#to show how deeply vulnerable he is in this moment

[doodle-pops]

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

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[aventurineswife]

as an ask, rather than a req: <3

how do you think aven would react if rather than him telling you abt his shaky hand, you simply observed it, and would gently intertwine one of your own with his whenever it happened:> in my head i think it’s such a cute thing to think about i think when his partner makes him feel seen and loved rather than idolized he’d feel so happy ehehe ^•^

-🪷🤍 anon

Aventurine would likely have a subtle yet deeply emotional reaction to such a gesture. He’s someone who thrives on being in control and projecting confidence, so when someone sees past his mask without him having to explain himself, it would catch him off-guard in the best way possible.

At first, he might stiffen slightly, his natural instinct to deflect or downplay kicking in. But as the moment settles, he’d relax, his usual smirk softening into something more genuine—an expression of quiet gratitude he doesn’t often show. The act of gently intertwining hands would resonate with him on a profound level, as it’s not about pity or idolization but understanding and connection.

Inwardly, he’d feel a warmth he struggles to put into words, his guarded heart cracking open just a little. Aventurine might even attempt to make a playful comment to lighten the mood, something like, “Careful, darling—if you hold me like this, I might start believing you’re trying to steal my luck.” but there’d be no hiding the tenderness in his voice or the way he lingers in the touch longer than necessary.

For someone who’s spent so long hiding his vulnerabilities, that simple act of silent reassurance would mean the world. It’s not just love; it’s being truly seen—a rarity for someone like Aventurine, and something that would only deepen his feelings for his partner.

Sorry if this is a bit out of character for Aventurine, i just woke up lol💀

[photo1030]

I am speechless right now. I just cannot get over how you’ve spun their relationship. It is so vulnerable and trusting, so honest and innocent at the same time. I love how she simply asks things that others may take for granted but it’s such an honest wondering that it moves him so deeply. There are no games or egos, just what they are willing to share with the other and they are willing to share everything. When he connects with her by being together “completely” 😏 that was such a beautiful moment and the way you show their inner feelings about it is just amazing.

But I am getting nervous now. Things are perfect. And their journey is coming close to an end. What will they do?! 😯

Of Love and Loss Ch. 21 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: In the small town of Ogallala, you and Arthur nurture feelings for each other that become increasingly hard to deny with each passing day and each word spoken.

Author’s Notes: Sorry this one took me so long. I couldn’t get it quite right for weeks, and part of me hates to part with it anyway because I’m getting so close to the end 🥲 Sexual content in this chapter. Chapter twenty-one of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Twenty-One: Love

Word count: 3726

This room was unlike the others. That airy barn had the memory of your childhood home and Beth on it, the last hotel room the sharpness of fear. You’d thought that that room would be the one to stay with you, but you tried to forget it now. Now, there was only this room, the safety in it, and Arthur. Maybe the latter two went hand in hand.

Your eyes found said safety in the growing darkness, watching him reverently in the low light. He’d lit a lamp earlier, and its golden glow reflected in his shining hair, his exposed skin, his gemstone eyes. You would never tire of that gaze. Normally, you found a smirk beneath it, but now his mouth matched his heavy stare—thoughtful and filled with something very close to desperation. It wasn’t difficult to guess why. Love did that to a person.

You had thought there would never be a feeling stronger than grief, stronger than the helpless agony that came with it. But love was the one thing to outweigh it. Rather, requited love was. Feeling wanted again was all your heart needed to stitch itself back together. To be loved was to be needed. And that triumphed grief every time.

You weren’t only thinking of yourself as you studied the man beside you. You thought of him and of how unlikely a match he was for you. But it was beginning to make sense. He, like you, was all wild animal, untamed, worth more than mankind could give. He wasn’t defined by the constructs of a normal personhood just as you weren’t. Neither of you were made for fleeting little relationships, if any at all. And perhaps that’s why it worked so well to be together, the feeling as natural as breathing. Because there were no expectations. He made sure of that, and you were too inexperienced and fond of him to form them. Being with a man emotionally or physically scared you before because it had always seemed confining. But you knew without a doubt that if you chose to go alone to the next town and never look back at this trip and all it brought between you, Arthur would let you. He wouldn’t hesitate. And because of that, he was freeing in a way no one had ever been to you. Not even your parents.

