#the bold type spoiler

[a-lilacsong]

This was originally meant to be a 100% goofy funny comic, but somehow it turned into angst halfway through. I still think it's funny that Minimus canonically learns the truth before Amber and James though.

(And thanks to @ograndebatata for helping me rewrite the script to be more fitting).

Comic Script: Roland: … So, now you know the truth about my first wish on the well. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. If any of you has anything to say, please do. Roland: Okay… one at a time please. James: Does this mean I'm half-wishing well? If someone put a coin in my mouth could I grant their wishes? Roland: WHAT?! NO! Absolutely not! Sofia: I'm sorry dad. Minimus and I already knew, and I think he has told every horse in the kingdom by now. Roland: That's not… how did you…? Amber: Daddy… does that mean I could have killed Sofia when I turned her into a cat? Would she be dead because of me? Roland: No Amber. That wouldn't have happened. Don't worry, no one got hurt. Amber: But Sofia almost was! Roland: But she wasn't. She's alright. All of you are. I'm sorry I only told you now. but please remember we both love you all very much. And we'll all get through this together.

[diamondseaside]

PINSTRIPE SLEPT WITH THAT GIRL OH HES DEAD TO ME

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[cvpidsb0ws]

❛CONFESSIONS.❜ | alice in borderland characters

genre: FLUFFFLUFFFLUFF <333

warnings: NONE I THINK!!

sypnosis: headcanons of alice in borderland characters confessing to you.

author's note: did i disappear after just one aouad imagine then appear again with an alice in borderland obsession? yes i did. 😁😁😁😁 !not proofread!

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ryohei arisu

RYOHEI ARISU WOULD BE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR YOU. ONLY YOU.

he's definitely that kind of person to hide his feelings because he's scared of rejection

so that means he's the type to not make the first move at all CONSIDERING HE'S A SHY BB!!!!!!!

BUT BUT BUT HE'LL PROBABLY GROW FED UP OF YOU NOT GETTING THE HINT OF HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU

SO IT WOULD LEAD TO HIM FINALLY CONFESSING AAAAAAAAAAA

arisu would probably be anxious the whole time 😭😭😭😭 like shaking, sweaty palms, stuttering, uncontrollable laughter, etc

HE WOULD PROBABLY CONFESS AT A PICNIC OR SOMETHING SIMILAR <333

he would try his best to cook all of your favorite foods even though he sucks at cooking💪💪

he would buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers!!!!!!!!

OH AND HE WOULD ALSO WRITE A LETTER WHERE HE PUTS 100 FUCKING REASONS WHY HE LOVES YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

he's the type to prepare cue cards because he know he would fumble while he confesses

LIKE HE PROBABLY PREPARED A WHOLE ASS SPEECH BUT THERE WOULD BE A MOMENT WHEN HE JUST STARES AT YOU AND REALIZE HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU WHICH KIND OF LEADS HIM TO JUST SAYING A SIMPLE "i love you"

yuzuha usagi

YUZUHA USAGI WOULD ONLY HAVE YOU AS HER WEAKNESS.

she's someone who has always been fearless, bold, and etc🙀🙀🙀 SO WHEN SHE STARTS TO HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU, OFC SHE FEELS CONFLICTED OR CONFUSED

probably because she's strong and you making her flustered meant her downfall😁😁

she wasn't complaining though

USAGI WOULDN'T TAKE LONG TO CONTEMPLATE HER FEELINGS FOR YOU THO

if she liked you, then she liked you :)))

AND SHE WOULDN'T BE SCARED OF CONFESSING AT ALL BUT SHE WOULD STILL HAVE HER DOUBTS

doubts that chased her every time she went for a run or climbed a mountain‼️‼️‼️

SHE WOULD PROBABLY BRING YOU TO HER FAVORITE MOUNTAIN BEFORE THE SUN COMES UP

AND SHE WOULD INVITE YOU TO SIT ON THE GROUND AS THE SUN CRACKS LIKE AN EGG YOLK IN THE SKY

she won't even realize that you have already lied your head against her shoulder

AND THAT'S WHAT TRIGGERS HER TO SAY SHE HAS FEELINGS FOR YOU

shuntaro chishiya

chishiya is chishiya. self explanatory. <3

HE WOULD BE IN DENIAL FOR THE LONGEST TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

he will not want to accept the fact that he fell for someone since he has the master manipulator factors and all💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

but you were an exception ;)))

he would practically go from being a logical person to a carefree one for you LIKE HE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT THINGS WHEN HE'S WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU MAKE HIM FORGET THINGS WORTH WORRYING (and as much as he hates to admit you make him happy)

he would act cold, tease you 25/8 just to cover up the fact he has feelings for you

HE WOULD PROBABLY CONFESS BY HIDING ENVELOPES THAT HELD RIDDLES OR CLUES FOR YOU TO FIND

AND THOSE ENVELOPES WOULD LEAD YOU TO WHERE YOU FIRST MET

he knew you were clever enough to solve them :)

he would stand there waiting while he was wearing a suit that made him itch (BUT HE WOULD REMEMBER THE TIME YOU SAID MEN IN SUITS WERE ATTRACTIVE)

he would also have shampooed and conditioned hair for effort🙏🙏🙏🔥🔥🔥

AND A SIMPLE "i may or may not have feelings for you" WOULD HAVE SUFFICED AS HIS CONFESSION

hikari kuina

YOU WOULD BE HIKARI KUINA'S SOFT SPOT.

she would be too scared to be rejected by you because she didn't want to ruin your friendship

but she would still be confident on confessing #kuinathingzzzzzz

PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO PROVE SHE WAS BRAVE-

SHE WOULD CONFESS BY CHALLENGING YOU

LIKE SHE WOULD INVITE YOU TO FIGHT HER FOR 5 ROUNDS BECAUSE SHE TOLD YOU SHE HAD A SECRET THAT YOU COULD ONLY FOUND OUT IF U WON AGAINST HER.

spoiler: she loses to you on purpose because she knows how much you hate losing😍😍😍😍

SHE LOVED WINNING BUT SHE WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR YOU TO HAVE A SMILE ON YOUR FACE

her being the reason for a smile on your face made her weak🙏🙏🙏🙏

she would also give u a prize for winning <333

EITHER A RING, A NECKLACE, OR A BRACELET

AND SHE WAS THE ONE TO MAKE THEM BY HAND WITH BEADS

although it frustrsted her, she knew it would make you smile

"i love you . . . like so much."

suguru niragi

admit it. suguru nigari will not catch feelings for anyone at all.

unless it's you ofc😍😍😍😍🙏🙏🙏🙏

BUT HE HATED THE FEELING

HE HATED HOW MUCH HE GREW FOND OF YOU

HE HATED HOW YOU MADE HIM BLUSH, FEEL BUTTERFLIES FLUTTERING IN HIS STOMACH, GROW A SMIRK INTO A SMILE, AND MORE.

he would also be confused about his feelings since he's niragi😆😆😆😆

LET'S BE HONEST BECAUSE THIS MAN IS STUBBORN ASF AND WILL NOT CONFESS AT ALL.

he would probably drop big ass hints to wait for you to confess

BUT YOU WOULDN'T GET ANYTHING WHICH CAUSES HIM TO BE ANNOYED

AND SOON ENOUGH

"fuck it, i like you, dumbass."

[whoyacallinyellow]

never again

John Marston x F! reader

Spoilers: RDR2 ch1 Content: 18+ mdni, NFSW, m/f smut, drunk sex, praise, pervert warning, canon typical events / violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, grammar errors I couldn’t be bothered to fix. Type: second pov / (wc - 1442) / pc: me

Summary: a night of drinking never goes unpunished

You stirred awake to a shadow looming in the tent. The soft clanking of metal, and clicking of spurs from unsteady steps made your breath hitch. Now propped up on your elbows, your heavy eyes managed to follow the man fumbling in the darkness. 

Through your delirium, incoherent murmurs must have escaped you which warranted a response. 

“jus’ me, hush.”

John’s whisper, soft like butter, melted your body back onto the bedroll. It only took three words from the man to bring you the security he offered, in more ways than one. 

“s’alright.” 

John reassured through a strain, knowing he startled you all too often— whether it was a late night drinking, or a guard shift.

Your shared tent was tucked behind the medicine wagon, close enough for John to keep an eye on you, but far enough for some privacy the man so desperately requested. 

Soon enough his body was united with yours, a welcoming embrace of tobacco and whiskey that never failed to blanket you with comfort during the night. 

His chest vibrated against your back as he hummed, rejoicing in the mutual comfort that he brought you. John’s hand ran down your side, calloused palms snagging on the fabric as he worked against it. Your torso trembled, anticipating his every action as he was soon consumed by a different high. His lack of rationalization from the whiskey radiated off him with a feverish heat that pulsed over you. 

“c’mon sweetheart.”

The vague and needy words dissipated as quickly as they formed. Your eyes met his, a certain sadness sunk within his dull blue wells, glossed and masked over with the liquid dopamine he poured every night. 

Turning to his embrace, your hands weaved through his shirt, both unclasping the buttons and beckoning him. An offer John gladly took as you positioned yourself for his body on top of yours. 

With one arm propping himself over you, and the other tussling at his waist. His rehearsed movements in the dark had to be second nature by now.  

The wind rippled through the fabric of the tent, momentarily welcoming in the moonlight. Allowing you to catch a glimpse of the man over you, the blue beams kissing the raw scars on his cheek. 

There was no doubt John got off easy, 

The wolves could have taken much more from him, but managed to be more forgiving than any BlackWater lawman could have been. 

You let out an impatient protest as his hands continued to fumble, temporarily appeasing you with his lips. 

His stubble dragging across your collarbone made you shutter. John’s kisses were usually coated in whiskey, only to leave you with a different high than the one he chased earlier. 

“you’ve been eyeballin’ me all day, missy.”

He remarked against your skin, a slight drawl presenting itself as he freed your torso from your shirt. 

You felt your cheeks heat up, both from his words, and your naked state. Despite John knowing your body just damn well as his own, everytime managed to feel like the first.  

John always caught your eyes on him. Sweat beading down his forehead as he worked an axe effortlessly, it was almost as if the man was beautifully built for manual labor. You were infatuated with the way his biceps would flex while his toned muscles peeked through the shirt that clung to him with every move. He would eventually meet your indiscreet gaze with amusement, knowing very well he would be all over you at night's arrival. 

Your eyes would simply linger a moment longer, despite being caught red handed. He couldn't help but to admire your boldness, a confidence hidden within you not needing to be boasted about for validation. 

“Someone’s gonna hear—“ 

You cooed, your worries being thrown away by the hungry lips and hands that carassessed your breasts.  

John grumbled, not bothered to remove his attention from your neck. Throughout his buzzed state, his hands became coordinated, grasping at and invading every part of your bare skin available to him. 

How sweet he thought you were, a blank canvas only for him cast upon. A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt a small nibble on your neck. His excitement demonstrated through the smile plastered against your skin, along with a hard spot pressing against your leg. 

“keep those little lips quiet, now.” 

John commanded with a whisper, his rough fingertips ghosting their way across your waist to free you from your restricting garments. 

His drunken staggering alone was enough to wake the others, but the man always blamed you for being too noisy.

Perhaps it was his own pride, cocky words he could not help but to boast— he reckoned it ain’t his fault he’s so good in the sheets. Hell, he can’t help how he makes you feel. 

“such a good girl for me, ain’t ya?”

John murmured through a soft moan, just the thought of you made him ache, his body begging for the release you so willingly gave him.

His pants were finally kicked down and bunching up just below his knees. Before words could be spoken they were interrupted by John’s fingertips that raised to his lips, a dollop of spit being dispersed onto them. 

A brash groan left his lips and graced your rosy cheeks while his hand stroked up the shaft of his cock— either unneeded preparation, or a ritual of his, you couldn’t tell. 

Your torso knotted and quivered  against him, impatience consuming your every move. Quiet moans escaped you as the head of his cock met your slick entrance, always proving his preparation irrelevant. 

“Jesus, woman— this worked up over me?” 

The man beamed with a husky chuckle, not realizing the volume of his voice until your palm smacked his chest. 

More of a tease at your dismay, John couldn’t help but to always comment on it. Your wetness was a mere reminder he always took pride in. 

His smug smile eventually twisted into a bitten lip as he eased himself into you, the lack of self control overrunning any wit to him he had left.  

“that’s it,” 

John praised gently, his jaw going lax as his length slipped further in you. A rugged hand clasped over your mouth as his hips began to thrust. His half-lidded eyes eventually meeting yours. 

Your eyes held so much trust for him, trust he was never sure how he earned in the first place. How he wished he could hear the moans of his name, but instead focused on the shared pleasure you gave him. With your walls contracting and fluctuating around him, he thought it was nearly too much to handle.  

