#seriously give your world depth

[britcision]

Sometimes the whole entire story changes the second you ask how the random background NPCs got to where they are and why they’re doing whatever stock background thing they’re doing

This is called adding depth and happens when you stop thinking of background characters as objects and let them be people

It is also the sweet innocent disguise of overthinking and oh boy it is a fucking trap and still a very good time

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : light angst, shouting, reader stands up for bucky, kinda open-ended summary : bucky feels weird things in his stomach whenever he thinks about you, he’s convinced he’s getting sick wc : 1.7k a/n : part two here

the avengers tower was a hive of activity. agents scurried in and out, stark’s gadgets beeped incessantly, and the hum of conversations filled the hallways. amidst the chaos, you’d carved out your own little routine - something steady to hold onto in a world that rarely stopped moving. and then there was bucky barnes. he was the quiet one, always on the edges of the action, as though he wasn’t sure where he fit in. you’d noticed him almost immediately when you moved in, not because he tried to stand out, but because he did the opposite.

every morning, he’d shuffle into the kitchen, head down, hair slightly messy from sleep. you’d offer him a soft “good morning,” trying not to sound too eager, and he’d nod or mumble something before retreating to the solitude of the gym or his room. his shyness only made you want to know him more. there was a depth to him, layers you were dying to peel back, but he seemed content - or maybe resigned - to keeping everyone at arm’s length.

still, you didn’t give up. you tried in small ways: leaving him a cup of coffee when you knew he’d be up early, asking if he’d want to join for movie nights, even offering him a quiet corner during team meetings when things got too loud. his answers were always polite but distant. it wasn’t rejection, not really, but it still left you wondering if you’d ever get through to him.

then came the day you overheard something that made your blood boil.

it happened in the common room. you’d been looking for a misplaced file when you caught snippets of a conversation between two junior agents. at first, you thought nothing of it - just the usual chatter that filled the tower. but then you heard bucky’s name, and your attention snapped to them like a rubber band.

“he’s just so… weird,” one of them said, his tone dripping with disdain. “i mean, come on, we’re supposed to trust him? after everything he’s done?”

“seriously,” the other agreed. “it’s like walking on eggshells around him. guy barely talks, and when he does, it’s just… creepy. i don’t know why they keep him around.”

rage bubbled up in your chest, hot and immediate. before you could stop yourself, you stepped into the room, your voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. “who do you think you are?”

the agents froze, their faces draining of color as they realized you’d been listening. one of them tried to stammer an excuse, but you weren’t having it.

“no, i want to know,” you said, your voice steady but sharp. “what gives you the right to talk about him like that? do you have any idea what he’s been through? what he’s overcome? or do you just like tearing people down because it makes you feel better about yourselves?”

they exchanged nervous glances, clearly searching for an exit, but you weren’t finished.

“bucky barnes has more strength in his pinky finger than you’ll ever have in your entire life. and if i hear either of you - either of you - say one more word about him, you’ll be reassigned so fast you won’t have time to pack your desks. understood?”

they mumbled something that sounded like agreement before bolting from the room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding from the adrenaline.

unbeknownst to you, bucky had been standing just around the corner.

he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. he’d been on his way to the common room to grab a bottle of water when he heard your voice. at first, he’d thought you were just talking to someone, but as the words sank in, he realized you were defending him. you were angry - no, furious - on his behalf, and it left him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

no one had ever done that for him before.

days later, the memory still lingered. he couldn’t shake the image of you standing there, fire in your eyes, your voice unwavering. it was as though you’d burned yourself into his mind, and every time he thought about it, his chest tightened. it wasn’t just what you’d said; it was the way you’d said it, with so much conviction it made him feel… something he couldn’t quite name.

that night, he lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. his heart raced, his palms were clammy, and his stomach churned in a way that felt almost… pleasant? but also deeply unsettling. was he getting sick? that seemed impossible - the serum made sure of that. yet the symptoms were undeniable. every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, heard your voice, and felt that strange, fluttering sensation in his chest.

by the next morning, he was convinced something was seriously wrong.

bucky had never been one to dwell on his feelings. survival, duty, and regret had occupied most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. but now, as he sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor, he couldn’t ignore the storm swirling inside him. he felt… strange. his chest was tight, his thoughts were scattered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop replaying the moment he overheard you in the common room.

he should’ve stepped in, said something to those agents himself, but instead, he’d stood there like a coward while you defended him. the memory of your voice, sharp with anger, made his palms sweat. no one had ever spoken up for him like that. people either feared him or avoided him altogether. but you - you’d stood there, unwavering, because you believed he was worth it. the thought made his heart race in a way that felt entirely too unfamiliar.

it had to be some kind of illness, right? he couldn’t be sick - the serum wouldn’t allow it - but what else could explain the way his stomach flipped whenever you were around? or the way his hands fidgeted nervously whenever you said his name? bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face. this was ridiculous. he needed answers.

and so, he turned to the only person he trusted to give him the truth.

“steve, something’s wrong with me,” bucky blurted out later that day. they were in the gym, steve halfway through a set of push-ups when bucky’s words made him pause mid-rep.

“wrong?” steve asked, pushing himself to his feet. “what do you mean?”

bucky hesitated, crossing his arms over his chest. “it’s… i don’t know. i’ve been feeling weird lately. my heart’s racing, i can’t think straight, and every time i see - ” he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “never mind. forget it.”

steve’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

bucky’s jaw tightened. “what? no. that’s not… that’s not it.”

“sure, buck,” steve said, his tone teasing. “you’re probably just coming down with something.”

bucky narrowed his eyes. “serum, remember? i don’t get sick.”

steve’s smile widened. “exactly.”

bucky scowled, realizing too late that steve wasn’t going to be any help. he mumbled a quick excuse and left, his frustration mounting. if steve wasn’t going to take him seriously, he’d just have to figure this out himself.

next on his list was sam. surely sam would have a straight answer for him.

“ you’re not dying, man,” sam said after bucky cornered him in the kitchen. “although, judging by the way you’re acting, you’d think the world was ending.”

bucky frowned. “i’m not acting any way.”

sam raised an eyebrow. “uh-huh. look, maybe you just need to… i don’t know, talk to someone about it. someone who isn’t me.”

bucky groaned. “you’re no help.”

“at least i’m honest,” sam shot back, smirking as he left bucky alone with his thoughts.

it wasn’t until later that night, during a rare moment of quiet, that bucky found himself seeking out natasha. if anyone could give him a straight answer, it was her. she was sitting in the lounge, flipping through a book, when he approached.

“can i ask you something?” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

natasha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “always.”

bucky shifted awkwardly, his fingers drumming against his thigh. “if… hypothetically… someone couldn’t stop thinking about another person, and it made them feel all… weird inside, what would you call that?”

natasha’s lips twitched, and for a moment, bucky thought she might laugh. but instead, she closed her book and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “weird how?”

bucky struggled to find the words. “just… weird. like, heart-racing, can’t-think-straight, stomach-doing-flips kind of weird.”

natasha studied him for a long moment, her gaze sharp and assessing. “sounds like you’ve got it bad.”

bucky blinked. “got what?”

she smirked. “you’ll figure it out.”

and just like that, she returned to her book, leaving bucky more confused than ever.

over the next few days, bucky’s “symptoms” only seemed to worsen. he found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. the way you smiled, the sound of your laugh, even the little things you did - like leaving a cup of coffee on the counter for him - made his chest ache in the best possible way. it was maddening.

finally, in a last-ditch effort to make sense of what was happening, he sought out wanda. if anyone could give him clarity, it was her.

wanda listened patiently as bucky explained his predicament, her expression calm and composed. when he finished, she tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“bucky,” she said gently, “you’re not sick.”

he frowned. “but - ”

“you’ve got a crush,” she said simply.

bucky’s heart stopped. “a crush?”

wanda nodded. “yes. and from the sound of it, it’s about time you did something about it.”

bucky stared at her, his mind racing. the idea felt foreign, almost impossible. but as he thought about you - the way you’d stood up for him, the way you’d always looked and spoken to him with so much warmth and understanding - he realized wanda was right.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[pomefioredove]

for a oneshot how about vil gets sick and reader/yuu (your choice) helps take care of him? :3

o7

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ it comes with a fever

type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, took a more unique approach to the sick prompt, would say ooc but this is just how having a cold sore makes you act

"He hasn't left his room all day,"

Epel's still got that uncomfortably tight grip around your wrist. He hasn't let go since he dragged you out of Ramshackle.

