#that is why we are Reading it instead of watching it

[attilarrific]

Okay, as a librarian in a major metropolitan area, I've seen this go around a bunch. I've had this sent to me several times as a fun joke. And while upstairs is DEFINITELY right that this is part of a massive ongoing anti-library smear campaign by the right (and if you just went, "wait, what," well. Have I got news for you), I have something else to say that I kind of keep waiting for someone else to say for me, but this post keeps going around and no one says it.

Yes. Fuck's sake. Yes. People are having sex and doing drugs at the library.

Ask any public librarian in, again, a major metropolitan area (possibly other areas, but I'm just not knowledgeable there), and they will go, "Yes, obviously. Yes, obviously, we do our best, but shit fucking sucks, please fund us better so we can better connect these people with helpful resources."

Fucking---this isn't really the point, but I have people at the library say things to me like, "You must have the easiest job in the world," because they assume all I do is, like, read at work or something. And no. No, I fucking do not. You are wrong about what libraries are.

And you're sort of wrong in a fun way, because libraries do a lot of incredible stuff you aren't aware of, like events and concerts and interlibrary loan and expungement clinics and tech loaning and makerspaces and so just so much more. Check out your local library. I guarantee you they do things you never would've thought.

But you're also wrong in a not-so-fun way, because being the third place that you don't have to pay to be in isn't always fucking pretty, okay. Public service and community spaces aren't the utopian bastions you imagine.

So, yes. People come in drunk off their asses. People do drugs in the bathrooms (so much that in some libraries, the librarians are getting Narcan training). People shit outside of the bathrooms, sometimes because they're drunk or high, but not always. People are having sex. They masturbate in the study rooms or the stacks or just out in the open until someone stops them, they watch porn on the public computers.

And yes, the library workers get to deal with that. And it fucking sucks.

But also FUCK Fox News, because the answer is not "libraries have become a problem," the question is when and why we became the only place everyone could go. Why we got stuck with all of it, becoming all things to all people. And the question isn't how we can force people out of libraries or close libraries (because clearly we're disgusting houses of iniquity, and if you remove the house, the iniquity evaporates with it), it's how we can actually fucking connect people with services that libraries can't (and shouldn't have to!) provide. Like housing. Medical assistance. Mental health services. Career services. So much more.

But yes. For the love of god. Libraries are drug-infested sex dens. Yes, we'd like to do something about that.

If someone could help us instead of laughing at the thought, that would be fantastic, thanks.

So Fox News ran a story about how they think libraries are turning into drug-infested sex dens and I am shocked, shocked that I was never offered any drugs during my 15+ years working in libraries.

[aventurineswife]

Reader was quite reserved and anxious when they started dating their partner. Their partner doing most of the affection and such. So how will their partner react when reader suddenly decides to lean in for their first ever kiss, being the one to initiate it despite how hesitant they were and how clumsy the kiss was. (Veritas, Kaveh (separately), Aventurine, Itto)

One Kiss Is All It Takes

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Itto x Reader, Romance, Surprises, First Kiss, Tender Moments, Bold Gestures, Playful Dynamics, Emotional Intimacy, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Clumsy Kisses, Nervousness, Mild Awkwardness, Light-hearted Romance.

You and Ratio sat in his study, the room filled with the soft hum of a contraption he had been tinkering with earlier. Despite his usual confidence, you noticed how carefully he adjusted his tone when he spoke to you—slightly softer, more patient. It was as though he understood the hesitance you carried in your chest and approached it with the same precision he applied to his scholarly pursuits.

“Do you find this passage illuminating?” he asked, gesturing to the book he had been reading aloud. His eyes glanced at you, softening when you nodded shyly.

Your heart raced as you considered your plan. Ratio often took the lead in your relationship, his actions intentional and calculated. Yet here you were, nerves tangled like an unsolvable equation, deciding to take the lead yourself for the first time.

As he turned the page, you gathered your courage, leaning toward him with a tentative shift. He noticed immediately, his head tilting as if analyzing your body language.

“Something on your mind, my dear?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you leaned in further, your lips meeting his in a clumsy yet heartfelt kiss. It was a gesture so unlike your reserved nature that Ratio froze for a moment, his sharp mind short-circuited by the uncharacteristic boldness.

When you pulled back, cheeks aflame, you whispered an apology. “I… I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

But then his expression softened into something rare—unfiltered affection. “Surprise? My dear, you’ve just made one of the most profound statements of our relationship.” He reached out to cup your face, his touch warm and steady. “A bold experiment, and a successful one at that. Shall we… test it again?”

You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned in this time, guiding you through the kiss with a blend of expertise and tenderness, as though teaching you the finer art of affection.

The sun was setting over Sumeru’s cityscape, casting golden hues over Kaveh’s workspace. You sat quietly at the corner of his desk, watching him sketch the details of an intricate building. His passion radiated through every stroke of his pencil, and his sharp eyes gleamed with excitement whenever he explained his vision to you.

“You see, the key to balance is symmetry,” he said, waving his hand at the design. “Though… perhaps a bit of asymmetry could add charm.” He turned to you, his gaze softening as he noticed the way you watched him.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. “You’ve been quiet.”

Your throat tightened as you decided to act. Kaveh had always been the one to initiate touches—a hand on your shoulder, a soft hug, a lingering gaze. But today, you wanted to take the leap yourself, even if it terrified you.

You stood, hesitant but determined, and took a step closer. Kaveh immediately noticed your trembling hands. “Hey, what’s wrong? You can tell me—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, clumsily pressing your lips against his. It wasn’t perfect; you bumped into his nose, and your lips barely aligned. But it was yours—your first kiss initiated without waiting for him to bridge the gap.

Kaveh froze for a second, his eyes wide with surprise. But when you pulled back, stammering an apology, his expression melted into something warm and understanding.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his voice full of laughter and kindness. “That was…” He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Perfect. And so very you.”

He leaned in, this time taking the lead, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and reassuring. “For the record,” he murmured against your lips, “asymmetry is what makes things beautiful.”

The IPC lounge was dimly lit, its atmosphere charged with Aventurine’s charismatic laughter. He was recounting a particularly wild gamble to you, his earring glinting under the golden light. His sharp eyes never left yours, their intensity almost too much to bear.

“And then,” he concluded with a flourish, “the odds tilted in my favor. As they always do.”

You laughed nervously, your own mind racing with a gamble of your own. Aventurine thrived on risks, yet every act of affection he offered you had been carefully measured, calculated to avoid overwhelming you.

But tonight, you wanted to surprise him. You reached out hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his wrist. He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“What’s this?” he teased. “Are you about to raise the stakes?”

Without another word, you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was more earnest than skilled. It was clumsy, hesitant, but undeniably sincere. When you pulled back, you were already apologizing.

“I-I didn’t mean to—”

Aventurine cut you off with a low chuckle, his smile soft yet mischievous. “Darling, you’ve just made my night.” He tilted your chin up, his gaze uncharacteristically tender. “A bold move for someone who’s usually so reserved. I’m impressed.”

He leaned in, returning the kiss with a mix of passion and patience, his usual flamboyance tempered by genuine care. When he pulled back, he whispered, “Never apologize for playing the game your way. It’s the only way to win.”

Itto’s booming laughter echoed through the Oni Festival grounds, drawing curious stares from passersby. You stood by his side, cheeks flushed as you watched him arm wrestle a challenger with exaggerated flair.

“And that’s how the One and Oni wins again!” he bellowed, lifting his arm in triumph before turning to you with a grin. “You see that? All thanks to my lucky charm—you!”

You smiled, your heart thudding in your chest. Itto had always been the affectionate one, showering you with hugs, compliments, and playful antics. But today, you wanted to surprise him with a gesture of your own.

As the crowd dispersed, you tugged at the edge of his jacket/coat, your nervous energy barely contained. He looked down, his eyes wide with curiosity.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked, his tone softer now.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up on your toes, pressing a quick, clumsy kiss to his lips. Itto froze, his pupils blown wide in shock.

When you pulled back, stammering an explanation, he broke into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “Wait a minute—did you just kiss me?”

You nodded, your cheeks flaming.

“Aw, that was amazing!” he declared, scooping you up into a bear hug. “My sweetheart’s full of surprises!” He leaned down, kissing you back with a mix of passion and playfulness. “But next time, I’m calling dibs on the first move!”

[peachesofteal]

Simon and Johnny love a good game. 

They get bored, when they're not at work. Climbing the walls and lurking for long hours in the gym, at the bar. You can only watch so much television, can only read so many books. They try to broaden their horizons when it comes to cooking, but so far, they're slow learners. 

But games. Games can be fun. Not board games, metal pieces and paper money, folding maps and cards. No. 

Simon loves a cat and mouse game. The most dangerous game. A game that ends with catch but never release.

And Johnny's always more than happy to oblige him. He's even better at it, in a way. Simon skulks and sticks to shadows, where Johnny roams in the sun, smiling at old women and babies, chatting up whoever's behind him in the check out line. Finding a mouse is never hard for him.

Tonight’s mouse is a touch too skittish for Simon’s liking. Even though he enjoys them scared, the last one pissed herself when he threw her over his shoulder. He wasn’t a fan.

Still, Johnny likes you. Simon would never deny him, though you do throw a curveball.

You’re scared, but you’re smart. You pick up on them sooner than your predecessors, head half turned over your shoulder, clocking the shadow from the corner of your eye. Survival instincts lead you to stick to the crowded street, avoiding the left you’d usually make to head home to your apartment. You zig, cross to the other sidewalk, you zag, weaving through couples and groups of people taking their time, you have your keys between your knuckles.

You’re managing until you make the fatal error.

The train.

Why do they always think a confined, underground space is a good choice?

One time they chased a mouse through a fucking tunnel.

Made her pay for it, at least.

Simon laughs out loud, Johnny chuckling in his earpiece. “She was doin’ such a good job.”

“Just as well. I’m getting hungry for dinner.”

“Are you having fun?” Simon cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest, and you shake your head rapidly, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. His cock grows heavy, and he squeezes it over his pants, Johnny licking his lips. Fuck. He loves it when they cry.

“Fun?” You croak, confused little wrinkle in your brow. “Wh-what?” Your mouth is hanging open too, and without thinking, he rams his fingers into it, shoving them back past your tongue until you gag. Johnny clicks his tongue, strokes your jaw before cupping it, immobilizing the hinges and forcing it wide.

“Want to have a bite before we get ‘er home?” There’s another man in the same car, on the other end, watching. He hasn’t said anything, done anything, moved at all. He’s only watched. A sick fuck like the rest of them. Simon knows he won’t intervene, so he pulls his fly down. The man pretends to glance away.

“Have you sucked a cock before?” You make some awful hissing noise like a strangled cat.

“C’mon bonnie, hold still.” Simon forces himself past your teeth. You’re shaking so hard it’s like your bones are rattling, and when you stay frozen, Johnny guides you, dragging the heat of your mouth back and forth on Simon’s cock. It’s hot, and wet, and his toes curl. It’s like getting high, like a cigarette after a huge dinner. Euphoric. Satisfying.

The man at the other end of the car turns to give the situation his full attention, but not to stop him. Instead, his hand creeps down the front of his pants.

“Aww mouse, I think he likes ye.” Johnny’s cock is also hard, swollen against his thigh, and he rips your tense grip free from the seat to press it to his erection, kissing your temple. “It’ll be my turn, when we get home.” You try to jerk free, thrash, but it only forces the blunt tip of Simon’s cock deeper, and you start to gag uncontrollably. Johnny’s practically shivering with excitement.

“Don’t puke.” He grunts, fucking your face, slamming deep as he pumps his cum down your throat. You moan, eyes slipping closed. Defeated. Trampled under foot. Poor little mouse.

It’s adorable. You’re helpless. There’s too much going on, him, Johnny, the fucking creep still rubbing away at his crotch, and he feels bad. They should be taking better care at this point. They always need to butter them up before setting them free in the maze.

“Lights out, Johnny.” Fingers find those pressure points on your neck, and then the next thing they know, you’re slumped over, asleep on Johnny’s chest. What a cutie.

“Think we can keep her for a bit?” Simon rolls his eyes.

“We’ll see.”

[pomefioredove]

hellooo !! can i please get a sugar cookie , #2 , with chocolate chips and powdered sugar ??

tc of urself n evrythingg !! i love ur works and i love reading ur writinggg its soo nice i love it <3

keep it up !! ur super duper cool !! o((>ω< ))o

AWEE thank you!! sorry this took so long to post ;w;

order #2, sugar with chocolate chips and powdered sugar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a presumptuous affair

summary: kalim mistakes you, a random barista, for jamil's date. you go along with it tropes: coffee shop au, fake dating characters: jamil additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is not yuu, use of y/n, a little kalim x yuu, kinda long, a kissy

As if today couldn't get any weirder...

For a moment, you had almost believed it was fortune. You made it to work on time despite the snow, your shift manager let you take the afternoon off, even your customers were feeling generous- your tip jar was almost to the brim.

And then it got weird.

"Jamil, look! See how cute these cookies are? It's like they're dressed up for the new year!"

That sparkly ray of sunshine has had his hands and nose pressed against the glass of the pastry case all morning. He's dressed in a Night Raven College uniform, but you can't imagine what someone so cute would be wearing it for.

"I just can't decide what to get! Everything looks so good!"

On the contrary, the taller, quieter, tired-looking boy, the one called Jamil, standing by the door, suited his uniform quite nicely.

"I'm sure the Prefect will be pleased with whatever you choose for them, Kalim. We're going to be late,"

The sparkly one (Kalim, was it?) pouts. "But this is our first new year's party together! Usually, I'd just buy everything, but they said..."

"Only one thing. I know. Surely, with all the time you spend together, you'd know their preferences,"

"I do! But it's hard... you'd understand if you had a date, too, Jamil,"

He narrows his eyes. "I'll be kept busy enough by the party,"

"Aw, that's no fun. You should enjoy yourself, too! If you need any help finding a date, I'd be happy to ask for you!"

"That is completely unnecessary-"

You finish wiping down the case, having shamelessly eavesdropped on the entire conversation. "May I make a pastry suggestion?"

Kalim's eyes widen, as if he'd forgotten you were standing behind the sparkly glass, but Jamil nods.

"Please, please do. And thank you..." his eyes dart down to the nametag on your apron. "Y/N."

"You guys know each other? Oh! I see," Kalim grins.

"Now I know why we came here instead of my favorite place- this is your date!"

The silence is almost worst than the bickering. You and Jamil (perfect strangers, by the way) exchange similar expressions of surprise, while Kalim grins, waiting to be introduced, or... something.

You open your mouth, but before you can explain yourself or the rather presumptuous affair, Jamil nods.

"Yes. This is them,"

He gives you a look that either says "please go along with it" or "I will make you go along with it" but you're too shocked to speak, anyway.

Kalim giggles. "This is perfect! Now I won't have to worry about you being lonely at the party. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to take away the attention from yourself and the Prefect," Jamil says, dryly, crossing his arms.

Kalim either doesn't notice his tone, or he ignores it.

"Aw, you guys don't have to worry about that! Here, I'll have one of those, and those... that date pastry for Jamil, and... here!"

He takes out a roll of thaumarks thicker than your hand and forces it into your tip jar.

Jamil's eyes widen with panic. "Kalim-"

"I want to make a good first impression!" he says, and then to you: "I can't wait to see you at the party!"

You finish bagging his pastries, shellshocked, and watch him skip out of the coffee shop like a little kid.

Jamil lingers, seemingly unbothered, and yet apologetic all the same.

"Sorry I dragged you into this, he's been begging for a double date all week. I'll tell him you're sick when the party comes around,"

He turns to leave. Your eyes dart between the tip jar, him, the boy outside, him, your coffee-stained hands, and him once more.

"Wait!"

Jamil stops, one hand on the door, and looks over his shoulder.

You try to stop yourself, but the words spill out of your lips anyway. "What time?"

You had never been inside Night Raven College, but the very last thing you were expecting it to be, anyhow, was warm.

You'd dressed in something thick and wooly for the winter weather, and now you're sweating, there's sand stuck under your nails and cool drinks are being passed from hand to hand.

"You're dressed like a penguin," Jamil whispers, holding you by the wrist and pulling you towards a closet, lined with gold and stuffed with coats and shoes from the partygoers.

"I didn't know it'd be hot!"

Jamil closes the door. "I suppose that was an oversight on my part. But I can't have you afflicted with heatstroke- not under my care, at least. Take off the coat,"

You do as he says. You've learned very little about Jamil over the evening, but he seems to know what he's doing.

"Better, but you're drenched in sweat. I'm sure we have dorm uniforms in your size somewhere..."

A loud, raucous noise that you can only assume was a cheer comes from beyond the door. You're not so sure you want to know.

Jamil notices the look on your face. "Too loud?"

"It's a little... much,"

He scoffs, though there's a smile on his lips, now. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose,"

He begins moving coats and shoes, boxes and chests, looking for something to cool you off. You sit on the floor behind him.

"I apologize again. For making you a part of this. I... didn't think you'd actually come," he says, facing away from you.

"I don't mind. I didn't have any plans for the holiday, anyway,"

Jamil makes a noise of acknowledgement, but, no words. You suppose he's trying to figure you out as much as you are him.

"...Ahem. Well, I'm... pleased to have you here. As much as it hurts to admit Kalim was right about one thing, I did need company today,"

"It's no problem,"

"It's some problem," Jamil scoffs, but he's smiling, too. "You'll have a headache for days after this."

"Then it'll be worth it,"

He seems to give up on finding a uniform, or perhaps he's just forgotten about it altogether, and he sits next to you.

You tilt your head to the side, a smile playing at your lips.

"I think Kalim was right about two things, actually,"

Jamil looks at you as if you'd hit your head on something and started speaking in tongues. "And what is that?"