“Marston! It's your shift!” 

A nasally demand rang from outside the tent.

Through your ecstasy, you had no recollection of any steps approaching, and neither did John— god only knows how long the pervert was loitering outside the thin canvas. 

“Christ!” 

The shriek of horror that left John’s lips, you could have sworn he saw a ghost. Springing up at your feet, his pants were yanked up and manhood tucked away while you scrambled for cover. 

John stormed out with a stumble, so many feelings of wrong and right flooding through and past him like the wind. 

“Goddamnit— Williamson—“ 

He sputtered in disbelief, arms gesturing violently towards the man’s mug. 

“If I didn’ know any better, I reckon you’d like hearin’ my woman.” 

John barked at the man, the shock in his tone long erased by bitterness. 

You hid in your palms, the embarrassment burning through your cheeks, and the airborn tension that managed to leak into the tent. 

The silence John created was painful, if it wasn’t obvious enough already, the entire camp was now aware of you two. 

The pause was eventually broken with a nasty hawk and spit, along with curses that ran off of John’s tongue. His pleasant night with you was quickly turning into a sober guard shift. 

John trudged back through the tent flaps in defeat, retrieving his discarded gun belt at your feet with a frown plastered on his face, gently illuminated by the lantern he now held. 

“never again in camp.” 

The man scowled to himself, the risk of waking the others was long gone— if he had to be miserable, so did everyone else trying to sleep. 

With John’s attention circling back to you, another kiss, just as needy as before, was placed on your lips, lingering for a moment before meeting his impending doom. 

His boots were haphazardly pulled on with a struggle. You repeated his words, a small grin crept upon you in his state of frustration. 

“never again.” 

~

[fetishccinealfredo]

Hello again :D

It's the barbatos simp again. Hope you don't mind me asking... but what do you think about fucking the obey me cast in a their demon/angel/Idk I know what Solomon would look like, but it would be something weird because of the food he eats, I mean, you are what you eat.

I really don't doubt that everyone is some type of eldrych horror. I mean, they have to. If it's common sense that Levi has two dicks, then everyone should have something packing under there.

(If possible, gender neutral pls and sub mc?)

Thanks for the attention <333

Hello again! ^-^

Hmmm... true forms, huh? I'll admit it; I've never thought of it before!

Also, how Solomon eats his own food and survives for literal centuries-- I have no clue. 🤷

I'm going to guess these are more headcanons then individual fics, but I'll make 'em as best as I can!

i'm not that much of a monsterfucker like this, so i apologize if it's bad;;

// note: there is a joke at that talks about Lesson 16! So, spoiler ahead! //

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, we all know Lucifer's clearly got some kind of thing for intimidation. He likes to be seen as scary or big in some way. And that's exactly how he makes you feel. He wants to make your heart race and legs shake. Dominant and not afraid to show it, tying you up and being more brutal with his "punishments" (if you're into that). Lucifer shows his fangs when he grins, and his growls sound not human as he pounds into you. He will leave you gasping and marked from head to toe, and feels no shame. His penis is not human either in this form, it is a little bigger and has a little more girth and texture, with a blueish tint near the top.

Mammon is surprisingly more passionate, and more bold with his actions. One of his favorite things is holding your head still as he fucks your throat. But oh, don't worry, he didn't forget about you. His greed makes him want to make you cum the most, wanting all your lust to himself and himself alone. He will get you off and make out with you, and won't stop until you cum as much as he wants. His penis has a more ridged texture and gold streaks through it, like a tattoo.

Leviathan gets possessive of you, and is determined to make you feel the best to squelch his jealousy. He has two penises, and puts them to pretty damn good use. He can get more intense, fucking you at a surprising pace. You are his, and he will let the whole world know that.

Satan uses his anger to create a sense of dominating that like Lucifer, would get your heart racing. He will press you against the wall, growling loudly as he fucks you, his claws lightly digging into your skin as he holds your hips. If you're into it, he's not opposed to leaving claw marks and bites on your skin in the slightest. His penis is bigger, and has a texture underneath, and is tinted grin at the top.

Asmodeus, being the Avatar of Lust, will fuck you relentlessly in either form. But in his demon form, more magical sensations are used, and his orgasms are stronger, because he feels your lust too. You orgasm physically, but also through your soul. His penis is about the same size, but has more girth. His tip almost forms a heart, and is tinted pink.

Beelzebub is the most gentle out of his brothers, focusing on your pleasure and making sure you enjoy yourself. His sin makes him more desperate for you, grinding against you and making out with you as his pins you gently to the bed. He fucks you passionately, growling between moans. His penis is three inches bigger than normal, and has stripes throughout.

Belphegor, like Levi, and gets possessive of you. He can choke you again if you wanted him to, and will edge you, just to get your reaction. He likes to be the one to draw those kinds of reactions out of you.

Solomon, while he doesn't have a true form, would use magic to overstimulate you in the best ways, making you cum over and over again as well as himself. The magical sensations are electrifying, tingling the inside of your body.

Simeon, in his true angelic form, has more than one penis (and many pairs of eyes). His wings are huge, and so is something else downstairs. If he were to have sex with you, he would shroud you and himself in his wings, and make passionate love to you (and pray for forgiveness afterwards).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope I did this okay!

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Damon scrolling through tiktok and suddenly gets recommended a video his darling nerd posted that went viral

Spoiler, It's a thirst trap. ♡°▽°♡

🦪 Anon again !!!! >∆<

Yandere! Jock x Honor student! gn! reader

What if: Darling posts a thirst trap?

LMAO 🦪anon your ideas are so fun HADHSAHDAH

Damon was bored out of his mind.

School was out, summer is in, and he's truly about to lose his mind from the lack of things he's about to do.

He's tired of seeing his parents tip toe around him and he just wants out.

He wants to stretch his body and workout, but he doesn't have any kind of mental energy to do that after fighting with his mother just earlier.

Who in their right mind would cross Damon and tell him that his obsession love for you is getting too much by using the family printer and printing a life size cutout of you?

He's upset, but he still got the cutout anyways.

Mindlessly scrolling through his feeds, he decided to go through tiktok like a drone looking for mental stimulation.

The hours passed by, his thumb sliding across the screen as he drank in countless videos of sports, video games, drama, AITA reddit videos, viral videos, random ones, and sponsored vids.

Not until he saw a certain body doing the baba trend.

Sure, they're wearing a mask, but Damon can recognize that frame anywhere that looked so small beside him.

His breathing became shallow, blood pumping as he watched you lift your shirt up for the camera, showing off your body that's making his own body shiver.

You looked so shy, yet so bold as your eyes gazed through the camera with a cyber y2k filter on.

With the music wafting his ears, his gaze fixated on your body as the video repeats again.

and again.

And again.

And again...

It's engraved to his mind already as he shakily long pressed on the video. Finding it unsavable, he inwardly groaned as he frantically tried to find a way to save the video.

Damon was trembling, desperate to have your video saved on his phone as he downloaded a screensaver app.

Breathless as he may, that doesn't mean he's slow to record your video and saving it immediately on his gallery for future watches and uses.

What uses?

That's for him to know, and that's for everybody to not find out as he obsessively stalked through your profile.

"God..." He mused. "Little nerd, holy shit..."

Your profile was filled with you, in a black mask, doing different types of tiktok videos.

But it's no ordinary videos.

No no no... It's all thirst traps.

Baba, that DPR Ian belt dance trend, silhouette... You were participating in all these videos. And everything was to show off your body that he knows and love.

Yet, you don't tag them at all.

So, what's the point?

People were not discovering them too, as views are only mostly at single digits. Yet that didn't deter his annoyance and jealousy one bit as he bit back a moan, watching you tease the camera. Lifting your mask a bit and licking the air.

"What the fuck..."

Damon can feel himself getting hard down there.

It's a treasure trove just for him.

He can feel a twitching smile creep up his face as he gently clicked on follow.

Your first follower.

Damon doesn't know why you're running a thirst trap account, or why you're doing it in the first place.

If it's for validation, then he's sorry but he's gonna make sure he's the only one who can see the videos.

He doesn't know how, but he's going to do it.

He doesn't need rabid dogs on your account. He can't afford that.

Not when he can't exactly kill so many people if you were ever to go viral at all.

But now, he waits as he predicts your next move. If you're gonna go private, follow him back, ask him how he found your account.

All of the videos are saved anyways.

[hyhkai]

txt as book boyfriends

a/n ; my opinions, casual writing, and not proofread, some spoilers of the books maybe?

Yeonjun — Alex Volkov [Twisted Series]

"alex, that piece costs $40,000"

"really? shit. i thought it was expensive."

yeonjun as Alex Volkov is because of the way Alex talks, the way he'd always had this surpressed feeling for his friends sister, the way Alex had that very mysterious aura about him halfway through the book towards everyone about his life, and ESPECIALLY the chapters of the movie night and where he had booked a hotel room just so he could take her there and fuck her after the swimming pool scene really has me on a chokehold because it's so yeonjun coded... yeonjun is the type to teach you something you have a fear of and then turn it into sex of your life if you can interpret that into your imagination.

while that is one spectrum of this character, the other being from the photoshoot scene, where he's posing and talking about his life that changed her perception of him. as I've mentioned before, the way Alex talks and the way he is is just so amusing and it's altogether a very yeonjun aura.

Soobin — Aaron Warner [Shatter me series]

"I want you to make a list of things you want and I want my heart to be on it."

Aaron has one quality i associate with bf!soobin and that is — care. they care about their girls dearly. soobin and Aaron are so similar in my vision — especially with soobins blonde era, dimples, and how aaron had this underlying obsession for Ella, makes me just think of soobin. and ofcourse his iconic line,, "lift your hips for me, love." is so soobin coded. Aaron would never bring her down, even if it was going to sabotage his own impression on others, he'd always be for her. soobin is just like that.

also soobin & warner are also the epitome of gentleman who are absolute freaks in bed and are so silent and know how to give it to you lmao.

Beomgyu — Levi Ward [Love on the brain]

"she's my soulmate. if I hurt, she hurts."

Levi was very public about his love for bee in the book, even before from where the plot starts. beomgyu is so like that, he'd never deny his affection and his urge to always be lurking around with you like he's your damn dog.

Taehyun — Ravi [A good girl's guide to murder]

"we're a team, remember? no one's taking you away from me, not even you."

do i even need to explain? Ravi is smart, flirty and attractive. with his comic attitude, he's still clever and witty. a friend I'd call when in trouble and then hopelessly fall in love with. understanding, and affectionate in general. everything I like in a man, and is the only one that came to mind for taehyun. he's bold and knows what he's doing and also has his soft side.

Hueningkai — zade meadows [Haunting Adeline]

"will you be my last meal, baby?"

LET ME EXPLAIN. hueningkai just is.. like that. outside, he's quiet and nobody will ever look at him and go "he's obsessed with a girl.". but, he's exactly that. his black hair era just reminds me of meadows and how hueningkai WOULD fuck you in the house of Mirrors after the carnival closed (that's a scene i swear). and I am indeed only talking about the romance plot of the series of course.

luring into your house and suggesting a game of hide and seek, you hid in the storage room and he'd laugh, saying "if I catch you, i fuck you." and then finding you immediately.

and you'd be so annoyed by his dire need of you, getting on your needs, taking his belt off and wrapping it around your own neck and handing him the lose end of it as he just grinned at the pathetic sight — how lovely.

[fumifooms]

Is there an archive for all of your analysis? I want to read them in order 🙇‍♀️

I was gonna say yes and link you to the in-built tumblr blog archive with my tag ‘analysis’ but then I remembered I tag inconsistently. Oops! So here is a huh, attempt. Chronological order is less important imo than topic but for what it’s worth the oldest are the ones to the left. Gonna pin this. This got too much for Tumblr to handle so unfortunately I have to split between reblogs.

This is all for Dunmeshi because I haven’t done nearly as many analyses for anything else. Divided by post type and topic but I do repeats when relevant. My older ones tend to be less polished so uh apologies for that, I’ll put my favorite ones in bold. Looking back there are a lot of posts I’d like to either streamline or remake more complete... Many of this contain spoilers so for that be careful and refer to individual tags.