You were so caught up in his gaze and your thoughts that you were startled by the sudden sound of bootsteps opposite the door, flinching in his grasp as deputy badges and blood flashed across your vision.

“Easy,” he said lowly, pulling you in closer on the bed as the sound faded.

“Just…jumpy over the last time that happened.”

“Ain’t no law here to worry about,” Arthur said, stroking your hair.

He was right. And you were again reminded that this hotel room was very different from the last.

“I know,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite convince yourself after having lived through the hell that was the last town. That ringing gunshot that would never leave you be sounded again.

“Hey.” He lifted your chin so you would meet his eyes. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

Those words hit you like a physical blow. His protectiveness made you feel loved, but it was the truth of it that drove his point home. Because you had no doubt he would tear apart the world to keep you safe. Just as you had. You’d broken every moral you had just to keep him from harm. But you would do it all again. And, knowing Arthur, you bet he felt the same thing tenfold.

You smiled against his hand. “I know.” This time, you meant it.

After a moment and a smile so sure you wanted to keep it there forever, Arthur shifted. “Sit up.”

You did as he asked, watching as he reached for his journal. Thinking he meant to draw you again, you blushed. Especially as there was no coat this time, just bare skin between you only partially covered by a blanket at your hips. But to your surprise, he reached for your hair and tugged on that horsehair braid he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of, flattening it so that he could see the contrasting colors better.

“What is it with you and this braid?”

He shifted again so that he was far enough away to get the general picture of you sitting there, though that wasn’t saying much in the tiny bed. He was still close, and you watched his eyes focus in on your braid as he flipped to a blank page and readied his pencil, ignoring your question completely.

Wanting to know what it meant to him, you pushed. “Hard of hearing?”

“I heard you,” he said, still focusing hard on your hair. A few seconds passed as he began drawing. You didn’t think he would answer you until he shook his head, continuing to look down at his journal as he spoke. “I draw things so I don’t forget ‘em. There are a few moments I’ll never forget when it comes to you, but that braid, I want to remember even after it’s gone.”

You were warmed by the sincerity in this, but your curiosity got the better of you. “What moments will you never forget?”

Again, he took a beat to answer. “Looking at your side all bruised and bloody and my shitty attempt at stitches holding it all together. When you said ‘how could you’.”

You’d forgotten that. It had been months, and somehow his words had you remembering how the wagon you’d woken up in after he had stitched you up made your skin crawl. He went on, dispelling any further thought about it.

“The first time you let me touch you. The way you said ‘don’t stop’.”

This one made your heart race. He still pushed on.

“When I killed those wolves and came back in the tent to find you with that look on your face, like you were ready to die. The way you pulled me to you.” He stopped drawing and looked up at you. “That was the first time I felt like you really cared whether I was there or not. The first time you wanted my comfort.”

It was true. It was the first time you’d relied on him in your brokenness, the first time clinging to him felt like healing.

You smiled at him.

He went back to penciling in his journal. “And,” he said, drawing the word out in that drawl of his. “You asked me for that horsehair like it was the last gift you could give that horse. I knew it right then, the kind of woman you was. Thoughtful and tough as hell.”

You’d thought nothing of the act at the time, at least not in the way it would be viewed by Arthur. It was natural. Maybe that was why he admired you for it.

He went on. “I didn’t realize I enjoyed getting to know the woman you was before all this mess until then. Until I thought you would slip away again. But then you came out of that tent with this braid in your hair…”

He stopped and admired it, a smile turning his lips. “And you was still with me. And I was…relieved. Happy, even. That braid shows that strength of yours.”