"Not even Rook is allowed in. It's... damn strange," he mumbles, disturbed.

You stop in front of the Pomefiore Housewarden's door.

The boy looks at you. "I'd go in myself, but... ah, I'd figure you'd have more luck,"

Which you suppose is his way of saying "Vil PROBABLY won't kill you"

"It's got everyone spooked, Prefect. Like a herd 'a sheep without a sheepdog,"

So, it's up to you. Somehow.

Epel finally lets go of your wrist and disappears before you can ask any questions. Your newly freed hand closes around the door handle.

It's probably nothing, you tell yourself. But if Vil won't even see Rook... there's a slim chance he'll be happy to have you waltzing through the door.

You walk in, anyway.

The room isn't dark or dreary. There are no strange smells or messes. Nothing is out of place, except for the bundle of blankets on the bed and-

FWISH!

You drop to your knees just before a cushion-turned-missile can hit you.

"Get out!"

Definitely Vil. At least he's alive? "You're not supposed to take the name "throw pillow" literally!"

The familiar canto of your voice makes that bundle go quiet and still. And then, from its depths, a loud, uncharacteristic whine. "Don't look at meeeee-"

You can suddenly see why everyone in Pomefiore is "spooked".

"I'm not going to hurt you," you say, as if approaching a wild animal caught in a trap. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he hisses.

"That's not very convincing,"

And, of course, he knows as much. Vil sighs, and you can see the bundle moving. He pulls out an arm and elegantly drapes it over his head. "I'm hideous,"

Did he get hit by a bus or something? You blink. "You're just sick. It's not the end of the world,"

A long, long sigh follows. The bundle moves again, and a person comes out of it- and if you weren't in his room and responding to his voice, you might not have recognized them as Vil.

He's messy. His hair is tangled and limp. His face is flushed and sweaty. He looks...

"See?" he points to his lower lip.

With the general state of him, you honestly hadn't even noticed the small bump on his lip. You blink.

"...That's what you're upset about?"

He glares. "Don't patronize me. I have a standard to uphold. I can't go out looking like this!"

"It's just a cold sore, Vil,"

"Just?" he crosses his arms. "Just, you say? You're either lucky or stupid. This isn't some common blemish I can cover up with a patch and concealer! This is a personal failure! All the supplements, all the medicated chapstick, and the vitamin C and I still-"

He shudders. "...And it comes with a fever, so if you have any sympathy to give, at least let it be for that,"

You sigh, a weary, but fond smile on your face. "Oh, Vil... let me get you some orange juice,"

He crosses his arms and almost pouts. "And the strawberries in the bottom drawer of the fridge,"

"Those, too,"

.

With your service, Vil eventually calms himself down, though he still lies in bed as if he were dying of something terrible.

By the third or fourth bad Neige Leblanche movie of the evening (making fun of them with you is good for his mental health), it's starting to get dark.

"Seven already?" you mutter, checking the time on your phone.

Vil's eyes widen, and he pretends as if he wasn't staring when you look back. "So?"

"So... I have to go," you say. "I have to make dinner. I have to-"

"You're not seriously going to leave me in this state, are you? I'm supposed to avoid stress,"

You blink. Is he really... He's guilt-tripping you?? You almost laugh- it's endearing to see him so...

...Not him.

"You want me to stay?"

"Yes," he says immediately. He clears his throat, and then: "...For my health. Go speak to Rook, get us takeout."

If you were a worse person, you might have teased him about how cute he is when he's needy... But you also know he's not going to be indisposed for long, and you'd like to survive to see next week.

You smile. "Sure. Can't say no to free food,"

"But no chocolate or nuts, and I'd like something with a lot of lysine, some order of tofu and beans. Ask Rook, he'll know what to get,"

A pause.

"...Thank you,"

He really is quite cute like this. Then again, Vil Schoenheit can pull absolutely any look off.

You head for the door, your hand closing around the cool handle once again.

"And Prefect?"

You turn. Vil hesitates, seemingly warring with himself over something. You can't say which side won, because he only sighs.

"Help yourself to whatever pajamas you'd like. And don't bother asking some dimwitted question about where you're going to sleep. You'll obviously be staying in my bed,"

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[flowersdiceandlove]

Svsss au where Shen Qingqiu’s female. Shen Yuan is still male though. When he transmigrates into SQQ he freaks out not only because he’s the scum villain but also because he’s a girl now. Where is his dick?!? Airplane, you hack, give me my dick back!!!

LBH’s still a guy and everyone else is the same gender too. It’s just SQQ that has the genderbend. And Shen Qingqiu stews over the fact that not only is he a scum villain and a girl, he's the only woman in PIDW that actually gets a bad end and not just tossed into the harem because Shen Qingqiu was just that bad of a scum villain that not even Luo Binghe, stallion protagonist, husband of hundreds of wives, wants to seduce and papapa her into submission like he did with so many other villainess beauties. And it's not the beauty that's the problem. Shen Qingqiu is beautiful. Like an immortal fairy descended from misty peaks to grace the mortal world. Just the type to fit into the harem. So, it really is a testament to how much Luo Binghe hated her that he tortured and killed her instead.

During the three years of LBH in the abyss, SQQ finds a plant or smth that can turn him into a man. So he eats it or whatever. Then, bam. Male Shen Qingqiu.

Fast forward to Jinlan City and Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe meeting again. Luo Binghe freezes and his eyes rack up and down Shen Qingqiu’s form, over his face and repeating the process a few times before stuttering out a very choked and strangled “Sh—Shizun?” Because just did Shen Qingqiu get hotter as a man?!?! (He didn’t but Luo Binghe didn’t know about his transformation and going through the shock of it and a gay panic at the same time. And they’re really close together so he can see all the small changes that are making Shen Qingqiu more masculine instead of feminine.)

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu replies, flicking his fan open, his voice cool and even. And Luo Binghe chokes, wheezing out a breath at hearing not only Shen Qingqiu’s deeper, masculine voice for the first time, but that voice saying his name. Send help, this boy is not doing well.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling for something, anything to say.

"Uh..Um.. Sh-Shizun looks...nice," he eventually says, feeling like an absolute idiot! Of course, Shizun looks nice!!

"...As does Luo Binghe," Shen Qingqiu replies, feeling out of depth because Binghe is two years yearly, and why is he acting so weird? Shen Qingqiu's trying to find Luo Binghe's angle for this weird behavior. Is he playing the traumatized victim of the scum villain teacher? But, if he is, this behavior doesn't seem quite right for it... "Binghe has certainly grown more into himself," he decides to add. More compliments can't be bad, right?

And Luo Binghe's brain short circuits again because Shizun just said he looked nice!!

He lets out a high pitched squeak. Shen Qingqiu is horrified, wondering what is wrong with Luo Binghe. Why is his face so red? And his eyes are shifting around erratically, not focussing on anything. (Luo Binghe can't keep his eyes on Shen Qingqiu--he's to handsome to look at--but also can't look away from him. Seriously, he is struggling bad. Gay Panic: 3, Luo Binghe: 0)

Seeing Luo Binghe continue to look bright red, act weird, and his face look kinda contorted honestly, is making Shen Qingqiu worried about him and his eyes land on Xin Mo. Ah. Xin Mo must be affecting him!! Shen Qingqiu thinks, and calms some at knowing what's wrong. Then that calm is replaced by panic, because Luo Binghe effected by Xin Mo is never a good thing. See, Binghe! This is what happens when you rush your leveling up arc!!

