUT, just know that I WILL be thinking about him

(Also WHAT is with me liking characters who like bananas??? Why is this a reoccurring theme???)

[hiraya-rawr]

so i betrayed you, my love– (2/5)

Xiao Version || Childe Version || Thoma Version || Gorou Version || Ayato Version

synopsis !! Part 2 of “You Were The Enemy All Along” featuring the aftermath of betrayal and confrontation, with more depth to their stories! (Part 1 of each character was also included to make reading convenient.)

contains !! some character lore spoilers / a little violence / dialogue heavy in some scenes / reconciliation but also complicated relationships mending together / cameos of other characters! / might be easier to understand if you knew the lore of the characters 

notes !! This was commissioned by the wonderful @mh8 who allowed this to be posted in public for everyone to enjoy! and honestly childe scares me to write bc I've barely written anything for him but I tried to bring out his charm? idk 😭

CHILDE

wc !! 2.4k

The noisiest of them all. He doesn't understand at first, tries to deny it by making jokes. The prank is up, what are you still doing? It's only when your betrayal becomes painfully obvious does he allow himself to laugh. It's ironic to be surprised coming from his line of work. He should really be used to these things.

"If you're this desperate for a fight, you could have just said so," He laughs, "Though, I warn you comrade, I won't hold back this time." It's so easy to drown in the adrenaline of battle and if he doesn't think hard enough, it feels no different than any of your usual spars together. There's a battle crazed look in his eyes at the thought of not holding back with you, but it's odd how numb he feels as Foul Legacy takes over. 

Whether or not he wins the fight, the result remains the same; with him lying in the middle of the battlefield, mask still on, staring blankly upwards. He thinks of the abyss he fell into as a child, and briefly wonders when did it all go wrong.

— Before Him

You sighed in relief, a long day of training was finally coming to an end. Dottore was not an easy harbinger to be a rookie under; aside from the harsh training requirements of a Fatui Agent, you also had to deal with a lunatic scientist for a mentor. You were lucky enough to have the doctor more distracted on conducting his experiments rather than training fresh meat like you. 

You leaned against a wall. You were in an isolated, snowy village, a mile away from the nearest Fatui training ground. It existed quietly, the villagers were as cold as Snezhnaya in that barren wasteland. You knocked twice on the concrete behind you, then an additional four times, then once more.

“Agent (Name), report.” A voice muffles from behind the wall, a figure you can't see.

“Pulcinella adopted a strange boy. . . He's coded as Childe. They say he fell into the abyss. He's quite strong, we've only sparred once but I know there's something off with him.” 

“Hmm. A peculiar new recruit. I've heard from the other agents.” Muttered the figure of the shadows. He doesn't talk much. You know it's to keep identities hidden and to avoid letting you know too much lest you get caught and the information forced out of you (and believe me, the information will be forced out of you).

“You think he could rise in the ranks? Perhaps become a general or diplomat?” You question quietly.

“I think he could be the next Harbinger.”

A sharp intake of breath, surprised. A Harbinger. The next and possibly youngest one after so long.

“Continue your work. Do what you believe is best for our organization. Leave any files you found useful under the gap.” Were his last orders before hearing the footsteps walk away. Work was never easy; you dealt with loneliness most of the time. The only comfort was when an ill-reputed plan of the Fatui failed, knowing it was only possible through your contributions and warnings. For every plan you thwarted was a step closer to revealing your identity and getting killed for it.

Yes, you're prepared. You've been preparing for it ever since you joined the Fatui.

With a sigh, you went back to the training grounds. 

— With Him

There’s a reason why Diluc Ragnvindr survived the hunt by the Harbingers when he sought out revenge in Snezhnaya. That should have been the first red flag for Childe. You were transferred early under his platoon, just when he was solidifying his position as a Harbinger. You were the subordinate he sent out to represent the 11th and, having the approval of Dottore (The old geezer, what a wack. Should he really be trusting a mad scientist? Childe questions this everyday) he trusted you enough to do your job.

Yet, the winery-heir-slash-fatui-serial-murderer escaped Snezhnaya with the help of those damned underground pests they've been trying to get rid of. Honestly, Childe could care less about the guy— if anything, he was immensely excited to try and pick a fight with him! But it still hurt his pride that one of his early missions as a Harbinger didn't turn out well. He needed to prove himself to the Tsaritsa after all! If not to at least make Pulcinella proud.

Going back to you.

It was always him and you; you and him ever since you transferred; sparring blade against blade. It was easy to get along when you were one of the only trainees close to his age, even easier when you managed to keep up with him in everything, bloodlust and all. 

You were his match and he was yours, or so he believed.

“Say, why did Dottore transfer you anyway? Did you get kicked out, pissed him off somehow?” Childe once asked, boots scraping the ground as he dodges an attack from you flawlessly. Despite Dottore’s rather crazed way of managing his platoon, agents were given a handful of benefits for being under a high ranking Harbinger with a budget larger than the others (Experiments don't pay themselves, you know!).