For the first time since arriving in this town, you felt like crying. But not over any sadness. He had a way with words that surprised you. Your eyes fell to the page, to the way he had drawn part of your braid with such tenderness. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he meant every word.

Unable to voice your thoughts, or perhaps wanting to hold what he’d said in your heart a little longer, you teased him instead. “So, when you drew me in that barn, what were you trying to remember then?”

His smile turned into a smirk, one you were all too familiar with. “How good you looked in my coat.”

His gaze was hot on your skin, growing wanting as he watched you. And in seconds, his journal was pushed aside and forgotten, traded for his want of you, his need to touch you, his desire. To be that desire meant so much to you that your heart pounded a heavy beat in your chest, like it wanted to be loved by him too, craving that closeness.

Falling into him, you granted your heart exactly what it asked for.

~

The days bled together, and Arthur had no intention of moving on to the next town. As long as you wanted to stay here, he would stay with you. The only bit of business he attended to in the meantime was sending a letter back to the gang, thinking it was likely they’d made it to Denver a while back and would stay until they heard from him. The thought made Arthur smile—that wild bunch on the edges of town, restless and ready to bound out of there at a moment’s notice. They weren’t meant for staying in a big town like that just as he weren’t.

The only trouble with the letter had been what to put in it. Arthur hadn’t known what to say to the group he considered family. He was torn between staying with you and going back to them, knowing either would serve him well. But he was leaning toward staying, starting a life he had only ever dreamed of. Every time he considered it though, it felt too good to be true. It always was when he was younger, and who was he to deserve it now? Had he really changed at all? The truth to that was no, he hadn’t. Maybe he could be decent, but he still had a past on him that he didn’t want catching up to you. But so did you now, killing that deputy. All things considered, he was left feeling even more confused every time he pondered it. So, his letter had been short and nondescript, stating where he was and to write back when and where the gang inevitably moved. He posted the letter and left all thought of it behind him, knowing going in circles about it all wouldn’t do him any good. Instead, he returned to you and vowed to keep his mind on you, on this time you shared together and how right it felt. No matter that, like always, the town and its memories would soon be behind you both.

It wasn’t difficult to keep you in the front of Arthur’s mind. You were a gift, something he didn’t deserve. And all this time spent with you kept him sated like he never had been, his restless heart daring to settle for the first time since he was a boy.

The day had reached its end with the two of you still in bed. Arthur had done exactly what you’d asked of him those days ago, teaching you all the ways he knew how to pleasure a woman. But this was perhaps different, as there never was any meaning behind it until he met you.

Even worse was your blunt curiosity and the things you asked that got him so hard he could hardly see straight. He figured the worst of it was when you’d asked him to teach you how to pleasure him. He was wrong. It was moments ago, when you’d turned to him with a blush on your face and asked if you could ride him. Well, those hadn’t been your exact words, but that was all Arthur could come up with now as you made to do the very thing.

His hands found your hips in seconds upon you climbing on top of him. It took everything in him to be gentle.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” you said in a voice close to a whisper.

He found a lazy grin sneaking its way across his face, for the way your shyness showed, for the way you climbed on top of him anyway. Sure as ever.

“What?” you said upon seeing his smile.

“I like you on top of me,” he said honestly. Because he did. Nothing turned him on more. But he couldn’t go on without teasing you at least a little. “I like you wantin’ to ride me.” He squeezed your hips with his fingers, tugging you closer. Your face went bright red at those words.

“What’s the matter?” he teased.

You kept looking from his eyes to his mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to slap him or kiss him. The smile on your face was timid, but it was blatant as the day was long that he’d called you out and you wouldn’t well deny it.

You wouldn’t meet his eye as you said, “I like it too.”

Arthur’s grin went wide, and he bucked his hips underneath you for good measure. Pure pleasure met him as he did, the movement against your slick like heaven.

You let out a little moan, bracing your hands on his chest as you made to line yourself up with him. He would never tire of the distracted look you got on your face, like his body and what he was doing to yours was all you could think about. It made a pride he could hardly contain take hold.