Masterposts: laimar crumbs (discontinued) - marchil crumbs - Chilchuck’s family - beastkin tattoos - Nakamoto household

Compilations: Marcille’s smile to Laios - Izu dad Chilchuck - Laios bragging faces - Teasing Marcille gone wrong - Chilchuck drunk/drinking - Chilchuck being crass - Chilchuck hugs (incomplete) - Kaka - Hien & Benichidori - Marcille & Chilchuck worsties (incomplete) - Chilchuck old man posture (incomplete) - Chilchuck's type 🤨 (incomplete) - Chilchuck wristwatch - Helki - Marcille and Chilchuck parenting Izutsumi

LAIOS: Succubus scene analysis - Laios-Shuro fight analysis - Izu-Laios relationship analysis - autism & the nonhuman - Laios' nightmare aka autistic existential horror - Laios and chimeras

MARCILLE: Mothers & mom friend Marcille - Chil & Marcille contrasts & parallels - love languages - Marcille and separation - Marcille's view of Chilchuck - Marcille and romance - Marcille and being a burden

CHILCHUCK: Chil’s sense of humor - Chil & Marcille contrasts & parallels - love languages - Chilchuck is underweight - Chilchuck’s family masterpost - Chil’s wife’s appearance - Chilchuck character analysis speedrun - Ask: Chil & wife and change - Ask: Chilchuck, good husband? - Chilchuck’s succubus - the importance of law - getting hired & job description - Chil's buckle shirt & wardrobe - Chilchuck, family & alcoholism - Chilchuck & guilt - Chilchuck and drinking: when and how - Chilchuck in song lyrics

IZUTSUMI: Mothers & mom friend Marcille - Izu-Laios relationship analysis - Nakamoto household masterpost - Izu & alcohol

FALIN: fairy’s child parallels - short Falin analysis - Falin who cares too much and too little - Thistle & Falin - Trans Falin

THISTLE: clown costume & belonging (+ read tags) - Homegrown (web weaving) - Thistle & Delgal and death - Yaad & Thistle - Thistle & Falin

TOSHIRO: Nakamoto household masterpost - Toshiro likes bugs + Falin relevance - Toshiro’s succubus - Trans Toshiro (and Falin) - parallels to Kuro and Forva

Minor characters: Lycion’s dysmorphia + follow-up on his past addiction - Kaka compilation - Chil’s daughters & party brotps - Nakamoto household masterpost (every related character including Toshiro's family members) - Hien’s younger sister - unnamed buzzcut gold-stripper - Dandan - a Hien reading - Yaad & Thistle - Chil's daughters and marriage - Helki - unnamed canary with eye tattoo) - Kuro parallels

Gen: Reactions to the dark magic resurrection

Marcille & Chilchuck: marchil crumbs - contrasts & parallels (not ship) - Taking care of each other sick - Marcille & Chil’s daughters - their love languages (ship but analytical focus) - pre-canon dynamic (not ship) - astrology (ship & short) - Chilchuck's type 🤨 - waxing poetic (good summary) - marchil from Marcille's end - Marcille and romance - marchil & stability

[passcode58]

"You Cryin?"

Not Requested |

Pure Fluff |

High school Gojo Satoru x Reader 

Warnings | spoilers

(I can do different variations of this...including something sexy🫢Just lmk if you want it.)

It's one of the days where the entire group went on a mission. As you embarked on the dangerous mission alongside Gojo, Utahime, Mei Mei, Shoko, and Geto, the tension in the air is naught as you're mostly well prepared and confident in your abilities. Utahime was the only girl who seemed to struggle in holding her own, but it didn't matter because she was still strong. Scared but strong, and you admired her as much as any other. The group ventures deep into the rubble, and what was left over of the crumbled building, filled with ominous shadows and eerie whispers. 

It takes a while of screaming and yelling but eventually Utahime stumbles out and the entire building collapses. Dust swims about the air clouding your vision and when everything settles it reveals your sweet angel trapped under a small pile and her ankle gets caught, causing her to wince in pain. Concerned, you rush to her side, but Gojo quickly reaches her before you do, displaying both his genuine care— although his care is terribly displaced and comes off as assholish cocky trashy prince saviour shit as he declares,"I'm here to save you!" The sun is as blue as his eyes as he cockily steps up onto the rubble, head tilting to the side. His snowy white hair falls into his face. With a playful smirk, his rosy pink lips parted as smoothly teases, "Utahime, You cryin'?" As soon as he said those words your legs quite literally buckled and you had to hold onto your weapon to stand straight. Soft, creamy like velvet cake, it didn't crack, but was rather pleasing to your ear. Tingles shot up your spine. His voice was something else. He was cocky as hell but the way he said that put you in a trance. Joining in you stepped forward, crumbled cement breaking under your feet as you remark, "Keep talking like that and you'll have more than a curse to worry about, Satoru." Mei smirks. "My my, didn't take you for the bold type, (Y/n)."

Immediately, the damsel is forgotten as he turns to face you, biting his lip as he takes in your pretty little form, eyes narrowing as he once again finds you insanely beautiful. "Oh? Think I can't handle you?" Again with that sultry tone, your raise a perfectly groomed brow, pursuing your lips as you bite back, jokingly. "Oh hunny, you know you can't." That was true. You were both hot, and your Caribbean charm added a layer of banter he couldn't find with anyone else. Not to mention your glistening dark skin, the way your eyes twinkled under the sun perfectly curly hair and—

"We—

"Satoru, it's not nice to pick on the weak, and for the love of god, please stop flirting in front of us." With Suguru's interruption you let a laugh rip out as the two begin to bicker like an old couple. Once Utahime was sage you returned to Mei Mei's side with that dreamy look in your eyes. She gives you a knowing glance, "You have it bad, don't you?"

With a defeated look, you slump into her. "It's you bitches with the white hair. I can't resist you." And no sooner are you starting into her eyes, her finger hooked under your chin as she purrs, "Oh sweetie. I know."

[maximotts]

I'm wondering what would jealous/possessive PH!WandaNat be like? I'm sure WandaNat get hit on all the time, but what about the reader? Say maybe they take reader to a party and another female mob boss is showing an interest in the reader who thinks the lady is just being nice (or do they realize it and like the attention?). Does WandaNat intervene at the party? How do they deal with the reader when they get home?

Okay okay, I have like, one quick set of minutes to get my thoughts down on this and I've been staring at this ask for days so lets see if I can answer this fully rn! Spoiler Alert: I did

Honestly, I'd say since our dear reader is a bartender, she's no stranger to being hit on by others. That behavior settles down more so once Wanda and Natasha make it clear that you're theirs, but that's at work.

Whenever you're working a party, you try to be nice and polite, not wanting to offend anyone especially given the types of clientele that frequent Wanda and Natasha's bar, so even if you're being hit on you brush it off or give a thank you before going back to pouring drinks.

If they've just brought you to a party for fun, that's a whole different story. It'd be hard to get too far away from both of them in the first place, but when you do, there'd certainly be people who want your attention; everyone's curious what kind of girl could've been so appealing to Wanda and Nat who are like, notoriously very closed in their relationship.

And you're not completely oblivious to what's going on, you'd hardly be the most interesting person at the party if it weren't for the women you were associated with, but when curious questions turn to flirting, you get more flustered than anything.

Some people are more bold with it than others, Carol for instance, who's been friends with Nat for decades and has a reputation for wanting things she can't have.

Maybe you've never been great at initiating flirting, but years of bartending meant you'd developed a skill of falling into a natural banter with others. So when Carol offers you a drink, you take it, laugh when she makes comments about your cuteness being why Wanda picked you out, retort that by that logic Wanda and Nat should've asked her out long ago; stuff you see as harmless flirting.... which is all fine and good until your girlfriends catch wind of it.

If Wanda catches you, she'll make a beeline to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind and making a show of kissing your neck, "There you are, little dove. I told you not to run off where I can't find you."

And it sounds sweet, but her voice has an edge and Wanda's eyes never leave Carol's, who really isn't intimidated, she never has been by Wanda, and you know you're in trouble.

On the other hand, if it's Natasha who spies your little flirting, she'll just watch, see how far deep of a hole you dig yourself into, let the rest of the party go by with you thinking nothing of the interaction at all... but the second she puts you in the car, she's whispering in your ear, "I really hope you're not too tired because you're getting a spanking for every time you giggled at our friends flirting with you, every cute little bat of your eyelashes and cheeky lip bite; I saw it all, naughty thing."

The pair of them would decide your full punishment right in front of you on the way home, wedged between your girlfriends as they took turns betting how red your ass would get with which toy, if you'd pass out before they finished, how loudly you'd beg to cum knowing it wouldn't be a possibility that night in the slightest.

You'd learn your lesson about flirting for sure, but that doesn't mean you don't try it sometimes still when you want to piss them off.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Ge tian x Fem Bird Keeper? Pleaseplease😭😭🙏🙏 I WANT, IT can be fluff, please

Ge Tian x Fem! Birdkeeper Reader

─────❅─────

Sypnosis: Ge tian/Yan Ping met you before he left the mountain permanently, a human who seemed to show fondness for birds, he found you intriguing since you visited the tree often to let your birds fly around. He never thought of talking with you, till you saw him. A/n: YES YES ANYTHING FOR YANPING MY BABY, Guys did you know when you have Ge tian and check on the “Night” voice line he starts to fall asleep, and IT WAS SO ADORABLE MY HEART. Thank you for requesting! It means a lot, I got to brainrot on our birdman <3 Not my best work but I liked how fluffy it is! Genre: Fluff Pairing: Ge tian/ Yan Ping x Fem! BirdKeeper Reader Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Reverse 1999 art. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers! Masterlist WARNING: Heavy spoilers for the "Notes of Shuori" event. Do not read if you don't wanna be spoiled

─────❅───── 𓅪 Meeting you for the first time wasn’t special, he’s used to seeing humans, however, the only difference is that it seems that the birds chirp whenever you’re around, especially Maya birds, they are always on your shoulders while you feed them.

𓅪 He knows that most birds are afraid of humans, so what makes you different? Was it because of the food you’re holding? Even if you didn’t have it, they still flock on you. He has seen you in the village, you were the woman who gave shelter to them, maybe that’s the reason?

𓅪 Ge Tian was deep in thought as he observed you; you wouldn't notice him staring at you from atop a tree, preening his wings.

𓅪 You’d only notice his presence when one of his feathers falls on your face. Grasping the quill-like feather, you’d look up and gasp in awe—a birdman perched in the tree. He was so pretty!

𓅪 Ge Tian would stop preening as you wave enthusiastically at him. With a sigh, he flies down, his talons scraping the dirt as he looms over you. He's pretty tall, and his wings made him bigger than the average man. the birds weren’t alerted by his sudden jump, causing you to not follow your instincts to jump away from him.

𓅪 “Oh my gosh” you squealed, your hand twitching to touch his head, Ge tian, who instinctively lowered his head for you to pet him, it was an unconscious decision! Something he would be surprised that he did. Once you start petting him, he’ll let out a few chirps.

𓅪 Now that he got closer to you, he understood why the birds are attracted to you. You know how to handle a bird, his talons scraping the ground as he chirps louder out of satisfaction because of your hands knowing where to pet him.

𓅪 Conversely, you continued petting him, your thumb rubbing his chin like a cat. He seemed to enjoy it, so you persisted, noticing that while he was half-bird, his skin felt firm, much like a human's.

𓅪 "You," he pulls away, breaking the comforting trance, his eyes narrowing as he covers his face with his wing. "How do you do this? Did you use some kind of arcanist skill on me?" It was a bold accusation, but you just smiled at him. "I didn't. I'm human," you added, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

𓅪 "This is the first time I've seen you though. What's your name? Oh, and are you the bird man who's been flying around the village?" You were asking multiple questions, causing him to shake his head. While he didn't despise those types of humans, he sometimes got overwhelmed with the questions. “I’m Ge tian, and I apologize if my flight has been disrupting your peace. I was simply guarding the village” he said as his bone floats around him. “Would you let me read your bones?”

𓅪 "Bones?” you asked, initially confused but then relaxing as you grasped the situation, birds are often very wary of each other, this is likely the case with Ge tian. “Yeah sure, by reading bones, do you mean like reading my future?” you asked further, he nodded at your question as his arcane skill activated, his bone wand going closer to you making you grab it. Ge Tian’s expression went from relaxed to confusion.

𓅪 "What?" he blurted out, prompting you to glance at him with concern. "What is it? Is something wrong?" you asked, releasing your grip on the bone wand as he unfurled his wings, casually securing it back onto his hip. "No, it's just... peculiar," he replied, his tone tinged with curiosity.

𓅪 Your bones told him that you were someone who was going to be extremely important to Yan Ping. While he wouldn’t mind that, your bones seemed to be closely connected to him more than just mere acquaintances.

𓅪 “What did you see?” you pushed further due to curiosity while going closer to him.  As you approached, some of the birds perched on your shoulders fluttered over to his head, happily chirping and beginning to nestle into his hair. Yan Ping didn't seem to mind, which made you chuckle softly.

𓅪 “What is funny?” he asked, causing you to quiet down. 'It's just that the birds seem to really like you. It's uncommon for them to be so friendly to other bird species."

𓅪 Ge tian finally noticing how his hair was messed up, he shook his head, causing the birds to fly going back to your shoulders. “Your pets are very lively” he frowns, lowering his head to fix his hair.