You point up towards the heavens, or, rather, towards the ceiling of the closet, where a mistletoe has been poorly strung up.

"You should enjoy yourself, too,"

Jamil's eyes widen, but before he can ask who put that thing up there?! your kiss is on his cheek and his stoic demeanor is gone.

"Eh- what was that for?"

You could laugh at his expression, but you don't want to rub it in his bewildered face. Rather, you gently nudge his side.

"For being so kind,"

"Kind?" Jamil repeats the word as if he'd never heard it before. "I would hardly call myself that. I'm only... repaying the favor for your kindness."

You smile.

"I guess I'll just have to keep being nice to you, then,"

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #31

[Continuation of Poll #24]

"I'm home!"

Your captor's voice sounded unusually chipper after a long day at work. Taking a sip from your cup of tea, you barely hummed in acknowledgment, despite knowing that the peace and quiet you had enjoyed reading your book would be over now. Now, it was time for the usual song and dance, where they'd do their best to make you show them any kind of affection and attention while you simply tried to ignore them without pushing your luck.

The shuffling in the hallway went on for a while as they took off their coat, but instead of coming to see you right away, you heard their footsteps reach an abrupt stop—and you could guess why. You had left everything like it was before for them to find. The computer on standby, the lights in your captor's office out, and the door slightly ajar. It was only a question of who-staged-it-better, and whose suspicions would be confirmed in the end.

"Have you been to my office?" they asked, standing in the doorway to the living room. You barely looked up from your book despite already having lost the sentences you read last and just pretending to be busy.

"Hm? Oh, I saw you left the door open, but I thought you just forgot to lock it, so I left it that way."

Feeling their body move behind you, you tried your best to stay nonchalant and uninterested. However, the tension affected you, causing your pulse to rise and your body to cramp up. You took another sip of your cup, watching their expressionless face in the reflection of your drink. Your captor's weight leaned onto the backrest, shifting you slightly backward, but even so, you pretended not to care. Not even their hand brushing through your hair, playing with the ends, and rubbing them between their fingers made you falter.

"So you didn't go in?"

"Nope," you replied, popping the p deliberately. "What's for dinner?"

"Weren't you curious at all?"

"Should I? I thought it was an office. The last thing I want to waste time on is papers and documents. How about we order some of those fried vegetables we had last week? I am craving the garlic dip they came with."

"If I go up to the computer, I won't find any signs of you tampering with it?"

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly, trying to sound annoyed and disappointed in your captor that he'd keep accusing you. The truth was, you needed a few extra seconds to think carefully about what you were about to say. Because you had gone there. You unlocked the computer, even though you decided not to continue using it at the last second, and locked it again immediately.

Technically, there should be no evidence that you were on it. Unless your captor burst out his detective set to find your fingerprints, they wouldn't know you touched the PC. You only barely listened when they told you about their job. Still, you knew they didn't work in a tech-savvy field. You doubted they had much experience with which they could detect you logging in and out of their computer very quickly.

Still, telling the truth before they found out what you did could grant you some mercy... or it would result in punishment regardless of whether they found out or not. But not telling them, only to fall for the trap, seemed just as dangerous. You contemplated, seconds passing by. There was not much you could do other than decide right there and then.

(Reasoning and discussions welcome! ♥)

[nylloth]

First of all, you're talking about a very specific political critique, while most of the actual criticism has nothing to do with that.

Personally, I know very little about American politics, so I’ve never criticized the show on that basis. The show has its own internal city politics, which were established in the official game lore. I know the official lore, which is why my expectations for this aspect were completely different. This has nothing to do with the real world.

Secondly, my main criticism is about the writing. Arcane didn’t win its writing award.

Here’s what I’m criticizing: the characters have forgotten their own motivations from Season 1. Viktor’s arc is a blatant retcon—his motivation was death, not disease. The show always tackled social issues and inequality, but in Season 2, those themes were erased. The dialogue was drastically reduced. The creators chose the "show through animation, don’t tell" approach, but you can’t use it in every situation—otherwise, we’re just left staring at Caitlyn’s microexpressions. Vi’s dialogue was cut by 60% compared to Season 1. That’s not how good storytelling works.

Is it because of the episode count? No, because Season 1 managed it just fine. Instead, the writers crammed in too many music video sequences, which anyone can interpret however they want, and which often fail to convey the characters' thoughts and relationships.

The pacing is breakneck, making serious decisions feel unearned—especially Viktor’s, which change every five seconds. He becomes a god and loses faith in his vision all in one day.

Jinx’s "revolution" basically didn’t happen.

Pacifist Viktor suddenly decides to team up with Ambessa and considers it the right choice. And Ambessa, a brilliant warrior and strategist (as established in Act 1), agrees to a highly questionable alliance with someone she can't control.

The weapons conflict between Viktor and Jayce, which was a major theme in Season 1, is completely dropped. Why? Because Jayce fell into a pit and broke his leg. As if that somehow helps him understand Viktor, who lived with a disease, was dying from it, and was part of the lower class that no one cared about.

The core dynamics of the show—family relationships and social inequality—shifted to a Marvel-style formula with lots of action and a big bad villain.

See? It’s not about real-world politics. It’s about how it was written.

Moving away from writing: Viktor’s original lore was far more complex and morally engaging. He was never purely evil or just a victim of magical manipulation. Turning him into an "evil god" is an incredibly dull choice. Of course, you might not know this if you haven’t read the original lore.

Caitlyn poisoning the city? Completely brushed aside.

We have two "women in freezer"—Sky and Isha. This is one of the worst, most lazy, and disgusting writing choices. Cheap, especially for Sky, who was already treated this way in Season 1.

Viktor’s time loop raises countless unanswered questions.

Episode 207 is pure fanfiction, eating up screen time for the sake of the Time Bomb ship. It serves no narrative purpose. We don’t even see how Ekko talked Jinx out of suicide. Why? Because it happens off-screen. And ask yourself—why is it off-screen? Because the writers had no actual dialogue for that moment.

Now the most interesting part. I watched the leaks. Dialogues were rewritten and cut at the last moment! This means the writing was incredibly raw. They were re-recording lines just months before release. Sevika’s lines were cut from the final episodes.

And while I can accept Act 1 with all its flaws, Act 3 is a disaster.

As a standalone Marvel-style show? Maybe 8/10. But as Arcane’s second season—compared to Season 1’s writing, storytelling, themes, and character arcs—it’s really bad.

I feel sorry that so many of you aren’t trying to analyze these issues. That you think slowing the show down and staring at the characters’ facial expressions is the right way to understand their shifting motivations. I feel sorry that you don’t see the obvious difference between Season 1 and Season 2. But it’s there. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be so much criticism. And that criticism has nothing to do with real-world politics.

The first season never received this much criticism and for good reason. It was simply better written.

People don't understand that we criticize s2 because we genuinely love s1 and we were disappointed. basically what speaks to us is the grief of losing potential or “what could it be…” it's not the same as being a hater

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader PT. 12

Obligatory AN: Guess who's back, back, back, back again. I've been swinging hard into a FNAF: Security breech hyperfix and have been reading nothing but sun/moon fanfic. So y'all drop your recs /hj

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine -> Part Nine 1/2 -> Part Ten -> Part 11

Warnings: Switching of roles (IYKYK), talks of abuse/mistreatment of the toons, mentions of nausea/vomit, talks of needles/ injection of Ichor (I've decided Delilah is not a good person)

☁ Your vacant blink does not give him much reassurance. You seem to register the question, fold your hands together in a nervous fidget only to use them to wring your tail. You bite your lip, eyes darting every way but their way.

☁ "...Why do you ask?" You manage to get out, shuffling just a bit. Blu pops up from where she was lounging on top of Coal, ears flickering at the sound of your voice. She murps then jumps onto the bed, moving to crawl into your lap. You occupy yourself with playing with her instead, letting her nip at your fingers and swat at your palms.

☁ "She came up in one of the files we were reading through." Astro pipes in, watching you carefully. He clocks immediately the way you curl slightly, as if to shield yourself for something you've probably suspected beforehand anyway. You're avoiding saying more than necessary, garnering how much they know and building your answer around that. Astro suspects it's a fear response, perhaps leftover from when you were with Ciara.

☁ You take this information for what it is, nodding softly before heaving a heavy sigh. Cosmo's right there beside you, rubbing your back and laying on your shoulder, feeling you shake beneath his cheek. It's a small tremble, but one nonetheless.

☁ "Ciara is-..." You immediately stop, choking on the words as they try to escape. You pause, tongue dry and too thick for your mouth suddenly before pushing past it, fighting the acid that builds in the back of your throat. "Was. Ciara was not quite my handler." You admit, retracting your hands from Blu to curl your hands into fists. As if to stop an ulterior action. "I wasn't allowed a handler."

☁ You still refuse to look at them, but they allow you the small mercy. Sprout gently places a hand on your knee, rubbing small circles into the flesh as he watches you carefully. As much as he wants answers, he doesn't want them at the expense of your own happiness.

☁ "When...When the commons started to out number the mains, Delilah and Arthur-" You groan, pressing the butt of your palm to your temple. "I-...I don't know how or why. I don't remember, but I know there was a...a trial of sorts. If they could turn a common into a main." You pause and nearly upchuck then and there, but swallow it down. It burns, speaking of it, you know you shouldn't. Who knows where Ciara is. If she knew, she'd-....She'd....She'd do nothing. She is little more than a rotten name spotting memories you can barely grasp. Like candle light in a dream you can't quite place.

☁ "Ciara was assigned to me, to get me ready to be a main. She trained me." You know they want you to elaborate, but you don't. You can't. You won't. You refuse to go back to that time. To the appointments where Delilah held you down, injecting Ichor into your flesh and documenting the effects. The changes to your arm, fur, words, thoughts, even your soul. It was like you were some great version of a patchwork project. "She wasn't good. She wasn't like Austin or Sam. She worked mostly with Delilah."

☁ There's silence for a moment before Astro is opening his mouth, "Starlight, if-"

☁ "No, I-...I just, I don't remember what you're probably asking about." You wilt and curl completely, trapping Blu between your chest and legs. She mews, but doesn't move. "I don't know if they were successful. I don't know anything beyond what Ciara wanted."

☁ "And what did she want?" Sprout asks before he can stop himself. he immediately kicks himself for it, especially as you wilt further.

☁ "To be like them. Like Austin and Sam and- and- and-" Your breath catches as you shake your head, eyes immediately shutting. Cosmo sits up enough to pull you to his chest, hushing you softly as you shake your head to fight off tears.

☁ He pets down your fur and gently murmurs against your temple, reassuring you you've done nothing wrong before. It's an act that's foreign to Sprout and Astro, watching Cosmo work, but one the cake roll is all too familiar with.

☁ Cosmo knows you. Has known you for a long time. He likes to think he's been in love with you far longer than he himself even remembers. He has memories of all kinds with you before the outbreak. He even remembers meeting you for the first time. When he was a freshly made toon, Delilah made it a point to familiarize him with the others quickly without letting him settle from his creation first. He was much too overwhelmed and the sounds were much too loud, even the feel of the sweater gifted to him made his entire body curl and cry out. You were there. You barked at the others to back off before walking up to him, laying on your belly so he could look at you without having to look up at the lights past your head.

☁ He swears that was when he fell in love with you, hopelessly pining, especially when you gently hummed a soft tune to him that he still clung to to this day. He can't explain the feeling that erupted in him the first instance of Ciara's cruelty. She was an individual driven by monetary value and chased it at the expense of anyone else; especially if it was you who paid the price. He hated it then, and he hates it now.

☁ The two of you had created a sort of routine when Ciara had gotten to the pinnacle of her nastiness. You'd knock on the frame of his bed and he'd wordlessly let you crawl in with him. You'd sleep against the wall and he'd sleep with his back to the door, hiding you under the blanket as your fingers curled around his sweated, burrowing between his neck and hood to muffle to sounds of your cries.

☁ It shattered his heart into pure dust to hear those noises, and he admittedly hoped they were long since left in the past. And then you were turned again. And the recovery began. And with that came your frustrations as to not healing fast enough for your preferences. Then this.

☁ It's the only thing he can think to do when he sees you flounder is to turn back to those old habits. He lets you hide, acts as the protector for even just a second. With the amount of times you've done it for them, he'll take every opportunity to return the favor.

☁ Sprout and Astro both send him pleading glances, begging wordlessly for directions on how to help. They've never seen this side of you and are grasping at straws on how to aid in any sort of way. Cosmo shakes his head a bit, pulling you so you're straddling him, letting you hide your face in his neck once more as he rubs up and own your back. Blu takes the opportunity to run off then, perching herself back on top of Coal.

☁ "It's a sensitive topic." Cosmo starts, feeling you practically claw at him to hold on tighter. "But you didn't know, that's not your fault." He's quick to cut in as he watches a flurry of emotions cut across their faces. "As far as we know, they weren't a main. I don't know what kind of tests they do to determine this, but they didn't pass them. If I had to guess, if they are a main now, it's evolved after being a twisted." He explains, hearing you hiccup. "That won't change anything about how we feel though, pudding."

☁ "No, oh god no." Sprout shakes his head. "Never would it ever change anything bud. We just...were curious. But should've gone about it better. I'm sorry."

☁ "I'm sorry as well." Astro wilts a bit himself, toying with his cloak. "But please trust that I absolutely agree with both Sprout and Cosmo."

☁ You sniffle once before pulling back just a big, dusting Cosmo's shoulder even if he doesn't care about what you've perceived to be a mess. "You went about it in what was pretty much the best way possible." You lips spread in a shaky grin. "Sorry I kind of freaked out."

☁ "You have nothing to apologize for, pudding." Cosmo gently nuzzles against your snout, making it scrunch. "It's just a sore spot."

☁ Sprout and Astro nod and a solemn silence falls for a second. It's thick and tangible, sweltering as it practically chokes them.

☁ Cosmo hates it.

☁ "C'mon, let's go on a run. I think it would be fun." He's already sliding off the bed, taking you with him with his hands under your thighs. You yip at the sudden action before peeling into laughter, holding on tighter. Astro and Sprout let out their own calls, quickly scrambling after Cosmo. He laughs in time with you, his heart soaring at the sound. He knows Sprout at least has the ability to catch up, but to his surprise, it's four hands to catch him and you rather than two. Astro is chuckling as he pulls back, sandwiching Cosmo between his chest and you.

☁ Sprout with all the gracefulness of a bull in a china shop runs right into the three of you and you all go toppling into a pile of giggles. It fits and it feels right, so Cosmo endures Sprout's weight, on top of Astro's and your owns, a moment longer before pushing you all off.

☁ He stands to dust himself off, pretending not to notice the soft moment you share with Astro and Sprout, both giving their own apologies once more before your waving them off and pressing soft pecks to their lips.

☁ By the time you make it to the elevator, the four of you are laughing like you normally do, with inside jokes and petty little squabbles mixed in with sneaky little pecks. However, because of that, others have clued in that a run is going on and wave you off. Glisten and Goob are the first to spot you both, seperating much further than they probably should be if what they were previously doing wasn't anything scandalous. You say as much, turning on your heel to run the second Goob's arms stretch for you. You don't make it far before he's pulling you back and your stuck, Goob's knuckles digging into your head as you squirm before breaking free.

☁ It's a normal run, with the barest idea of possibly getting Rudie Research, but still full of all sorts of jokes and laughter. Floor by floor, each machine is done well and quickly as you distract, and you're shocked by Sprout's prodding to learn how to distract as well.

☁ He's fast enough and had grabbed Toodle's trinket on the way out rather than Vee's remote, so you obliged, sitting on a nearby table with an airhorn ready whenever it was a single twisted floor. He kept up easily, maintaining a good distance between himself and his test twisteds. You watched carefully though, attention only diverting whenever Cosmo or Astro came up to check on the two of you.

☁ You were honestly proud of Sprout, telling him as much as you both jogged into the elevator, taking great pride in his pink cheeks as his leafy tail gave away his elation. You leaned in further to make your paint, poking his cheek even as he swatted at you, Cosmo and Astro even joining in as well.

☁ Then Dandy showed up. His eye was twitching, as it does, once more focused on you with a strained smile on his features. You give him a much lighter one, lips upturning to showcase your newly sharpened teeth from your time as a twisted. It makes Dandy lean back, just a smidge, meeting your gaze with a simmering one of his own.

☁ "You are quite the pain." He sneers, smile never faltering. You feel Sprout hover behind you, one of his hands gently laying on your lower back as Astro and Cosmo watch with baited breath. Dandy's twisted form wasn't scary anymore. Not to you. He was too slow and too sluggish to be a real threat after you realized this, the biggest concern being when he decides to try and strike. He's predictable in that sense though and you can tell it's coming from a mile away.

☁ "I've been told." You practically purr, giving a devious little smirk. "Gonna throw another fit about not getting tapes?" You push further and Sprout's hand on your back becomes more insistent.

☁ "Bud, c'mon now, remember what happened last time." He urges, thinking back to how Blu came into your lives. He's unsure of the power Dandy has and isn't willing to test it. To your credit, you do back off a bit before Dandy's snarl turns sharp and full of teeth.

☁ "That's right, listen to the main, Common."

☁ You whirl around before Sprout can catch you, hurling threats at the flower as his elevator descends and your left spitting out all sorts of venom.

☁ "I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!" You cry out, stomping your feet angrily as your hands curl, as if strangling him. Your boys are too busy watching you, Cosmo and Astro admittedly hiding behind Sprout before your taking in a deep breath. "I need to calm down first." You shake your head and take one more deep breath. "This is fine."

☁ "You...sure? We can call it? This was already further than we planned." Sprout tentatively offers, and you nod. "No, I'm having fun, he just...pisses me off." You fully settle at last giving them a smile. "Unless you all are admitting you're finally tired of me."