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu steps forward and lifts his hand to feel Binghe's forehead. Just as he thought. Binghe's burning up. Shen Qingqiu frowns and hums. Luo Binghe goes a bit cross-eyed and his face heats up even more at Shizun touching him. He get's a bit dizzy from it and sways on his feet. Shen Qingqiu's eyes widen at this and reaches his hands out to gab at Luo Binghe's upper arms, stabilizing him. At this, Luo Binghe lets out a high and quite whine in the back of his throat. Shen Qingqiu is very worried now.

Keeping Luo Binghe supported in his grasp, he looks around at the gathered Huan Hua Palace disciples, wondering why one of the girls here isn't rushing to help Binghe. That's what you're here for!! he thinks scowling, then barks out orders at them to find a room for Binghe to lie down in. While they don't really want to take orders from him, they do and find a room. In Shen Qingqiu's ordering, he calls LBH "Binghe" not "Luo Binghe" and it's not helping Luo Binghe regain brain functions.

"Come on, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu whispers to him, ushering him towards the room, "right this way. Can you walk or do you need this master to carry you?" Luo Binghe just whimpers which only worries Shen Qingqiu further and he hurries Luo Binghe to the room faster. Once there, he settles Luo Binghe on the bed. In all his worry, he's fallen back into Protective Shizun Mode that cares for his sick disciples (or Mommy Mode if you prefer). So, he orders the Huan Hua Palace disciples to get water and a cloth and lays the cool towel on Binghe's forehead who's just staring up at Shen Qingqiu with wide eyes. "Shhhh...It's okay, Binghe, you're okay..." he murmurs and Binghe whimpers again, needing to close his eyes. He thought Shizun hated him and thought he was a monster to be put down, but here he was caring for Binghe so sweetly and gently, his touches soft and whispering reassurances to him.

Shen Qingqiu continues to hover over him replacing the cloth when it grew warm, brushing his hair out of his face, patting and stroking his head gentle, and transferring qi to him to try and sooth the effects of Xin Mo. While this little...bout...wasn't brought on by Xin Mo, the sword is still effecting Binghe to at least some degree, so Shen Qingqiu is mitigating that effect. Luo Binghe can only lay there, helpless against the effects of his Shizun and soaking in his affection.

The System kept on giving Shen Qingqiu point increase updates, but they got so frequent that they were annoying and distracting, so he muted them. Shen Qingqiu has however clocked that him pampering Binghe like this and caring for him in such a difficult time is helping his situation and he's hopeful he won't be turned into a human stick as soon as Binghe regains his strength.

One of the Huan Hua Palace meimeis finally can't take it anymore and steps forward, "I can do that. No need for Peak Lord Shen to trouble himself," she says, barely able to hold the vitriol in her voice back. Shen Qingqiu knows his queue when he sees it (at least he thinks he does) and nods gracefully, rising from his seat beside the bed to let her sit in his place. The girl looks smug for only one moment before Shen Qingqiu stops and looks back down at Luo Binghe. He had reached out and grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu's sleeve.

"Shizun, don't leave me," he whispers so soft and broken sounding. He's utterly wrecked by the amount of emotions that have been surging in him, first from the gay panic and then Shen Qingqiu pampering him when he thought he was hated. (Xin Mo wasn't helping either.) And, Shen Qingqiu's heart just cracks at how vulnerable and broken he sounds and the teary look in his eyes, and just plops back down in the chair, grasping Luo Binghe's hand, not breaking eye contact.

"I won't. Shizun won't go anywhere, Binghe, okay?" he says without thinking. Luo Binghe nods and hums, a couple tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Shen Qingqiu reaches out to wipe them away with his sleeve, one hand still firmly holding Luo Binghe's hand. And, while he hadn't thought before sitting back down or speaking, he can't bring himself to take his words back. Not when Luo Binghe is like this. He clearly needs someone to care for him, and for some reason he wants that person to be Shen Qingqiu. And, who is Shen Qingqiu to deny the protagonist what he wants? And his little disciple at that? While he knows that Luo Binghe is supposed to be blackened right now, when he looks at him, all Shen Qingqiu can see is his little disciple wanting his Shizun.

The Huan Hua Palace girl, though, not wanting to give up just yet, steps forward once more, determined, "Really, I--"

But she's cut off by Luo Binghe growling at her lowly and giving her a harsh glare. She's shocked still by it, her eyes widening and face paling.

On instinct, and so caught up in nostalgia, Shen Qingqiu snacks Luo Binghe's head and glares at him, "Don't growl at her. I taught you better than that."

Luo Binghe looks up at him with wide eyes like a child caught misbehaving, then mumbles demurely, "This disciple is sorry. He won't do it again."

And that shocks Shen Qingqiu out of his nostalgia and he realizes he just smacked. Luo Binghe. The post-abyss Luo Binghe. And scolded him like he was still his teacher and not a scum villain. Terror racing through him, Shen Qingqiu gently pats and soothes Binghe's head, saying sweetly, "Ah, no, it's okay. Binghe needn't apologize, he can growl all he wants." Hopefully that'll do it, he thinks while he continues to pat Binghe's head and fluffy hair. Luo Binghe just stares at him with wide eyes again, his face heating again as well. Then Shen Qingqiu starts fussing over him again and his red face, the girl forgotten. "Ah, is Binghe's fever back? Just lie still. Hey you there--get more water!" then turning back to Binghe and transferring more qi.

Luo Binghe continues to KOed by Shen Qingqiu until he's nothing more than the whimpering, sticky little disciple Shen Qingqiu remembers him to be. just with claws and a demon mark and red eyes and powerful demonic qi. and an evil sword. But still Binghe!! His sweet little bun that just wants his Shizun. (Binghe gets rid of the evil sword when Shen Qingqiu expresses his dislike on how negatively it's effecting him.) And, if Binghe wants his Shizun, then how can Shen Qingqiu deny him that?

[ivyues]

Beneath the Midnight Stars - Bang Chan

“I didn’t want to date, but now you’re the one thing holding everything together.”

The streets were quiet, the world wrapped in the soft hush of midnight. Streetlights cast dim pools of light on the damp pavement, their glow reflecting off the faint sheen of rain that had fallen earlier. The cool night air bit gently at your cheeks, but Chris’ hand, warm and solid, was wrapped around yours as you walked side by side.

It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sneak out for a late-night to early-morning walk. They were a rare escape from the chaos of schedules and deadlines – a time when it was just the two of you and the stillness of the world.

But tonight felt different. He was quieter than usual, his brow furrowed in thought. Every so often, his thumb brushed over the back of your hand absentmindedly, like he was grounding himself.

You glanced at him, concerned. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the empty street ahead. Then, with a deep breath, he stopped walking, tugging you gently so you turned to face him. The streetlamp above cast shadows across his face, making his expression harder to read, but his eyes were full of something raw and unguarded.

"I’ve been thinking," he said, his voice low but steady. "About us."

Your heart skipped a beat. The seriousness in his tone made your mind race. "What about us?" you asked carefully.

He hesitated, looking down at your joined hands before his gaze found yours again. "Before we met… I didn’t think I could do it. I didn’t think I should do it."

The confession caught you off guard. His words lingered in the air, and you resisted the urge to speak, instead gently squeezing his hand, letting him know you were listening.

He let out a soft, almost self-deprecating laugh. "I thought I wouldn’t have the time. My job… it’s always been so consuming. Even before I met you, I was constantly busy – studio sessions that ran into the early hours, schedules that didn’t leave time for a proper meal, let alone a relationship." He paused, his jaw tightening as if struggling to find the right words. "I didn’t want to date because I thought I’d fail. I thought I wouldn’t be able to give someone what they deserved."

You blinked, his vulnerability leaving you speechless. "Chris…"

"But then you came along," he continued, his voice softening. "And somehow, everything shifted. At first, I thought I was being selfish. Letting you in, knowing how chaotic my life is. But now… now it feels like you’re the one thing holding everything together."

The honesty in his voice sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. You stepped closer, your free hand coming up to touch his face gently.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him upright. "I didn’t think I’d have time for this – for us – but now, I can’t imagine my life without you. You make everything feel… manageable. Like no matter how crazy it gets, I can breathe when I’m with you."