You reached your hand down and fisted him so gently he couldn’t stand it. That is, until the head of his cock slid into you, and you met his eye and sat completely, making him suck in a sharp breath. He still held your hips with gripping fingers, but it was all he could do not to focus solely on how deep he was buried in you, on moving fast and hard. Instead, he let you set your own pace as you watched him with a heavy gaze, your lips parting when you began to move up and down on him.

It was downright sinful, the feeling it brought him. He pulled you in tighter, moving his hands with your hips. Ignoring all else. He didn’t give a shit what he looked or sounded like, so long as you didn’t stop.

“Arthur?”

He met your eye, only able to do so since your tone had the hint of a question in it. You kept riding him, grating and slow, as you spoke. “I want to- oh…”

You drug the word out, your head falling back in your pleasured state. It was so goddamn arousing Arthur couldn’t take it anymore. He held you down against him and bucked upward, hard, making you moan for him as your breasts started bouncing with how fast he moved. Fuck, that did it.

“Want to what?” he gritted out.

You looked downright erotic, your heavy eyes falling over him like sex given form as you answered, “Want to feel your release inside of me.”

Arthur slowed his pace, your words hitting him so hard he knew he would spill inside you anyway if he weren’t careful.

“Ain’t too smart, darlin’.”

“I don’t care.”

In this moment, he didn’t either. He didn’t care about the consequences, even though it would normally bother him after Isaac. If anything, he was in a place to be with you, to raise a child with you if it came to that. So to hell with all his usual fear and regret.

“You sure?” he grimaced, still pumping his cock into you as deep as he could.

“Yes. If you are.”

Surprising himself, he was.

Arthur lifted you up and off of him, needing to do what he’d been wanting to for some time now. Of all the pleasure the two of you had wrought from each other, there was one remaining untried thing Arthur felt was a bit selfish but knew you would get just as much enjoyment out of as he would. And he did that now, turning you so that you remained facing the bed as he crawled behind you.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please…”

“Please what?” Arthur pushed your shoulders down to the bed gently, the head of his cock meeting your slick again. He nearly shook in anticipation.

“Please take me. Hard.”

If that weren’t encouragement enough, Arthur slid into you so deep you tightened around him. “Christ,” he grimaced. Then he moved. And he had to close his eyes and focus hard to keep his release at bay.

Arthur rocked his hips fast, knowing the second he watched how perfectly your bodies met, this would be over. So he focused on you first, on the sounds you made and what you seemed to like best. You moaned the loudest when he gripped your hips again and fucked you harder, so he kept on, letting you feel just how much you affected him as he drove deep.

“Arthur,” you whined, his name so needy on your tongue he almost lost it.

“That’s it,” he said lowly, taking one hand away and moving it around you, his finger coming down on those nerves that made you buck against him.

That really made you cry out. And Arthur felt a pride like none other, a protectiveness and a possessiveness that made him want to spend inside you, make you his. His grip on you tightened as his finger swirled against you.

In seconds, your pleasure rocked through you, making those inner muscles of yours flutter and work against Arthur’s cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure took over. Then it was all feeling, all you at his mercy, pleading his name like he was actually worthy of this.

For once in his life, Arthur let go of all the control, all the responsibility and sense he held so close. He released it like a breath and took you like a man should take a woman, for the sheer purpose of desire and need and maybe even love. He shuddered then slid home one last time with your name on his lips, spilling inside of you as you continued to come down around him. It was comforting and fitting and so incredibly right that his chest caught at the feeling.

“Yes,” you breathed. “God, yes.”

He wanted to repeat it back to you. But he stayed there silent, finally daring to look down at where you were met. And Christ, was it a sight, almost like he was meant to be there. He rolled his hips, unable to resist wanting to keep his spend deep inside you. It was primal and perhaps idiotic of him, but he couldn’t help it. He already wanted to do it all over again.