☁ Astro scoffs at this. "Tire? Of you? Please. Don't insult me." He turns with a flourish, the cape of his cloak following him with a trail of stars as you snicker. Cosmo's already rolling his eyes at the dramatics, but Sprout gives the other a soft smile.

☁ "Oh, of course, of course, how dare I." You tease, and the elevator opens once more. You go to take off before stopping, eyes immediately darting to the object in front of you. It looks like a smoke bomb, and you probably would've encouraged Cosmo or Astro to take it, it not for the glaring green color staring up at you. The other three come up behind you, peering over your shoulders at the new object. You blink. They blink. The thing doesn't move.

☁ "There's a unanimous decision to not touch it, right?" You question, getting a trio of agreements right away. You learned your lesson the first time and carefully try to maneuver around it. However the sound of a snap makes you perk up, immediately tackling Sprout, who was spotted by a twisted Scraps. Cosmo and Astro scramble back a few steps as you land on Sprout, but the attachment on her tail continues and crashes into the new object. Green smoke erupts around the four of you and you immediately wave your hand in front of your face, helping up Sprout who scrunches his nose at the smell. It doesn't really smell, but it's thick. It's like smog, choking you and you hate it.

☁ What you hate more is the sudden tug at your body. Nothing is grabbing you, but you feel something yank at your chest, pulling and pulling until something sharp snaps and it's gone. It almost feels like something else is snapped into it's place, but it's chunky and doesn't fit right. It's like if you swallowed a piece of chip too big, but it shifted halfway down and is now awkwardly lodged in your throat as it makes it's way to your stomach.

☁ The green smoke clears, but Scraps is still right there, so you have no room to wait, immediately taking off despite it all feeling wrong and off. She snaps at you and you're stunned for a second as it digs into your arm. You should've been much further then you were, but a glance back shows that you weren't. You put much more effort into running a second time rather than the usual jog you do, hiding behind a box as you take a breather. You check your trinkets, but they're just fine. Working as they should.

☁ Looking over the box, you're able to spot the other three, similarly freaking out behind a box. You glance back at Scraps, seeing her wander off with a frustrated shake of her head.

☁ You quickly dart to where they're hiding, Cosmo immediately shaking your shoulders. "What was that?!" He hissed, checking the injury pearling Ichor on your shoulder. It's not that bad, but it's still worrying.

☁ "I-I don't know. I wasn't-...." You pause, glancing back to the dust now laying on the ground as remnants of the object. Your eyes widen at this, looking to Astro, Cosmo and Sprout, they don't look any different, but something feels off. The normal warm aura that seems to come from Sprout at any given time has been disturbed, no longer there in a settled hum, but rather missing entirely. From the other end, Cosmo seems like he's practically vibrating with new energy, ready to peel off in the same way you normally do. Astro seems out of sorts as well, looking at his hands like he's missing something. He turns them over, then flips them again, then once more before shakily setting them on the ground. The normal lights glimmer out, but rather than feeling a burst of adrenaline, your wound closes up, sealing itself into little more than dried ichor staining your fur.

☁ There's silence before all four of you scream. Astro is freaking out, looking at his hands while Sprout is flipping them every which way. Cosmo is pulling your arm closer, inspecting it like it was some sick trick. You have one hand pulling at your head, fingers threading into your fur as you cry out. "What is going on?!"

☁ You don't get the answer as the yells have drawn Scraps attention back, and with her comes Toodles, already darting for you. You scramble, pushing at the boys to all move it. You would normally try and distract, but you have no confidence in your own abilities currently so you stick with them for a worst case scenario. You only gape as Cosmo's much faster then he's used to, tripping over himself and into Sprout, who yelps, taking Astro with him.

☁ You rush to pull them each up, Astro and Cosmo going first as Sprout slaps a hand on the ground to push himself up, only for it to feel like a shot of adrenaline was pushed straight into your nervous system. You gape at this once more before pinning it, pulling them into a room out of the way and hiding behind a desk. The four of you take a moment to pant, slowly settling from the entire ordeal.

☁ You drag your hands down your face, taking a breath and mentally counting in your head before exhaling. "Okay. So. Somethings wrong."

☁ "Something's wrong? Something's wrong?!" Astro grabs at his hair, pulling it slightly with two of his hands while the other two shake in front of him. "I HEALED?!"

☁ "Yeah, I got that, i was there." You gently unthread his fingers from his hair, soothing the stands slightly as you hold two of the hands in your own. "I think...we switched." You spit out, ears perked for signs of any twisteds.

☁ "Switched?! How is that even possible?!" Cosmo cries out. "So-so-so-so what?! Sprout is now our Astro equivalent? And Astro is Sprout?"

☁ "It didn't take any tapes, so it's more likely you and Astro switched." Sprout explains, running a hand through his leaves. "Okay, okay. Let's work this out. Cosmo, don't think we didn't see you. You and Y/N probably switched. So there's that. i switched with Astro, and Astro switched with either myself or Cosmo. How do you feel?" He turns to the celestial who swallows.

☁ "...Like I got hit." He answers slowly and Sprout nods. "Okay, so Cosmo got faster, I got weird stamina powers, Astro can heal like Cosmo does which leaves-" He turns to you. "You. You have my power."

☁ You swallow at this, clenching Astro's hand tightly. Looking into your inventory pouch, you quickly count your tapes, nodding at the surplus in there. "I don't know how to heal."

☁ "You didn't know how to make Blu appear and still did that." Sprout jokes, even if it sounds flat. It makes you snicker anyway before Sprout continues. "Just...try to imagine the energy of the tapes moving into Astro. It should-...should do the rest itself."

☁ You slowly nod at this, and do it, envisioning a small strand connecting to Astro from the tapes. Something settles then pulls taut before snapping. The bigger portion slithers towards Astro before lifting and your bag feels lighter. "This is insane."

☁ "I don't know how to distract, I don't wanna distract!" Cosmo cries out.

☁ You shake your head. "No, no, you don't have too. I should still-" You pause. "Actually, I don't know. I don't know how to distract without my speed." You wilt, and this time Astro squeezes your hands.

☁ "Then we'll have to be sneaky, won't we?" Astro prods just a bit, nudging you until you smile. "C'mon. If anyone can handle this, it's us. We got this. Just...do as we normally do. But behind more walls." He nods, standing and taking you with him even as you yelp.

☁ Sprout and Cosmo stand up as well, shooting each other a grin. It should be fine, It would be fine.

☁ It was not.

☁ You would later say that floor was by far. The Worst. Floor. You've ever done. Cosmo kept tripping over himself, not used to anything more than his usual saunter, slamming against the floor and calling the attention of the twisteds. Luckily, you stuck nearby, switching trinkets with him as he begrudgingly kept the twisteds on his tail.

☁ You would take over every time you could, switching with Cosmo intermittently as you found yourself at odds as well, nearly getting your ankles snapped on by Toodles since you weren't used to being conscious of your speed.

☁ Astro has his own difficulties as well, trying to stick between hovering to ensure neither you or Cosmo would get too hurt and having to catch himself from trying to give you both stamina, frustrating him at every turn.

☁ Sprout, on the other hand, seemed to be having a blast, despite the three of you glaring at him every time he popped by, letting Astro's own power roam like it was his before taking off. He found himself enjoying the lack of stress that came with healing, and admittedly found himself chuckling at the sound of the three of you scrambling every time one of you tripped or stumbled. He knew you'd be fine, they weren't overly awful twisteds and with all three of you there, it would be stressful, but scraps wouldn't snap without a clear target. Which she wouldn't have with all three of you running like chickens with heads cut off.

☁ he finished the last machine with a click of the vee-mote he took from Astro, hearing the elevator open and the three of you take off. He met up with you guys right away, letting a final thrum of Astro's power hum. Cosmo has one last tumblr which sends both him and Astro tumbling into the elevator with you following and Sprout being the final one.

☁ It shuts and you waste no time sending them back up. There's silence before you giggle, then you cackle then you're giving full on belly laughs as you clutch your stomach. "That was awful." You cry out, head tilting back as the hormonic sound echoes.

☁ Cosmo is quick to follow, still on top of Astro, which makes the celestial laugh, and before any of them can stop it you're all laughing at the absurdity of it all.

☁ In the very least, at least there wasn't another Blu.

[k-nayee]

Tik-Tok Killed the Video Star Hazbin Hotel i

wc: 3.7k a/n: ngl i had fun making this! hope y'all like it

Traveler M.List

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

LIVE: [Streamer: @Real___]

The ring light glowed bright, bathing your face in a soft artificial radiance that smoothed out every imperfection.

You weren’t taking any chances.

Leaning in toward your webcam, you tilt your head slightly as you examined your reflection in the streaming preview window. With precise and practiced movements, you adjusted a stray strand of hair, ensuring it fell perfectly into place.

Your skin had to be flawless—if only for this final performance.

It was almost funny, how even now, as you prepared to confess every last unforgivable sin, you still cared about how you looked.

The viewer count climbed.

At first only a few hundred trickled in. Then thousands. Then tens of thousands.

10K...40K...70K...100K...

The comment section was already a chaotic mess of scrolling text. The usual flood of usernames, some familiar, some new, all merging into a blur of reactions.

[SourCandyBites]: U MONSTER

[AztecStar]: OMG omg ily pls say hi to mexico 🇲🇽🇲🇽!!!

[lonondel_90]: WTF is this whats even happening rn??

[ChillPillPlease]: YALL SHE JUST TROLLING CHILL.

[MirrorVain]: WHY aint nobody talking about how GOOD she look??

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head in amusement as you finally flash your signature smile—bright, plastic, and perfected after years of camera training.

"Hey y’all! You already know what it is—" You paused for dramatic effect, watching the comments spike as your voice. "I know I know. This is a little weird right? Seeing me on Twitch instead of TikTok? But hey, gotta keep things fresh!"

Another flood of comments. Another spike in viewers.

120K...145K...190K...210K...

You could practically feel the world tilting toward you, drawn in like moths to a flame. The chat moved at breakneck speed, usernames flying by too fast to read. Still you caught glimpses:

[user876543]: Omg it’s really you!! 😭💖

[s1nisterViper]: NAH WTF R U DOIN HERE💀

[lilpeepfan99]: Say hi to Brazil!! 🇧🇷

[exposedtea]: MONSTER. YOU DESERVE TO ROT.

[simp4real___]: IDGAF WHAT THEY SAY I LOVE YOUUUU 😍😍😍

[SOKOLOV_feds]: 🧐👀

Your smile never faltered. Hate, adoration, indifference—it was all the same to you. Attention.

And right now you had it in abundance.

"So! Today we’re doing a special edition of Get Ready With Me—this one coming with a little bit of TEA!" You reached toward your makeup bag and dragged it into frame. The zipper unzipped smoothly, revealing an array of pristine cosmetics neatly arranged.

Foundation, concealer, brushes, powders—every tool of the trade, ready to transform you into the best version of yourself.

You picked up a tube of primer and squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips. As you rubbed it into your skin with slow methodical circles, you continued, voice light, almost casual. "Mmm oh yeah. You may be asking what are we getting ready for? Well you'll just have to wait and see."

A playful wink, the same one you’d done a thousand times before. It sent wave of anticipation rippling through the chat.

[hotdogwater24]: BRO WHAT IS GOING ON 💀💀💀

[kookiebxtch]: This feels...off.😅

[Skyline_Chaos]: WTF IS HAPPENING RN

[MurmurQueen]: this is so creepy stop😭😭

[AussieAmazed]:can u say hi to australia???

[NoFilterNell]: NAH THIS SOME REAL SHIT

[MidnightMuse]: get ready for what???👀

"Now I wanna be real with you guys. I really, truly do." You reached for a cleansing pad, running it over your skin evenly. "So I’ve decided to confess. Right here. Right now."

There was a different energy behind your voice tonight—something simmering just beneath the surface.

"First step, obviously is to start with a clean base. Gotta get rid of all the built-up dirt, oil, and, well..."—you let out a short laugh—"...bullshit."

[tea_with_tasha]: THE SHADE LMAOO

[cancelmebby]: Tf is this real life????

[JustCuriousNow]: confessing what kinda lost here

[SugawithdatTae]: yall know who she talm bout?👀

[softie4u]: GO TO HELL YOU BITCH

[Yunnie0678]: YOU KNOW WHAT TF U DID LAST YEAR

You moved onto foundation, pumping a precise amount onto a beauty sponge before dabbing it onto your cheeks and blending outward. With every soft pat against your skin the words left your mouth effortlessly.

"So let’s get into it: I was a regular person once. Just some nobody who blew up on TikTok overnight. And with fame...comes power. And with power? Ohhh, chat...the things I did I tell ya! And I got away with it too?? But no more secrets. No more running."

The next hour unfolded like a twisted diary entry.

You painted your face while painting a picture of your sins; every crime, every manipulation, every disgusting, unthinkable act you had committed with full knowledge that your wealth and influence would keep you safe.

Fraud...

Blackmail...

Backroom deals...

Murder....

Assualt...

Hush money...

From the people who had helped you to the people you had destroyed. You told them everything.

You named names; politicians, CEOs, celebrities, fellow influencers. Hell even Royal families! Anyone who had been untouchable...until now.

You had burned every bridge and exposed every secret.

The chat became an unreadable flood of reactions.

[OhMyGaaaawd]: omggggggg i cannot with this

[xani]: MY SHAYLA WHY?!😭😭 WE WERE ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU

[DenialZone]: I KNEW YALL MFS WAS EVIL

[fbi.gov]: 🚨🚨🚨

[WhySoSerene]: NAH U DESERVE DEATH FR💯💯

[whistleblower88]: you lying no way u did that😱

[Karma]: mf calm as if she didnt just expose all elites BRUH

[Atieh and Jacky's Therapy Sessions_stan]: IM STILL WITH YOU BABY 😍😍😍

By the time you reached the final steps of your routine, your face was fully made up—foundation, concealer, contour, a touch of highlighter. Perfection.

You checked the viewer count.

10.7 MILLION.

You chuckled under your breath, a smug little thing as a satisfied smirk crept onto your lips. "Oh this is definitely going down in history."

Then—

BANG BANG BANG

You froze at the sound. It echoed through the house, shaking the walls, reverberating through your bones. Your brows lifted slightly but your expression remained eerily calm.

[whoopsieD]: UHHH THAT DIDNT SOUND GOOD

[itzjustameme]: LMFAOOOOO THEY COMIN FOR UUUU

[nottherussianmafia]: 🤨

[WTF_Lunar]: WTF WAS THAT

[OfficerPlease]: those cops or security??

[UrDeepn8p]: THIS IS SOME MOVIE TYPE SHIT FR😭😭

[nameizzuzJeSOOS]: is this real or staged idk

The camera caught every detail—the way your lips curled into something almost amused, the slow way you turned your head toward the microphone.

"Oopsie." You giggled. "Guess I made some of y’all’s faves a little upset. Think they’re out for blood?"

The pounding grew louder.

With one last spritz of setting spray, you wave your face dry, ensuring everything stayed flawless. "No worries. I’m already one step ahead~" Reaching down under the desk, your fingers curl around cold metal. With a practiced motion you lifted it into the frame.

[PistolPapi]: HOLY SHIT is that a GUN

[youshouldrot]: yo YO yo wtf wtf wtf

[Stan___4evr]: mommy? sorry. mommy?

[FBI_watchlist69]: bro put the gun DOWN

[YoYoYeller]: kill yourself already, u deserve it

[rideordie_real___]: NOOOOO PLEASE STOP 😭😭😭

[not_a_cop]: 👀👀👀

Your head tilted as the shotgun balanced effortlessly in your grip. You popped it open with a satisfying snap, revealing two gleaming buckshot shells and close it once more.

You turned to the camera, smiling like a Barbie commercial. "And for those who have caught on—why yes I am depressed, mentally unstable, and quite frankly, ready to leave this dipshit of an earth."

[sweetrevenge23]: NO FUCKING WAY

[h_scanner]: 🚔🚔🚔🚔

[deathwish69]: YO WAIT HOLD ON

[pleasedontdoit]: 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[hellawaits04]: LMAOOOOO ICONIC

[kenslaysUp]: no way this is happening rn

[moneymoves3000]: THIS SOME BLACK MIRROR SHIT

You let out a small breathy laugh. "Alright but seriously." Adjusting your hold on the shotgun, you shift it into one hand as you pressed the other against your chest. "I wanna say I’m sorry. To everyone I’ve hurt, to everyone I’ve lied to. To my fans, my friends..."

Your voice dipped into something softer. Something real.

"To everyone I’ve wronged I’m sorry. To all my haters and naysayers—congrats you were right. Not that it matters. Nothing I say will atone for my sins and for what I’ve done. But maybe...maybe my death will be enough?"

A beat of silence.

A second of silence. Then—

CRASH

The unmistakable splintering of wood followed by the thud of footsteps flooded into the lower level of your house. They got in.

The chat exploded in panicked messages.

[fuckauthority]: DID Y’ALL HEAR THAT???

[paranoidxoxo]: THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE😱😱

[daddyissues420]: OH MY GOD

[govwatcher]: LAW ENFORCEMENT INCOMING

[jesuschristirl]: REPENT NEOW🙏🏾🙏🏾

[bigbootybitch33]: GIRL RUN WTF

[gov_watchlist98]: YOU’RE FUCKED LOL

[hotgoss411]: WE ARE WITNESSING HISTORY RN

The comments was moving so fast now that it was unreadable.

You turned back to the camera, shotgun resting against your shoulder and beamed. "Oh and before I forget—" You gestured toward your laptop with your free hand. "This current live-stream is embedded with a virus that sends every single piece of evidence—every file, every video, every receipt—to every single person connected to my livestream. Surprise!"

[cybercrimes_unit]: ☠️☠️☠️

[We0ll see8]: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

[moral_justice]: LIVING LEGEND.