You huff, a little tired from the onslaught of keeping him entertained in battle, “No, didn't he tell you? I requested for transfer.”

“Oh really? What, did the good looks of a new Harbinger catch your eye?” He teases, going on the offensive once more as he sprints to slash his blade. You block it with yours, trying to push him back with force. When he does pull back, getting pushed a few meters away as hir boots skid on snow, you scoff.

“Good looks? If that were the case, I would have transferred to–”

He immediately sprints ahead again, blade nearly catching you off guard as you block the attack.

“Aww come-” Slash. Block. “-on! Don't tell me you're not-” Kick. Jump. “-even a little bit enraptured by-” Hit. Block. “-me?” He huffs heavily, finally catching your eye as your blade stays on his, pushing each other back with all your strength.

“Hmp. Must you be so arrogant?” You strain out, matching his force before– “Maybe. . . maybe just a little bit.” You avert your gaze at the very moment he catches sunlight in your eyes. Childe pauses, his grip on the blade loosens momentarily at your admittance. You take the chance— kicking his stomach back with force as he skids across the training ground, the sword clattering on the ground.

“Does this mean I won?” You giggle, your weapon still in your hand as he looks at you from where he crouches, a smile on your face.

Maybe it's the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, but he laughs out loud. Childe wonders to himself; Is this the thrill of battle? Or something else? You tilt your head in confusion.

“As if! I haven't even gone all out yet!” He yells enthusiastically, “Agent (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.)”

Your smile tenses. Your heart beats. Pensively, you also wonder to yourself; Is this the success of a mission? Or . . . something else?

— After Him .

You should've known.

You should've known, you should've known, you should've known that the Fatui would never have let a betrayal such as yours go so easily. The past few months after him was spent laying low, hiding from daylight and any chance that you could be recognized. A large bounty was on your head and the Fatui weren't cheap by any means. The organization shielded you as much as they could but even you had missions you had to continue fulfilling. You’d gladly risk your life for the better good; after all, if you didn't, you wouldn't have went undercover in the Fatui anyway. 

But now, he was chasing you.

It's back to the snowy forests of Snezhnaya, sprinting and dodging all the tall pines in your way. You hear him gaining speed from behind you, hydro blades swishing as they cut through branches, unbothered to waste energy on dodging. Distantly, the sound of a Fatui gunner prepares his shot. You immediately switch directions, a pyro blast landing inches from where you once were. It’s followed by more blasts, each hitting a little closer to you until—

“Ah!”

It grazes your shoulder, blood escaping the wound and soaking your clothes. You don't stop running, adrenaline keeping you alive and conscious. Childe barks something out in Snezhnayan. You’re too distracted with running to understand what he said, but the Pyro Gunner stops shooting and soon enough you focus on escaping.

A clearing appears in your line of sight. A field of snow and endless white and—

Crash! You're knocked off your feet, landing on the snow. You feel him on your back as you quickly force him away, rolling to the side and kicking. It's a blur from there on— a flurry of kicks, punches, scratches, the snow around you forming the most unrecognizable snow angel.

Until his hydro blade was on your neck as he keeps you pinned underneath him. No amount of sparring could've prepared you for a battle to the death with a harbinger. Your breaths fog together with every exhale, the proximity feels bad for your heart but finally, you get a clear view of the face you haven't seen for months.

“I win,” He says, an ever-so-childish grin on his lips, “Any last words?”

It astounds you how casual he is, as if you weren't running for your life just moments ago. Sparring had always been his favorite game but this wasn't like the other times. You do as you were trained (by both the Fatui and your organization)— you keep your mouth shut. Last words are worthless in the face of the enemy, you’d rather bite your tongue off.

“Hmm. . . the (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ) I know would have barked back some words. You would've scoffed.” Childe says, the blade pressing deeper onto your neck, drawing beads of blood to the surface. “Or was that some personality you made up? Was it fun for you?” 

Silence.

The smile falls off his face. Something darkens in his eyes. “Alright. You won't talk, that's okay. Anyone who would dedicate their lives living undercover naturally wouldn't respond. I can respect that.” He starts, the blade doesn't move an inch on your skin, the snow numbing more of your back, “But at least answer me this. Not for your organization, not for you. . . answer it for me; was I ever anything to you?”

Silence. Keep quiet.

Something unrecognizable crosses his face. There’s a smile on his lips, but his eyes are pained.

“You know,”  He whispers, leaning down closer to you. “Whenever we sparred, did you feel anything? Anything at all?” His face contorts to a mix of frustration, “Because I sure as hell knew I loved you. I can differentiate things, (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.)! I knew what was bloodlust, it wasn't just me being battle hungry. I’m not dumb! I knew— know I love you!”

As if wanting to hide from your gaze, he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Forehead to the snow, blade stilling on your skin. Despite how cold everything is, the warmth of him seems enough to coax you in.