You both breathed heavy and refused to separate, caught there in this moment that, if you were lucky, would never have to reach its end.

But end it did, only because your body was giving out. He hadn’t realized how hard he took you until then, until your muscles protested enough to make you begin to fall to the bed. He slid out of you and caught you, letting you down slowly. He rolled you onto your back, meeting your satisfied gaze. “You okay? I didn’t mean to-”

“That’s all I ever wanted. And all I’ll ever want again.”

A smile turned his lips, catching him off guard. He never expected to smile after doing something so reckless, hope filling him where regret normally would.

“Good,” he replied. And you smiled back, the sight a tired thing. He leaned down and kissed you. When he broke away, the look you gave him hit him just as hard as all his arousal had. It was a look of complete trust. Like you’d found a home in him. He never thought he’d see the day a woman looked at him like that.

“Don’t know about you,” you said laboredly, “but I’m spent.”

He chuckled at just how spent he was, not bothering to reply as he wrapped you up in his arms to sleep. Nothing more than a man and the woman he loved, as normal a life as he could have ever imagined.

~

You and Arthur very much overstayed your welcome in the small town of Ogallala. Both of you mentioned leaving a time or two but could never quite convince yourselves to saddle up and do it. So you stayed, carving out a little life for yourselves filled with the ease of routine.

Eventually though, you could tell money was getting tight when Arthur began choosing dried meat over his preferred canned goods from the general store. It made you guilty enough to know it was time to move on. Maybe your end destination would be as kind to you as this town had been, and you wouldn’t have to worry about ending this precious time together. You hadn’t talked about it, but you were beginning to believe that Arthur would stay with you. So, holding onto that hope, you finally gave in to leaving.

“What, tired of my company?” he’d teased when you brought it up, both of you already at the stables visiting your mounts.

You shot him a look that warned of a swat to the arm but said, “Not even a little.”

That earned you one of those genuine smiles he rarely gave, like your words were healing him stitch by stitch. But he agreed, and the pair of you gathered up and mounted.

You watched the town slowly fall away into the distance as you left it, turning to look at it so many times Arthur laughed at you. “It ain’t going nowhere, you know.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s true.”

“That’s what you’re always saying.”

He shot you a smirk that could tear down the world and every forlorn woman in it. How lucky you were that he was yours. You thought of telling him so, of telling him how much you cared for him, but your heart began racing, and the words died on your lips. Instead, you opted to tease him right back—his and your form of endearment. And his resulting happiness made you know that it was just as special to him as saying those three precious words.

_________

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[thatswhatsushesaid]

happy sunday!! time to remember how small and alone and frightened and scared nie huaisang looks while held captive in qishan!

specifically, that moment when he finds out qinghe has been taken by the qishan wen, and asks that sentient sphincter muscle wen chao, "what happened to my big brother?!"

and wen chao just smiles at him and says, "what do you think?"

anyway it low key broke my heart!! someone give huaisang a hug 🥺

[chocottang]

the more i think abt goldica the more i like it

[fcrir]

Can't help but think of a theory I saw about Zack viewing the church as a place of healing and how it ties closely to his relationship with Aerith and the comfort he easily finds with her. He met her when everything he knew and trusted was beginning to fall apart, and in that storm she was there in her own little heaven, crafting her own happiness away from the world above and it's troubles. It's something he never realized he was lacking, a moment of peace from war and the active life of a SOLDIER. Although he's the kind to prefer to always be doing something, he needed to stop and think, especially after Angeal's alleged betrayal that he was desperate to understand. At these instances of confusion, he would turn to the church, to Aerith, whether they would stare at the flowers, have a simple conversation or do nothing at all, he almost always finds a sense of clarity at the end, maybe not a clear and definitive comprehension but peaceful acceptance. Zack isn't secretive and rather honest with his emotions, but he tends to avoid the negative, or more accurately, to stall it, always hoping he would find the best in the situation and turn any negativity into something of use. And So, he doesn't speak much of the unhappy, doesn't wish to bring anyone down with him. That said, even the brightest of people are bound to break, losing Angeal had a heavy impact on him, and in the haze of that raw ache he instinctively sought comfort from the one person who's presence alone would offer him healing, felt like he drop the act of bravery around her, letting his emotions flow without restraint, which is a telling sign of his deep trust in her.