𓅪 "Sorry about that," you chuckle softly. As the wind tousles Ge Tian's hair, he gazes into your eyes, a sense of inexplicable connection washing over him. It feels as though he's known you for years as if you're both old friends and new acquaintances at once. Though he introduced himself with an alias initially, he now finds himself preferring that you use his real name.

𓅪 “While Ge tian is my alias, you can call me Yan ping instead” he muttered, he used his real name to you, and not the one he often had people call him for. He knew changing the shape of his own bones would be painful, and it’s not something he wanted to do, so as his friend would say, he will “Go with the flow”

𓅪 If you truly are someone that he was anticipating, or at least someone he would consider as his “mate” then he won’t push you away.

𓅪 You didn’t push him away either, you were close to him. Often, you’d come visit him up in the mountains despite it being a long hike from down the village to the mountains, at some point he started feeling bad for you, so he decided to fly down instead.

𓅪 The moment you saw a familiar shadow of wings, you looked up to see him perched on the lamppost. “Yan ping!” you chirped, he smiled slightly, it seemed like being around your birds, you started to adapt their mannerism as you jumped to wave at him, he starts to fly down back wrapping his wings around you and pulling you close to a hug. “Good morning,” he says softly.

𓅪 You were surprised but you wrapped your arms around his neck hugging him back, “Good morning!”

𓅪 It took a while for you to break the barrier between you two, although you didn’t anticipate yourself to be a close friend of the bird man, the one that was rumored by many as either a kidnapper, which was debunked sure, but some people still blame him for Jiu Niangzi’s sacrifice. It’s part of human nature, to find an object or person to blame a scenario like that. You were worried at first if Ge Tian would let it affect him, but so far, he’s only been helping you care for the birds, telling you what their chirps meant while also taking them out to fly once in a while.

𓅪 He started to look like a father to your feathered friends, and you as the mother.

𓅪 You started pacing around your house, suddenly realizing that your pets might be starting to see you two as a couple. Ge Tian would always blush faintly when he talked to them, and you'd often find yourself asking what they were saying.

𓅪 "They said we'd make great mates," he answered, ruffling his feathers. You had thought it meant you two would make good parents, so you happily hugged him, petting his head. "Of course we are!"

𓅪 You didn’t think of it that it meant couples!

𓅪 On the other hand, Ge Tian knew you were oblivious to the words he casually threw around. He himself didn't view romantic relationships as easy; he lacked experience in that area, and it never crossed his mind. Yes, he was also aware that the birds started to "ship" you two together because you both cared for them, but he found it more adorable than attributing any deeper meaning to it.

𓅪 He’s not the kind of man to make the first move either he watches closely and observes you, he wants you to get comfortable with him first and be acquainted with him. Rushing things is not his style.

𓅪 He lived for thousands of years; he stayed in his home for years without trying to fly out of his nest so prolonging his pining over you is child’s play.

𓅪 Though he does occasionally cuddle you, rubbing his cheek on yours while preening his wings and giving you the plucked-out feathers that he ruffled off. Whenever you ask what it was for, he’d bluntly say “It can serve as your pen” a quill pen.

𓅪 Today, he took the little birds out for a flight, letting them rest on his back if they couldn't keep up or grew tired.

"Have you asked mom to be with you yet?" one of the maya birds chirped, making him glance upward as he flew. "No, we both understand it's best not to pressure her into a relationship.”

𓅪 The maya bird just chirps, sounding like it was huffing. “Patience, child” he said with a smile as he made a roundabout. They had been flying for an hour now, and he knew he needed to have the little birds back before dusk to avoid causing you anxiety.

 

𓅪 As he began his descent toward your roof, he noticed you biting your nail, an unhealthy habit you'd picked up. "What's wrong?" he asked as you looked up at him.

 

𓅪 "Yan Ping," you called out as he flew down, your birds descending with him. "Hey, we need to talk," you said as he blinked at you, his expression almost owlish.

𓅪 “Okay” he nods as he makes a few chirps to the birds who immediately understood what he said, they all went back to their little houses leaving you and Ge Tian alone.

𓅪 "Is something wrong?" he asked, though his tone remained calm, he couldn't help but feel concerned about what you were going to say.

𓅪 "Do you think we're dating?" you asked, but he seemed puzzled, tilting his head. "Dating?"

𓅪 This poor old bird, “I mean!” you scratch the back of your neck as you feel embarrassed even talking about it. “Do you think we’re mates?”

𓅪 Ge Tian fell silent as he gazed down at you, gently using his wing to stroke your head, giving you a faint smile. "Although your bones indicate that you are my mate, I have no intention of imposing that upon you," he said, withdrawing his wing. "You are someone I cherish deeply and wish to protect."

𓅪 And that was it, that was all he could say, he didn’t specifically deny the idea, but he was open to it, noticing your flushed cheeks though made him happy.

𓅪 “You never told me I was supposed to be your lover” you huffed, holding the tip of his wing. “Are you sure that’s what my bones said?”

𓅪 “I am certain” he reciprocates the affectionate gesture with a nuzzle on your head, walking closer to you as he wraps you in his winged embrace. “I am not one to lie about readings of the past, present, and the future”

𓅪 “Still! You never told me!” you pouted further, hugging him back by the wings as you gently preen it with your fingers, he found it comforting since sometimes, cleaning his own feathers takes a while to do, your hands were skilled with it. “You never asked, I wouldn’t be the one to talk about such things.”

𓅪 Despite being clueless about romantic relationships, Ge Tian is certainly the type of lover who would be gentle, he’s not the best boyfriend for sure, but his wisdom helps him understand how to make you happy, it’s easy for him to adjust to your liking if it’s something new to him.

[night-raven-tattler]

Hello Mx Tattly! I really enjoyed your ideal types post involving Heartslabyul characters. I like the idea of Riddle liking his significant other being someone earning his respect. So in this request, if they are open, of Riddle having a Yuu!Female reader s/o that is naturally gifted prodigy in fencing & swordsmanship, making her a bold, fiercely talented swordswoman who usually wields double swords (but is just as well with one). Both mostly got closer after his overblot since she was involved in defending him (somehow).

Just headcanons of Riddle having a s/o that is physically stronger than him (and affectionate when just the two of them since she also isn’t much of a pda person)

Extra: After getting to know a bit more of Diasomnia, she also manages to go under Lilia’s training after finding out he trains Sebek and Silver because she wants to continue sharpening her skills and seeing any form of improvement.

(She’s originally an OC of mine but idk if you take OC requests and didn’t wanna assume, so 😭)

Anyway thank you! I’m sorry if I wrote a lot.. 😭

Hello anon! Mx Tattly appreciates your kind words! Currently they don't do OC requests, however she might consider answering such requests in the future. He is sorry if the writing is not what you envisioned, especially since she didn't include Riddle being "protected" per se by the reader character, as they considered their narrative choice is one Riddle would appreciate more. He is also grateful for the brainrot you caused, as they are an enjoyer of sword weilding characters themselves. Hopefully you can still enjoy!

A knight fit for a queen

Characters: Riddle × F/GN!Reader* (romantic, pre-established relationship)

*the reader character has no gender defining charactersitics mentioned

Warnings: swords, book 1 spoilers, violence, mentions of hospital-like settings

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ace laughed in your face when you told him, Deuce and Grim to wait in front of Ramshackle for you to get something, and you came out of the dorm with a pair of swords dangling from your waist, supporting your dominant hand

“Why are you bringing a sword with you? Where did you even find that thing?!”

It was an older pair of swords you found abandoned in one of the Ramshackle rooms, mere days before Ace and Deuce decided to challenge Riddle for his housewarden spot

Something about them told you they would be useful in the situation at hand

But even after hearing your reasoning, Ace still laughed in your face

Boy, was he proven wrong not too long after...

Riddle was just punched by Ace and, before your brain was able to catch up to what was happening, Riddle spiraled out of control

Everyone was trying to reason with him, yet it seemed as if he completely shut out everyone around him

Everyone turned from disobedient students into living targets of his fury

The gravity of the situation finally sunk in when Riddle summoned the rose trees all around the maze and ordered them to attack Ace

Yet, before thinking in through, you jumped in front of Ace and sliced away the threatening branches

They detached from the trunk, turning into cut pieces of cards as they flew past you and your friend

If you wouldn't have stepped in, Trey’s signature spell would’ve kicked in too late

The sky darkened as Riddle’s inner world started to collapse, bringing chaos and destruction to the outside world as well as he overblotted

“In my world, I am the law. I am order made manifest! The only response I will accept from you is ‘Yes, Housewarden Riddle’! All who defy me will lose their heads!”

And, while your Heartslabyul friends and Grim decided to face Riddle head-on, you decided to stay back and protect any incoming danger towards the students the Headmage was evacuating

The crowd of students around the magic mirror diminished, so you returned to the main place of action

Which turned out to be a good call, as a lot of flying debris caused by rogue spells kept flying towards the students

And you managed to redirect any incoming danger with your mysterious swords

Just in time to see Riddle collapse to the ground

You stayed close to Riddle when he woke up and was taken to the nurse's office, and visited him as often as you could

While you felt a personal duty to help out Ace and Deuce repair their destroyed labyrinth, you also wanted to keep Riddle company, mostly to assure him there were no hard feelings between the two of you after what happened

…But your intention were not as clear as you intended initially

Riddle was mostly silent and cautious, and so were you, which made things kind of awkward

Compared to his wary nature, you were trying to be at least a little bit comforting

And he finally realised your intentions when you brought him some tea in a thermos

He was truly astonished by your gesture, even touched by your small kindness

It was some milk tea with herbs he didn’t quite recognise, sweetened with a bit of honey

Bits and pieces of a memory of his crying about milk tea with honey flooded his mind, piecing together the puzzle of your intentions

Not only did you remember such a small thing, but you also went out of your way to cater to him while he was still atoning to his mistakes

Shortly after, Heartslabyul started getting back to its orderly peace as the unbirthday party put together was fast approaching

And you were very satisfied with the peace and quiet

What you didn’t expect, however, was Riddle’s sudden summon to his room directed to you and you alone

You entered Riddle’s room, and he turned around in his chair towards you, leaving the paperwork he was looking over unattended

He was back to working as diligently as ever, something you weren’t sure was appropriate so early in his recovery

But Riddle’s face looked serene and at peace despite his serious eyes, and you decided not to comment

“I believe it is time for the two of us to have a proper conversation about what happened. I know your visits while I was bedridden were… not the most conversation-filled, but I would rather not leave any rocks unturned.”

As gentlemanly as ever, Riddle guided you to an empty seat in his room, and he sat down only after you sat down yourself

“I want to apologise to you for what you witnessed.”

You wanted to interject, but Riddle stopped you with a gesture of his hand

“As a housewarden, my duty is not only to maintain order within the group of students under my guidance, but also to ensure their safety during a moment of crisis. As I was the, um… ‘crisis’ in this case, I was unable to do so. I apologise for falling short on my duty, and for having you make up for my mistakes.”

You were taken aback by the apology, but Riddle was not done yet

“I would also like… to thank you.”

You listened as Riddle poured his heart out to you

“I have heard you were a main participant in ensuring the safety of the student body. It might be hard to believe, but…”

Something in Riddle’s eyes softened, before his gray eyes regained their composed coldness

“I am not cold hearted. I may be harsh, but I care about my card soldiers.”

And you were aware of that

While you helped the Heartslabyul students put themselves together, you’ve heard the grateful stories of a relieved group of students who praised Riddle for his dedication and meticulous nature

They told many stories about Riddle taking time off his schedule to tutor struggling students, who always did his best to offer guidance and who never raised his voice while explaining to students how to tend to the Heartslabyul animals

“I may have fallen short, but you have proven yourself to have a good head on your shoulder in times of need. I thank you for ensuring the safety of my card soldiers.”

You took a few seconds to process his words before formulating your response

“I was just… fulfilling my duty.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean, I am the ‘prefect’, right? I also have a duty to the students. I just did my best to act according to my role.”

Riddle’s eyes widened slightly, and something sparkled in his eyes as a proud smile blossomed on his face

And your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat, being witness of the first time you gave Riddle a reason to smile

“That’s a very elegant answer. You sure are an interesting person, Prefect.”