“. . . At least tell me how much of it was real. Please.” He mumbles slowly. Did you mean to cause this much anguish? Did you have to go fall for someone like him? 

The words fall from your tongue before you could even catch them. The lack of hesitation, the urge to come clean; “Everything. . . everything was fake. Even my name. (Ņ̸̛͕͔̏̓ͅa̶͍͊m̸̲̫̄͝ȩ̴̹̙̄̀ͅ.). It's fake.”

He freezes over you, listening intently. Snow falls quietly into the ground, you wonder if you'll be buried in— caved to become timeless underneath the ice. Briefly, you think it would be fine if it happens if it's with Childe.

“I know it's hard to trust me, but please— loving you,” Pause. You feel tears well up in your eyes, blinding your vision of the descending snowflakes. “Loving you was real. Is real. It was the realest thing I had in that life under the Fatui. I’m so sorry, Childe, I’m really sorry. And I’m sorry we have to end like this.”

“You mean it?” He asks, hushed.

“Yes, yes, archons I mean it.”

“Then what's your real name?”

Your breath hitches, “(Name).”

“(Name).” He repeats.

The awareness of the metal on your throat becomes all too obvious. Breathing too hard would cause it to press more against your skin. You try to calm down, trying to accept the falling of the snow (the fall of you) as the end of your life nears and suddenly—

the blade is retrieved. You hear the shuffle of leather as it's placed back into its holder. Blinking, bewildered, you glanced up at him only to see his boyish grin.

“You honestly didn't think I'd kill you, right?”

Your mouth falls open. You want to hit him.

“You're going to let me go?”

“I mean, I did kind of let the traveler go back in Liyue.”

“The senior Harbingers reprimanded you for that!” You sit uo, hands flailing as you grab a handful of snow to throw at him. He lets it hit his stomach, laughing.

“It's fine, it's fine! The higher ups don't really care about me as much as they do the others anyway,” He shrugs nonchalantly, “It gives me a whole lot of leeway. If I say I don't want to kill you, they'll just nod along.”

You stare at him longer than you mean to, holding his cheery gaze as the snow continues to settle around you. How quiet and peaceful to exist with him in that space. 

“Is this really okay?” You ask and he falls silent with you.

He looks away to the white horizon, speaking in a softer voice, “Well, of course not. You still betrayed me, I still got hurt,” He inhales, “But you love me. I think that's all that really matters, no?”

Tears well up in your eyes. You can't bear to think how close you were to losing your life (losing him) and how easily he pushes your lifelong conflicts aside. So who cares if you played for the opposing organization? Who cares if you struggled with love and truth?

You've faked yourself for so long but Childe would still embrace you, lies and all.

“Come on, the snow must be cold.” He extends his hand, gesturing for you to take it, “Sooner or later the other scouts would be arriving. You should keep running east.”

“Ajax–” You start but he hushes you gently.

“We won't be seeing each other for a while. I don't know when we’d meet again but. . . you know, I’m sure it'll work out if it's us. So don't cry anymore, (Name).”

Stiffly, you nod. It was this moment that you tried to memorize everything about him— his eyes, his ginger hair, the way your name -your real name- falls off his tongue. You replay every sound he made to say such a name, just for the sake of remembering.

“Now go—” He pushes you to the direction, “Don't worry! I won't let them catch the love of my life!” He grins widely, hydro blades appearing in his hands once more as you nod towards him, tear stained smile in response. Your feet take you away, further and further away as you hear the familiar sounds of his blades against his own agents. Icy wind whipping against your face. You can't help the laugh that escapes you, surely the agents would think their blood-crazed superior is in another one of his impulsive moods. 

You pity them and envy them all the same.

~

notes !! thoma is up next, featuring some of our fav inazuma characters <3 ill edit it into a post once my finals settle down (currently cramming in a cafe) I hope you guys liked this one

childe // i really tried to fulfill that he's the more talkative of the bunch! and honestly with childe’s history of forgive and forget, i dont think it's a surprise that he’d easily forgive MC and brush everything under the rug. if anything, he kind of likes the complexity as far as i could tell! by the way, did you like the inclusion of “before him, with him, and after him”? i think it was a poem or a dedication in some book. I really like the thought of it since it's a good way to divide timelines. BY THE WAY do you like the parallels? In part 1, he was left on the snow looking up at the sky. Now in part 2, ur the one on the snow looking up at him :D

[thefreshprinceofjunes]

soriku endgame: an imagining

OKAY WELL HERE IT IS

TEN WHOLE PAGES OF HOW SORIKU ENDGAME MIGHT ACTUALLY PLAY OUT

i was rewatching vin play RE2 and fsr this invaded my thoughts and wouldnt leave

this is barely proofread and i reused a lot of the same words/phrases BUT its just meant to be an outline/abridged version so keep that in mind

(if i got any lore wrong tho pls let me know)

btw if you dont want to read this on tumblr for whatever reason, heres a link to the google doc

note: this is going off the assumption MoM saw everything (or at least everything soriku) through the gazing eye

scene is quadratum probably. master of masters (or whoever the bad guy in kh4 is) has sora and riku caught in a bad situation (for temporary visuals im picturing something similar to the dark guardian restraining aqua and ven in kh3)

sora and riku are struggling to break free, while the MoM just laughs. some kh dramatic banter occurs, before MoM changes the subject and starts monologuing (with sora and riku probably interjecting here and there)

MoM: [to sora] you still havent figured it out yet, have you?