[snapeb00tysit]: DO IT PUSSY

[DudeNoChill]: bro wtf stop playin

[Punk0Lu2k]: DOES IT CONTAIN YOUR NOODS TOO??👀👀

[Brokie8ren]: AYE SEND ME SUM MONEY BEFORE YHOU KILL YOSELF, MY CASHAPP $STARRYNUTT

"So even if they do stop me..." You let the words linger, a satisfied smile curling at your lips. "Still checkmate. "

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs.

You could hear them charging down the hall. Seconds away.

You shifted the shotgun, maneuvering it with precision in a way its angled perfectly against your head as your finger curled over the trigger. At the same time, your other hand hovered over the ENTER key on your laptop.

"All I gotta do is press this button and—"

Your bedroom door burst open.

The camera didn’t capture who entered. But you saw them.

And you grinned.

"Too late fuckers!"

Your fingers moved at once.

Click.

BANG.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

A dull aching pain throbbed in your skull, deep and unrelenting, as if something had cracked open inside you.

Your body felt...off.

Too light and too heavy all at once, like your limbs weren’t quite yours anymore. A sluggish warmth clung to your skin thick and oppressive making it hard to breathe.

Your senses finally adjusted.

The first thing you noticed was the smell; burnt ash. Sulfur. Smoke curling in the air like invisible fingers.

Then came the sound; distant screams, eerie laughter, overlapping whispers that didn’t belong to any one person but still slithered into your ears like they were meant for you.

Your eyelids fluttered open.

And what you saw?

Red.

Clouds churned in dark ominous shades as a massive pentagram symbol loomed high above—it glowed sinisterly, slicing through the swirling clouds in sharp precise lines.

A moon hung beside it—a twisted scarred orb that looked as though it had been dragged from the depths of something far darker than night. And even higher in the distance, just barely visible against the red skyline, was the faint shimmer of white...possibly a star?

Jagged structures around you—half skyscrapers, half nightmares—loomed in impossible angles, their neon lights flickering in glitchy uneven patterns. The ground beneath you was scorched, still smoldering from whatever eternal fire had tried and failed to burn it all away.

You swallowed hard.

Something in the back of your mind whispered what you already knew.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

You were dead.

And this was Hell.

For a long frozen moment you simply sat there, staring at the pavement beneath you. Your breath came shallow and uneven. Your pulse—if you even had one anymore—drummed against your ribs.

Then your fingers twitched.

Something was in your pocket. Something smooth and solid...something familiar.

You slowly reached down and pulled it out:

Your phone.

A relieved breath escaped your lips. "Oh thank goodness."

The cool glass felt real in your hands, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe you could figure this out. Maybe you could find a way to call someone—

You glanced at the screen only to freeze.

No Service.

The relief shattered into ice-cold panic.

Your grip tightened, thumb swiping down to refresh—no bars. No Wi-Fi. No lifeline.

You tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again and again and again and again and again and again and—

Nothing.

Your stomach lurched. Your hands shook.

Something inside you snapped.

You sat on your knees, clutching the useless phone to your chest as you let out a wail. "NO! NO! NO PLEASE GOD! I'M SORRY!"

The words tore from your throat raw and broken. You gasped between sobs, squeezing your eyes shut as your nails dig into your palms.

"DON'T DO THIS TO ME! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS TO MEEEEE—"

A soft chime.

Your eyes snapped open, breath catching in your throat. Sniffling, you pull it down to see the glowing screen. Your apps were still there.

Then, with a cautious swipe, you opened your gallery only for your heart to nearly stop.

All your pictures? Gone. Every selfie, every meme, every thirst trap, every aesthetically-pleasing shot of overpriced outfits? Erased.

And in their place?

Pictures. Screenshots. Videos.

All of them evidence of every fucked-up thing you’d ever done. Torture. Blackmail. Setups. Your biggest and most heinous crimes, all caught in 4K with timestamps, captions, and receipts.

You scrolled through them casually like flipping through an old yearbook.

"Oh damn almost forgot about that one. Good times." you muttered, rewatching one of your personal favorites—a high-definition well-lit compilation of your greatest hits.

God it was better than TV.

Speaking of—

A chill crawled up your spine.

The temperature around you shifted as a strange charged energy pressed down on your skin. The lights flickered wildly for a moment, glitching, before steadying.

You slowly stand to your feet as a towering figure suddenly appears a few feet away.

He was sharp, all jagged edges and neon accents, his black and red suit crisp and immaculate. But what stood out the most was his head—

An old-fashioned television screen.

The glass surface flickered erratically between distorted sharp-toothed grins and warped images of you from moments ago, as if he had already been watching you. Recording you.

Behind him stood several other demons. All tall, hulking, waiting for orders.

"Well well well...what do we have here?" His voice came layered—not just one tone, but multiple. Overlapping slightly like an old commercial playing on repeat.

"Huh." You tilted your head. "Who the hell are you?"

The screen on his face glitched violently. His grin remained but the static in his voice sharpened.

"You must be newcomer. How quaint." He took a step forward, his goons following suit. "Allow me introduce myself—"

With a flourish, he spread his arms, crackling energy surging through his body like a failing broadcast tower.

"I am VOX, Overlord of the Digital Age. Master of television, entertainment, and media. Everything broadcasted, everything recorded—"he gestured widely to the neon-lit cityscape behind him, "it all bends to me. And you, sweetheart, are standing in my domain."

"Uh-huh. Cool. Anyway—" you slid your phone into your pocket, "I was kind of busy. You need something Static Boy?"

A nearby streetlight exploded in a burst of pixels and sparks.

"Do you even comprehend where you are?" His voice was calm, but beneath it was a deep growing irritation.

"Yeah yeah. Hell. Domain. Big scary Overlord." You waved your hand dismissively. "Honestly I couldn't give two shits right now."

The second those words left your mouth something shifted.

Vox’s face flickered as air around him spiked like an overcharged circuit.

You didn’t know this guy but you sure as hell knew that reaction. He hated that.

And suddenly you were interested. You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms, smirking up at him. "You must be one of those old-heads? Damn. You must hate people like me then."

Vox’s screen flickered again, his glow flaring slightly. "People like you?"

You grinned.

"Influencers."

There it was. That flash of disgust.

"Yup. TikTok mostly. Millions of followers. You know the usual." You grinned. "Guess we’re in the same industry huh?"

Vox’s screen glitched violently. "Your meddlesome kind have stolen relevance from true entertainment. It is no shock your type always finds its way down here with all the pollution you do. How dare you to even think you could be on my level?!"

You folded your arms. "Oh no. The evil TV man thinks I’m annoying. However will I recover?"

"You have no power here," he hissed. "I control what is seen. I control what is heard. I control what is remembered. Any pathetic influencers that land in my Hell?" He chuckles darkly. "I make sure they’re erased permanently. No fame. No following. Just nothing."

At that you finally laughed; a short and mocking, entirely unimpressed laugh.

"Oh. I get it now." You grinned. "You’re just pissed because TV isn’t relevant anymore. You’re an old man who's generation ruined everything for mines, and now you’re mad that social media overshadow you?"

The air around him screamed for half a second before steadying. His grin stayed but it was tighter now. "You’re bold."

You shrugged. "And you’re outdated."

Vox’s face flashed red.

A beat of silence...

Then chaos.

Vox’s goons lunged, their movements sharp and inhuman as they closed in on you. They were faster than anything you’d encountered.

You barely had time to react as their glinting claws shown from the glow of the city around you. Instinct screamed at you to dodge, but before you could even flinch—

The ground split open.

From the pavement beneath your feet a mass of glowing technicolor tendrils erupted—flickering and glitching like a broken screen.

They shot forward, lashing through the air with impossible speed, grabbing one of the demons mid-leap.

A choked gasp.

A wet, sickening rip.

The goon split apart; torn in half like he was made of paper, limbs flung to the ground in uneven pieces. Blood—dark and thick—splattered onto the pavement, sizzling against the heat.

Silence.

Your breath hitched as a sudden spike of ice-cold shock crawled up your spine.

'What the fuck was that?!'

You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t done anything. Yet the thing—those tendrils had responded...to you. Your hands trembled for half a second when it clicked causing your lips to curl into a smirk. Yes, it's true you hadn’t done that on purpose.

But you sure as hell weren’t about to admit that.

Flicking imaginary dust from your sleeve, you sighed dramatically. "Whoops. Looks like I do have power here after all. Tsk. And here I was hoping we could be civil."

One of the goons glanced at the still-twitching remains of his comrade. His claws flexed as uncertainty began to bleed into his soulless eyes.

Good.

You wanted them nervous.

Across from you Vox had stiffened.

You noticed the way his form falter, the faintest distortion in his glow—the first sign of something resembling hesitation.

That made you grin.

"What’s wrong old man?" you purred, stepping forward, your tendrils pulsing with a sickly glow around you. "Didn’t think I’d put up a fight?"

A sharp burst of static cut through the air, the pixels on Vox's screen distorting wildly before stabilizing. His red eyes burned brighter as he snarled.

"Kill that bitch!"

The remaining goons paused for half a second—then rushed you.

This time you didn’t wait. Something in your blood snapped and the tendrils moved. Like snakes they twisted through the air eeriely. They tore through flesh like it was nothing.

One of the demons barely had time to scream before he was skewered, his body hoisted into the air, his limbs thrashing wildly as the tendrils twisted and ripped him apart.

Blood splattered across your face.

The others didn’t even have time to run.

A tendril shot forward and wrapped around a demon’s neck—tightening, lifting them effortlessly off the ground before snapping. Another shot forward like a bullet, piercing straight through a demon’s chest leaving a gaping hole left in their torso as they collapsed lifeless.

Faster...

Every move was precise.

Faster....

Clean. Efficient.

Faster....

It was like you had done this before. Like this was natural. In mere minutes it was over.

You let out a low whistle. "Huh. That was easier than I thought."

The bodies dropped, the blood pooled. And only one remained:

Vox.

Your tendrils slithered forward, curling around his limbs, binding him in place.

But they didn’t attack.

They simply held him. Firm. Unmoving. A silent display of dominance.

Vox was still. His claws twitched but he didn’t move.

You smirked, stepping closer. "Aww," you cooed with mock-sympathy dripping from every syllable. "What’s the matter VCR? Cat got your tongue? I thought you ran this place."

A snarl ripped from his throat, his neon glow flaring with a sharp burst of static. "It’s Vox you insufferable brat!" he snapped, his already layered voice distortion from anger.

You tilted your head slightly with twinkling eyes. "Uh-huh. Sure, Video Cassette Recorder."

His claws flexed. The tension in his body was visible, his expression twisting into something sharp and furious.

And you?

You ate it up.

Your smirk stretched into something sharper. A tendril slithered up, curling delicately around his top hat. And with a quick flick—

You plucked it off his head.

Vox’s static screeched.

You twirled the hat between your fingers, adjusting it neatly on your own head before opening your arms wide with a dramatic flourish.

"I think I like this look," you mused, lips curling. "Very showman."

A pause.

"Or in my case—" You tipped the hat slightly. "Showwoman."

Vox’s glare was murderous.

Never had he been humiliated by the likes of someone like you before. Oh how he wanted to kill you.

And even worse?

Sinners had started gathering; from the alleys, buildings, and shadows—bystanders who had been watching it all in silence.

Some were even pulling out their phones to record the spectacle.

You beamed and struck a pose. "Go ahead and tag me! @Real___! Let’s make this go viral yeah?"

The crowd—because oh yeah, there was totally a crowd now—erupted in whispers.

You beamed.

Vox seethed.

"Just you wait," he growled through gritted teeth. "When I get my hands on you—"

Your brow raised. Your tendrils tightened ever so slightly. He lets out a glitching choke and immediately shuts up.

"Better," you coo. With exaggerated movements you began to sit down. Your tendrils shift beneath you, morphing into a throne-like seat, curling comfortably around your form.

"Now," Crossing one leg over the other with a pleasant smile, your elbows rest against the armrests as you leaned in slightly, voice mockingly sweet. "Be a dear and tell me everything I need to know about Hell."

[pixiexdusts-world]

Seven chances

Min ho Moon x ex!reader

Summary: Min Ho plans seven dates to win back his ex—and it just might work.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I never thought I’d see Min Ho Moon again. Not after the way things ended between us.

The moment I spot him across the café, I freeze. He looks exactly the same—maybe even better. Same tousled hair, same confident smirk, same annoyingly perfect skin. But something in his eyes is different. I quickly turn my attention back to my laptop, pretending I didn’t see him.

I should’ve known that wouldn’t stop him.

“Hey,” his voice is smooth, casual, but I can hear the nerves underneath. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

I exhale slowly before looking up. “Min Ho.” I keep my tone neutral.

He doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he slides into the chair across from me without asking. Typical.

“How have you been?” he asks, as if we’re old friends catching up.

“Fine,” I say. “Busy.”

Min Ho leans back, studying me. I hate how easy it is for him to make eye contact, like we didn’t go months without speaking. Like he didn’t break my heart.

“I miss you,” he says. Just like that. No preamble, no hesitation.

I let out a short laugh. “That’s not how this works, Min Ho.”

He frowns. “How what works?”

“You don’t just walk back into my life and say you miss me,” I say, folding my arms. “You don’t get to act like nothing happened.”

His jaw tightens. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

I glance away, out the café window, watching people walk by. It’s a crisp afternoon in Seoul, and the city feels like it’s moving faster than I am.

Min Ho sighs, rubbing his hands together like he’s bracing himself. “I messed up.”

“No kidding.”

He nods. “I hurt you. And I hate myself for it.”

I close my laptop, giving him my full attention. “Then why did you do it?”

Min Ho hesitates. “Because I was scared.”

“Scared?” I repeat, incredulous. “That’s your excuse?”

“I didn’t think I was good enough for you,” he says, voice quiet. “I thought if I let myself get too close, I’d end up ruining everything. So instead of losing you later, I pushed you away first.”

I stare at him. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know,” he says, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m an idiot.”

I shake my head. “You really are.”

There’s a beat of silence between us. I should get up and leave. I should tell him it’s too late, that I don’t care anymore.

But I do care.

And Min Ho, for all his flaws, is sitting here, admitting he was wrong. That’s not something he does often.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, his voice softer now. “But I want to try again. I want to prove to you that I’ve changed.”

I look at him carefully. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

Min Ho smirks, the familiar confidence creeping back into his expression. “Give me a week. Let me take you on seven dates. No expectations, no pressure. Just… let me show you why we were good together.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Seven?”

He nods. “Seven.”

I should say no. I should walk away and never look back.

But instead, I sigh. “Fine. One week.”

The grin that spreads across his face is enough to make my heart ache. Because deep down, I know the truth.

I never really stopped loving him.

Day One: The Ice Rink

Min Ho picks me up right on time, a smug look on his face. “You’re going to love this,” he says, leading me inside the rink.

I narrow my eyes. “You remember that I can’t skate, right?”

“That’s the best part,” he teases. “You’ll have to hold onto me the whole time.”

I glare at him, but when we step onto the ice and I immediately slip, I have no choice but to grab his arm. He chuckles. “Told you.”

Despite my frustration, I can’t help but smile. Maybe this isn’t the worst idea after all.

Day Two: The Bookstore

“I remember you used to spend hours in here,” Min Ho says as we step inside my favorite bookstore.

I give him a suspicious look. “You hate bookstores.”

“I hate reading,” he corrects. “Not bookstores.” He picks up a random book and flips through it, pretending to look interested.

I smirk. “You’re just trying to impress me.”

“Is it working?” he asks, grinning.

I roll my eyes, but I don’t miss the warmth creeping into my chest.

Day Three: The Street Market

Min Ho buys me tteokbokki from my favorite vendor, and we wander through the market, the scent of food filling the air. He tries to feed me a piece, but I swat his hand away.

“You’re so difficult,” he groans.

“You love it,” I tease before I can stop myself.

He grins. “I do.”

Day Four: The Beach

We sit on the sand, watching the waves roll in. Min Ho looks at me, his expression unreadable. “I don’t deserve you,” he says suddenly.

I sigh. “Min Ho—”

“I just need you to know that,” he interrupts. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I need you to know how much I regret losing you.”

I swallow hard. “You’re trying, Min Ho. That’s what matters.”

He nods, but I can tell he’s still scared.

So am I.

Day Five: The Arcade

Min Ho drags me to the arcade, his eyes full of mischief.

“Winner picks the next date,” he challenges.

We go head-to-head in basketball, air hockey, and racing games. He wins some, I win more (at least, that’s my version).

At the claw machine, he spends way too many tries before finally winning a small stuffed dog. He hands it to me, a little sheepish.

“For you.”

I hold it close, pretending it doesn’t mean anything. But it does.

Day Six: Karaoke Night

Min Ho books a private karaoke room, and I immediately regret saying yes.

“You just want to show off,” I accuse.

He winks. “Obviously.”

He belts out Love Scenario like he’s on stage, dancing like an idiot. I laugh too hard to resist when he shoves the mic at me.

“One song,” I warn.

By the end, we’re both breathless from laughing. He looks at me, eyes soft.

“I missed this,” he says.

I don’t respond. But deep down, I did too.

Day Seven: The Rooftop

Our final date is on a rooftop, fairy lights strung around us. The city glows beneath us, and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the world.

Min Ho turns to me, looking nervous for the first time. “Did I do enough?”

I exhale. “Min Ho…”

He shakes his head. “Wait. Before you say anything—I just need you to know. I love you. I never stopped.”

My heart clenches. “I know.”

He steps closer. “Do you still love me?”

I hesitate. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I do.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Min Ho lets out a shaky breath. “Then let me be better for you.”

I bite my lip. “You already are.”

His lips crash into mine, and just like that, I know—

We’re going to be okay.