[franzkafkagf]

the funeral (a grotesque display of two queens’ grief, forced on them against their will) being interjected by images of aegon beating blood into a bloody ruin says something about how women’s grief is exploited and paraded around as a virtue while male grief is only allowed to exist in conjunction with violence.

female sorrow is expected to be public, dignified, and even noble, it serves as a symbol of quiet strength and resilience. otto uses it as a tool to gain sympathy for their cause. notice how he forced alicent and helaena into it, while he allowed aegon not to participate. wouldn‘t the king being at the funeral send a powerful message? yes, it would. but otto looks at aegon with contempt, the other councilmen and alicent do not know what to do with his tears. the realm cannot be allowed to see the king grieve. not like this.

male grief is denied its own space and validity unless it manifests in aggressive or destructive acts. aegon realizes this to some degree too— he lashes out publicly by killing the rat catchers. he shows his grief by being violent, by spilling blood.

the toxicity of it all is very effectively shown at the end when aegon is crying by himself. did he retreat there to be alone and finally let it all out? his mother is either letting him have that moment alone or she’s deeply uncomfortable with it and chooses to leave. no matter what motivated alicent in acting the way she did— the moment still reveals how male vulnerability is something people fear. it shows that even the most human expressions of pain are not acceptable for some.

[eddie-van-munson]

What is my favorite Steve Harrington moment? Thank you so much for asking. It's "Oh..."

When Robin comes out to Steve, there is a moment where we're unsure about how he'll respond.

"But...Tammy Thompson's a girl."

"Steve..."

It's tense. He thinks for a moment, realizes what she means, and responds "Oh..."

There are so many ways that tiny little line could've been delivered. It could've easily portrayed disgust. It could've sounded surprised or confused or angry. It even could've been played for a laugh.

But somehow, Joe Keery managed to deliver that line in a way that is so unbelievably full of tenderness. It is soft and surprised, yes, but also comforting and apologetic. It's like he's realizing there's this whole part of her that he hasn't even noticed. It is understanding. It is empathy.

Every time I watch this scene, I can feel the tension that Robin is feeling, but I can also feel the relief that follows after that one little "Oh..." It's a far cry from the way we see Steve interact with characters in vulnerable positions like that in earlier seasons. Unbelievable amounts of growth are shelled in that "Oh".

How ridiculously impressive on Joe Keery's part that he was able to tell such a convincing story from one little sound. One of the most impactful examples of platonic love that I've ever seen in media. Maybe It sounds silly or like I'm reading too much into it, but I've always felt it so deeply no matter how many times I watch the show. It is so earnest.

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[connorsui]

Behind Closed Doors

Prohero Katsuki x reader

Genre/Warnings: Domestic Fluff, soft moments, slight emotional variability for katsuki, katsukis attitude

Synopsis: —his love for you is hidden in the small, everyday acts of affection.

Note: I like to imagine katsuki becoming a completely different person when he's left alone with you 🍒

w.c: 2,211

The difference in Katsuki’s behavior always caught you off guard, no matter how long you’d been together. In public, he stormed through crowds with an intensity that left everyone around him on edge. His voice would rise above the noise, sharp and commanding, as he ordered others around or shut down any attempt at small talk with a single glare. He hated being slowed down and hated when people got in his way. But when his gaze flickered to you, just for a moment, there was something else—something quieter, softer, that only you could see.

It wasn’t that Katsuki toned it down in public—not by a long shot—but there was a certain way he carried himself when you were beside him. As if you were the exception to the rule, the one person he didn’t mind sticking around. Even when surrounded by fans or reporters, his body would instinctively angle toward you, a subtle shield between you and the world. His touch was always firm, but never rough, as though he was unconsciously protecting the one part of his life he wanted to keep safe from the chaos.