MoM: dont you ever wonder why rikus heart holds as vast of a darkness as it does?

MoM: its not because of jealousy, or ansem, or even his desire for strength since you were children.

MoM: no, its much simpler than that.

MoM: remember that dream you had, sora? before the islands were destroyed?

MoM: there was a voice speaking to you, from deep within your heart:

MoM: 'the closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes.'

MoM: well, the road goes both ways, kid. the deepest of darknesses can only come from the brightest of lights.

sora: wh-what are you saying?

MoM: its been in front of all along, but you were too blind to see it.

cut to voiceless flashbacks of all the times sora encountered the brightest light: when receiving the keyblade, when almost pulled out of sleep by the memory of aqua on DI, during the dive to heart at the beginning of kh3 (assuming it really happened and wasnt just for gameplay purposes), and after using the power of waking at the KBG (the tunnel scene)

sora looks at riku, then back at MoM. riku is grimacing.

sora: that… that was… that was rikus light?

MoM: bingo!

MoM: but theres even more to it than that.

MoM: theres another force of power in this universe that keeps light and dark in harmony

sora: another…?

MoM: you feel an unfathomable depth of it in your heart for, well, pretty much everyone youve ever met.

MoM: what lies in rikus heart, however, comes from the same place, but is also very, very different. its something you claim to not understand, even though youve encountered it many times during your adventures.

rikus eyes widen and he tries to interject, but the MoM physically stops him; sora calls out for him

MoM: its more than just friendship. its hearts that are really, truly connected between two people.

MoM: think about it. think about all the times when everything seemed hopeless, but something, something, kept the bad guys from winning. it wasnt light.

cut to voiceless flashbacks between many of the disney couples sora has met: the beast arriving at hollow bastion out of sheer force of will in his search for belle, flynn sacrificing himself for rapunzel and her tears bringing him back to life (some shit with will/elizabeth and sam/quorra too maybe idk), and finally, herc gaining his strength back as he rescues megara from styx, followed by herc saying, 'people always do crazy things when theyre in love.'

sora stares ahead at nothing in particular, before wincing in pain; suddenly, a forgotten memory surfaces in his mind (if the convo with NS confirms he hasnt completely forgotten, then its the key details that have been missing):

rikus sacrifice in the KBG

riku calls out for him and struggles, but MoM just laughs so more.

MoM: there, now its coming back to you. and that wasnt the only time riku sacrificed everything for you, yknow, although it was probably the most heroic instance. remember him taking on ansems form to beat roxas? and his dive into your heart to wake you from slumber, despite the tremendous danger? you only met her briefly, but one of the princesses of heart experienced something very similar.

MoM: aurora. maleficent placed a curse on her when she was a baby, causing the princess and the rest of the kingdom to fall into a deep sleep on her 16th birthday. but the heir to a nearby kingdom, prince phillip, valiantly fought his way to the castle, and woke up the sleeping beauty– through a kiss. a kiss, of true… 

MoM trails off and looks at riku, then back at sora, expectantly. riku is still struggling to free himself before the truth is revealed, but its no use.

sora stares off again, before looking MoM in the eyes.

sora: … love…?

MoM does jazz hands and poses.

MoM: ding ding ding ding! we have a winner! it only took you, what, 12, 13 years to figure it out? honestly, i just couldnt stand watching it go on for any longer.

MoM: but, hey, i still have my honor. if im wrong, im more than happy to apologize.

MoM turns to riku then.

MoM: well? am i wrong, riku?

riku doesnt respond, and MoM sighs dramatically.

MoM: still no answer? okay, guess well have to do this the hard way.

MoM starts hurting sora, causing him to cry out in pain while riku watches helplessly 

MoM: come on, riku! do it! use your true strength! unleash the power hidden within your heart!

sora gasps and winces, barely getting out rikus name 

suddenly, theres a bright flash of pink energy (maybe rikus eyes also turn dream eater pink too?)

(if the power of love is too cheesy even for kh, then maybe its a black and white darkness/light combo attack)

riku breaks free of whatever MoM did to him, and then channels the energy through his arm, blasting it through soras restraints.

unfortunately, sora was being held in the air, and starts to fall– but in the blink of eye, riku is there to catch him in his arms.

MoM laughs in triumph and draws back slightly.

MoM: there we go!