As time went on, you and Riddle became good friends

Your friendship mainly consisted of you finding your way to Riddle and striking conversations as you followed him around

You didn’t have a particularly threatening aura, but the swords you used during the Heartslabyul event became a permanent part of your uniform

Initially the teachers were not too on board with a permanently armed student, especially since the student body was filled with rambunctious individuals

Yet, Riddle vouched that you knew when it was appropriate to use the swords, putting the professor’s minds somewhat at ease

Lines started blurring little by little as your attachment to Riddle became more obvious, and Rook’s teasing towards Trey about him “losing his spot as Riddle’s knight” started reaching your ears

But you didn’t quite mind

And neither did Riddle

He was, if anything, in awe at your abilities

Riddle was amazed at how natural swords looked in your hands, how your sways and slashes were always forceful yet elegant, wide yet precise

And the sweaty sight of you after a training session did, admittedly, leave Riddle with a racing heart and mind

But, above all, he admired your dedication to improve despite having no guidance

And, with a little push from Ace and Deuce, he put together a plan to help you in that regard

You just entered your dorm when the most unusual gathering of people was seated in your living room

While Ace and Deuce were around often enough to become honorary Ramshackle members slash dorm decoration, Riddle, Sebek and Silver were not part of your usual guest list

You were surprised to hear the invitation extended by a sleepy Silver and a very reluctant Sebek for you to join their training sessions

And it was revealed how Riddle used his connection to the two guards as fellow equestrian club members to ask them for a favor

After you all settled some details with the guards, they took their leave, and exited the dorm as Sebek kept yelling about not allowing you to fall short

And being the teasing pieces of work that Ace, Deuce and Grim were, they left you and Riddle alone as they winked at you

“Is this your way of making sure I keep ‘fulfilling my duty’ as the resident day saver and Hearstlabyul knight?”

Your teasing made Riddle throw you an unimpressed glance that was quickly replaced by a smile

“I am quite sure this will do nothing to diminish the use of your newly acquired moniker, but my priority is to ensure you keep honing the craft you are so obviously proud of.”

Riddle’s words were truly touching, and it was so like him to go out of his way to help the people he cared about…

“Besides, I don’t really mind the moniker. It must mean the students are starting to recognise your skill and dedication.”

That statement really made your heart skip a beat

You hesitated before you took Riddle’s hand into your own

“Well… If you don’t mind the nickname, then I don’t mind it either.”

And you brought Riddle’s hand to your lips, leaving a kiss so soft Riddle almost though he only imagined the soft press of your lips to his knuckles

He took his leave soon after your biggest show of affection yet, but you didn’t mind

Despite Riddle’s reddening face usually being considered a bad omen, you quite enjoyed the brilliant glow of red on his cheeks as he left your dorm

[tapestryoftrauma]

Pulp Musicals Episode 4 Spoilers Below the cut !

I have so many thoughts about Samuel’s death and I have to scream them into my blog as is my right !!

First it’s not fair that we started this journey across the wonderful world of Pulp Musicals with Samuel. Our guide, the young man with the pencil, a muse with a heart of gold and the mind of a true artist. But we won’t finish this journey with him, we’ll have to leave him behind, just like those that love him will too.

Second, Rose is the last Stratford now. A family cut down to just one. A mother, father, and brother dying to the senseless cruelty of the world. All this time Rose has been worried about legacy, about her position in society holding her back from making the mark she deeply wishes too. However, on Lincoln Island Rose got given her purpose, and in return her brother was snatched from her. Her writing partner, her baby brother, her everything.

Samuel was the only one who could make his sacrifice. It’s tragically fated, his life intertwined and invaded by Kal. A man afraid he isn’t taking action, a man worried he might be left behind as his friends go on to better things. Samuel took his action, he sacrificed his life for the safety of his family. This is how it ends.

Rose being the older Stratford is haunting me. She was older by mere minutes, then by two weeks. Now she is eternally older, years will pass and along with the steady marching of time Rose will be forced to leave her twin behind in the past. That was her brother, it was her duty as the older Stratford to protect him. She’ll feel like she failed, she never expected to have to confront her baby brother dying to save her. Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

I commend Matt for making this bold choice. It’s painful, and each time I think of it I cry (I’m literally crying right now typing this) but it’s brilliant. The shift into darkness, with the knowledge we shouldn’t be afraid because this is where the dreaming starts. But what is darkness without our sun? Eternal? Samuel’s fate is tragic in a beautiful way, you can track his mindset and arc and how he reaches this point straight from Planet Earth, 1835 to Samuel and the Sun (Reprise).

ANYWAY IS ANYONE ELSE GOING FERAL ABOUT THE END OF EPISODE 4 ??? IM FEELING SO MUCH AND MOST OF IT NOT GOOD

[whoyacallinyellow]

Could you do an alternative version of borrowed time but it's a happy ending? Like they meet again maybe a couple of months or years later and idk it's super fluffy (idk I loved ur Javier fic it made me cry so hard)

Borrowed Time II (.5)

Javier Escuella x F! reader

Spoilers: RDR1-2 events Content: 18+ mdni, high honor Javier, fluff, loyalty, canon typical events & violence, possible spelling mistakes, some google translated Spanish, (slight angst? sry couldn't help myself) Type: second pov (wc - 3195) / pc: my PS5 a/n: here's my mediocre yapping, anon! I believe someone suggested this to me before, so here we are :) (btw I took some writing inspo from my spotify playlist.)

Summary: Javier is left with nothing after the gang's demise. Enticed with returning to Mexico, he finds redemption within his loyalty to you.   

After being chased out of Beaver Hollow by the law, Javier found himself alone with Williamson. Somewhere in the sticks of northern Ambarino, where the risk of a grizzly finding them was higher than any lawman. 

Laying low and listening to Bill squaller on about Dutch for a month was about all he could stomach, Javier reckoned he liked Bill a lot more when he didn’t talk. 

As each day came to a close, one could guess where Javier’s mind wandered too. His bitter thoughts permeated on losing everything. Money, the gang, and you— Hell, the man didn’t know what to do with himself, considering you an extension of himself at this point. 

Where were you? Did you make it out okay? Were you hurt?

These were a couple of the many questions that swam in the sea of Javier’s head. 

“Are you still thinkin’ ‘bout that woman?” 

Bill’s words of disgust were often displaced through his racing thoughts, but he wouldn’t be wrong. You were all Javier had upon entering these foreign lands, now he possessed nothing but the rocks in his boots. 

The days would merge and turn into weeks, it didn’t take long for the plan of fleeing south to form in Bill’s lackluster head. Keen on the protection Javier could potentially bargain in Nuevo Paraiso. 

Javier knew he was a dead man returning south, under no circumstances was that a can of worms he wanted to open with—Bill Williamson, out of all folk. 

Besides, there was no man’s bidding Javier would consider doing to get the leverage Bill desired. But Bill’s ideas soon evolved into frustrated persuasion. 

“How do’ya know that woman wasn’t the rat, anyhow?”

Bill would rant about you, the delusions Dutch fed him would resurface, but soon be swallowed back down with the same loyalty Javier once held so close.

“My chica wouldn’t, I’m telling you, cabrón. She’d save your neck just as much mine.”

Perhaps not completely true, Javier’s apathetic statements held no power over Bill, but at least it stopped his ear from being chewed off. 

For all Bill was concerned, you were a coward just as much as the rest who left. Especially for plaguing Javier’s mind. 

Bill would resort to not just questioning your loyalty to the gang, but your loyalty to Javier all together. The bold claims would make Javier think back to Clemons Point. 

After a particularly nasty fight with Dutch, Molly sat on a nearby log as he sharpened his knife. He never knew what to say in situations like that, it was probably best he stayed out of it. 

“The way she looks at you…”

The timid words escaped her. Realizing there was no one else around she could have been talking too, he met her stricken gaze which glistened off the moonlight. 

“Huh?” 

He wondered, caught off guard by the illusive topic. Molly wiped her rosy cheeks before she tenderly spoke. 

“I wish I could look at Dutch the same.” 

Javier just stared at the tear-stained woman in pity, unsure what to make of her unanticipated words. 

That night's shift would give him plenty of time to think about it. Before eventually settling on giving you some extra attention. If it wasn’t obvious enough, he soon learnt that what you two shared was irreplaceable. 

There was no doubt to Javier that you loved him, every lead he went on, you’d listen for the horses. Ready to greet him by his hitching post for a kiss, or with small talk that was exclusive to you both.  

Javier would often get teased for the love you shared, perhaps some of it branched into jealousy. Not that he minded, the others knew you were off limits. 

So it was safe to say that Bill’s claims was one thing Javier didn’t take lightly. With curses spat, and threats thrown, Bill had no other choice but to eat his words. 

“Me ‘nd her go way further back than you and I.” 

Javier’s irate words would soon remind Bill where he stood— below you. 

That was Bill Williamson’s final straw for him to realize their parting was long overdue. 

“If you wasn’t a fool, you’d be comin’ with.”

Was the last thing he spat to Javier one cloudy morning, bedroll and guns thrown on his unkempt steed. 

You won't be seeing me again. 

Javier thought in vain. Watching Bill’s departure in silence, just as he watched yours— except their time was up. 

A cruel nightly cycle would leave Javier somewhere beneath the stars. The same night sky you’d lay him down gently in; he wondered if you were looking up at them too— or maybe you don’t think of him much anymore, just to get by. 

Dozing off provided no sort of relief, the same thoughts that ate him alive during the day showed no mercy for a night's rest. 

The dreams began after Guarma, and have stuck since. Most nights he would wake up confused, drenched in sweat, and frantically reaching for his gun belt only worn hours prior. 

Your sweet voice would unknowingly soothe his hurt, all while he dismissed your attempts of rebuilding the bond you once shared. Javier regrets the distance, but he’s not sure if he would ever be ready to talk about Guarma. 

Nonetheless, the terrible dreams always persisted, but managed to worsen after you left. They were so convoluted, Javier wasn’t sure which was a worse way to die; a watery grave, or succumbing to torture in a cage. 

Other nights, Javier would dream about the day he returned to you at Beaver Hollow, god only knew how long they were gone for. 

It was a rather gloomy day, at the end of the camp path was where he found you by your lonesome, as if you’ve been waiting for any sign of the missing men. Javier had seen better days, unshaven, wounded leg, and tattered garments that barely resembled the botched heist clothing he once wore. Javier approached you with a conflicted feeling of dread and relief, unsure of what to expect of you. But to the man’s horror, you crumbled before him. 

You were just as much of a mess as he was. A terrible feeling arose from within his ribcage and drifted up, he momentarily thought he was going to black out from the knot building in his throat. An unmanageable feeling in his legs had already begun to brew throughout the day, vibrating and distorting his ears, blocking out your sobs he created. A near breaking point was threatening to consume him— he didn’t even know what day it was, how could he not know?  

“You stupid bastard,” 

Fallen at his feet, he cradled you soon after his initial shock dissipated. 

“I know, I’m here now.” 

Javier could barely recognize the hoarseness of his own voice, the words felt foreign to say after being gone for so long. Hopelessness overflowed from within him, and seeped into your frame that he held. All he could do was shield you from the cruel world he created for you both on that barren dirt path. 

Your frantic pleas to leave would go unacknowledged, only to be substituted with soft hushes that were swept away in the trees. He couldn’t have just left, he had already sacrificed too much to quit now. Javier always swore Dutch would change your lives for the better. 

—

In the recent nights of Macfarlane’s Ranch, life was still. 

Javier’s dreams would evolve into a vessel of his old possession. Through bittersweet nostalgia, a buck would galavant by a stream, only to eventually stop and stand in triumph before fleeing into the distance. Those dreams offered Javier both temporary comfort and the humbling desolate nights he needed to return to you. 

While staring off into the plains, Bill’s idea would occasionally infatuate him. The uncut ties of Mexico were beckoning, it was only a day's worth of digging in. Javier wasn’t sure he was built out for the vaquero life anymore, but those old chains around his feet would pull him back down. 

Javier would eventually decide he wouldn’t watch the west die out, with false hopes of one last score followed by a life of freedom— he figured he already lost what made life rich. 

At the ranch, Javier would chat up the yokels, describing you to the best of his abilities. Which usually stumped him— you... well, you were just you. He’s never been apart from you to have to worry about your description— Javier was always there. 

Days passed without trace of you, it was probably best he left before the law caught wind of his excessive presence. 

It was hopeless, yet he prayed on the North wind that it would him to you. 

You could run the fool around in circles looking for your whereabouts. Hell, you could be in Timbuktu by now. Just like the day you left, the same hopelessness would creep upon Javier in those rare moments of disparity. 

Those moments would eat him from the inside out, that discomforting pit forming in his stomach was always enough to empty it on the ground. 

—

The aimless paths of New Austin was a place where the souls of saddle tramps go. 

Into the horizon of the blazing sun was where you sat, under the only tree seen in miles. Your shire grazed in between you and the lonely road, like a black flag it stood in the orange dirt. Not even it could escape the mourning which life embraced.  

You are not sure how much time passed you there, perched up under the tree, you’d watch the road. Studying the little silhouettes of cowpokes slowly growing as they approached periodically, all you thought of was Javier.  Hope overturned your grudge until they were near. 

Some of these men would simply tip their hat as they passed, others would offer you a ride to town, and a few just stared at you; their forlorn eyes scratched at the walls of your soul. As if they were trying to tell you something. 