When he opened his eyes again, they were teary, the unshed tears glistening like tiny constellations. The soft light of the streetlamp reflected in them, mingling with the faint glow of the stars overhead. It was as if the universe itself had found a home in his gaze, a quiet testament to the depth of what he felt but couldn’t fully put into words.

For a moment, you simply stared, your heart catching in your chest. His vulnerability, his honesty – it was overwhelming and beautiful all at once. You reached up, brushing your thumb gently over his cheekbone, where a single tear threatened to fall.

He took a shaky breath, his voice breaking slightly as he whispered, "Thank you… for being in my life. For enduring the mess that I am."

Without a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He didn’t hesitate, pulling you close, his arms encircling you tightly as if letting go wasn’t an option. He buried his face in your shoulder, his breathing unsteady, and you held him as if you could shield him from everything that weighed him down.

"You don’t have to carry it all by yourself," you murmured into his shoulder. "I’m here. Always."

The two of you stood there, bathed in the quiet glow of the streetlamp, the world around you forgotten. In that moment, it didn’t matter how busy life got or how many demands were waiting for him. With you in his arms, and your words anchoring him, Chris felt, for the first time in a long while, like he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world alone.

masterlist

[dixonsfawn]

╰ . ୭ ┆ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 ˚. ᵎᵎ

"promise m’somethin'?" daryl's voice is groggy as the morning sun begins to trickle in through the window. one hand wrapped firmly around your waist as the other runs idle shapes across your face.

you hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest, not really wanting to break the silence you had built between you both.

“promise that if anythin’ ever gets real bad, you’ll run.” he doesn’t say it as a question. no. he makes it a statement. he wants you to know how serious he is about it.

you peel your face from his chest to look up at him, his light eyes finding yours immediately in the ill-litted room. there’s a steeliness to them that you’d never seen before, but something far beyond just the depths of his seriousness. there was fear.

“daryl-“ you begin to speak, managing to get nothing out but his name before he shakes his head.

“need ya to promise.” he says it more stern now.

there’s a beat of silence, his eyes scanning your face, trying to gather any information on the answer you’re going to give him. his hope lingers in the air as your fingers run across his skin, like kisses from a ghost, as you reach to touch his cheek.

he instinctively leans into the touch. a fault of his. always craving your touch, no matter the circumstances.

then you shake your head and his heart plummets in his chest. his brain working to come up with a reason but your words overpower his own before he has a chance.

“there’s nothing in this world that will ever make me run anywhere that isn’t straight to you. and you can argue with me all you want, tell me that it’s for my own safety, but i don’t care.”

he’s silent for a second before he speaks, but his voice is small, a whisper in the wind, “please.”

you take in a deep breath, your chest pressed flush to his side as you tangle your fingers with his, “daryl, you can’t ask me to do that.”

“s’why i ain’t askin,” he grumbles, his voice gruff compared to your calm tone. “i need ya safe. i need ya alive.”

you can’t help but stifle a small huff of laughter at his stubbornness, your hand pulling his towards your mouth as you press a soft kiss against his knuckle. you can feel his breathing relax a little at the gesture and you look back up at him in the bed.

“when are you going to get it through your thick skull that this world isn’t worth surviving unless i’m surviving it with you.”

his breathing falters, eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and desire. he still count fathom the fact that anyone could ever care for him, love him, the way you do, but hearing you say that you wouldn’t want to be in this world if it wasn’t with him… it makes his heart swell and ache at the same time.

“y’can’t think like that,” he shakes his head but it’s you who cuts him off this time, pressing your finger to his mouth.

“i can, and i will,” you nod. “if i lose you… i lose everything. i’m not going to let that willingly happen.”

he doesn’t know how to respond, his words getting caught in his throat. he knew you were stubborn, much like him, but he also knew how devoted you were to those you loved, and it confused him every day how lucky he was that he got to be one of those people.

he just nods, knowing there was no point in arguing, “a’ight. a’ight.” his voice is a shaky, but it doesn’t let up just how affected he was by your words, and he pulls your head back to his chest, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

[space-matt]

The great debate

chris sturniolo x fem reader

summary: finally the big question has been revealed, ass or titts? 

request: yes -> @jcsturniolo11

author’s note: hope you like it, let me know!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

The living room of the Sturniolo house was buzzing with energy. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of day when the world seems to slow down, giving everyone the chance to relax and do absolutely nothing. That was exactly the plan for Chris, Matt, and Chris's girlfriend, Y/n, while Nick was out with Madison. The three of them were sprawled across the couches, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and soda cans, idly flipping through the TV channels while Chris scrolled through his phone.

Chris was sitting on the couch, engrossed in his phone, when he made an observation. "Man, you ever notice people are always either ass or tits people?" His eyes remained fixed on the screen as he chuckled, stealing a glance at Matt, who was lounging on the other end of the couch.

Y/n, perched next to Chris with her legs curled under her, raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

Chris, defensive, set his phone down, saying, "Hey, it's a legitimate topic. People have strong opinions about this. I saw these comments on the stream—it's an actual debate."

From his corner, Matt snorted, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward with an amused grin. "Oh God, are we really doing this? The whole 'ass or tits' thing? Classic."

Rolling her eyes, Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Okay, fine," she said, indulging them. "If we're going there, I gotta ask—you guys are brothers. Do you agree on this, or do you have different opinions?"

Chris and Matt shared a knowing glance, the kind of silent brotherly communication that comes after years of understanding each other without words. Then Chris smirked. "Oh, Matt and I definitely have different opinions. But I’m not gonna spoil it for him."

Matt, looking slightly exasperated, leaned back in his chair and gestured dismissively. "You're making a bigger deal out of this than it really is. I just have a preference for the backside. A good—"

"Nope, spare me the details!" Y/n interjected, raising her hand to halt Matt's words, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I'm attempting to deduce this based on your personalities, but it feels like an impossible task."

Chris, always the provocateur, playfully nudged Y/n. "Come on, Y/n. You know me better than anyone. Take a guess which one I am."

Y/n tilted her head, squinting at him thoughtfully. She was partly engaging in the banter, but her expression revealed genuine curiosity. "Hmmm. I get the sense that you're attracted to the posterior, but you pretend otherwise to keep people guessing. You know, trying to be 'mysterious.'"

Chris burst into laughter, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Mysterious? When have I ever been mysterious?"

"You're mysterious in a Chris kind of way," she countered, poking him in the side. "You may appear nonchalant, but you always have something up your sleeve."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, he wishes he had that kind of depth."

"Okay, but seriously, Chris," Y/n persisted, her inquisitiveness getting the best of her. "Which one are you?"

A tense silence filled the room. Chris leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper as if he were on the verge of disclosing the world's greatest secret. "Y/n... I'm a—"

Matt, displaying no interest in the suspense, interjected with a deadpan expression. "He's a titts guy. Always has been."

Chris feigned offense as his mouth dropped open. "Bro, you just spoiled the big reveal!"

Y/n burst into laughter, her eyes wide with playful shock. "Wait, really? I was so convinced you were going to say ass!"

Matt shrugged. "Nope, it's the classic misdirection. He talks as if he's a ass guy, but nope, he's been on team titts forever."

Y/n crossed her arms and leaned back, still amused but now fully engaged in the conversation. "Well, now I’m intrigued, Matt. What about you?"

Chris flashed a knowing grin, already aware of his brother's response. "Oh, Matt's the obvious one. He's an ass man through and through. No question about it."

Matt didn’t even attempt to deny it. He gave a slight shrug, a laid-back grin spreading across his face. "What can I say? It’s all about balance."

Y/n couldn't help but chuckle, feeling the warmth of the moment as she shook her head at both Chris and Matt. "You guys are truly something else. Is this really what brothers talk about when no one’s around?"

Chris let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "You'd be surprised how intense our discussions can get."

Matt's expression turned unexpectedly solemn as he nodded. "Yeah, like the ongoing debate of socks or no socks in bed. It's a highly contested issue."

Y/n couldn't help but groan, half in exasperation and half in amusement as she buried her face in her hands. "Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?"

Chris wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You've just been inducted into the never-ending debate club, Y/n. Welcome to the madness."

She shot him a playful squint, pretending to be unimpressed. "I didn’t sign up for this."