MoM then shrugs.

MoM: well, this was fun, but ive got places to be. and im sure you two have a lot to talk about. toodles!

MoM disappears, leaving sora and riku in stunned silence.

after a moment, riku sets sora down and turns away from him, avoiding soras gaze.

sora meanwhile takes a second to catch his breath, before staring at riku with wide eyes.

sora: r… riku… is… is that...? is that really… how you feel?

riku clenches his fists at his sides and stays turned away. after a pause, he responds.

riku: … even if it is, it doesnt matter.

sora: what do you mean?

riku: i know… im not the one for you.

riku takes a deep breath.

riku: … when you were put to sleep for a year to fix your memories, some of them found their way into xion. they happened to be your most important memories– the ones you couldnt wake up without.

riku: those… were your memories of kairi. and xion took on her appearance because of them.

sora is stunned, only having been vaguely made aware of what happened in that year.

sora: k… kairi?

riku nods solemnly.

riku: yeah. and the only reason your memories got messed with in the first place is because the organization forced namine to make herself the person most important to you, instead of kairi.

sora pauses.

sora: you mean… castle oblivion.

riku nods again.

sora watches, before feeling a pain in his heart and grabbing at his chest instinctively.

underneath his hand, he can feel the cold metal of his crown necklace.

and thats when it finally clicks.

everything blurs, and theres a sudden rush of memories.

(maybe a memory sequence that you actually play through?)

sora, holding kairis wayfinder in castle oblivion. suddenly, the memory gets static-y, like during soras memory restoration.

cut to namine confessing to sora shes not the girl he cares about– but every time the word is feminine, its distorted by video static. (this is how we fix the aitsu thing)

"no. the g̸͓̦͙̫̮̦̠͗͐͗̊͑̕͝i̷͖̝̝̱̐ͅͅŗ̸̄̆̓̆̊̄̿l̶̮͉̦͓͔̹̀̂͗͝ͅ you care about...the one who was always with you... its not me. its ḧ̴̳͔̻̾̇e̵͚͂̀r̸̺̣̠̓̂̀̚."

cut to namine speaking to sora before he goes to sleep.

“but theres another promise you made—a promise to someone you could never replace. s̵̹̀͗͜h̷͇͇͌̆̐e̷̡̛̱'̷̦̆s̵̫͖̦̄̈̄ your light. the light within the darkness. if you can remember h̷̼̼̜͚͒e̸̢̡̤̹̬͖͐̒͒̾r̸͓̣̜̼̜̠͚͂̋̃...all the memories lost in the shadows of your heart will come into the light."

cut to a flashback of repliku talking about their shared promise. again, the feminine words are indecipherable.

"there was a meteor shower one night when s̶̳̄͑̆̅̆͗h̴͍̞͖͙͑̔̋̈́̎̈̾ę̷̧̰̰̖̝͆̆̕̚ and i were little... n̸̨̙̼͑̽ả̴̗͕̮́͊͝m̴̻̳͚̒i̸̳̟͑n̶̡̥̋̑̌é̸͍̦͑͐͋́ got scared and said, what if a shooting star hits the islands? so i told ḧ̷̡̬̽̅͆̊ė̸̙̩̠̥̿̃̚͠r̶̛̥̻̖̉̾̽͝, if a shooting star comes this way, ill protect you! and then—"

cut back to the memory pod.

"look at the g̴̬͛̄̚͘ŏ̴̞̙̰̍͂̀ö̴̘̥̗̱̐͋͆ͅď̷̨͙̙̩̓́͝ ̸̢̋̈́̂̚ļ̷̯̥̲̪̐̋͌̾̚ṵ̵̼̥̥͖̎c̸̱̟̹̚ķ̸̭̱̖̓̇ͅ ̷͇̳̃̑́͑͐͜��c̸̢̤̈̈́̊̚̕h̵��̗̓͊̾ͅą̷̣̮̞̾̈́r̶̜̜͓̥̀́͋͝m̸̺̖͈̖͓̊̀̕. i changed its shape when i changed your memory. but when you thought of ẖ̴͚̙̆ȅ̴̡̛̞̲̥̼̋͐r̸̹̱̐, it went back to the way it was."

finally, a few more lines from namine.