[remeberm3]

scarf | k.m

⎯⎯“Because I’d rather be cold than watch you shiver.”

warnings: fluff

Klaus Mikaelson did not give things.

He took. He claimed. He possessed.

The world was his for the taking, and he had spent centuries wrapping his fingers around everything he desired—land, power, blood, vengeance. A selfish man by nature, a conqueror by instinct.

And yet.

Tonight, he gave you his scarf.

༊*·˚

It had been an unseasonably cold night, the kind that curled its way into your bones, sharp and relentless. The streets of the city glittered with the aftermath of rain, lamplight catching on the damp pavement like spilled stardust.

You hadn’t dressed for the chill. You never did, stubborn thing that you were, forever underestimating the bite of winter.

You had brushed off his concerns earlier, waving a dismissive hand when he told you to bring a coat. And now?

Now you were shivering.

Klaus noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

You tried to be discreet about it, stuffing your hands into your pockets, hunching your shoulders against the wind. But it was no use. He knew you too well, could read you too easily.

And so, without a word, he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck.

The fabric was soft, the kind of luxury that whispered of old money and old habits. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and aged whiskey, like something ancient and endless.

Before you could protest, he draped it around you, tugging it snugly against your skin.

“Better?” he murmured, voice low, rough with something unreadable.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “You—”

“Yes, yes,” he drawled, ever the picture of impatience. “I know. I don’t share.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “And yet, here we are.”

You touched the scarf lightly, fingers brushing over the place where it still held the warmth of his body. “You’ll freeze,” you pointed out, as if he of all people could be affected by the cold.

Klaus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Darling, I have endured a thousand winters. I think I’ll manage.”

You hesitated. “Why?”

His lips twitched, as if amused by the question.

He could have said it was nothing. That it was simply practical. That it was easier than listening to you complain.

But instead, he leaned in, voice dropping to something softer, something meant just for you.

“Because I’d rather be cold than watch you shiver.”

༊*·˚

Later, you tried to return it.

Of course you did.

You thought you were being clever about it, sneaking into his study and draping the scarf over the back of his chair, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Foolish.

You might as well have tried to slip something past a wolf’s nose.

Klaus walked in not five minutes later, spotted the scarf immediately, and let out a slow, exaggerated sigh.

“Really, love?”

You feigned innocence. “What?”

He gestured broadly. “This.”

“It’s your scarf,” you reminded him.

“Yes, and I gave it to you.”

“Temporarily.”

“Indefinitely.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t need it.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Do you truly believe that, or are you just being insufferable for sport?”

“… Bit of both.”

His gaze swept over you, assessing, as if weighing his options. Then, with the kind of dramatic exasperation only he could pull off, he yanked the scarf off the chair, stepped forward, and personally wound it back around your neck.

“There,” he murmured, fingers lingering a second too long against your collarbone. “Problem solved.”

You scowled up at him. “You can’t just decide things like that.”

“I can. I have. I will.”

You sighed, gripping the ends of the scarf. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

Klaus smirked, smug as anything. “That’s what I thought.”

༊*·˚

The weeks passed.

And slowly—inevitably—the scarf became yours.

Not in name, not in spoken agreement, but in practice.

It lived in your wardrobe, draped over the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders on chilly evenings. It absorbed your scent, carried traces of your perfume, belonged to you as much as anything ever could.

Klaus never asked for it back.

Not once.

And if he looked a little too pleased whenever you wore it?

If his gaze lingered, if his lips curled into something unbearably soft when he caught sight of you wrapped up in it?

Well.

That was his secret to keep.

༊*·˚

One night, as you stood before the fireplace, basking in the warmth, Klaus approached from behind.

You felt him before you saw him, the shift in the air, the way your body recognized his before your mind even caught up.

He reached out, fingers brushing the scarf where it rested against your collarbone.

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze. “What?”

Klaus studied you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, quietly, he said:

“I should have given you something sooner.”

You tilted your head. “You’ve given me plenty.”

He hummed, but shook his head. “Not like this.”

Not freely. Not willingly. Not without expecting something in return.

This—this was different.

You reached up, fingers grazing his.

“Then give me something now.”

Klaus’s breath hitched, so quiet you barely caught it.

His hand slid lower, fingers brushing over your wrist, tracing the lines of your pulse—not to take, not to claim, but simply to feel.

You thought he might kiss you.

Instead, he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have.”

And as his arms wound around you, as he buried his face against your hair, as his hold tightened like you were something precious—

You realized he hadn’t just given you his scarf.

He had given you himself.

even more fluff fics <3

[meansevika]

— this fandom has a vast misogynoirist problem and, yes, this also applies to YOU reading this right now; a post filled w unsorted thoughts you should read if you genuinely want black fans to feel safe in fandom spaces with you

i am going to preface this right away w how disappointed i am in some of the people who follow me, who will occasionally like a post calling out misogynoir but only if its comfortable and only if its worded nicely and only if its against someone they dislike and not someone they do like. i am directly talking to my non-black followers because i do not expect black fans to expose themselves to this kind of hatred and thinly (and not so thinly) veiled racism we are faced w on a daily basis. some of you have a big following and a big portion of that following is white and YOU have the opportunity to use your POWER (and, yes, even in fandoms there are different power dynamics because logging onto twitter dot com does not remove the burden of blackness within overtly white spaces, this too is a space where having white privileges will get you places) and talk about these issues that have been becoming more and more prevalent.

our voices are not heard and when they are heard they get twisted by white and non-black fans who prioritize their love for shipping and their male centeredness over racism within fandom and more importantly: racism that is perpetuated by them. a very loud portion of this fandom has painted an image of "angry black women" without ever actually calling them black women because they are socially aware enough to know that it is racist to say so. instead they say it in different ways: they call us rabid, they call us delusional, they call us homophobic straights and love to strip us of our queerness in the same breath, they call us ableists even though this fandom has had several conversations about this, they call us aggressive, they say we are jealous of a mlm ship, they say we are irrational, they call us everything but the one thing we are: black. yet the painted picture is very clear to me and surely every other black person who has ever engaged dominantly white spaces: the big black bully! this is the easiest way to "aggressive black woman" your way through genuine critcism without ever saying it w those words nor acknowledging the thing you are criticized for.

and it becomes even more obvious when you read-over and over again-those attempts at demonizing an overtly black part of fandom (which mel/meljay fandom is and which i will come back to later) while NONE ever mention the things black people ARE saying because whenever you get ratioed for cuck art, whenever you get asked why you erase mel from the story, whenever people ask where mel is in arcane character group arts, whenever you mischaracterize mel for a mlm ship, whenever you strip her of her feelings, whenever you make her an abuser, whenever you dehuminaze her, whenever you deify her, whenever you cry that you cannot criticize her yet dont ever criticize her outside of that ship you so like, whenever any of this happens black fans HAVE and WILL tell you that this is antiblack, its misogynistic, but most of all-since a word for this phenomenon already exists-it is misogynoir. you are participating in misogynoir. your every like is supporting misogynoir. the active erasure of a black woman in fandom is misogynoir. whenever you strip black fans of their credibility to speak out against racism bc we are just "crazy shippers on an agenda", that is misogynoir too. people who arent in this fandom have been clocking this. they see us saying this. they avoid watching the show or engaging w this fandom because the misogynoir is so prevalent here and it is unchallenged by everyone but black people and a few allys who actually mean their shit when they talk about allyship.

the rest of you barely skim our texts or just go "well im not racist so this doesnt apply to me" instead of listening to us trying to explain what the issue is. you guys are so sure that you are a good ally, that you arent racist, that nothing you do is ever misogynoirist, yet you dont even realize that you dismiss or even silence black voices you dont like by villainizing every black fan who wants to talk about this and uplifting every black person who says the things you want to hear. to the point that a black user here can use the hard r and white people are trying to educate black people why that is okay or isnt okay. all while that person even apologized and had to tell you guys to not speak over black people in defense of them. do you not see that you are tokenizing the black voices you deem comfortable while ignoring every voice that asks for a little bit of accountability in your contribution to the horrid antiblackness on arcanetwt?

but, no, no, rest assured this doesnt just apply to the fans but to the character in question too after all there is a reason why meltwt/meljaytwt is so outspoken on this. it isnt about her partner being shipped w someone else, most of us dont even care for the ship, our issue is the constant attempt at erasing her from the relationship she was in and those are two completely different things even if you blatantly choose to look the other way and fabricate lies. mel medarda, despite always being spoken about as beautiful and complex and such a great character, so far even that people say they want her to leave jayce so they can have her for herself, has a very small following. she has less fics on ao3 than the others, barely any x reader ship despite so many people claiming to shipping themselves with her, she gets less solo art and even less w other people or her canonical ship. she is constantly being othered. just recently we had someone exclude her from group art and saying she was the teacher while her same aged peers were drawn as students. to many she simply doesnt exist and if you care about mel, if you actually do like her, if you seek out her content, this becomes abundantly clear real quick: mel does not exist as a main character to arcanetwt.

she is a side character to many of you. she is a side character like any other black women in fiction because you as fans were conditioned by young age to view black women as that. you are surrounded by the sassy black best friend, the angry black woman, the disposable black girlfriend who will always just be a temporary love interest, side character a and side character b - you grew up in a world where you view black women like that. that is why her fandom is so small. just like any other black female characters are small. no other main character gets this type of treatment other than her. and that her fandom is so small is just another indicator for that. and that it mostly consists of black fans is another indicator too because those very often are the only ones capable to see a black woman as a character in herself and not just a nice compliment in a sentence in between. this, too, is misogynoir btw and saying "well i just prefer this and this character" only works so many times before you gotta put the work in and question your racial bias and i am telling you YOU HAVE TO to OVERCOME that and i am telling you that because i too used to not care about black female characters.

i grew up in a very white society and was one of those kids who were trying to be as white as possible to cater to white ppl and i had to actively unlearn to ignore dark skinned women in any media and woah let me tell you once you do you realize there are so many beautiful characters to obsess over and so many new people to meet and it WILL change your view on a lot of things in fandom and it will make you AWARE and that is a good thing. you should be woke. being woke is a good thing no matter how many people say it isnt. its just nobody can do this for you but you yourself. you will see the mistreatment of fans and you will get angry about this and you will get uncomfortable too bc you might be nonblack you might even be white but that is just what it is and how its going to be and i appeal to you to be loud w us as well, to fight for a fandom space where white fans arent the only ones who get to enjoy sillies and whimsicals, where we can move and have fun w/o being confronted w unchallenged racism and people being too proud to work on their biases or even take any critcism, i beg you to not gaf about aesthetics and what you want your blog to look like and i beg you to not gaf about what your peers might think of you bc trust me you do not want to be the person belittling antiblackness for the sake of getting a few likes on an art piece where two people you like smooch.

this affects real black people even if arcanetwt wants to say we arent real or dont care about black issues. this is a black issue just like it'd be w any recreational activity

[s-jmk51]

I for one, don't like the term "gave in" makes me sound like I was hiding. I easily showed on my first message I thought he was weird.

What I didn't know was how much you would fight over something so simple as an opinion about a fictional character. I'm not even saying anything problematic...

What I thought would happen about me calling him weird was, we just discuss like regular people and end with "Okay, you have your opinion and I have mine. Let's part ways." yk... like regular people do...

I'm (not) sorry for saying my opinion. But I am sorry for the paragraph comment, because I believed I was responding to Max, which is why the DNI part seemed a little weird. So, sorry, Max.

Also, you nor Max have use for my opinion, nor do I have use for yours. You didn't need to start a whole ass fight over an "wrong ass opinion". You could have left it like Max did. You don't have to win every fight, nor do you have to continue a fight.

I think this was very stupid, this could have easily been handled a completely different way, such as you blocking me or something.

I'll remember next time to pretend I don't agree with you instead of "crying about 'I agreed'", since that obviously won't work. I'll also make sure to be more hostile towards the people I speak with because they have a "wrong ass opinion". /sarc

Should I take out my ukelele now too? Sing about how I'm wrong due to bias and opinion because I read a book and watched movies about Asshole kids that have asshole teachers and fight even more assholes? /sarc

Also, the Original Post appeared on my homepage, I in no way went to cherry pick at Pro-Snapes.

So a small (or well BIG) disclaimer for MY POSTS. Anyone is allowed to comment, to share their opinions. But being hostile because of an opinion isn't okay. Everyone/Anyone can change their opinions, and discuss them without fighting. /srs

"James Potter is a hero because he tried to protect his family from Voldemort."

Isn’t that literally what any father and husband would do for his wife and child? Why do you have to elevate acts of basic decency to the level of heroism? What kind of shitty parents did you have?

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part III

Word count: +3900

Warnings: angst, very slight mentions of past SA, frostbites and some chuchu-muchu😉 (this chapter isn't so bad that it would need any extra warnings, but let me know if you find something that needs to added)

Part II | Part IV

The ceremony and the party afterwards went smoothly, without any remarkable events. Although, after what I had just witnessed, it was my last worry.

Emotions in Kallias' eyes as he watched her walk behind me with the veil in hands, were like a bucket of cold water, shattering any however small hopes I had.

What would be my position at this place? In this Court? How was I supposed to live here? As what? Forgotten wife? Unwanted burden? Obstacle that at some point would need to vanish quietly?

The future full of uncertainties left me feeling hollow. I wanted to cry actually. I should have listened to my father and run away while I could. Life in exile in Autumn Court would be much better than this. The fact that despite everything, Kallias was trying — pretending — made it even worse.

When I arrived at the altar, he gently took my hand and tried to smile happily. As we stood there, listening the priestess, he held me closely, trying to comfort me. After we said our vows and priestess blessed the union, it was time for a kiss and he tried to do it properly. Above all the expectations of the gathered. During the dinner and the following party, he tried converse with me, asking about my childhood, hobbies and even opinions. He went so far as pretending the interest while trying to get to know me.

Every his try was more and more painful. It was like standing in front of a magical mirror that was showing me — torturing me — with imagines of what could have been. How my married life could have looked like, if he didn't have feelings for someone else. It would be much easier, if he just simply despised me from the very beginning than giving me fake hopes. If he drew clear line on the start, I could be sure about my role, I would know how to behave. And most importantly, my heart would stay behind the walls, protected. Where there is no hope, love cannot flourish. Falling in love with Kallias would do me no good — I understood that. Yet if he kept acting this way...

It would be so easy to fall in love with him. On top of being handsome, he really seemed to be a kind person, attentive, intelligent, calm and soft-hearted. Growing up in estate where only so few young males resided and all hated me or completely ignored me, couldn't prepare me for this. I didn't want to end up as all the naive females in novels I read — falling for wrong male just to be handed own broken heart on tray.

Oh, Mother, why had you woven this fate for me? Did I offend you so much by being born?

At some point, the need to shake him got so strong that I had to clench my fingers into chair's armrest. I wanted to tell him to stop pretending when his true feelings were so clear, but I couldn't. Instead I was spiralling and anxiously observing every small change, every slip in his expression.

As we were sitting at the table, conversing, his eyes often wandered to the place where Viviane was seated next to the blond female in elegant red dress who for sure wasn't from this Court. The two of them seemed to have a good time, talking lively and laughing.

Every time he did it, I peaked at Viviane, expecting her to meet his gaze with the similar mixture of emotions. I didn't know why, but I needed that one last push that would completely shatter my hopes. I even prayed for it.

As if sensing it, she always looked up at me, smiling brightly, contently even, at both of us. I watched her closely, analysing her expression to the smallest details, yet I couldn't find any evidence of longing, pain or suppressed feelings, not even in depths of her beautiful eyes. The only tracks of love I found, was love of a good friend, sibling at the best. Instead of being relieved or satisfied, it saddened me and suddenly I felt sorry for him. Was she so blind that she hadn't noticed it yet? Or she just didn't want to acknowledge his feelings?

Last time it happened shortly before we were expected to leave the party and head to the chambers, the tiny lines formed around his lips. His disappointment hurt me more than I cared to admit. Out of sympathy, I gently touched his forearm. He slightly jerked, his eyes wide as he turned to me. For several heartbeats, he stared at me, shocked. Then his expression darkened, an icy mask slid down with loud click. He shook off my hand and moved away from me as far as he could while sitting on his chair. After that he stopped trying to talk with me and ignored me for the rest of the time we spent at party.

Before any emotions got the better of me, I cut them off. Maybe it was better this way.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice that High Lord stood up, giving a speech, not until Kallias next to me stood up, too. He was looking down at some unspecified place on the table with a hand ready for me to grab on it. I did what was expected of me. We both did.

My attention shifted to my father. He looked sad, yet he smiled at me. My chest tightened painfully and I blinked away the tears. All of sudden, I had a very strange feeling that this was the last time I could see him. It was so suffocating. And Morena's expression didn't help it. Out of the corner of the eye I noticed her wide grin, the gleam in her eyes made me feel sick. The need to not let him go and to keep him here with me only grew. I felt nauseous, cold sweat rolling down my spine.

"Everything fine?" Kallias asked under his breath. Only then did I notice that I was quite trembling and squeezing his hand so tightly that my knuckles were white. However, I wasn't able to answer. I couldn't even as much as move, all my muscles locked. "You will be able to say goodbye to your family tomorrow before they leave. No need to worry."

The softness of his deep voice and the reassurance took away some of the weight pressing down on my chest and my lungs filled with air. I slowly turned to him. His expression was alert, but beneath it was hidden understanding.

"Thank you," I whispered.

With the final congratulation, High Lord sent us off. As soon as the door closed behind us, Kallias took off down the corridor, leaving me in care of Millie.

"I will show you to your chambers, milady," she bowed and led me in the same direction Kallias went while pointing out rooms we passed to help me navigate around later. "It was High Lord's wish for you to be close to his son, so we prepared the closest suitable premises for you. I hope you will find them comfortable to live in. Unfortunately, no one informed us about your likes and dislikes, so if you find something missing or wish to change anything, just let me know. I will take care of your needs from now on."