Just as unfortunate as yourself, the nameless victims would soon be swallowed and spit back out by the blazing desert that awaited them. 

It wasn’t until a clear morning for Javier to stumble upon that fork in the road, leading to the tree where you sat; seeking the same retreat you did days ago. 

Sickeningly poetic; with no such weight on your shoulders, you seemed to have found the freedom Javier had been chasing all these years. Right front of him this entire time in the devoid lands of New Austin.

Usually well groomed, the man showed a five o'clock shadow, earning a more rugged demeanor his months away from the luxuries of camp. 

Lost puppy-dog eyes stared your way, being shielded by his bowler cap. The hair you used to run your fingers through was neatly tied back, and draping over his poncho. 

“Javier,” 

You greeted solemnly, your tranquil gaze greeting the man from where you sat. The thumping began in his ears as he staggered off Boaz, stiffly trying to shake the sudden feeling that your voice gave him. 

“hola amor.” 

He uttered awkwardly, approaching your newfound paradise underneath the old shady tree. 

“I reckoned you’d be in Tahiti by now.” 

You remarked bitterly, eyeing your lover from under the brim of your hat. He gripped the front of his gun belt, knuckles turning white and misshapen after all the years of abuse, the same hands that would be placed around your hips as he guided you through a busy town. 

Javier let out a rueful huff as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. It flustered him to be antagonized in such a low moment of his life, especially by you. 

But he simply did not possess the words and feelings begging to be shared with you— there were just too many. 

Expecting you to continue, there was a deafening silence. 

It was more than just the silence that plagued these western lands, but a sadness that often followed Javier everywhere he roamed, you could see it in his smile. 

The lands gave Javier a place to duck under his doubts and troubles for a time, like a buck stuck beneath the bottom wire. 

“It’s over,”

Javier’s voice came out as a whisper, thumb and finger caressing over the stubble on his chin. 

A conclusion which needed no further words, you understood. 

He never imagined it not meaning anything, but yet his brothers were reduced to the barrel he pointed. 

Small shines of orange bathed through the wilting leaves which provided your gracious shade. As you contemplated his words, a soft breeze accompanied the both of you. 

Finally arising to meet his frame, he towered over you slightly— lost along the way but finally found, 

you were no longer his partner in crime, nor a part of the Van der Linde gang— but just his chica he met all those years ago in Old Mexico, before the world was big.  

Javier knew he couldn’t make up for your lost time together, but for now, being with you would do. 

Without a word his arms wrapped around you and trailed down to the small of your back, the smell of rolled tobacco leeched off his poncho, a smell you’ve grown fond of over the years. As his cheek rested on the crown of your head, a different kind of silence was shared. 

“Oh Javi,” 

Your voice now both sorrowful and tender, it was impossible to hold a grudge against the warm honeypot eyes that yearned for you. 

“lo sé,” 

Javier murmured softly, giving into the relief that a calmer life brought. 

Behind where you rested revealed a testament the tree possessed. A bald spot in the maple-colored wood had bark torn away, faded letters with sap-filled groves were carved by previous visitors of the solitude tree: 

‘blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy’

Javier united your lips with a long awaited kiss, your cheeks softly being caressed by his thumbs. To him, it was like falling for you all over again. But this time, he wanted to do everything right. 

“Figured the law got you.” 

You mumbled one of your many worries after the man pulled away. Javier scrunched up his nose, cringing at your doubts. 

“Course not, nunca.” 

Eventually bidding your farewell to the tree, you joined Javier at Boaz’s saddlebags for what seemed to be a celebratory smoke. 

“They were hangin’ around that ranch, it’s not safe.”

You proclaimed, even the west had reminded you that a quiet cabin life was unrealistic. He hummed against the tobacco in between his lips, considering your words. 

“Where does that leave us?” 

Javier asked through an exhale. His sharp eyes squinted under the sun, staring at you in devotion. 

For the first time in a year, you made that choice together. 

With possessions on your shire and the both of you on Boaz, was where Javier liked you best. Feeling your heartbeat on his back always reminded him of Mexico, yet you were his home.

While riding, your hands would instinctively grasp Javier’s gun belt. Marking both the leather and his heart throughout the years you spent together. 

Later that day Javier’s buck would graze upon the open fields you crossed, only to scamper off once your horses made way. Its coat bright and shining off the sinking sun, he swore it’s the biggest one he’s ever seen. 

Expecting a comment, Javier thought maybe you dozed off, or perhaps he accidentally sipped his flask instead of his canteen. 

Aways up north yielded reassurance and prosperity, the man decided that tonight he would sleep instead of keeping watch, an unusual gesture he knew you both needed. 

Far away from the lands you once both resided, a comfortable wilderness separated you and any dangers— Maybe tomorrow night he would keep watch, but tonight, he just needed you. 

Javier’s shaking hands prepped a small flame, and smoothed out the creases of your bedroll that night. The same hands that would work a revolver effortlessly, and confidently beat in the faces of men in a moment's notice. 

but for you? they trembled. 

Fingers that had been busted more times than you could count were now fumbling through every button of your shirt, leaving a trail of his lips where his hands once touched. 

Nonetheless satisfied with these tasks, the crinkles beside his eyes would reflect off the flame as he flashed you a content smile. 

The fire crackled within your cozy makeshift camp, its orange flame lighting up Javier’s torso just enough to highlight the tones and scars on his chest. 

Javier was used to catching you staring, never failing to tease you about it. A mere husky chuckle and verbal warning would remind you of his diminutive willpower when it came to you.  

Joining you beneath the blankets, his body radiated with the warmth you craved. With a protective arm easing you towards him, your skin colliding with his was enough to wash all his hardships away. 

Your lips ghosted down his neck, causing a loose sigh to escape his lips. Javier cooed words of endearment, unsure if he deserved your regained affection. 

You felt him tense around you as your lips traveled down to his adam’s apple and the large horizontal scar that covered it. 

“lo siento,”

He muttered softly, finally getting the long awaited words out— It was for a lot of things, that scar was just one of them. 

His breath hitched and ran down your bare skin, your torso being consumed by his restless large hands. Only you reminded Javier of his scars, usually in a way of gratification, having earned them throughout your time together. 

But that healed slit along his throat brought the man waves of embarrassment, Javier was thankful for your love nonetheless, and you for his loyalty. 

With belated love and words begging to be said, Javier knew his lips had a lot of catching up to do. But tonight you both needed rest. 

As if it was tradition, he ensured you found your peace first, maybe it solaced the man knowing you were safe within his arms. 

Gusts of winds whistled through the trees, causing them to sing a song made just for the two of you. His coarse hands ran down your sides before settling at your waist, once again basking in what he could have lost. 

Up yonder was where the starry night sky shined just for him to see you. The constellations washed away his most honorable sins, and extended the borrowed time you both had been lent years ago. 

The blanket you shared was pulled over your shoulder, ensuring your undisturbed rest. Javier’s gentle lips ghosted over your cheek for just one more kiss goodnight. 

You were long asleep, closely tucked within the arms of the man you called home. Yearning to chase the relief your shared nights provided, Javier’s eyes grew heavy. Through a gentle state of somnolent, his prideful buck accompanied him in the meadow it frolicked. 

Whispered words slipped into the night and greeted his slumber. 

“te amo.” 

~

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader (Nicknamed Poppy)

WC: 6600

Warning: 18+ Blog/Minors will be blocked; Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

A/N: We’ll, there’s a lot here. This week was draining with a teething/no sleeping babe— but I was determined to get this finished! I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m excited for this part of their story! Thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey again for her support and proofreading every week! And thank you to everyone who has continued to stick with these two dumb dumbs as they figure their shit out. Love you all!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous/ Next

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

Dieter wills himself to regulate the adrenaline surging through him, it has his muscles tingling as its increasing levels spread through every pliable fiber. 

Breathe. 

In. 

Out. 

He takes in his surroundings, a steady attempt at grounding his mind, assuring him, keeping him present, giving him a chance to regain his composure. 

He Sees…

The ornate tile that dresses the front steps to your Spanish Revival home, the perfect backdrop to the ‘welcome’ mat that greets him the minute he arrives to your place. 

The sturdy wooden door attached to your home that keeps you protected, allowing you to live comfortably and securely without a bother from the outside world. 

The well maintained landscape, no real knowledge of the specific varieties of plants that decorate the front, he senses a low maintenance and drought tolerant feel— a few things he had never heard of until moving in with Diem. 

The way the sky begins to shift from its golden orange and purple hues to an even shade of deep blue as the sun tucks behind the horizon line, welcoming the stillness of the night. 

The way he is actively replaying an episodic memory of you from just an hour ago when you had joined him at Diem’s house to read over his lines for his upcoming movie role. 

*

“Are you sure you even want me doing this? I don’t know a single thing about acting. Can’t Diem help?? I don’t want to mess you up.” 

It’s been a few days since the Capri re-grand opening. And a few days since yours and Dieter’s almost kiss. 

There hasn’t really been a discussion on what had happened, or almost happened, only due to the fact that you hadn’t seen each other since Dieter had to leave to take Wren home. 

Now you find yourselves sitting in Diem’s living room, on opposite ends of her sectional couch, ignoring the residual heat that is currently reigniting as you both look over the scripts you’re each holding— alone together, zero distractions. 

“This scene is between two people who are navigating a new relationship, dancing around the sexual tension between them—“

The coincidence not lost on you. 

“So, there’s no fuckin’ way I’d read through this with my sister. And I doubt she’d want to anyways, she hates this kinda shit, so I don’t even bother.“

“Okay, I’ll try my best, but if I fuck up—“ 

“You’re not gonna fuck up. I highlighted your lines in pink, just focus on those and you’ll do fine. Besides, you’re a teacher— you read stories for a living, just think of it like you’re reading to your class.”

“Dieter, it says right here at the bottom of the page in bold type, ‘HER EYES CLOSE AT HIS TOUCH FOLLOWED BY LOW SENSUAL MOANS’— there’s no fucking way I can imagine myself reading this to my class.” 

You look up from the paper, his eyes already on you. You note the way his neck muscles flex as he swallows, the grip on his paper a little tighter— you’re not sure how you’re going to survive this. 

*

He touches…

The weight of his chip, the brass cool against his warm clammy skin, pulling it from his pocket, it sits heavy in his palm— a quick reminder that who he was doesn’t define him now. A few light tosses, before gripping it with his thumb and his forefinger, one last look before returning it to his pocket. 

The compact device that connects him to everything important to him in a single touch, his finger navigating back and forth between the home screen image of Wren and him eating donuts then to the text you had sent not long after leaving Diem’s house — Poppy💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it — Then double checking the numbers on the house match the ones that you sent after he text back asking if he could come over tonight— a perfect match. 

The silky strands of his ruffled dark brown hair as he tries to tame his wild curls, the cottony fabric of his gray weathered shirt pulling at it in such a way so it drapes over him just right, the rough texture of his faded jeans against his sweaty hands as he rubs them several times over where they hug his thighs— a blind once over of his appearance. 

The way his hand skims over the velvety skin above your knee, the hem of your dress delicately dancing over his fingertips, the faint scar that now lives on the side of your thigh from a biking accident as a kid lays uneven under his gentle graze. 

*

“Is this okay?” 

Somewhere between shared lines, and fiery dialogue, Dieter finds himself sitting closer to you, his knee brushing against yours—hand so effortlessly placed on your thigh as he checks in with your comfort. 

“Y-yeah— it says ‘HIS HAND REACHES THE APEX BETWEEN HER THIGHS’, so she would know that his hand is moving up her leg—.” Your voice trembles as you try to concentrate on the words printed in bold on the current page. 

Looking up, you see Dieter’s focus solely on you, his folded script tucked between his leg and the couch cushion. 

“That’s not what I asked.” There's a deep husk to his voice, his movements halted as he draws your attention away from the pages and up to him. “Are you comfortable with this, not what the paper reads or act is telling us to do. Is this okay with you?” Your consent, regardless of what the characters are doing, his number one priority. 

“Y-yeah…” You murmur as you look down to where his hand is still subtly holding your leg. Your attention drawn back to his handsome face, placing your hand on top of his, encouraging him to continue his efforts. 

*

He hears…

The symphonic resonance of the nightfall harmonics drifts through in the crisp evening air, a modest breeze carries the lilt of the chirping crickets throughout the stilled neighborhood, the rustling of the leaves scattered and swirling across the sidewalk, the faint cries of coyote pups awaiting the arrival of their mother who’s been in search of a hearty meal. 

The way his heart beat reverberates against his eardrums, the thudding of his heart an emotive chorus, its pace evening out with each grounding thought. 

The way your breath catches, its auditory staccato floats through the air and nestles somewhere deep within his mind, storing its melodic rhythm away as an echoic file, never wanting to forget how it sounds. 