"remembering one thing leads to remembering another, and then another... your memories are connected, like links in a chain. those same chains are what anchor us all together. i dont destroy memories. i just take apart the links and rearrange them. you still have all your memories."

cut back to sora in the real world. everything is still blurry, but now rikus voice can be heard in the background calling for him, distorted.

and then, a flash of light.

nighttime. its still. everything is quiet and peaceful.

young sora and riku are walking back from the beach.

suddenly, theres a bright streak across the sky. 

sora and riku both gasp.

then, another. and another. and another.

the night of the meteor shower.

riku watches the sky in amazement– until he feels a tug on his arm.

he glances at his side and sees sora, utterly terrified and clinging on to him for dear life.

sora: wahhhh!! r-r-riku, the sky is falling!!

riku laughs.

riku: no, those are shooting stars. theyre way up high in the sky.

sora however is not convinced, and keeps shaking as tears start to well up in his eyes.

sora: b-but…! theres so many of them. and theyre so fast!! what if a shooting star hits the islands?!

the reality of soras mood finally sets in, and riku is left staring as he tries to think of what to do.

hanging from his pocket is his wooden sword.

the words of the man with the real sword echo in his mind:

“no more borders around, or below, or above, so long as you champion the ones you love."

riku grabs his sword then and holds it up to the sky as he looks at sora, courage glinting in his eyes.

riku: if a shooting star comes this way, ill protect you! ill hit it right back into outer space!

sora sniffles as he watches riku swing the sword around.

sora: r-really?

riku nods his head confidently.

riku: i will. i promise!

after a moment of thought, riku reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver chain with a crown dangling from the end.

riku: here. take this. i found it the other day.

with the magic of cutscene, riku somehow turns the chain into a necklace, and then reaches over to hang it around soras neck.

riku: whenever you get scared, all you have to do is look at this, and remember that ill always be there to protect you. no matter what.

tears run down soras face as he looks at the necklace.

the voice of the strange girl theyd met before rings through his mind:

"so then if something happens, and riku is about to get lost—or say, he starts wandering down a dark path alone—you make sure to stay with him and keep him safe. thats your job, sora, and im counting on you to do it, okay?"

sora gulps and then reaches out to grab rikus free hand in both of his own. riku is surprised by this.

sora: ill… ill protect you too! i-i know im not as strong as you, but ill… ill try! i promise!

riku is taken aback for a moment, before he smiles gently at sora.

riku: … thanks, sora.

afterward, a multitude of quick flashbacks to all the times sora and riku protected each other, culminating in seeing the KBG sacrifice one more time.

fade to back.

in a hotel room (or smth similar), sora suddenly sits up straight in a bed, heart beating rapidly.

sora: riku!

(paralleling when riku called out for him after waking up from the dive into his heart in ddd)

riku has been seated at the edge of the bed, waiting and worrying. when he realizes soras awake, he scoots down the bed towards him.

riku: sora! youre okay!

after catching his breath, sora looks around the room, confused.

sora: … what… happened?

riku: you passed out, so i brought you here. how are you feeling?

sora puts a hand to his head, grimacing slightly at his pulsing headache. but that doesnt matter right now.

sora: im… im fine. listen, riku… i saw… i saw some of the things that happened at CO.

rikus eyes widen.

riku: you did?

sora: yeah. i saw you… well, a version of you. and namine. namine…

sora looks into rikus eyes.

sora: she… she was wrong. or… maybe i was wrong, and she just played along for my sake…

riku: huh? what are you talking about?

sora swallows as his voice starts shaking, just a little.

sora: kairi… kairi wasnt the one most special to me. you were. i remember… i remember the night of the meteor shower.

sora clutches at the crown necklace.

sora: all this time, id thought id remembered everything important… but i forgot about it. [sighs] im sorry, riku

riku stays quiet for a moment, before putting on a forced smile.

riku: its fine, sora. we were little kids.

sora frowns.

sora: but… you never forgot, did you?

riku shrugs, and theres a moment of silence between them, before riku speaks again.

riku: maybe i was the one most important to you back then, but its not the same now. thats alright. im just happy to be your friend. i know how you feel about kai-

sora suddenly moves forward, closer to riku, now yelling as he cuts him off.

sora: i get to decide how i feel, riku! its my heart!

riku is taken aback at the shouting, and stares in shock. sora realizes hes gotten loud, and takes a moment to calm down.

dearly beloved starts to play in the bg

sora: i… i know now. maybe it took me a long time, but… i figured it out. the person most important to me… all along, its been you.

riku freezes up in pure shock. he cant believe what hes hearing. hed talked himself out of hoping for this day long ago.

sora finally smiles again.

sora: youre the one i love.

(paralleling prince eric with ariel)

BOOM FIREWORKS MAGIC SORIKU ENDGAME

riku is absolutely speechless, staring at sora with his mouth agape.

sora gives riku a sheepish grin, now growing nervous at the lack of a response.

sora: and… im the one you love… right?

after a second, riku returns soras smile– and, for the very first time in the series, starts crying.

he nods, shakily.

riku: … yeah. yeah, i do. i always have.

riku wipes at his eyes to stop crying, but its futile. the tears flow even harder.

sora feels himself start crying, too, but hes laughing at the same time.

he pulls riku into a hug, grabbing his upper back tightly.

without any hesitation whatsover, riku returns the embrace, holding onto sora in the same way.