"Thank you, Millie. I'm sure you did great job. I'll certainly like it," corners of my mouth curled in a small, polite smile. Because of what she saw before the ceremony I wasn't sure how to behave around her. She must have thought something was wrong with me. With her own smile she tilted her head to the side, looking me over with curiosity. I got nervous. "Is.. something wrong?"

"No, milady," she fully grinned. "I was just thinking that you are different from the other aristocrats and especially, from the young ladies."

"Is it a bad thing?" I frowned, my palms sweating.

"Oh, it's a great thing, milady. You are more like his Highness and his family. It isn't my place to say this, but I think you will get along pretty well with young master."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, pleasantly surprised by Millie's boldness. "I hope so." Being it a different situation, her words would have made me happy. Right now the only thing I knew for sure was, that love was out of question as Kallias' heart already belonged to someone else. Maybe.. maybe someday we could become friends, though. I stored the idea in the back of my mind for the later, focussing on the present.

Climbing the flight of stairs, we got to the highest floor, dimly lit with faelights. Hallways here were wider with a sets of windows on one side. Intrigued, I stopped by one, looking out into the night.

From up here I could see back gardens and castle grounds and also a small part of the city on the other side of gorge. The view was, however, blocked by the wall. When I focussed, I could see seemingly never ending mountain range surrounding the castle and the city, with white dusted peaks that glittered in the moonlight. On one of the closest peaks that was rather a smaller one, I noticed a faint flicker of light.

"Millie? Is there anything up there?"

She stepped closer to see where I was pointing. "It could be the temple, but it's hard to say when it's so dark outside. It should be easier to see it during the day. I'm sure young master will eventually take you there, milady, as it's a place of great importance."

I nodded and followed her. There was only one set of doors in this hallway. Millie opened them and holding them for me, she waited. "These are your chambers, milady."

"And Kallias'?" I looked around in confusion. Didn't she mention that his chambers should be nearby?

"Well, his doors are located in different hallway, but as you will see, you won't need it, milady."

I hesitantly took last few steps and entered the most beautiful sitting room I'd seen in my life. Soft tiny faelights hanging from ceiling in chains like some icicles created play of light and shadow on the snow-white walls, flames roared in the big hearth, sending pleasant waves of warmth into the room. The set of comfortable looking sofas and armchairs occupied most of this space, several half filled wooden bookcases and chests decorated otherwise empty walls. Wooden floor, thick carpet, candles, blankets and pillows added to the overall welcoming comfort of this room.

My curiosity pulled me to the enormous windows that led to the balcony and the fascinating view. In awe I pushed a light lacy curtain aside to take a better look. An entire city on the other side of the gorge laid there like on my palm. I could see as far as to the flickering lights of the first gate and if it wasn't night, certainly even far beyond it.

The city was bigger than I originally thought, scrambling up and down gentle slopes, closed in between jagged peaks. The streets of the city were flooded with warm soft light, white snow making it shine even brighter, the dark windows of houses in sharp contrast with that beauty. My gaze followed those bright narrow veins that connected with each other, creating wide arteries, to the very heart of the town where they opened into a large space with probably the highest spruce tree I'd ever seen in its centre. The square shone with colours. Even from afar I could see long tables with food and people laughing and dancing. It was just as Viviane told me - everyone was out, celebrating. I was so taken by that fairytale like scenery that I didn't notice that Millie left and returned after several minutes.

"Your bath is ready," she said, kind smile lifting corners of her mouth.

"I didn't know there could be something so beautiful as this place. I always thought that the capital is cold, inhospitable city," I confessed.

"Now now," she snorted in amusement. "Wait until you see it decorated for Solstice, milady."

That piqued my interest. The Solstice was the biggest and most important celebration in Winter Court and it was only about a month from now. Even such almost deserted places as my home got excessively decorated with ribbons and glittery decorations, smell of all sorts of cakes, foods and mulled wine filling the air and mixing with smell of pine needles and freshly fallen snow. While I heard that all celebrations were over in just few days in other courts, in Winter it lasted for an entire month. Everyone seemed to be a bit kinder and generous during that time. Maybe that's why I loved it so much.

"There's going to be big celebration. Young master and his friends every year visit the market in the city. This year, they will take you with them too, milady. I'm sure you will like it," Millie continued as I followed her through the bedroom with enormous bed and hearth to the luxurious looking bathroom. Everything was so cosy.

Bathtub full of steaming water immediately drew my attention. It was big enough for at least three persons, dominating to the space. Set of soft towels waited on its edge, several lit floating candles and pink rose petals inviting one to dip in. Air was filled with smell of floral essential oils, soaps and shampoos, steam making it a bit foggy.

Stress, that was building in me ever since morning, finally took its toll and all of sudden I felt too tired to even think, my body so heavy. I couldn't wait to warm up my limbs in the bath and to head to that comfortable bed I saw moments ago. With a knowing smile, Millie helped me to undress and with a sigh I stretched out in the warm water. I was slightly dozing off while Millie took all the pins from my hair, helped me wash and then massaged my shoulders. Unable to even keep my eyes open, I made a mental note to thank her later for her care. After the bath I accepted the soft bathrobe without giving it much thoughts. It didn't even seem strange to me that there was no nightgown prepared.

"Now, everything is ready. Young master is already waiting for you in bedroom, milady," Millie said cunningly and disappeared in a secret servants' passageway before her words got registered by my sleepy mind.

In a second I was wide awake. Kallias was here? Why? And then the realisation hit me and my stomach churned. It couldn't be for real. It just couldn't...

I started to shake wildly and fell to my knees. Unable to keep it together, I wrapped arms around my chest, holding firmly. All the unpleasant memories of my stepbrother touching me floated to the surface and I sobbed. How could I forget? It was an unbreakable tradition and yet I.. I thought it just simply wouldn't happen. There was no way out of this. Whether I wanted or no, it had to happen. Short for air I doubled over, pressing forehead to marble floor. Its cool surface grounded me down and slowly I calmed down enough to think straight. If I couldn't get out of this situation, I had to come up with a way to survive it.

Kallias! That was it. Kallias wasn't Zima. He was kind - everyone said so about him so far. He would treat me with kindness. If.. if he saw that I wasn't ready, he wouldn't push me into things, right?

However crazy it was, I gripped on the belief that Kallias wouldn't treat me badly and held onto it, pushing every bad memory to the back of my mind where I slammed and locked the imaginary door behind it. In my mind I was repeating his name like some mantra, listing every small way in which he treated me kindly. Everything that was different about him. I hadn't thought that there would be a time when his pretence during wedding and party could come so handy, but here I was.

Still trembling I managed to crawl over to the washbasin and dragged myself up. From there it was only a small step to the door that separated me from the bedroom and my ordeal. Taking a deep breath I opened it with a soft click.

Kallias stood with bowed head in front of the hearth clad in the same looking bathrobe, his back to me. Both of his hands were rested on the mantel, clenched into fists, skin on his knuckles so tight that I almost could see bones beneath. His back was painfully straight, shoulders tense. If I wasn't mistaken, he was nervous.

He didn't seem to notice me as his eyes were hypnotising the dancing flames that roared wildly, yet the room was cool almost cold.

Instinctively I checked the windows, tugging the bathrobe closer. All were closed and locked from inside. A lump rose in my throat.

"Ka..llias..?"

He jerked. "Sorry," he mumbled and the room warmed up again. He turn his head in my direction, though he avoided looking at me. "I.."

He sighed. "Sorry," he repeated, this time properly facing me. His eyes darted over me swiftly and then landed on the bed. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath.

It's Kallias. Kallias. He is kind. He is different.

I desperately held on my mantra as my bottom lip quivered.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, staying like that for awhile.

"Are you cold?" His voice was once again soft, caring. "Come closer and warm up. Your father mentioned that you easily get cold. It's quite rare for someone from the Winter Court, isn't it?"

"Yes." When did he make time to talk with my father? I managed to walk over the room without stumbling, but I was so nervous and scared that I was short for breath, heaving as if I had run a round around the castle before stopping next to him. His brows furrowed, his lips twisted in compassion. "I think I took that after my mother."

"Ah, the lady from Autumn Court, right? I can imagine that the weather here was harsh for someone with fire in veins."

I expected to hear scornfulness in his voice when he spoke about my mother, just as I heard it in voices of everyone except my father, but there was nothing. He said it calmly, casually, almost sorrowfully, as if it was the most natural thing. I was so surprised that I only nodded.

"Then I will have to make sure you are always warm," he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The uncomfortable silence settled between us. I didn't dare to look at him even though I would give anything to know what he was thinking at, how he felt. Despite being so close to the fire, cold sweat rolled down my spine, my imagination running wild and in absolutely wrong direction.

It's Kallias. He's kind. He won't-

His hand hesitantly touched mine and when I didn't pull away, he entwined his long fingers with mine. His frosty pale skin was soft to touch and cool. Though it didn't cause me pain like-..

It's Kallias. He's different.

I pushed any other thoughts away. It was already hard enough as I could hardly even as much as breathe.

I heard him swallow hard before his other hand reached up, taking my chin between thumb and forefinger. He was so tender when he tilted my face towards him. The way he touched me - it was definitely different. There was nothing violent about it, nothing rough or demanding, yet I played my mantra on repeat.

He leaned closer and..

Stopped.

He was waiting for me, I realized.

Heart hammering in my chest, I risked a glance at him. His crushing blue eyes were already on me, searching. His striking beauty took the last bits of air from my lungs. He looked somehow sad, torment in depths of his eyes. However, the second our gazes collided, he transformed his expression into unreadable mask, locking away anything he felt. If he really loved Viviane so much, this couldn't be anything but unpleasant duty to him. He didn't want to do this — that much was clearly written all over his face just a moment ago — yet he was trying to turn it into a pleasant experience for me.

He gave me last few seconds to prepare before he carefully pressed his lips to mine. His eyes shut closed, brows furrowed - was he imagining that he was holding her? He stilled for few heartbeats and then slightly opened his mouth, tip of his tongue lightly touched my bottom lip before he delivered another kiss. This reminded me of the wedding ceremony. Back then he did exactly the same thing.

He wasn't in hurry, his soft lips lazily dancing over mine, every stroke deeper than the previous one. His fingers moved from my chin to my cheek, cupping it, thumb drawing small circles on my skin. It was.. actually quite pleasant, soothing. However, I needed to keep my eyes open, because the second I closed them, flashes of those events twisted the reality into something else. My mantra wasn't working as efficiently here as I hoped, but seeing his face made it little better.

Kallias changed the angle, tugging me closer by the waist, adjusting his position, his body now flush against mine. That was when the things started to change. Temperature in the room again dropped so slightly and shiver ran down my spine. His other hand, now cold like ice, moved to my neck, his touch still light and tender, yet the pain marked the trace of his fingers, until they slipped into my hair. His lips grazed over my jaw and down the column of my neck to my shoulder, leaving small kisses on his way, every one of them followed by explosions of sharp pain. When he reached the collarbone, the pain was so insufferable that I cried out.

Kallias immediately stopped, his eyes shooting up to my face.

"Wha-"

When he noticed red and purple marks on my skin, his eyes widened in shock and he released me, backing away.

"That's nothing," I covered the worst of them with bathrobe, quickly wiping tears away.

"Nothing?" he whispered "How..? Why..? You are covered in frostbites." Kallias was short for words. He looked down at his hands in disbelieve. "Have I done that?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Only moments ago, he was so kind and attentive, even though he didn't want to do this. Another male in his position wouldn't give a shit. I couldn't possibly tell him that his powers were responsible for that, nor I couldn't lie to him.

Shaking his head, he was retreating, his skin paler than freshly fallen snow. He ran hand through his hair and then dragged it down his face. He was shaken.

"I-.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.. I'm so sorry."

He pivoted and hurried to the tall mirror in the corner of the room. It took just a light touch from him and the glass melted away, opening an entrance to a narrow corridor covered in ice and snow. Gust of cold wind brought several snowflakes into the room and I had to turn away, protecting my face. Prince of Winter rushed down that corridor, unaffected by cold. He didn't look back even when I called after him, eager to somehow explain the situation. Before I reached the mirror, glass was back on its place and Kallias was gone.

[hello-gloomy]

Relax Cadet

Stanley Snyder x Fem!Reader

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Description: Out in the woods, you and your lover Stanley take on some basic firearm training.

Warnings: Gun usage, lots of touching, raunchy kissing and groping, mild angst. SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA, DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT IT RUINED FOR YOU.

A/N: I've only watched the first few episodes of season 4, so his personality might be a bit OOC. Forgive me; I will continue to work on it. Also, I decided to release this while I work on two other asks. Currently, it seems they will take longer than I originally planned.

Words: 643

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Gloved hands enveloped yours, steadying the tremors that coursed through your fingers as they gripped the cold surface of the gun. You felt Stanley's presence looming over you, his warmth radiating against your back. He leaned in, his breath a mix of tobacco and something metallic, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear.

"Shhh, relax, you got this," Stanley murmured in a low, soothing voice, his tone relaxing the tension in the air. Following your line of sight, the both of you studied the array of targets positioned before you. Breathing quietly, trying not to get excited at his closeness, you let him reposition the whole of you into the correct firing stance before he trailed his hands back up your body right back to your hands.

"Keep your eyes ahead." He murmured while steadying your hands again.

"That's what I'm doing." Snipped at him, heat rose to your cheeks as you tried to take this seriously. He chuckled and instructed you on how to fire the gun before backing away and letting you take the first shot. You let out one more shaky breath before pulling the trigger. A wish of air rang out, and metal hitting an object echoed into silence. You looked at the target in slight joy before getting disappointed; you sighed before looking back at Stanley again with puppy eyes, hoping your shoddy aim would make him drop the matter entirely.

"Why are you making me do this again?" You pout as you ask him. He drags on his cigarette, comes closer, and rubs his hand over your shoulder.

"Just because we live in a stone world and are advancing quickly doesn't mean we won't encounter future troubles," he states plainly while holding your chin between his fingers. You grumble at him being right, batting your lashing and hoping for mercy.

He decides instead to continue your impromptu training. He hands you the gun again and spins you around to reface the targets; before you can complain, he kisses you and brushes his hands down you again, backing off and letting you aim once again. You aim and let the second shot ring out, and when you glance at the targets, you drop the gun and spin around, hugging Stanley in pure joy at your accomplishment. He chuckles while spinning the both of you around; he lets you down and holds you close to him, wiping the previous lipstick mark he left on you affectionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rose onto your tiptoes for a genuine kiss as a reward. He allowed you to have your way, pressing his lips against yours and smudging the purple around your lips. Gripping your hair in his hands, you sigh softly at his rough touch. You both stop for a breath, mainly for you. He seemed to breathe easily compared to your excitement.

"I'm training you for when I'm not here." He wipes at your lips a bit to make the leftover purple look more even, then says, "If I'm not here," before patting you on the butt. You lean into his hands. "I hope you know we're not done here." You felt like crying; this might as well be torture at this point.

"Aim, Cadet; you'll be almost as good as me by the time we're done." He chuckles while you get into position, readying for the next shot, but before you can fire off the shot again, he comes and whispers into your ear.

"And if you satisfy me with your results, I might even reward you." You almost drop the gun and side-eye him with large eyes. You breathe quietly through your mouth before making the next few shots with little error. You practically preen under his proud gaze, and he hoists you into the air, making due on his previous promise.

[crowsofdarkness]

Who Are You?: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: The Winter Soldier: Bucky Barnes x Agent Fallen x The Crow: Eric Draven

Content Warnings: angst, violence, kidnapping, death, language, smut that will include unprotected pinv, oral with male and female receiving, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, double penetration, semi-rough sex, spanking, sharing of partners(m/f/m).

Summary: Agent Fallen was looking for a ghost, her ghost. With direct orders to shoot on sight to anyone who stands in her way, she soon finds herself at a crossroads when facing another ghost. The Crow. As they work together to find The Winter Soldier, Fallen and Eric Draven have to also work out their complicated relationship with each other.

Authors Note: this series is not canon to any of the Marvel movies, besides a few details. this will be a reverse harem/why chose series which means the FMC is with both MMCs, never choosing between the two. there will be moments where Eric and Bucky share Fallen. updates will be slow for this one. Tags are open!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole

-i have my permanent bucky tags on this. if you're not interested in this story because of Eric Draven, no worries! let me know and I can take you off this story-

The snow beneath my boots crunch as I trudged farther along the darkened path, the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains in the horizon. My suit stuck to my like a second skin, the leather doing nothing to keep me warm due to my heated blood. Thanks to my powers, my blood always ran hot so while it was nearing -39 degrees celsius on Mountain Pik Podeba in Siberia, I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck. It had been an incredibly difficult trek yet I continued to push through, never giving up. 

It wasn’t in my nature to which is why SHIELD hired me. 

Did they hire you or felt pity for you when they found you on another cold mountain side and saved your life eight years ago? 

Shaking the thought from my mind, not daring to think about the past, I thought about the mission instead. My boss, Agent Fury, set down an extra classified folder on my desk a few days ago with one demand: keep it between us. 

As soon as I opened the folder, I immediately knew why we needed to keep it between us. Fury was the only one in SHIELD that knew about my past and where I came from since he was the one that found me eight years ago. If anyone inside of SHIELD found out about where that was, I’d be outcasted and probably arrested. While everyone at headquarters thought I was away on vacation, I was actually up in the mountains in Russia, looking for a ghost. 

The Winter Soldier. 

There had been rumors he’d gone rouge from Hydra a few years ago, killing everyone that had a hand in creating him. Fury had been keeping a watchful and good eye on The Winter Soldier to see if he had me in his sights. It was fine until last year when the list started to dwindle down to only three names left. 

One random guard. 

Dimitri. 