Matt's smirk was undeniable. "Nobody signs up for it. It just sneaks up on you."

Their laughter filled the room, the joy of their easy camaraderie spreading like wildfire. Amid all the lighthearted banter and goofy debates, it was moments like these—where time seemed to stand still—that made everything else in life worthwhile.

As Chris and Matt continued their playful banter about every conceivable topic, Y/n felt a surge of contentment. These brothers were a riot, and she wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

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

Taglist:  @sturniolosreads @mayhem-72 @dracoflaco @lyzsaphrodite @ifilwtmfc @xoxo4chrisss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @inlovewithmattstur @sturniolobendystrawsposts @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @blackhorses-posts

[vnti-vnxiety-recs]

NCT Dream as crybaby tops (M) ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

wrote this while procrastinating instead of working on learning curves 2 hehehe.

These will give you whiplash how fast the tone changes from each member LOL. inspo from this tiktok (If you don't have tiktok anymore it just says “who actually likes crybaby tops who apologize mid thrust?”)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, toxic relationship, cock ring, mature, MDNI

Mark

Mark was a sentimental man who cherished every little moment. This year, for your anniversary, you didn’t do much; you simply spent the entire day together, spoiling each other and watching movies. Later that night, he prepared dinner for you, and while you showered, he decorated the room. Rose petals adorned the new silk sheets, and candles flickered along the windowsill and dresser.

As soon as you stepped out of the shower, smelling heavenly, he laid you back against the mattress. He wanted you to feel all of him—his heart, mind, soul, and body—it was all yours.

“I love you.” The words were passed back and forth between you two as he showered you in adoration.

He didn’t realize he was crying until his vision started to blur, your face becoming fuzzy behind a veil of tears. He loved the way you looked beneath him, believing you were the prettiest person in the world. He moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. He wanted to be closer, needed to merge with you, to feel you deep inside his very being. The depth of his love moved him to tears, and he couldn’t stop crying.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him through your own moans of pleasure. He wiped at his tears in embarrassment, but you cupped his face and kissed him deeply.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe with me,” you said, your voice breathy as he continued to thrust into you, not slowing down despite his tears. “I love you.”

He vowed to make sure you would never forget it.

Renjun

Renjun liked to think of himself as a patient man, but the truth was, he had no tolerance for games. You, on the other hand, thrived on them. You drove him crazy, always pushing him to the edge, seeing how far you could get beneath his skin. Your relationship was rocky, constantly on again off again. You two had a long and messy past but couldn’t keep away from each other long enough to heal from it.

You were perched on the edge of his counter, swinging your legs and flashing a dazzling smile as he raged at you. "You think this is funny?!" he shouted, frustration etched on his face. You shrugged nonchalantly, and he gripped his hair in exasperation. He blew out a breath, trying to calm himself down. “You can’t take shit seriously.”

Renjun cried when he was frustrated and that was why you do what you do. You laugh as you see the tears begin to well up in his eyes. You loved seeing him break down, loved the way his entire demeanor changed when he was humiliated. His chest huffs in annoyance but you notice the bulge straining against his sweats, he loved this just as much as you did. He loved being humiliated.

He yanks you off the counter and into his room, tossing you onto the bed roughly. 

“You come into my life again and again and you ruin everything,” he complains while undressing you. His lips connect to yours in a hot breathy kiss. His words were angry, but his eyes betrayed a different story – a hunger that burned bright.

There were times when Renjun swore he was done with you, that he'd finally had enough of the games and the drama. Times when he vowed to block you, to move on. You knew it was all just a show to make you think he was serious but you knew he'd always come crawling back.

He moved over you, his body hot to the touch when you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. You moaned, feeling him sink deeper into you. You moan desperately in his ear, the way you clenched around him had him gripping your waist tighter. 

Other times he loved you, despite the chaos you brought into his life. In these moments, he was helplessly, hopelessly yours.

And when his anger settled, he would apologize, his body still moving with a rhythm that left you breathless. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please don't leave me. I take it back – I didn't mean it." Tears fill his eyes as he apologizes over and over again between each thrust.

You would always have him exactly where you wanted him.

Jeno

He didn't like being mean, and he truly hated yelling, so he felt terrible for getting onto you. The way you immediately deflated and your smile faltered almost made him want to jump off the balcony.

“I’m sorry, baby. Just let me get it for you,” he said, helping you down from the counter. It was partly his fault; you had asked him to stop putting the flour on the top shelf. It was all the way in the back of the cupboard and you were so proud of yourself for not needing his help. You had climbed up to get it while you were cooking together. You didn’t notice the hot stove right next to you, and nearly burned yourself in the process.

He just didn't want you to get hurt, so he apologized throughout dinner. You had assured him a hundred times that it was fine, but he felt the need to make it up to you. He showered you with affection, peppering your face with kisses, offering an apology with each one. You were having ice cream for dinner, and when you offered him some, he cheekily replied that he wanted you for dessert. You didn’t stop him when he dropped to his knees.

He eagerly tasted you, his mouth full but still managing to mumble “sorrys” against you. As your hand moved through his hair, sweeping his bangs back, you watched him devour you. Warm tears streamed down his face, smudging against your thighs. He could taste the salt of his tears mixed in with the sweet juice of your pussy.

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

He didn’t know why he was crying; he just hated that you looked so hurt earlier, and it was because of him. 

Later, when he had you pinned against the mattress beneath him, it was you who was crying, as he took you again and again.

Haechan

Haechan didn’t know what the word “enough” meant. He was never satisfied and could never get enough of being buried deep between your warm walls. After a long day at work, all he wanted was to unwind and lose himself in you. When you looked up at him, leaning above you, it was clear he had achieved just that.  He was completely gone, caught in a trance from the way you sucked him in. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out. 

Overstimulation sent tremors through your body, but you welcomed everything he gave you, knowing how much he needed this.. His eyes were glazed over as he fucked  into you, mumbling incoherent praises against your shoulder when he hid his face between your neck and shoulder. He had cum already but couldn't stop, you felt too good. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Please… it feels so good,” he begged, feeling you start to squirm as the overstimulation became overwhelming.

He had fucked himself to tears between your legs, shaky moans escaping his lips in embarrassment. His eyes watered, his bottom lip trembled, and yet he couldn’t stop. He looked so pathetic that you couldn’t help but clench around him even harder.

He looked surprised for a moment before a smirk spread across his face, sniffing back the tears. “Pervert,” he teased. “You like seeing me cry, don’t you?”

You showed him just how much you enjoyed it by flipping him onto his back and riding him until he was gripping the sheets.

Jaemin

Jaemin loved coming over to your apartment just to be with you. Whether you sat in comfortable silence for hours, watched movies, or yapped away, he didn’t mind as long as he got to spend that time with you. Tonight, there was nothing on the agenda—just an old Lifetime movie playing on TV while you both scrolled through your phones. His head rested in your lap as you sat up against the headboard, one hand scrolling through your phone while the other played gently in his hair.

“Can I tell you something?” you asked, setting your phone down.

Jaemin tossed his phone onto the bed and looked up at you with curiosity. “Go for it.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” you warned.

Jaemin already had a smile breaking through, and he chuckled softly.

You tugged on his hair playfully. “Stoppp! I’m being serious.”

He sat up, grinning. “Of course I’m going to laugh if you specifically tell me not to!”

“Are you done?” you asked, half-smiling.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“I think it’s hot when guys cry in bed,” you admitted.

Jaemin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; he wasn’t expecting the conversation to go that way. A look of confusion crossed his face. He couldn't imagine crying in bed—why would he feel sad getting fucked?

“Am I weird?” you asked after a pause.

“No, I guess I just don't understand,” he replied genuinely. “Why would I be crying in bed?”

“Because it feels so good,” you explained.

He tilted his head, considering your words. “I don’t think that’s possible. I doubt I would cry.”

“Bet?” you challenged. “I could so make you cry.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he teased back.