*

Dieter shifts himself forward, the crunch of the leather puckering as he settles a knee on the cushion, a hand gripping the back of the couch as he angles himself closer. 

The crackle of paper startles you, Dieter grabbing the crumbled heap of papers and tossing it over his shoulder, removing any distractions that might be bothering. 

Bit by bit you allow yourself to fall back onto the mound of decorative pillows in the corner of the couch. Dieter following your lead, keeping a close distance between you as he settled himself between your legs. 

“When is Diem going to be home?” You breathed, a warmth spreads through your body as you fixate on the fact that this is really happening. 

“Don’t know, at least an hour.”

A few loose curls fall into Dieter’s face, you lightly comb them back, the movements unhurried and attentive. Your fingers catching the frames of his glasses in the process, you gingerly remove them from his face, carefully tossing them to the side— producing your favorite lopsided grin from him. 

Dieter pauses to study every little detail of this moment— the flash of want in your eyes, the way your fingertips skim over and around his taut biceps, the deliberate way the tip of your tongue wets your bottom lip before it’s drawn in between your teeth, the way your lungs continue to fill with the air you’re both sharing— he’s never felt more alive than in this moment. 

*

He smells…

The night brings a refreshing scent of calmer air, the aromatic warmth of the citrus  groves meld with the fragrant lavender farms that accumulates throughout the day, the herbal aroma that triggers a distinct nostalgic smell of his childhood. 

The way your perfume mixes with your natural pheromones, the unmistakable notes of musky vanilla and orange blossom paired with your own unique scent stimulates his olfactory nerves, his spine tingling with pleasure as he breathes you in. 

*

Dieter takes his time, deliberate in his own way, he wants to take his time— savor the moment. 

He lowers himself down to the open space where your shoulder meets your neck— warm, delicate and inviting. 

You angle your head, allowing him more space to move, your hands wrapping themselves around his neck, twisting his hair between your fingers. 

Dieter places a soft tentative kiss to your shoulder, then slowly dragging the tip of his nose up the column of your neck, mindful of how responsive you are, nudging at your jaw before stopping.  

“You’re so fucking soft.”  His lips ghosting over your ear, voice honeyed and thick, his hand now situated on your bare hip, thumb toying with the seam of your underwear. 

You nuzzle into the side of his head, his scent provocative in the way you crave it immensely. The smokiness of the sandalwood and cedarwood compliment the spicy musk and floral base— it’s Dieter, wild and delicious. 

*

He tastes…

The ache for sustenance, a morsel of pleasure activates his taste buds, a palatable desire that he craves in hopes to fight off the hunger that plagues him. 

*

A fieriness burns through your body, causing you to lose all ability to properly handle the way Dieter is making you feel— ravenous. You need more, something substantial that satiates the emptiness and the yearning. 

The unfaltering look in his eyes, an unspoken feeling of infatuation that has you melting under his gaze. 

Dieter leans in, gradually closing the gap between his lips and yours, sparking the immediate surge of oxytocin actively flowing through your veins.

 His breath fanning across your lips, warm and minty, a brief remembrance of your almost kiss— several times over. 

This position offers a new approach, angle of motion, feeling the fullness of his bottom lip catch your top lip, your fingers gripping tightly to his hair in anticipation as the weight of his lips begin to slot gently over yours. 

*CLICK* 

“Dieter? I’m home!” Diem announces her arrival. 

Releasing the breath you were holding, grip loosened, warmth lifted— another moment gone. 

“Fuck me!” Dieter grumbles, his forehead falling to your shoulder, your chest vibrating with a silent laugh. 

Dieter places a kiss to your shoulder then pushes himself back from where he had been hovering over you seconds before, helping you to readjust the flowy fabric of your dress, a silent look to you asking “are you okay?”— you nod yes. 

His body slumps back into the cushioned backrest, head falling back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away his annoyance at Diem’s horrible timing. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here too, Poppy. I dropped Wren off for a playdate and picked up some dinner on the way home. You hungry?” 

“Umm, no I’m good. Actually, I’m going to head out. I���ve got— there’s some things I need to do. So, yeah— I’m gonna go.” 

You feel like two teenagers who were caught by the other’s parents. That awkwardness that looms over afterwards, not really knowing what to say or do. 

You give his leg a light squeeze, pulling his attention back from his sulking, propping himself up with his arms on his knees, grabbing your hand and returning the faint gesture. 

“I’ll text you later.” You mouthed to him before grabbing your items from the coffee table and making your way to the front door. 

“You still on for this Friday?” Diem asks you as she’s unboxing the pizzas she had picked up, arranging a few slices nicely on plates. 

“Yep— yeah! Friday is still good! See you later.” Your response short and to the point as you close the door behind you. 

Dieter can hear the rustling of the wrappers and then a stillness hangs in the air. His back is to where Diem is standing in the kitchen, but he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. 

“What?” 

“Why didn’t you mention she was coming over? I would have grabbed more food, we could have all hung out together.” 

“It was a last minute thing. I asked her to come read lines with me.” 

Diem rounds the couch and places the food on the coffee table, before sitting and making herself comfortable. 

“So… Did you finally kiss her?”

That gets a laugh from Dieter, face falling into his hands at the ridiculousness of Diem’s question. 

“No, I haven’t kissed her.” Tilting his head towards where she’s sitting, chin resting against his clasped hands. 

“Oh my god! You haven’t kissed her yet? What the hell, Dieter!”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying.” He assures her, picking at the toppings of his pizza slice that had fallen onto the plate. 

“I don’t get it. If you’ve been trying, then what’s stopping you from actually doing it?” 

“You are! Literally every chance I’ve taken, you stroll on in and fuckin’ cockblock me.”

“Wait— you’re blaming me for you not kissing her?” The shocked look on her face is priceless and equally hilarious. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely blaming you. You have the worst timing ever!” He laughed, because even as annoyed as he is, the whole situation is a little funny. 

*BUZZ* 

The vibration of his phone cuts into their conversation, a text from you pops up on to the screen, he swipes it open.

Poppy 💐- I have that easel ready, if you still want it. You’re more than welcome to come grab it. 

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

He wipes his greasy fingers with a napkin then tossing it onto his forgotten pizza. He stands to his full height, placing his phone in his pocket and makes his way to the door. 

“Where are you going? I was going to turn on that one show we’ve been wanting to watch.”

“I’m— going out. Go ahead and start it without me.” He shouts as the door clicks closed behind him. 

*

Uncle Dude - What’s your address? Be there in a few. 

Poppy 💐- House number 402. White house on the left side of the street. See you soon!

The distance from your house to Diem’s is a short one, 3 minutes if you’re a fast Walker, 5-6 if you take your time. 

Dieter was on his way— to your house. 

You toss your phone onto the counter, and run to the bathroom. Not knowing how soon he was leaving after stating he’d be here in a few, didn’t leave you much time to freshen up. 

You literally just saw him, so you kept it simple a few swipes of deodorant, clean away any mascara flakes and opting for a fresh coat of chapstick instead of lipstick— less is more approach. 

2 minutes down. 

Running through the house, you do a quick once over, grabbing any loose items, out of place items or kind of embarrassing items and tossing them into your hall closet— making sure to snag your copy of ‘My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex’ off of the coffee table. 

4 minutes down. 

Heading into the kitchen— Maybe he’ll want something to drink? You grab two tall glasses and fill them with ice, sitting on the counter waiting to fill with whatever Dieter wants. 

5 minutes down. 

Nervously, you stare at the front door, your nervous tick of picking at your fingernails keeps your hands busy. Should I turn some music on? Should I have put on a little more perfume? Maybe I should have brushed my teeth? 

*Knock Knock Knock*

You grab for the door handle, pausing for a minute to take a deep breath, then cracking the door open to see Dieter standing on your front porch, hands in his pockets, casually looking down at his feet then up to you at the sound of the creaky door hinges— his face lights up instantly. 

“Hey! Hope you found it okay?” You can’t help the dopey smile that grows on your face. 

“No issues at all. Didn’t realize how close you lived this whole time.” He says, gesturing in the direction of Diem’s house. 

“Yeah, almost neighbors.” Your smirk is laced in flirtation, your head leaning against the edge of the door in the most 90s rom-com way. “You wanna come in?”

“Sure.” 

“Are you thirsty at all? I have sparkling and regular water, Diet Coke, and some beer— I haven’t made it to the store this week so I’m running low on things. I’ll be more prepared next time.” You ramble as you lead him into the kitchen, your nervous energy spiking just slightly. 

“I’m good for right now, thank you. So, there will be a next time?” He asks, observing the way you bite at your lower lip when he mentions the prospect of a “next time”.

“Yeah,” You shrug your shoulders, noting the way the corner of his mouth quirks up and the light flutter in your stomach that follows. “I think so, if that’s what you want?”

“Yes, definitely want that.”

There’s a beat of silence, sans the sounds of home— the tick of the clock, the clinking of ice falling into the tray, a faint sound of music coming from another room. 

“Oh! I—I have your jacket, I keep meaning to bring it over and then it would slip my mind…” Very much a lie, you were wearing it early this morning while you sipped your morning coffee, reading the latest chapter of ‘My Pleasure’… and you also might have worn it afterwards, when you needed a little— relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I mean, a little Birdie has been asking about it— it’s not a big deal.”

“Let me go grab it so I’m not tempted to hold it ransom for longer. Umm, help yourself to whatever. Then I can show you the easel, see if it’s something that will work for you.”

“Okay.” 

Dieter takes in your home, it’s very much you. 

Your love for plants extends inside, dozens of potted green plants, in varying shapes and sizes grace just your living room alone. 

There’s a hint of a modern flare to your style, clean lines and lots of wood, a very neutral aesthetic— most of the color living as art work on your walls. 

The art hanging throughout your home, he can only assume is your own. He’s drawn to the texture and the style of each painting— faint lines formed into human figures , landscapes resembling the world outside of these walls, and vivid abstract strokes of color adorn canvas everywhere he looks. 

A soft glow catches his eye and like a moth to a flame, he’s lured to a dimly lit room— your art studio. 

Large windows flank the walls, he imagines the natural light in the daytime is ideal in a space like this. 

Tattered empty tubes of acrylic paint, evidence of being overly pinched to extricate every last bit of paint, strewn across a large table against the wall. Empty glass food jars repurposed as storage for your massive collection of paint brushes, while spatulas and other painting instruments lay haphazardly across the tabletop. 

The table seems to double as a desk, once  light colored, now coated in layers of colorful dried paint drips and spills. He runs his fingers over the surface, a balance of smooth and irregular textures, imagining the years you’ve spent standing over this table deliberately colors and mixing new ones. 

Dieter thinks you must have been painting recently, a clear palette holds fresh dollops of paint in the center with a few experimental strokes on the side. He dips a finger into one of the little mounds, rubbing the emulsion between three fingers. It's cold and wet as it glides over his skin. 

The wall of windows behind him he finds an easel, it too covered in coats of paint— a newer canvas sits in the support bar, a rough sketch of something just barely visible. 

Next to where the easel rests, there are canvases  stacked neatly against the wall along the floor. He analyzes each painting with regard, taking in each deliberate stroke and use of color— intently connecting with the emotions you’ve experienced in creating each piece. 

He admires your tenacity. Through your long days of teaching at the school, little humans requiring so much of your attention for hours. To volunteering your time to help others explore their creativity at the gallery, planning and teaching weekly. And yet, you still find time to cater to your needs by doing something that makes your life more fulfilling, not allowing any roadblocks to deter your endeavors. 

There’s an ache in his chest, a deep reminder of how different his life could have been had he not been bound by the shackles of Hollywood and the dark world that surrounds it. 

Dieter had only ever dreamed of having such a space like this of his own, where he could chase a creative high and drown out the loud noises that followed him daily. 

Stopping his thoughts before they begin to spiral, he thinks back to a motivational speaker he listened in on while in rehab. There were a lot of valuable words shared during the speech, but he remembers the line that really stood out to him— even through the darkest moments and afflictions that overpowered all his memories and people closest to him, it didn’t mean he is less worthy of a good life, a great life, moving forward. 

Dieter realizes that with everything he’d lived through and how much hurt he had caused, he knows those things led him to this point in time— they led him to you. 

“I ended up washing it, read the care instructions on the tag so I wouldn’t fuck it up. I found some melted Kit-Kats in the pockets and a few condom wrappers— this jacket has definitely seen some things…” You stop talking when you realize you’re met with an empty room, Dieter not where you had left him. “Dieter?” 

There’s a slight movement that pulls your attention in the direction of your studio. 

You find Dieter standing in the center of the room, the flicker from a burning candle emits a diffused light, washing his sharp features in a soft glow. There’s almost a pensiveness to his expression, hands tucked in his pockets lost in his thoughts, you watch him quietly take in the room around him. 