The last name on The Winter Soldiers list was only three letters, almost as if he couldn’t remember the entirety of it. But Fury knew and when I saw a copy of the list, I knew as well. 

When I read that all too familiar name back in my office the other day, all of the oxygen was stolen from my lungs as my past reared its ugly head. I hadn’t come face to face with The Winter Soldier in nearly eight years when Hydra literally tossed me out into the snow, broken and defeated. Just before one of the Hydra guards shut the door, I saw those dark eyes watch me over the guards shoulder, not bothering to stop them. 

“Soldat,” I cried out, as the flames dissipated from my hands; the fight for my survival was long gone. 

Everyone who didn’t know him called him The Winter Soldier, I called him Soldat during my time in Hydra. He was the one who trained me, made me who I am. But once one of the guards found Soldat and I in bed together, our leader Dimitri ordered my removal from the compound. I was shunned and left to die on the side of the mountain by the people I thought I had a home with all because I fell in love with another one of their other puppets. 

Dimitri was stern in his orders, never wanting Soldat and I to stray too far from our orders of death and destruction. So when he got word of our private affairs, it was clear who would be shunned. The Winter Soldier was Hydra’s most prized soldier and weapon meanwhile I was their project gone wrong; the one who couldn’t be controlled. 

Along with the love and memories of Soldat, I buried that part of me deep within me, never letting Căzut out again. I had a name when I was younger, something I couldn’t remember so Soldat was the one that gave me my name the first night I arrived at the Hydra compound, afraid. 

“Căzut,” a metal thumb lifted my chin as I knelt before him, causing me to look up at him. “You may have fallen but you will rise again.” 

So when Fury found me eight years ago wandering on the Russian mountain side and asked me for my name, I gave him the only one I had. 

Fallen. 

Breaking over the horizon, I could vaguely make out a wooden home about 15 feet west and let out a small breath of relief. To others that ventured up on this side of the mountain they might have thought it odd for a small house to be placed in the middle of nowhere. But us at SHIELD knew what it was. 

A safe house. 

This one specifically was off the map  because it was Fury’s own safe house, one he didn’t want anyone to know of. The only reason why I knew about it was because he’d brought me here eight years ago. 

“I’m fucking starved,” I grumbled under my breath as I stepped through a large mound of snow, the heat seeping through my boot melting it almost instantly. 

Fury mentioned that the wood burning stove in the house didn’t work but when I snapped my fingers, bringing fire to them, I reminded him that warmth shouldn’t be an issue for me. 

After gaining access inside with my thumb print to the front door,  I took the first step inside of the house yet immediately froze because something felt off; wrong. There was a shift in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t the chill of the house that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the feeling that eyes were watching me. Softly letting my bag fall to the floor, I reached for the knife in the side pocket of my tac suit and when my fingers grazed over the handle, a sharp kick landed to the back of my knee. I fell to the aged hardwood floor with a thud, quickly spinning around on my knees to look at who managed to attack me. Expecting to meet a pair of eyes, I was met with a long blade from a katana sword, the tip pressed to my neck. 

I followed up the length of it up to a hand covered in tattoos, recognizing one of them immediately. Snapping my gaze up, I met a pair of soulless eyes already pinning me in place and sucked in a breath. 

No fucking way. It’s true. 

“How the fuck did you get inside?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone calm since he was the one with the blade pressed to my throat. 

The man, who stood tall over me at atleast six feet, cocked his head to the side. His face was covered underneath a mask from the nose down, showcasing those dark eyes as they assessed me. Those same eyes were blanketed in some kind of black paint. A few small strands of hair fell into his eyes but he made no move to brush them away. He was glad in all black, except for his hands that showcased all of the ink. 

Everyone in SHIELD thought The Winter Soldier was the ghost but they were all wrong. The man standing in front of me was an even bigger ghost. He was a rumor that no one seemed to have any proof of. I only knew of him from what I’ve read in his very skim folder which only had two things; his name and the picture of one of his tattoos. 

The Crow and the tattoo of a crow on the outside of his hand. The same one I was staring at right now. 

“You’re real,” I muttered. 

He remained silent yet pressed the tip of the blade harder against my throat causing me to kneel straighter while holding my hands out to my sides showing him I was unarmed. 

“I’m really at your mercy right now,” I flicked my gaze to the sword. “All it would take is a simple flick of your wrist and you’d hit one of my arteries, making me bleed out on the floor in seconds. I can tell you right now, I have no intention of dying today.” 

The Crow didn’t seem to believe me because he motioned to the weapons on my tac suit with a silent order. 

Remove them. 

Biting back a curse, I slowly removed the gun and knives from all of the pockets before sliding them over to his combat boots. 

“Are you going to tell me how you broke into a SHIELD safe house?” I asked. 

Yet again, he didn’t speak as he kicked my weapons across the floor, them skidding down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“I have orders to kill anyone that stands in the way of my current mission,” I said while shaking out my fingers, not yet bringing the fire forth. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The Crow chuckled darkly. 

I nearly fell to my ass at his voice, how deep and rich it was, but maintained my composure. 

“So you do speak,” I teased with a smirk. “Here I thought Hydra cut out your tongue.” 

His eyes snapped away from the exposed top of my breasts in my suit thanks to the zipper being down a bit and his jaw ticked. Victory surged through me when I found the answer to a question a lot of us were wondering. If The Crow was Hydra or not. 

“So it is true,” I continued on, puffing out my chest when I caught him staring again. 

Even if he was this top secret Hydra weapon, he was still a man and men have certain weaknesses.

“Let me guess. Hydra got bored with their main weapon and decided to create another?”

“You know Hydra?” The Crow asked me, the grip on his katana never faltering as the tip was still pressed to my throat. 

“You’re looking at one of their failed projects,” I sighed. 

He snickered. “What’s so special about you?” 

He’s fucking rude. 

With a snap, I brought forth the fire to my fingers which made him take a step back, letting the blade of his sword fall away from my neck. With the new found opportunity, I kicked my feet out to trip The Crow and he clambered to the ground. 

I looked back down the hallway where he kicked my weapons moments ago, ready to crawl my way towards them only to have my ankle grabbed and yanked into the living room. The Crow and I scuffled for a few moments, me trying to rip off his mask which caused him to slam his forehead on mine, nearly making me succumb to darkness. 

Super soldier strength? Check. 

While I had my own strength thanks to the serum running through me, it wasn’t anything compared to his. I sent a knee into his groin which made him double over in pain, giving me a few seconds to scurry away from him. Quickly rising to my feet, I threw a fireball at him only for him to grab his sword, blocking it. I watched in horror as the fire fell to ash at his feet. 

“What the fuck is your katana made out of?!” I demanded right before The Crow ran towards me, pushing me against the wall. 

His thick arm pressed into my throat, cutting off my breathing almost instantly. My feet dangled in the air slightly as I clawed at the material of his jacket, doing whatever I could to get him off of me. 

“Just like I thought. Pathetic,” he sneered, face inches from mine. 

His mask had slipped in our scuffle and it was then I got a good look at his entire face, lingering over his plump lips. Somehow without his mask, it seemed to accentuate the black paint around his eyes. 

He was gorgeous. 

Focus, you idiot! He’s going to kill you!

“Thank god you don’t have a metal arm,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to fight against him. 

The Crow’s grip around my throat faltered only for a moment as his face twitched but then he pressed his hips deeper into mine to pin me fully against the wall. Through his cargo pants, the outline of his cock against my pussy and my eyes doubled in size when I felt how hard he was, letting a moan slip quietly. 

“Is this turning you on?” I teased. 

His eyes narrowed as he pressed himself harder against me. “Says the one who just moaned.”

Curse his super soldier hearing.

“Can’t help but like what I see,” I did my best to shrug while still being pinned to the wall. 

The Crow eyes casted down to my breasts, lingering over the sweat that gathered there and all too quickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” 

His gaze flicked up to me as he pressed his arm tighter against my throat. “I have no desire other than to kill.” 

“Hydra program you to say that? Because your dick pressing against me says otherwise,” I tossed back. 

“You’re insufferable you know that,” he sneered while tossing me to the floor and I sucked in a giant breath, feeling the life return. 

“You can thank Hydra for that,” I choked on a breath before rising to my knees and glancing over at him. 

He had placed his sword back into its sheath and set it on the back of the couch then turned to face me with narrowed eyes. I was growing tired of this look. 

“What are you doing here?” The Crow asked. 

I snorted while slowly standing and rested my hands on my hips. “I should be asking you that. You’re in my safe house, which I’m still wondering how the fuck you got in without my thumb print.” 

“You left the window unlocked,” he pointed to the window in the living room. 

Damn it, Fury. 

Running a hand through my red hair, I let out a long breath and stood in front of The Crow as he sat against the back of the couch, his long legs outstretched. 

I squinted my eyes at him when I realized something. “Why didn’t you kill me just now? You had the chance more than once.” 

Something flickered in those eyes but his face remained like stone. “You said something about Hydra programming me. How would you know that?” 

I brought forth the fire again, letting it dance inside my palm as I manipulated it with the air around me. A party trick is what I liked to call it. 

“Like I said, Hydra created this. They kept me captive for years and the second I disobeyed one of their orders, they tossed me to the side as if I was nothing,” I closed my fist to put the fire out. 

“So you’re not with Hydra anymore?” The Crow asked. 

I shook my head, not completely sure why he was suddenly not trying to attack me anymore, but what shocked me the most was how comfortable I felt opening up to him.

“You mentioned something about a metal arm,” he said while crossing his arms over his chest. 

I swallowed thickly, not knowing where the conversation was headed now. “Your point?” 

The Crow shook off his jacket, letting it fall to the couch behind him. “Was The Winter Soldier before or after your time with Hydra?” 

“During,” I informed while shifting on my feet. “He’s the one that trained me.” 

“No offense but he did a shitty job.”

I shot him with a glare, feeling protective over Soldat after all these years because the love I had for him still lingering. “Fuck you.” 

The Crow eyes drank me in from head to toe before resting back on my lips. “Tempting but I have other orders.”

“Care to tell me what those orders are? Because I’m still curious on how you found this SHIELD safe house?” 

“This is SHIELD? Here I thought they would put you up in a mansion or some shit,” he snickered. 

“Well,” I kicked my bag in the air and caught it. “This has been so much fucking fun but I have plans. Please let the door hit you on the way out.” 

I made it all of two steps towards the staircase, ready for a shower and food while I went over my notes on Soldat when a voice stopped me. 

“Do these plans have anything to do with The Winter Soldier?” 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I glared at The Crow. “Excuse me?” 

He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the laptop on the coffee table behind him. “I hacked into the laptop here and read your current mission report. It’s kind of irresponsible to leave a top secret laptop out in the open like that.” 

Letting out a scream of frustration, I chucked my bag at him which he caught with an attractive and annoying ease. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Few days. I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

This piqued my interest and I raised a brow at him. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why?” 

The Crow stood to his full height and closed the distance between us. Suddenly, I got a small whiff of his scent and couldn't help but shiver at how good he smelled. 

“I’ve been tasked with retrieving The Winter Soldier to bring him back to Hydra,” he informed me while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

I scoffed while shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m helping you bring Soldat back to the monsters that tortured him.” 

“Soldat?” His brows furrowed. 

“It’s what we called him. It's "soldier " in Russian,” I said. 

He nodded curtly. “Well, my Hydra mission is different from my main mission.” 

“Which is?” I pressed. 

There was something oddly weird about why The Crow chose this safe house and why he was waiting for me personally. 

“I need his blood to create an antidote for the serum running through me. I’ve been this weapon for years and need a way out. Hydra doesn't know this but I’m not returning from this mission. I don’t want this life for me any more.”

“What makes you think Hydra will let you get away with that?” I asked in utter disbelief. 

There was absolutely no way anyone in that group would let someone like The Crow get away.

“I have people on the inside that will fake my death so I can hide away.” 

“And you trust them?”

I was beyond shocked that not only did he have the balls to pull off a move like this but he was also divulging his plans to basically a stranger who was an agent of SHIELD and former Hydra assassin.

“With my life,” he said without missing a beat. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion from my trek up the mountain suddenly catching up to me. 

Something seemed to lift from his shoulders as he let out a long sigh, suddenly breaking free in front of me. 

“I need your help. I’ve been hunting Soldat for months but can’t seem to keep on his trail. If anyone can find him, it’s you,” he said. 

“What makes you think I can find him?” 

“My sources tell me he’s also looking for you,” he motioned towards the laptop on the coffee table. 

I rolled my eyes at his sources and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why the hell would I help you? You tried to kill me.”

“I would never,” he placed a hand over his chest in mock pain. “I just wanted to see what you were made of.” 

“You’re insufferable,” I exasperated while repeating his words from earlier.

The Crow continued to wear that smirk as he shrugged. “You’ll get used to it the longer we’re together.” 

“Hang on,” I raised a finger. “I never agreed to help you. What do I get out of this? It goes against my orders from SHIELD.” 

“Well, according to your records, it seems like you’ve had quite a few red marks. Your boss, Fury, is trying to help you keep your job which is why he sent you on this private mission. If you brought in The Winter Soldier, it would solidify your position until you retire. But something tells me that you’re looking for a way out as well.”

My spine stiffened as I stood up straighter, not knowing how he found that info out. No one inside of SHIELD knew I was purposely getting red marks on my record in a way for them to kick me off the force. This private mission to find Soldat was a way out with the hopes he remembered me and he could help. 

I swallowed thickly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you know things about me because you read my file.” 

“A thick file,” he corrected. “If you help me, I can have one of my hacker friends wipe your file clean so you and Soldat can live happily ever after. That is, if he remembers you.”

The urge to slap that stupid smirk off of his face was strong and made my hand twitch at my side yet I weighed his words heavily on my mind. This was technically the way out I needed and now that I finally had the chance to do it, it would be stupid not to take it. 

Right?

“If you were to help me, something tells me I would owe you something?”

Something shone in The Crow's eyes but his next words didn’t match that glimmer. 

“We both get a way out of a life we had no say in. Consider us even,” he spoke while walking past me into the kitchen. 

Reluctantly I followed him and for the first time since stepping inside, the smell of a warm cooked meal filled my senses and my stomach roared to life. On the table were two plates, two cups, and silverware. 

“Are you fine with chicken and potatoes?” The Crow asked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large dish from the oven. 

I blinked at him a few times, trying to gather my words. “How the hell did you get the oven to work? Half of this shit didn’t work the last time Fury and I were held up here.” 

With his back to me, I could see the muscles tense as he moved about the kitchen, getting things ready for dinner and I bit my lip at the sight. 

“I’m good with my hands,” he answered while setting the dish down on the table. “Go wash up and we can talk more about the details.” 

Very briefly, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck as he scratched at it, lifting down his shirt slightly. 

“I never said yes,” I reminded him while popping my hip out, showcasing my attitude. 

“The way you haven’t blown me to ash yet shows me that you already agreed. So again I say, go wash up and we can go over the details. I have a hunch where Soldat is hiding out.” 

As much as he irritated me, I knew that I’d be nowhere without The Crow. I had nothing on Soldat, so as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help. 

“Fine,” I forced out through gritted teeth and turned swiftly on my heels but halted when he called after me. 

“What did Hydra call you?” 

“There’s no way I’m giving you my name. I don’t even know you,” I tossed over my shoulder. 

Something in the way he smirked told me he already knew my name due to his hacking but gave me the benefit of the doubt to tell him myself. 

Dropping my shoulders with a sigh, I gave in. “During my time in Hydra I went by Căzut but now I go by Fallen.” 

“I know,” The Crow smirked. “I just wanted to see if you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“Does this mean you’re going to tell me your name? And not the stupid moniker Hydra assigned you,” I gave him a small smile but dropped it when I noticed the way his face fell. 

“I don’t know my name. I’ve only ever gone by The Crow.” 

Ignoring the pain I felt for him in my heart, I tapped my chin in mock thought before snapping, a spark igniting. “You look like an Eric to me.” 

“Eric,” he repeated the name a few times, almost like he was trying on a new pair of pants. “I like it.” 

“Good because it stays,” I ruffled his hair before leaving him alone in the kitchen as I skipped upstairs. 

When I left the SHIELD headquarters this morning, I had no intention of working with someone on finding Soldat but something in the way Eric smiled at me told me that he was the same as me in a lot of different ways. So if I had to deal with him for a few days in my search for Soldat, it was worth it. It helped that he was good to look at as well. 

“This is going to be a long few days,” I mumbled under my breath as I took the steps up towards the one bedroom of the house. 

The bedroom Eric seemed to have taken over. The same bedroom with only one bed. 

Son of a bitch. 

[middleearthpixie]

The Ties That Bind ~ Chapter Twelve

Summary: Although Erebor is his once more, Thorin knows there is still a great threat to the peace of Middle Earth. Azog is gone, but another has taken his place and has sworn to finish what Azog began. Erebor is back, but it’s sadly lacking in protection and as much as he hates the thought of it, Thorin knows there is one thing that will guarantee the safety and continuation of his line.

War is coming and all Eirlys of Mirkwood wishes to do is fight alongside her brother Legolas and the other elves, united with Men and Dwarves in their attempt to quell the renewed tensions between them and the orc army of the north. But, her father, Thranduíl has other plans. Unite his kingdom with the newly reestablished kingdom of Erebor and use the power of both to defeat the orcs.

An arranged marriage that neither side wants, but both sides need. But what happens when the two sides realize that maybe—just maybe—being together isn't quite as bad as they'd thought...

Pairing: Thorin x ofc Eirlys of Mirkwood

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.9k

Read on AO3

When she opened her eyes the next morning, Eirlys was alone and she thought for a moment that perhaps she’d dreamed the previous night. Dreamed the previous weeks. 

But then she heard the soft pad of bare feet on wood and rolled onto her belly to gaze out at the terrace. There, dressed in only his trousers, was her husband. She smiled. He is my husband. 