The next time he came over, you sent him straight to the bedroom. You had sat him against your headboard, grinding down against his clothed cock as you slowly built him up. You stop your makeout to undress and to pull out your surprise. He shuddered as you put the cock ring on him. Stubborn like a Leo, he insisted that a cock ring wouldn’t make him cry, but you shushed him and pulled him on top of you. As you kissed him, your hands roaming over his skin, you raked your nails softly down his back to coax him into letting his guard down. You were going to ruin him.

As he slipped between your legs, the cock ring seemed to fade from his mind. He was focused on thrusting into you and the way your hips were grinding against him. You pulled him down into another kiss, this one deep and slow as you swirl your tongue around his distractingly.

You slyly reached for the remote under your pillow and turned the cock ring up to the second notch. Instantly, his hips jerked in response, and his mouth dropped open. “Shit! Fuck princess,” he moaned desperately, grinding against you. He bites down on his bottom lip and a shiver runs down his spine.

“Come on, Jaem, don’t stop,” you encouraged, gripping his waist, pushing his hips back and forth to help him find his rhythm.

He buried his face in your neck, trying to pick up speed. Broken moans filled your ears, sending heat through you. Each time he bottomed out, the cock ring buzzed against your clit, making your toes curl. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you and pinning him down.

The cock ring vibrated deliciously, pushing tightly against him, and the sensations left Jaemin dizzy. As you reached your climax, you squeezed around him, and he lost himself in the moment, eyes rolling back as he came too. His body trembled, and when he looked down at you, tears filled his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” He slurs. “Fuck I couldn’t hold it.” Voice sounds wrecked as he thrust weakly, riding out his high. 

Once he had enough, he finally tapped out, and you stopped the vibrations. You unwrap your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out, breathless and spent. You watch as he collapses next to you, his chest heaving with each ragged breath, a mixture of shock and pleasure etched across his face.

“I told you so.”

[ln444]

truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

______________________________________________

these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

______________________________________________

masterlist

[cosmicplexus]

Random Astrology Observations

🌻I wasn't feeling lazy today so this is a bit longer than the usual observation posts🌻

🦋And finally the pricing catalogue is here...at the end of the observations 🦋

Thank you so much my sunflowers🌻your support has been everything. I try my best to respond to your messages and requests. If you haven't received a response, I'm coming 🤍✨

And I tried my best to be reasonable with the prices. Also, I'm not yet doing full chart readings as I am a student with two majors and I'm already struggling with balancing things. In time I will do them. Free one question culture requests are still open, but please don't request for things you see on the pricing catalogue like a big three reading...

I don't want to bore you all too much so here we go🧚🏾‍♀️🦋🌻✨

Astrology Notes...

~4th house Gemini makes for someone who develops family-like bonds in friendships.

~taurus risings tend to be possessive due to the influence of their scorpio 7th house.

~pluto at angular houses 1st, 7th, 4th and 10th is a huge indicator of someone who has had intense experiences in the respective key areas of life and there's spiritual lessons to be learnt regarding that area through transformation.

~libra venus placements may find it really hard to stay single

~7° and 19° venus or moon signs may struggle with the theme of physical perfection and wanting to attain it.

~virgo moons have a tendency of creating problems if they don't have any current ones to solve

~capricorn risings really do look older in their younger days and younger when they're older.

~moon and neptune in 1st house natives may give off the perception that they need saving and may attract people with a martyrdom complex.

~sagittarius, 9th house, 9° and 21° mercuries may have an affinity to music in foreign languages while cancer, 4th house, 4°,16°,28° may enjoy music in their mother tongue

~jupiter in 2nd house and 10th house is heavy lotto winner vibes. Literally and figuratively.

~mercury in 2nd house and at Taurean degrees(2°,14° and 26°) are the born singers

~the 22nd degree is an underrated fame degree...I have a bey's🐝 fame analysis I've been sitting on for a while. That's a conversation for another day.

~pisces venus and mars are the most romantic people in the world which makes me kind of believe the astrology theory of neptune being the higher frequency of venus.

~leo moons really take their hair seriously and may feel out of loop if their hair is not well done.

~want to easily impress a cancer mars man??? Sing praises to your mom. Be dotting around kids.

~girls with 9th house, 9° and 21° Venus are so magically beautiful. Abundance of beauty.

~To a decent degree, liberation of women in society came at the expense of gemini, sagittarius and aquarius venus women being slut-shamed(This is not at all saying other women did not contribute to the liberation of women 🌻✨ That's a conversation for another day)

~neptune plays a huge role in beauty trends and that's why neptune dominant women are usually the beauty influencers which explains why beauty standards are mutable and ever changing.

~jupiter in 7th house can go two ways... extreme luck in meaningful relationships or someone who never has serious relationships and is forever on the look...

~pisces/12th house mercuries and mercury afflicted by neptune are often under fire for being the liars when the real culprit is the sagittarius/9th house mercuries and mercury-jupiter hard aspects.

~I personally view the north node as a jupiter variant. While the general consensus is that it is the purpose we're working for, I do believe that it's also an indicator of our birthrights, innate gifts and where we're lucky.

~Cosmic Plexus🌻🤍

§~PRICE CATALOGUE~§ ~PAID READINGS COMMENCE ON THE 16th of May 2024 🦋DETAILED BIG THREE READING ~ $6.00

🦋5 IN-DEPTH SYNASTRY QUESTIONS READING ~ $9.00 🦋OVERALL SYNASTRY ADVICE ~ $3.00

🦋SPIRITUALITY AND PURPOSE FOCUSED READING ~ $6.00 🦋CAREER ADVICE ~ $3.00 🦋 RELATIONSHIP REMEDY TIPs $3.00

Let me know your thoughts...

~Cosmic Plexus🤍✨🌻🦋©️

[littlelamy]

i celebrate you, baby, i enjoy you

masterlist - 03

The soft glow of Christmas lights flickers around the room, their colors dancing across the walls in a kaleidoscope of red, green, and gold. The fire crackles in the corner, its warmth wrapping around you like a comforting hug, and the scent of fresh pine and cinnamon lingers in the air. Snow falls softly outside, blanketing the world in quiet magic, but inside, it's just you and Rafe, wrapped in a too-small Christmas blanket you’d been bickering over five minutes earlier.

"Seriously, Y/N, this blanket is, like, half my size. What kind of elf shit is this?" Rafe had groaned, tugging it away from you while you shrieked with laughter.

“It’s festive! Stop being a Grinch,” you’d countered, finally conceding and letting him steal more than his share. Now, though, he’s quiet—too quiet for Rafe.

You glance up at him, his face softened by the warm light. His blue eyes, usually so full of mischief, are locked on you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. "What?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shakes his head slightly, a small, crooked grin pulling at his lips. "Nothing. You're just... fuckin’ gorgeous," he says, his tone laced with the kind of sincerity that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks gives you away. "You’re such a sap,” you mutter, but he catches your chin between his fingers, tilting your face toward his.

"Yeah, well, I’m your sap, so deal with it," he shoots back, his grin widening before his lips find yours. The kiss is soft at first, tender in a way that makes your heart ache, but then it deepens, his hands slipping into your hair as if he’s afraid to let you go.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. “I love you,” you murmur, the words falling from your lips as easily as breathing.

Rafe's smile is soft, his lips parting as he murmurs, "I need you to know something—not just today, not just because it’s Christmas…I’ll love you every single day of my life.” His voice is thick with emotion, each word heavy with the depth of his feelings, leaving no room for doubt.

“Even when I steal all the covers?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“Even then,” he says, laughing softly before pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Although, for the record, you’re the worst blanket thief in history.”

“It’s a skill,” you quip, and he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pulls you closer.

“You’re so fuckin’ annoying,” he mutters, but his lips curve into a smile against your skin. “And perfect. And mine.”

“Mine, too,” you whisper back, your fingers trailing over the sharp lines of his jaw.

“Damn right,” he says, his tone suddenly more playful. “And don’t forget it, or I’ll write it in lights on the lawn or some shit. Maybe a giant inflatable Santa holding a sign that says ‘Property of Rafe Cameron.’”

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the room and making Rafe’s grin widen. “You’re ridiculous,” you manage between giggles.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he says smugly, and he’s not wrong.

The night continues like this—filled with laughter, kisses, and the occasional playful insult as the snow piles higher outside.