(like so [sora in orange, riku in teal])

fade to black.

then they kill the MoM, get married, and live happily ever after. the end. :)

love balancing light and dark is largely taken from these tags by @osrinlore on this video of mine btw:

[7-wonders]

Never Been Kissed

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x GN!Reader

Summary: Morpheus cannot possibly wait another moment to let you know how he feels about you. What happens when it appears that you don't reciprocate?

Word count: 2.0k

Author's note: Shitty summary, sorry, but you know the scene in Barbie (2023) where Ken goes to kiss Barbie after the party and she just stands there?

This one? Yeah I got it into my head that it would be funny if eternal drama queen Morpheus was in Ken's position.

Clueless!reader, innocent!reader. This is just a kinda stupid, goofy little fic, idk. If you liked it, I'd appreciate hearing from you! If you didn't like it, sound off as well! My haters are my motivators.

P.S. You might be saying "the Endless aren't allowed to love mortals it leads to their ruin!" And I say that this is my fic so I decide the rules. Buckle up babes.

Death would say that he is head over heels.

Desire would say that it is boringly predictable and far too soon.

Lucienne would not say anything, but she would give him that look over the top of her glasses, the one that says that he had better know what he is doing.

Matthew would say that he is down bad, which is apparently what the youth of today are saying.

They are all right, though Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, wishes they were not. Despite his very best efforts, he has fallen in love once more. With a mortal, a human—you. 

Morpheus has never had much luck in love. Though there were a few occasions (very, very few) where it was not his fault, he is mature enough to understand that he has often been the cause of a relationship’s demise. He falls hard and fast, and he always has. That, combined with his…intensity, is what he believes to doom him each and every time. Perhaps he gives too much of himself to those who don’t deserve it; perhaps he shows his hand too quickly. 

But you, he knows, are different. You won’t hurt him, not in the way that others have. You won’t take him for granted.

Tonight, he has decided that he will finally confess to you his affections. He will bare his realm to you, the parts that no normal dreamer will ever get to see, and hope that you understand that this is akin to him baring his very soul. After all, he is the Dreaming, and the Dreaming is him.

But where to take you? What to show you? Morpheus agonized over these questions for far longer than he would care to admit. Although he hoped to be able to accompany you to the farthest reaches of his realm (a tall task, considering said realm was infinite), to explore so much of the Dreaming with you that he rediscovered lands he had long forgotten about, this first foray needed to be perfect. He needed something special, something that conveyed to you the depth of his feelings.

He decided to start with something simple that most people would like to see: Athens, and specifically the Acropolis, as it was in its glory days. For all of the animosity Morpheus felt towards the Greek pantheon, he had to admit that they, and their worshippers, contributed much to society and humanity as a whole. Next was a glimmering lake that was actually the moon’s surface, followed by a glen in what could be the Scottish highlands populated by dragons—he found himself particularly pleased by your stunned awe upon seeing the mythical creatures.

The penultimate stop was one that Morpheus took great pride in thinking up, for he knew that it would be your favorite. A visit to a fae village, exiled by Titania and given sanctuary in the Dreaming (solely due to Morpheus’s dislike of their monarch), enjoying a Harvest celebration. They were harmless creatures in the Dreaming, devoid of any of the power that fae normally possessed, so Morpheus did not feel any hesitation in allowing you to explore the festivities. Above all else, the fae love a good party, so it was not surprising when a few invited you to join them in dancing, pulling you along with them until you were spinning and twirling as though you had always known the fae folk dance. You reached for him, mouthing “Come dance with me!” but he gently rebuffed you with a shake of his head and a smile, happy to simply watch the way you moved, with a grin on your face and boisterous laughter sounding just as lovely as the music playing.

What you had referred to as a “behind-the-scenes tour” ends in his private gardens, long a place of solace for him. Your excitement, your joy, fuels him. It’s palpable and intoxicating, and Morpheus wishes he could bottle it and keep it with him forever to give him just a hint of this feeling whenever he wants.

“This is…amazing. Your realm is amazing,” you gush, your eyes sparkling. “I feel like that word is such an understatement for what I’m trying to describe, but it’s the only one that comes to mind right now.”

“It pleases me to hear you think so.”

“Thank you for this. For trusting me,” you say sincerely.

Morpheus was right, you do understand the gift that this experience was meant to be. It makes the space in his chest cavity, where his heart would be if he allowed this form to have one, feel warm. It is only the the very least I could, no, would give you, he thinks. 

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, the moon shining down like a spotlight and making you look the closest to holy that Morpheus will ever get. This is it, he realizes. This is the moment where he will tell you of his love for you, and where you will then reciprocate. This is the moment that he will commit to memory for the rest of eternity until his sister locks up the universe behind her. This is the moment that you become his, and he yours. 

There is so much that Morpheus wants to say to you, yet he knows not where to begin. An unfamiliar feeling swells within him—nervousness. What if he says the wrong thing, what if he scares you off with his intensity before he can truly say what he wants to say? No, best to show you how he feels before telling you, that way there is no doubt. With that, Morpheus leans in towards you and closes his eyes, waiting to feel his lips on yours.