The chill in the morning air did not seem to faze him. He did not shiver. Didn’t rub his hands along his thick biceps or forearms to try to keep warm. Instead, he bent slightly forward—most likely leaning against the railing as she often did—and let the pale early morning sun splash across his skin. It highlighted the swells of muscle along his broad shoulders, down his equally broad back, but her smile faded at the sight of the scars that marred his skin, for there were quite a few. When he moved and the hair that fell halfway down his back shifted, it exposed still more marks. Some were old and had gone white, some were newer and still pink. Some were smooth, but more than one had jagged margins, and she wondered how he’d come by them. 

The sunlight shone along his black hair, the ornaments he’d woven into it glinting, throwing off flashes of light here and there with the slightest of movement. She didn't know what he watched, but something seemed to have caught his attention. 

She snuggled into the pillow beneath her cheek, perfectly content to simply study him. The previous evening had been nothing short of magical and while she hated to see the morning come, she knew there would be more nights like their first and she looked very much forward to them. 

He turned then and her breath hitched. If she’d thought him beautiful in the moonlight, that was nothing compare to him in the daylight. Her dwarf was the powerfully built man she’d ever seen and when he smiled, her heart actually skipped a beat, a soft laugh bubbling to her lips when he grinned and greeted her with, “So that’s why my back grew warm.”

“I’ll not apologize. You’re quite handsome, you know.”

His grin widened as he came back into the room. “I thank you for the compliment, but I’m certain not many would agree with you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she replied, rising to prop her head on her fist. “They must need glasses, to think such a thing.”

He sank onto the edge of the bed. “I thought this moment might be awkward,” he confessed, trailing his fingers along the length of her hair. 

“Why? We did nothing wrong.”

“No, we didn’t. But… it was still nothing I could have prepared for. And I mean that in the nicest way, before you think I found fault with it, or you.”

He skimmed along her hair, over her shoulder, and the caress sent heat streaking through her. Her eyes grew heavy-lidded, but she refused to let them close even as she shivered beneath his touch. “I also found no fault with you, Thorin,” she told him softly. 

“So I did not disappoint you, then?”

She heard the note of teasing, the hint of a smile, in his voice, and shook her head. “Not at all. Did I disappoint you?”

His eyes darkened slightly and he shifted to ease himself over her. The hair curling away from his chest tickled her bare back, and he nuzzled her, whispering, “I think it impossible for you to ever do such a thing.”

Now she let her eyes close, his lips soft and warm, his beard coarse and tickling her skin as he swept teasing kisses along first her cheek, then over her jaw. Sweeping her hair to let it spill over her left shoulder, he then kissed his way down along her neck, over her nape, across her shoulder. With each pass of his lips, her skin grew more sensitive, the warmth that uncoiled in her belly bubbled into heat that spread through her veins.

He slid one hand along her arm, to her hand, beneath her pillow, and covered it, linking his fingers with hers as he whispered, “Does anyone expect us at this hour?”

Her thoughts came muddy and slow, thick and lazy as she managed to murmur, “I care not, to be honest.”

A soft laugh whispered across her back and her toes actually curled as he kissed down over her left shoulder blade. “Good.”

Thorin crept lower, drawing the sheet down to her hips, pausing when she shivered. “Are you cold, mesmel?”

“No.” She could barely make her voice go above a whisper, she felt so languorous. He punctuated each kiss with a teasing sweep of his tongue, and with each caress, the heat within her grew. The now-familiar knots slowly tightened, slowly lowered into her core. He came back up, flattening again her, his breath warm against her ear.

“Your Majesty?”

Eirlys and Thorin groaned in unison at Madris’ voice. With a muffled growl, Thorin eased off her, onto his back and she winced, calling back, “What is it, Madris?”

“Your father sent me up to remind you of the breakfast before everyone departs.”

Eirlys bit back the oath rising to her lips. She’d forgotten about the breakfast. “Give us a minute, please?”

“Of course.”

“I forgot about the breakfast,” she sighed, sinking back into her pillows.

“It is of no matter.” His words wafted slowly into the air, heavy with what sounded like regret. “There will be other mornings.”

That brought a smile to her lips, one that stayed there even as he gave a rough sigh and rose from the bed to go to the wardrobe, where his chest stood alongside it. “Do you promise?”

“Why, Queen Eirlys, you sound almost wanton.”

He said it with a grin, which warmed her blood once more. “Is that a yes, King Thorin?”

Crouching before the chest to lift the lid, he bobbed his head. “It is most definitely a yes.”

“Good.”

“And now,” he stood, a heavy dark grey henley clutched in both hands, “I will go and assure your maid I’ve not been in here ravishing you silly and if you don't mind clumsy dwarven hands assisting you, I will help you dress.”

“She might not believe you.”

“I am very persuasive when I wish to be.” He drew the henley over his head, winking as he emerged through the neck. “Although, I might warn her we will be late to the breakfast. I think she will understand though, given that we are newlyweds.”

“Thorin, we can’t keep our guests waiting.”

He thumped past her, pausing to bend and press a kiss into her forehead. “If they have complaints, they can come visit me in Erebor to voice them.”

“I like how you think.”

He winked once more and then crossed to the door, where he tugged it open and stepped to into the corridor. Eirlys sighed softly, then reluctantly rose from the bed, crouching to swipe her nightgown from the floor, where it had spent the night. The wrapper lay beside it, but further under the bed, and she snatched that as well, balling both in her hands as she stood. 

She moved around the foot of the bed, toward the basket where she’d dump the garments, when something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. 

The dark splotch stood out vibrantly against the white linens. Blood. 

“I thought you might not want your maid to see that.”

Thorin’s voice suddenly in her ear made her jump. He’d come up behind her without a sound, and slid an arm about her waist as he spoke. A feeling of foolishness swirled through her at her starting the way she had, but at the same time, his concern touched her as well. “It’s silly to be concerned about it,” she murmured, shaking her head. “It isn’t as if no one knows what happened here last eve.”

“Still… it’s no one else’s concern, either.” The arm about her waist tightened briefly. “Although, I’ll wager both houses will await the announcement of an heir’s imminent arrival in the coming year.” 

“An heir…” She peered up at him over her shoulder. “I do hope we might adjust to being married first.”

“Of course. But…” He smiled as he released her, and stepped around to whisk the linens from the bed and balled them in his arms. “I rather enjoy how one goes about begetting an heir, so I daresay, we will have one sooner rather than later.”

She didn't answer, not that he gave her a chance. Instead, he tossed the ruined linens into the basket and then crossed back to the wardrobe to tug open the doors. “What did you wish to wear today, Eirlys?”

A sense of unease settled about her even as she forced a smile to her face and said, “I think the pale blue will suffice.”

By early afternoon, the palace became a frantic hive of activity as the wedding guests readied to take their leave. Her father and Thorin had disappeared after breakfast, although neither would tell her why, which irritated her as much as Thorin’s statement about begetting an heir troubled her, and Eirlys tried not to dwell on either as she went in search of Madris to aid her in the packing they need to do to make the trip to Erebor in the coming days.

“Eirlys?”

She paused at a very familiar voice, one she had not heard in what seemed like a lifetime, and turned to smile. “Lachon? Is that really you?”

Lachon of Rivendell hurried toward her, sweeping her up to swing her around. “Did you think I would miss an event such as this? Princess Eirlys of Mirkwood actually settling down and taking a husband?”

She couldn't help her laughter as he set her down, and she smiled up into his warm dark eyes. “My father was none too fond of you, if I recall.”

“Well, now, that would be because he caught me attempting to take liberties with you, if you will also recall.”

“Lachon, we were but children when that happened.”

“I was a boy, yes,” he nodded, tucking her arm through his, “but you were anything but a child.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Either way, it was a lifetime ago, so I suppose Papa thought it would be safe.”

“And he judged correctly. I would never have missed this.” He looked around, the sunlight glinting russet over the reddish-gold hair streaming down his back. “But, where is your new husband? I should like to offer him my congratulations on winning your hand.”

“He is in with my father even as we speak.” She peered over her shoulder, toward the Throne Room, where she figured her father and Thorin were discing whatever it was they discussed. “I’m sure it has something to do with how many soldiers will accompany us back to Erebor.”

“A wise idea, to be sure.” Lachon bobbed his head as they strolled along the walkway, where sun splashed the wood as if lightning their path. “Gundabad has grown far bolder and if you are making your way from here to the Lonely Mountain, it would be best to have as many soldiers as your father might spare.”

She paused, peering up at him. “Have they grown so bold? I know they’ve ventured closer to our borders in the last few weeks, but are they stronger? They have no leader.”

“Oh, but they do once more have a leader.” He turned to her. “And by all reports, he is far worse than Azog or Bolg would ever be.”

She tried to ignore the sudden knots in her stomach, the sense of unease that settled about her. “And has he a name?”

“Rildu. He is a cousin to Azog, or more aptly, was a cousin to him. And that blood knows no mercy, no empathy, and no compassion. And yes, they are stronger now. Stronger and far more determined to rule whatever they can.” Lachon nodded in the direction of the Throne Room. “From what I understand, he is also to out for revenge for what your husband did to his cousin, and what your brother did to Azog’s son.”

“Wonderful.” Her unease grew. Erebor was almost two days’ travel from Mirkwood. Not incredibly far, but a good portion of their journey would be along open road, which would leave them more than a little vulnerable to attack.

“Let’s not talk about it now,” she told him, forcing a smile to her lips, forcing a cheeriness she did not feel into her voice. “Instead, tell me what you’ve been doing since we last met?”

“A little of this, a little of that.” He shrugged. “You know how I am, Eirlys. I’m not overly fond of doing the same thing over and over.”

“I know, but I’d have thought Elrond would have given you the opportunity to channel your energies into one objective.”

Lachon chuckled. “He has. More than once.”

“And still nothing, eh?” 

“I tried to have him speak with your father,” he replied, his smile fading and his eyes growing soft. 

A hint of unease unfurled in her belly. “We’ve been through this before, Lachon. And besides, I’m married now, remember?”

“I know, more’s the pity. Although,” the familiar gleam leaped into his eyes once more, “I am happy for you and Thorin, is his name?”

She cocked her head to the side. “You very well know his name and do not try to pretend otherwise.”

“Guilty. But tell me,” he lowered his voice, “does the fact that he is a dwarf trouble you at all?”

“No,” she replied without hesitation, shaking her head, “not one bit. Why should it?”

He offered up a long look. “Surely, you remember well the last time they passed through here. We heard about it all the way in Imladris.”

She sighed. “The last time they passed through here, it was for the wedding of the king’s nephew to our own Tauriel. So, I’ll wager whatever you heard of that was not nearly as horrifying as what I think you’re alluding to.”

“Don’t be daft, Eirlys. You knew I meant the last time they were here uninvited.”

She stared hard at him. Of course she knew what happened when her father imprisoned the dwarves. They escaped and made their way first to Esgaroth, then to Erebor itself, unleashed Smaug and destroyed the town on the lake.

But, all she said to Lachon was, “What is it you’re saying, man? Don’t beat about the bush, but man up and say it.”

“Your dwarf king went mad. Went mad and nearly wiped out your father’s army, your brother  and Tauriel, all of Esgaroth, as well as his own kin.” Lachon’s dark eyes almost glowed. “And yet you’ve married him just the same, which astounds me.”

“Why?”

“Because when I asked for your hand, you refused. And yet you willingly pledged your troth to him—a dwarf?”

She rolled her eyes. “I refused you because we wanted different things, if you’ll recall. You had our lives all planned out and yet failed to ask me what I felt about any single aspect. I’d rather not have a husband who plans my life for me without any input from me.”

“And your dwarf has listened to you? Has he taken into account what you want?”

“Although, I’ll wager both houses will await the announcement of an heir’s imminent arrival in the coming year.” 

“An heir…” She peered up at him over her shoulder. “I do hope we might adjust to being married first.”

“Of course. But…” He smiled as he released her, and stepped around to whisk the linens from the bed and balled them in his arms. “I rather enjoy how one goes about begetting an heir, so I daresay, we will have one sooner rather than later.”

Still, she couldn't very well tell Lachon how Thorin had not troubled himself to ask her whether or not she even wished to have children. “Lachon, you know how families such as mine are when it comes to marriage. It’s all about the alliances that are created.”

“So, it’s one of convenience,” Lachon nodded, “so why not simply say so?”

He stepped closer and before she could do anything, he caught her around the waist to pull her close. “Remember, my grandmother was Oropher’s mistress. We should continue the tradition, Eirlys.”

“What our grandparents did has no bearing on what we do, and you know as well as I do that those rumors were never more than that—rumors,” she told him, shaking her head. “Now, unhand me.”

“We belong together, you know,” his voice lowered, grew throatier, his arms in fact tightening about her, “and you would be but wasted on that fool, mad dwarf.”

“Lachon, don’t you—”

Before she could finish, he caught her lips in a fierce kiss, his arms like bands of steel about her, pressing her own arms almost painfully against her sides. She tried to jerk back, to pull just beyond his reach, but she had no leverage and no way to force him to yield.

“What goes on here?”

The angry growl of Thorin’s deep voice was enough to make Lachon pull back and she was able to yank free of his grasp. “Thorin, I didn't hear you coming.”

“No,” he growled, turning cold blue eyes to her, “I’ll wager you did not. It’s time for us to take our leave.”

She smiled. “Good. I was just coming to find you.”

“Were you?” His gaze shifted to Lachon. “Did you perhaps mistake an elf for me?”

Her belly knotted. “It isn’t quite what you think.”

“Really?” Thorin came up to them, putting himself between her and Lachon. “You were at the ceremony yesterday, weren’t you?”

Lachon bobbed his head. “I was, indeed.”

“So you know that her Majesty is now married. To me.”

“I do.”

“Good.” Thorin offered up a mild smile and then, to both Eirlys’ and Lachon’s surprise, leveled the elf with a punch that seemingly came from nowhere. 

Lachon crumpled to his knees and Thorin crouched before him, adding, “If you come near her again, I will kill you. Do you understand that, elf?”

Blood trickled from the corner of Lachon’s mouth, and he gingerly prodded at his already swelling bottom lip as he nodded. 

Eirlys pressed her lips together to hold back her smile as she looked over at Thorin. He’d seen the kiss, but he’d no doubt seen her fighting Lachon off as well, which filled her with relief. At least his anger was aimed at the right person.

She moved to slip her arm through his. “I’ve never been so thankful to see you, Thorin,” she whispered, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Indeed,” he replied, his voice cold, “and now it is time for us to take our leave.”

With that, he started off, and she stumbled as she tried to fall into step with him. Fury practically radiated from him as he stalked away from Lachon, still on the floor. Eirlys had to practically run to keep up with him, and as they rounded the corner leading to her chambers, she said, “What is the matter?”

“The matter is that you were kissing another man the morning after our wedding.”

“Wait,” she dug her heels into the floor to halt him, yanking her arm free, “I was what?”

“I saw you.” He spun around to face her. “Laughing with him and then the next minute, kissing him. Now, I know you and I might not know each other well yet, and perhaps that isn’t exactly how a marriage should begin, but—”

“I want’t kissing him. He was kissing me.”

He stared at her, eyes cold, arms folded. “As if there is a difference.”

“There is this time! He kissed me and made it so I couldn’t free myself.”

“Is that so? I thought you were trained alongside your brother, with Tauriel, with the others, to defend yourself. Didn’t you tell me that? That you are skilled with a bow and arrow as well as steel? And yet, you could not avoid a single kiss?”

“I couldn't when he’d pinned my arms to my sides, you fool!”

“I am indeed a fool,” he replied with a sharp bob of his head, “for now I am bound to you, my faithless queen, for the rest of my days. You should have but told me your heart belonged to another, for I would have refrained from consummating our marriage and then could have possibly freed myself.”

Her heart beat at triple its pace as she held his angry stare. “If that is what you wish to do, then leave for Erebor without me. I will tell no one of last evening.”

“Your sheets were stained with your virgin’s blood, your maid saw them and for all I know, they’ve been presented to your father as proof of our joining. So, as much as I would now rather just leave you behind, I can do no such thing.”

“I did not ask him to kiss me. I did not want him to kiss me, Thorin. But he did so anyway. I’ve not betrayed you nor am I faithless, but instead fell prey to a man who used his size and strength against me to his advantage and for all I know, he saw you there and that was why he did what he did.”

“We will never know, I suppose.”

“No, but you’ve already made up your mind as it is, so I don't suppose it matters one way or the other.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He turned and strode away, calling over one shoulder, “We leave in thirty minutes’ time and do not think to hide in your chambers. You will be with me in my coach if I must throw you over my shoulder and put you there myself.”

“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” she snapped.

He paused then, turning back toward her. “Satisfaction?” He shook his head. “There is no satisfaction. I knew better than to trust Thranduíl. Woodland elves lack all honor and now I am trapped with one for the rest of my days.”

“Thorin, I do not lie when I say I tried to free myself from him. I—”

“Of course you did. I saw what a struggle you put up. Please, do not insult my intelligence.”

He bit off the last part as he whipped about and stalked off without a look back. A heavy sigh rose to Eirlys’ lips as she watched him go, watched the way the light played along his silver-streaked black hair, the way it glinted off the silver ornaments woven into those long curls. As soon as he calmed down, he would realize she told the truth. Why else would he hit Lachon the way he did?

Lachon.

She stalked back to where he still sat, his back against the wall, probing the swollen lower part of his face. Crouching alongside him, she said, “If you ever come near me again, Lachon, I will see to it that you never know another woman again. Am I clear?”

“Bugger off,” he mumbled around his puffy bottom lip.

“Gladly.”

With that, she stood up and marched off, wondering who had been fool enough to invite him to the wedding and how she untangled herself from the mess his being invited had created for her. 

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