Outside, the world may be cold and quiet, but in here, wrapped in Rafe’s arms with Christmas lights twinkling around you, it feels like the warmest, safest place on earth.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[stariikis]

trust myself

desc ; sitting in with riki as he films his en-note and accompanying him through the multitude of emotions that follow.

pairing ; idol!nishimura riki x gf!reader genre ; fluff, established rs wc ; 1228 notes ; understand that i love riki because i see a version of myself in him...

When your boyfriend sits down at the hotel table, a singular lamp illuminating his screen with a yellow warmth, your heart aches at just the thought of what he might say next. Though Riki’s always been very skilled at switching between seriously honest and teasingly goofy, he becomes a completely different person when he’s filming en-notes. 

He becomes so vulnerable to the invisible crowd that it hurts you more than it irks you. And sometimes, when confesses struggles even you have never heard from his mouth before, you wonder if you’re not enough for him. Not good enough a listener. Not trustworthy enough for him to confide in. 

How come he only opens up under the pressure of the camera lens?

“Don’t stress out,” you mumble quickly before he presses the red record button on his phone screen. Three simple words and yet they have Riki pausing for a long moment, digesting your words. 

After a while, he nods curtly. “I won’t.” He’s lying through his teeth. But he beckons you closer and as you lean in, he kisses your eyelid. Pulling away, he seems to smile slightly in an effort to coax you into relaxing. As if he wants you to give it up. 

Though the tender action does send a wave of serenity through you, you can’t help but to feel a lingering sense of dread, with questions unanswered running through your mind. When will I get to find out something about him that the fans won’t? Or does he think he should just be honest with everyone at the same time? Is he not conscious of the world being familiar with the very depths of his soul?

Or are you just envious that somebody who isn’t exclusive to him is able to understand him like you do? 

“27 June 2024.” Before you can get lost in your thoughts, Riki starts speaking. You hate with all your heart and soul the exhausted, subdued shadow over his features. He starts talking about their recent concert in Hiroshima — how they hold their Japanese single, ‘Blossom’, close to their hearts; how he’s proud of Jay for pressing through their performance even with an injured knee. 

Then he gets to the hard stuff. 

It’s like he already has one foot out the door when you send him a glare and he ignores it out the corner of his eye. As soon as he opens his mouth again, gaze trailing off to the bottom of the screen, you know it’s coming. The same phrase he likes to repeat over and over again, and then cover up with a ‘but you know, I just love performing in front of you guys.’ 

“I do have some regrets.” 

You hope your glare is like a slap in the face to him. If it’s not, you don’t know what you’re going to do with him. All his following words just seep down the drain. Why does it pain you more than it pains him, to hear the words, ‘I need to work harder’ come out his mouth? Like he genuinely doesn’t see that he’s pushing himself to the limit already? This is exactly why you despise concert season. Coupled with jetlag, the mental form of fatigue seems to strike around these times as does physical, and it’s never good for Riki. 

His words fall on deaf ears. You’re boiling with an inexplicable rage, but it’s the most tame version of the concept of anger.

You just don’t understand, as he stops the recording and turns back to you. You can’t tell if he plain doesn’t get the weight of the situation, or is trying to avoid your gaze solely due to that reason. 

So before he returns to his usual playful self – you can see the light slowly returning to his eyes; he’s about to shove you to the other side of the bed with a snide quip – you grab his wrist and look at him scrutinisingly. 

“Do you mean all those things you said?” You stare at him imploringly in the dim lighting. “Every single one of them?” 

“Do you wish you could say more?” You say breathlessly, desperately looking from eye to eye like they’ll provide all the answers. 

Clearly taken aback, your boyfriend gently pulls his hand from your vice grip. “I mean it,” he murmurs sincerely. “I mean it all. How could I not?” 

Your gaze travels down his neck to the safety-pin necklace he refuses to take off. The meaning behind it is special to him, and likewise, he can’t be seen a day without it. His dedication and sincerity will never be deniable. So why do you feel as if there’s something he’s holding back, not telling you… a truth that he’s altered? 

“There’s nothing more to say?” You press, slightly disappointed because there’s two explanations for this. One, he’s really got nothing left in him to spill, especially not to you. Or two, he just doesn’t want you to know what more he has to say. You can’t decide which’d be worse. 

“...” 

“I’m sorry.” 

He reaches up to fiddle with his necklace as he climbs into bed beside you. “I know. You’re concerned because I hardly open up to you one-on-one. Rather, you have to hear it second-hand when I have ‘conversation’ with the fans.” 

Right. He’s extremely insightful too. How did I forget that about him? 

You just nod, taking care not to look too upset by the situation. 

“Would it be a lame excuse to say that it’s because I don’t trust myself enough?” He whispers as he unzips his patchy blue jacket and unclips his earrings. “To come clean to you, that is.” 

“Yes,” you say instantly, lightheartedly. ‘Okay but seriously, why don’t you trust yourself? Is that the truth, or do you not trust me enough? They’re different, you know.” 

“I know…” he scoots closer to you and lies down on his side, facing you. “To put it simply, I’m scared that what comes out is a sugarcoated version of the truth. When I face you, I don’t want to worry you with… everything. When I face the camera… it’s different. Because what are they going to do about it? There’s nothing they can do to help.” 

You make eye contact with him, and finally a sliver of anxiety crosses his orbs right before your eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you put up a front with me though,” you say. “It worries me even more than you think.” 

“Well, I know now,” he scoffs, moving the hair out your face and looking at you with such a tender look of love that the surroundings all fade away to dust. “I’m sorry. I’ll confide in you better next time… wow that sounds so…” 

He cringes and buries his head into the pillows cutely. A mixture of affection and relief floods over you at this, and you touch his hands in silence. 

When he lifts his face from the pillow, he pouts endearingly and intertwines your fingers together. “Seriously, there’s nobody I trust more than you, okay? Sorry if it didn’t feel that way.” 

So, even though he’s supposed to be getting rest for their upcoming activities, he spends the rest of the night telling you the full, honest truth — and of course he pairs this with a bunch of kisses, teasing remarks and cuddles.

more of my works >

[explorastro]

RANDOM ASTRO TAKES #3

People born with Neptune in 1H can have heights in their career that not so much people can reaching. That’s because they embodies possibly an ideal at a moment of their life, physically or mentally.

The ban of TikTok during the Venus/Saturn conjunction in Pisces square Jupiter in Gemini is really a return to reality for content creators who scattered the attention span of their followers with a boost of dopamine. It’s a drug abuse that everyone should fight internally. I seriously think that the South Node in Virgo opposite a conjunction North Node/Neptune in Pisces ruler of Saturn makes a lot of people delusional about the responsibilities of each in the destruction of species, the global warming, dumbification of society, that’s terrible for our future.

If you’re lost to interpret outer planets, using their discovery chart can helping you to be more precise on what influence they have, the big three of each :

Uranus, Scorpio Rising/Pisces Sun/Scorpio Moon

Neptune, Cancer Rising/Virgo Sun/Scorpio Moon

Pluto, Leo rising/Aquarius Sun/Scorpio Moon.

The three discovery charts have a Scorpio Moon, that symbolizes the transformation of astrology after each discovery, the emotional depths when conflicts are bringing up to interpreting the planets and all the collective psychology behind them. If you want to knowing better outer planets, start by knowing better Scorpio Moon and her patterns.

Moon and Mars fall in mutual reception bc they’re similar under these signs, reactive and instinctively emotional, intuitively assertive and self destructive patterns. This is our animal spirit, the fuel that feeds your soul. Aquarius (human) has Cancer (instincts) in 6H (animals) where Mars rejoices and Scorpio (depths) in 10H (public image).

The alchemical transmutation is based on the 7 seven planets who are in analogy with 7 metals, like it’s’ so Kali Yuga coded.

Moon and Sun domiciles and exaltation signs follow each others like the light and shadow in the celestial course. It’s a cosmic dance of the duality who makes one in a beautiful artistic cosmos. Aries, Taurus, Cancer and Leo are the brightest of the zodiac, they radiate charisma.