That feeling does not come, and Morpheus belatedly realizes after a few moments that it will not come. When he opens his eyes and looks at you once more, you’re still standing in the same position that you were, still smiling, albeit looking a bit more confused

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

All of Morpheus’s plans, his hopes and…dreams, for lack of a better term, come crashing down around him. So you’ve rejected him, then. He has laid his heart bare for you, shown you parts of his realm that no other mortal has been lucky enough to see, and you’ve turned him down. This, he muses, is his fatal flaw. Mentally, he had already declared you his, crowned you his consort, and created an entire life with you.

But the Lord of Dreams should know better than anyone that it does no good to dwell on dreams, for they are nothing but fantasy and can lead only to heartbreak.

“It appears that I was wrong in thinking that my feelings were reciprocated,” he says lowly, looking out at a carefully cultivated rose bush that is rapidly wilting. An icy wind begins to whip up, stripping the bush of its dead petals and sending them swirling off into the night.

Shock, raw and unfiltered, crosses your face. “Oh! You wanted…to kiss me?”

Morpheus pauses at this odd question, for he did not think you to be so obtuse. Did he not make it obvious that that was what he was intending? Are you attempting to shame him further? “Yes? I apologize, since you have made clear that you do not harbor the same affection for me as I do for you.” He has to grit his teeth to keep from spewing anything more vicious, though lightning cracks across the sky and says what he cannot.

“No! I mean yes. I mean–” You take a breath and shake your head as though you’re trying to physically clear your thoughts. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never…been kissed. Before.”

The bad weather, which had been threatening since the moment he realized that he was wrong and tried desperately to hide the devastation that was threatening to overtake him, dies down so suddenly that it could have been turned off by some unseen entity hitting a switch.

“What.” It is certainly not proper of Morpheus to sound so shocked, especially when it’s regarding a topic that you are so clearly embarrassed about. But he simply cannot believe that someone like you, someone so delightful and open, so empathetic and, well, attractive, has never experienced intimacy from another before.

“I know, it’s super lame. People just…haven’t ever liked me in that way?” You shrug and add, “Just haven’t found the right person yet,” in a way that sounds so self-deprecating that it must be a line you’ve heard many times before.

“So you have never…”

You shake your head and look away in embarrassment. “No hand holding, no kissing, no dating. Nothing. Sorry to disappoint.”

It goes unsaid what else you haven’t done if those simple, basic acts of romance have been devoid from your life. From the way you brace yourself, you’re obviously expecting him to react negatively to the news, and he assumes that this is from experience. Instead, Morpheus finds that he does not mind in the slightest. No, this piece of information is…rather titillating, actually.

(Perhaps it’s the fact that this means you’re largely untouched by anyone, but specifically mortals, whom Morpheus has seen the worst of for over a hundred years. The filth of humanity has yet to mar you in such an intimate manner. Prior to today, Morpheus didn’t think that he had an innocence kink. Now? He’s starting to see why the gods and goddesses of old so favored virgins.)

He files this revelation away to be revisited later, when he can hope to be in complete control of his emotions and not have them divided by having the object of his affection standing right in front of him.

“I do not find myself disappointed,” he says.

Your eyes meet his once more, and he can see the hope you hold. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head. “It is not your fault that others have failed to properly see the magnificence standing before them.”

‘Magnificent’ does not even come close to doing any justice in describing you, Morpheus feels, but it will do for now.

“Morpheus,” you admonish half-heartedly and bashfully. You are obviously not used to receiving such compliments, which is precisely why Morpheus is now determined to make sure that you shall never go a day without hearing one. 

“Would you be interested in such things with me?” Things, of course, being the list of activities you have never partaken in.

Slowly, a smile spreads on your face. “Really? You like me like that?”

Your naïvete is truly endearing. “I do. Am I correct in hoping that you feel the same?”

“Yeah. You’d be correct.”

“Then might I bestow upon you your first kiss?”

Somehow, your smile widens, and you nod. “I’d like that.”

Morpheus again leans towards you, but this time, his actions are reciprocated. Your lips against his are soft and a little clumsy against his, which is to be expected from someone who has absolutely no experience. The entire time, he can feel the way that you’re trying, and failing, to keep yourself from smiling.

It is by no means the best kiss that Morpheus has ever had. Yet, it will likely remain one of his most fond memories of such an action.

When you pull away, you’re giggling almost giddily. “That was really good,” you praise, as though discussing a book or a meal. It’s simultaneously not at all and exactly what Morpheus was expecting from you, and he can practically feel himself falling further for you.

Tonight will not be the night that he espouses his love for you. He will not whisper promises of the universe against your skin, and he will not whisk you away to his chambers so that he may properly ravish you. Instead, this relationship will be…slow. Although that is not something that Morpheus is used to, something that he’s familiar with, he finds that he is alright with the concept of taking things slow, so long as it is with you.