“I see you helped yourself to a house tour.” You announce your presence as you enter the room, placing his jacket on the overstuffed chair in the corner then turning around to walk in the direction of your large art table, the skirt of your dress shifting from side to side as you walk. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep—“ He starts to apologize, realizing you both hadn’t set any boundaries with each other. 

“It’s fine, I’m just messing with you. I hid all my incriminating things already.” You joke, but there’s something about him that makes you feel like you don’t have to be guarded. 

“Are these for your showing?” He asks, pointing to the canvases he had just been studying. 

“Yeah,” You say as you turn to face him, lean back against the table. “They’re all pretty much done— I’ll probably fine tune some things before the big day.”

“Can I ask what they represent?? I can see two figures— a man and a woman in some sort of intimate setting. I see the woman is fully fleshed out in color with distinct features, similar to your own— but the man looks like a shadowed figure, starting out blank, then slowly gaining color and personality in each painting— like an evolution of some sort. But what’s the narrative behind them?” 

The way he’s analyzing your work, makes you feel even more captivated by him. 

“I was having this dream— a nightmare maybe? For weeks, it would come to me every night, always starting out in the same way. I would feel him all around me— his hands, lips, everything. I would try to speak to him, but he would never respond, and I could never see his face, didn’t know who he was. Then he would vanish, like I had lost him and I would wake up in a panic. But as the weeks went on, it was like I could start to see him a little clearer…”

Dieter hangs on to your every word, he’s drawn in to your openness to share your thoughts so freely with him. He steps closer to where you’re standing, wanting to know more about these dreams. 

“Go on.” He says softly, encouraging you to share more details. 

“Some nights his face was a blur, but I could see his features, more clearly each night. And as his face became more visible over time, the dreams didn’t feel like I was losing him— it felt like I was gaining more of him. The last week or so, I can see his face— I know who he is.”

At some point in explaining the story behind your paintings, your eyes fell to the floor— the way he was watching you so intently felt overwhelming the closer he got. 

“Who is he?” He asks, placing two fingers under your chin to slowly lift your gaze up to him. 

“You.”

It’s a fierce softness in the way his mouth molds to yours, the gentle press of his lips is breathtaking— punching the air right from your lungs. 

His touch is meticulous and thoughtful, resting his hands on your bare thighs, fingers lightly graze over your soft skin leaving a trail of tiny goosebumps. 

Your hands snake up his body, settling back to where they were not so long ago— cupping the back of his head, slow drawn out scratches to his scalp. 

“Is this okay?” He murmurs against your mouth. 

“Y-yes— more than okay!” You breathe out— you’ve  literally dreamt of this moment. 

Experimentally you slowly swipe your tongue across his plump bottom lip, silently begging for a little more and he obliges, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. An equal exchange of feelings and yearning as the kiss alternates between a tangle of tongues and sweet pecks. 

Dieter pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, his breaths ragged puffs across your warm face.

“Why did you stop?” Your breath equally as ragged, chest heaving as you question his halted movements. 

“Be-because—“ His throat dry as he tries to regulate his breathing. “If we don’t stop, things will get— more serious.”

“I-I’m failing to see the problem in that.” You tease. 

“I don’t have any condoms— I didn’t think we’d get this far with our track record.” 

“I locked the door, after I let you in— didn’t want to chance any interruptions.” His chest vibrates with a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m clean and on the pill— but only if you’re comfortable.”

“I am, clean I mean— I’m clean, plus haven’t been with anyone in, well, awhile now. Might be a little rusty in all actuality.” He confesses, his thumbs still moving in sweeping motions over the tops of your thighs. “You sure you want this?”

“Very, very sure.” You whisper against his lips, grabbing one of his hands and dragging it slowly up under your dress to the throbbing ache that has settled between your legs since he started kissing you. 

“Fuck!” His eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your bare cunt, nearly choking on air— his fingers start to tentatively swipe through your wet folds, watching as your eyes start to roll back in pleasure. 

“I thought I had felt some kind of underwear earlier?” He asks, as his fingers coated in your slick start to draw lazy circles over your sensitive clit. 

“Ah!— I-I did. But I was so keyed up when I — left, I came home and had to— Oh! I had to— Fuck I can’t think straight when you’re doing that!” 

“Did you come home and touch yourself?”

“Yessss— Oh god!” You whine breathlessly as two of his fingers enter your heated core, remnants of your earlier orgasm fully welcoming him. 

“You’re so perfect.” He exclaimed,

his free hand cupping your face, keeping you close, his thumb lightly tracing across your lower lip. 

His two fingers continue to move in and out of you, working up so effortlessly. He presses a long slow kiss to your lips, followed by a few short light ones. 

You can feel yourself moving closer to the edge, there’s a tingle running down your spine, converging with the fire that’s beginning to break within you. Your velvety walls begin to flutter around Dieter’s fingers,  prompting him to kiss you a little deeper and it’s just the push you need. 

“Oh my god! I’m gonna come—“ Your body begins to shake, your hands slamming done on your table— paint splattering into the air. 

It’s an inferno of ecstasy blazing through your body, you wrap your arms around Dieter’s waist, clinging to him as you ride it out— letting the embers cool down. 

Without a single breath, you grab for the button on Dieter’s jeans as he tries to pull at the straps of your dress. It’s a jumbled mess of limbs, but finally working in tandem to rid each other of clothes. 

Dieter crowds you against the table, the edge digging into your lower back causing you to yelp. 

“Are you okay?” His eyes etched in concern, as he scans over your blissed out features. 

“Ye-yeah! The ta-table is digging.” You say, pointing to show him. 

He bends down to grab onto the back of your thighs. “Jump.” He says as he helps guide your naked body onto the table. 

His hands rest on the table as he leans in to kiss you again, unhurried as he licks into your mouth as he guides your body to lay down on the table. 

“You’re so beautiful like this, Poppy.” He says as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and over your chest, stopping and pressing his lips over the spot that he hopes to hold on to for a while— your heart. 

The gesture has your eyes welling up, blinking rapidly to fight them off. You feel so completely overwhelmed by him, you have to actively stop yourself from telling him how in love you are with him. 

He lifts himself off of you just enough to reach between the two of you, giving his cock a few hasty strokes before notching its weeping head at your entrance. 

“Fuck!” He gasps as he slowly pushes his full length into your warm cunt— the slightest ghosting of your climax now pulsing around him. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in as close to you as possible, silently begging him to move, but he grips onto your leg to halt your movements. 

“Wait— I need a minute otherwise this is going to be over before it even happens.” He says, resting his head on your sternum to give himself a moment. 

“Dieter, it’s fine. Just take what you need— I’m— I’m good.” You feel more than satisfied with the two orgasms you’ve already had, you just want to feel him. 

He slowly states to move his hips, several purposeful thrusts, wanting to savor the way you feel, the warmth already starting to bloom in his belly.

Dieter lifts himself off of you, sensing this new angle is pleasant based on how you start to arch your back off the table, his steady thrusts working you both up in a desired frenzy. 

“Fuuuuck, you feel like a dream., Poppy.” His voice is hoarse, glancing down to watch the way your arousal coats him, his hands gripping your waist as he thrusting into with a little more earnestness. 

“Dieter— I think I’m going to come again— oh god!!” You announced into the lust filled room, the tell-tale signs barreling through your body. 

You try to grab onto something, hands looking for something to anchor yourself to, Dieter too far away and too lost in his own pursuit— each thrust is a little deeper producing your muscles to tighten on their own accord. 

An unexpected swipe of Dieter’s thumb over your clit is blinding, sweet erotic sounds pouring from your mouth, hands slamming back onto the table, you're met with wetness, your brain registering where you are and that your hands are covered in paint. 

The thick emulsion is cold when it hits your skin, your nipples pebble at the sensation of the paint gliding over them, your hands kneading the weight of your breasts— paint building up between your fingers with each calculated squeeze, each roll of your nipple sends you closer to your third orgasm. 

You look up to see Dieter’s slack jawed expression, which only makes you emphasize your movements, giving him a little show. You’re arched back putting your chest on display, your hands working over your exposed skin covering your upper body in a rainbow of colors. 

“Oh shit— shitshitshitshit— I’m gonna— fuck!” The sight of you sets Dieter off, folding himself over the top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck as his thrusts begin to falter at the way your cunt begins to contract around him. 

A gravelly moan against your damp skin and one final thrust, his hips still as he’s spilling into you. 

The room is still again. The faint scent of your oud and  sandalwood candle is overpowered by the sex hazed aroma. Chests moving against each other simultaneously, lungs begging to properly breathe, skin slipping with each pull of air— this might become your favorite way to create art. 

A soft kiss to your shoulder  as Dieter lifts himself up into his forearms, resting his temple against your jaw to give his arms a chance to regain their strength before giving you a softer kiss to your lips. 

“That was—“ He’s still trying to regulate his breathing, words jumbled in his brain and not quite producing properly. 

“Amazing!” You finish his sentence for him. 

“Yeah— amazing.” He says, one more kiss because he doesn’t think he’s given you enough yet, then he’s slowly pulling out of you and helping you sit upright. 

“What a mess we made of ourselves.” You laugh as you examine both of your colorful torsos. 

“Worth it.” Dieter replied with a slight shrug and a quirky smile on his handsome face. 

“I’m going to go grab some stuff to clean us up. I’ll be right back.” 

Hopping off the table to head towards your bathroom, Dieter grabs you by the wrist, spinning you back towards him, your bodies flush against each once more as he gives you a toe curling kiss. 

“Alright, hurry back.” He says, giving your backside a few taps. 

*

You take a few minutes to freshen yourself up, wiping away as much of the paint as you can. 

Throwing on a clean pair of underwear and a loose shirt, the hardwood cool against your bare feet, you make your way back to your studio where you’re met with an unexpected sight when you get to the door, Dieter sitting in front of your easel where your last canvas sits. His naked body wrapped in his fuzzy coat, his brow furrowed in concentration as his hand moves around the canvas with a paint drenched brush. 

You take a moment to just watch him, leaning into the door frame, watching how he looks so relaxed and happy. 

“You snoop and you help yourself to my painting, you sir are a menace.” You jokingly say to him, it earns you a generous laugh. 

“Sorry, guess I’m two for two now. I saw you had it roughly sketched out and thought I’d paint you the way I see you.” He explained, leaning back into the small metal chair. 

“And how do you see me?” 

“Beautiful.” The word floats out and around you, its weight settling into that little space in your chest that has felt empty for so long. 

“That’s two times you’ve painted me now— I think those would be grounds for someone to fall in love.” You tease, but there’s truth wrapped up in your statement. Pushing yourself off the doorframe, making your way over to where he’s sitting. 

He places the brush in the glass of water, his hand reaching out for you to come closer, softly grabbing at your hips he’s pulling you down so you’re straddling his lap— fully aware he’s  still naked and covered in paint under his jacket. 

“Do you?” He has to know if you’re feeling the same way as him. “Do you, love me?” 

“Yes.” Your voice a little wobbly, your emotions bubbling up in your chest. 

But you do, you love him without a doubt and it’s the most terrifying and thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a long time. 

“I love you too, Poppy.” He whispers to you, his eyes glossy as he fights back tears. 

“Why are you crying?” Wiping the single tear that has started to fall down his cheek. 

“I’m scared— that I’m going to fuck this up. And you’re going to resent me. And I’ll be back to where I was a year ago— alone.” 

Your heart nearly breaks at his confession. 

“That’s not going to happen though.” Brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, caressing his face and hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice. 

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t. But a wise man once told me— we’ll figure it out as we go.” 

His arm wraps around your waist as his other hand cups the back of your neck, bringing your face to his, your nose bumping into his. 

“I love you.” He breathes against your lips. 

And before you even have a chance to reciprocate, he’s kissing you with so much love and feeling. 

“Will you come? To see my showing on opening night?” You ask between feather-like kisses. 

“I wouldn’t miss it, Poppy.”

*

It’s a few hours later when Dieter walks through the front door of Diem’s house, ready for a shower and sleep. 

“You’re home late.” Diem’s voice sounds from the same spot on the couch he’d left her in. 

“Uh, yeah. Lost track of time.”

“Were you at Poppy’s?” She asks with herround of motherly questioning. 

“Yeah, I was. She had that easel, so I went to get it.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The easel.”

“Oh, I— I must have forgot it. We were talking, lost track of time. I’ll grab it another time. I’m gonna take a shower then head to bed. Night.” Hoping to throw her off his scent, the last thing he wants is to hear her boast about what you and him were up to. 

“Night. Oh hey, Dieter.”

“Yeah.” Turning back towards her. 

“Make sure you wash that cute hand print on your neck.” Her devilish grin beaming at him. 

He gives her a middle finger for good measure, then heads to the bathroom. 

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