Aries : a pioneer, strong athlete, big brain who learn quickly, the spark who light up the room

Taurus : the warming fireplace who wraps the room in its tender warmth

Cancer/Leo : the midnight sweet summer that gives you memories for life, the beach, vacations, evenings

Mercury makes the link btw the two Moon signs and receive two sextile from the Sun signs, a very alchemist thing.. 😌

It's interesting to note that the golden age of oil began in 1859, when Uranus was in Taurus sextile Neptune in Pisces. 166 years later for theirs returns, resources are running out after numerous crises and the future without them is not yet prepared worldwide. But when oil was starting to be used massively it was in 1920 when Saturn was in Virgo, the health of the Earth had started to be impacted massively by our consumption.

With Pluto angular to his derivative sign, Scorpio. I think we gonna experiments a lot more of natural catastrophes on earth, like hurricanes and tsunamis after seism. Taurus is in derivative 4H of Pluto that is in derivative 4H of his sign, he’s gonna destroying all the capitalism.

Mars dominant people are so aware of themselves that they can expand their awareness to the world and universe like Buddha, but David Chalmers is also a good example. His quotes on the consciousness are untouchable.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Someone mentioned that main characters can get overdeveloped. I'm familiar with characters being underdeveloped, but how do you tell if they are overdeveloped?

5 Signs Your Character is Overdeveloped

#1 - You spend time illustrating personality traits that aren't important to the story. Your character's personality traits should have some bearing on how they move through the story. Don't take the time to illustrate your character's stubbornness if being stubborn won't have some impact on the story.

#2 - You excessively describe their physical appearance and what they're wearing. While it's a good idea to give the reader a sense of what the character looks like and to describe what they're wearing when it shows something important about the character, world, or situation, the reader doesn't need an in-depth physical description--or even reminders--every time the character appears on the page.

#3 - You spend a lot of time illustrating their interactions and relationships with minor characters even though they have no bearing on the story. We like our characters to feel real and three-dimensional, which means giving the reader a sense of who they are, what their normal life is like, and who is important to them. However, we don't want to spend a lot of time on characters/relationships that don't really do anything for the story. For example, it's nice that your character has a good relationship with their elderly neighbor, but if the relationship isn't necessary to show us who the character is, set up or execute a plot point, or fulfill a thematic/symbolic role, it probably shouldn't be there.

#4 - Your character is a "jack of all trades." It's great for your character to have hobbies, skills, and experience in various things, but we don't want our characters to look like a walking, talking, padded resume. For the most part, any hobby, skill, or experience highlighted should play an important role in the story. If being proficient at roller skating doesn't tell us something about the character we can't learn another way, allow for the setup or execution of a plot point, or fulfill a thematic/symbolic role, it's probably not important to highlight that hobby, skill, or experience--or any other that doesn't contribute to the story.

#5 - You spend a lot of time on unnecessary backstory - Backstory plays an important role in helping us to understand who the character is, how they got to where they are in life, what things led up to their internal conflict and emotional wound/s, etc. However, we don't want to spend time on things that aren't ultimately important to the story in some way. For example, there's no point in flashing back to your character's week at surfing camp if nothing happened that week that is important to who they are or anything else that happens in the story.

A good rule of thumb for really any detail in a story is to ask yourself, "What is lost if I remove this detail?" If the answer is "nothing," you can probably go ahead and remove it. :)

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[tetzoro]

STRAWBERRY FRECKLES — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. portgas d. ace

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : feeding ace strawberries during some down time

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff ! a little suggestive at one point — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : i haven’t really written anything in almost a month but i enjoyed writing this so, so much !! i hope you enjoy ^_^ divider by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

ace had an aura like no other. the light, the warmth that he exuded was easy to fall into. a pool of molten lava that you think should burn you alive but ends up delicately caressing your skin, leaving gentle kisses in its wake.

a man the world sees as someone to be afraid of, someone that should be captured and answered for his crimes beams up at you with a smile that seeps through your skin, filling you with a warm glow that you couldn’t get anywhere else, shooing away any coolness left in your body.

times like these with ace were like no other. the two of you lived busy — extraordinary lives, ones that kept you at just out of arms reach from one another far too often. but the times you could steal a moment alone together was the very thing you both treasured most in this great big world.

the moby was busy, per usual, but today you had the luxury to hang back and relax. you and ace returning from a mission that left you both exhausted yet happy to be safely back in each other's arms.

earlier, you had the bright idea to sweeten the day a little, a reward for your heroics. sneaking into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding thatch and grabbing a small bowl full of the ripest strawberries you’d ever see.

a fruit that always brought your mind back to ace, the seeds resembling each little freckle on his face. the pinkish red color matching his skin whenever you caught him staring at you for a moment too long or anything that left him a little bashful.

nestled in a more private spot on the main deck, ace lays his head in your lap, looking up at you like he’s found the secret that ties this world together — or at least the one that ties his. you were his saving grace, his anchor, the one he was able to call home.

no matter how stormy his seas got, he always knew he’d have a safe place to rest his head — literally. in his favorite spot, he soaks up all of the love you have to give him like little rays of sun directly washing over him.

and the fact that you were feeding him definitely helped make him feel it all the more. gently reaching down with a strawberry for him to eat out of the palm of your hand, spoiling him as richly as he deserves.

“careful!” you warn him again, with absolutely no bite in your voice as his teeth stray dangerously close to the tips of your fingers. he would’ve taken you more seriously if you weren’t fighting for your life trying to choke back a giggle.

“‘m always careful!” he smiles, encircling your wrist with his hand, the muted heat from his palm warming you up from the inside out. he finishes chewing, bringing your fingers to his lips and placing a delicate, albeit sticky kiss on each one. “thank you for taking care of me.”

“of course.” you smile as he lets go of your hand. your softly caress his freckled cheek, freshly kissed fingertips running over each one as you map out the endless constellations, prettier than the night sky could ever show you. “it’s my most favorite thing in the world.”

his brown eyes glaze over, something inside of him dragging him back into the depths of his mind. the gears in his head turning as he tries to figure out how lucky he was to be loved by someone like you, before morphing into something darker, if he even deserved your love.

something you find yourself easily reassuring him, as simple as breathing. loving ace was the thing you were put on this world to do and you’d do it again and again every day, for the rest of your life.

“what would i do without ya?” ace’s smile pops back up on his face before he opens it up, eagerly waiting for another berry.

“the real question is what would i do without you?” you boop his nose and he playfully scowls, closing his mouth when he realizes another berry isn’t coming yet. he had already eaten more than half of the ones you stole.

“you’ll never have to know.” he sits up, facing you now so your knees are touching, plucking a strawberry from its dish. “your turn.”

ace places the end of the berry in his mouth before leaning forward, waiting for you to take the other end. he watches as your lips wrap around the vibrant fruit before biting down, the juice gushing between your joined lips, coating you both in its sweet nectar.

you can’t help but suppress a giggle as you lean back, chewing your half of the strawberry. you watch as he eats his share, practically inhaling it.

ace makes a show of swallowing it down, an audible yet satisfied gulp that shows that berry was the best one yet.

strawberry coated lips meet yours as he presses them against you. moving and gliding in sync as you’ve done a thousand times before. warm palms run up your thighs before finding purchase in your lower back — effectively pulling you into his lap.

gone were the sweet moments with the strawberries, something else taking its place as ace’s tongue slips into your mouth and drowns out any rational thought you had left.

whisked away by his passion for you, getting lost in the love ace so easily basks you in, you didn’t hear the angry footsteps stomping your way.

“there you two are!” thatch’s voice rings out, breaking you two apart. you both jolt back, the evidence of strawberries coating your mouths. “i knew it was you guys who took those berries.”

“uh oh, look at the time! we better go!” ace yells, fiercely grabbing your hand. you all but trip as he pulls you up before dashing away with you in tow. thatch was still scolding you from where he stayed put, a playful smile on his face as he watched the two of you make your great escape.

but you couldn’t hear him — the only noise that filled your head was ace’s sweet laugh dancing in the air, swirling with the love you held for each other.

thank you so much for reading ᰔ