One night, after a particularly long day, Katsuki came home more irritable than usual. You heard it the moment the door slammed shut, his heavy boots stomping across the floor. He tossed his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink, his jaw tight, and his scowl deeper than normal.

“—fucking idiots…” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. “Can’t even do their damn jobs, right”

You watched him from the couch, knowing better than to approach him immediately when he was like this. Katsuki needed time to cool down to let the frustration simmer until it dulled. Still, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. He was all bark out there, terrifying to anyone who crossed his path, but you knew that in just a few minutes, he’d come over, sit next to you, and let out that sigh—the one that meant he was done being a hero for the day.

And, just as expected, he did. After a few moments of grumbling to himself, Katsuki crossed the room and dropped down beside you with a huff, his head falling back against the couch cushions. You didn’t say anything, just reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, grounding him with a simple touch. His shoulders relaxed almost instantly, the tension melting away as he exhaled deeply.

“Rough day, huh?” you asked quietly, giving his leg a gentle squeeze.

“Tch. Yeah.” He closed his eyes, one hand covering his face. “Just sick of dealin’ with everybody out there all day.”

There was a pause, the room settling into a comfortable silence before he added, his voice quieter, almost sheepish, “Missed you…”

It was in those moments you realized how much he relied on you to recharge. He wasn’t the type to come home and fall apart, but there was a vulnerability in the way he leaned into you, even when he tried to play it off. Katsuki didn’t need grand gestures or declarations; he showed his love in the way he let his guard down when it was just the two of you.

Later that night, after you both settled into bed, Katsuki turned toward you, his movements slower, more deliberate as the day’s tension ebbed away. Without a word, he tugged you into his chest, his strong arm wrapping securely around your waist, pulling you close. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm as it brushed against your skin, sending a wave of comfort through you.

His grip was firm, possessive, but tender, as if holding you was the only thing keeping him grounded. For a long moment, he said nothing, just breathed you in, his hand tracing lazy circles on your lower back. Then, with quiet vulnerability, Katsuki’s voice rumbled softly against your neck, thick with the weight of sleep and affection he rarely voiced.

“Can’t stand anyone else… but you,” he mumbled, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “But with you… everything feels right.”

The words were so soft they could’ve easily been lost to the night, but in the quiet of your room, they wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Your heart swelled, warmth spreading through your chest at the rare, intimate admission. Turning in his arms, you pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth. Katsuki’s hold tightened instantly, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, as if the simple act of being this close wasn’t enough.

He exhaled deeply, the last of his tension melting away as he pulled you impossibly closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You’re not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a whispered promise in the quiet. "Not without me."

In that moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of you—wrapped up in each other, his love woven into every touch, every breath, every heartbeat.

It was in these moments, when the world outside faded away and it was just the two of you tangled in the sheets, that you truly understood how much Katsuki cared. How deeply he loved, even if he didn’t always say it out loud. You saw it in the way he relaxed when you were near, the way his fiery temper cooled into something soft and unguarded, a side of him no one else ever got to see.

Katsuki might hate the world—hell, he made no secret of how unbearable he found most people—but when it came to you, it was different. You were the calm in his storm, the quiet he sought after the chaos of hero work. And in return, he gave you a side of himself no one else would ever know. That alone was enough to show you just how much he cherished you.

The next morning, you woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Katsuki moving around the kitchen. When you padded out, rubbing sleep from your eyes, you found him already dressed in his hero uniform, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan.

“You’re up early,” you remarked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, well,” he grunted, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Figured I’d make you breakfast before I head out. Can’t have you starvin’ while I’m out dealin’ with idiots, can I?”

You laughed, moving over to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek to his broad back. “I love you, Katsuki.”

“Tch… love you too,” he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

The warmth of Katsuki’s back against your cheek, combined with the rich smell of breakfast, made you want to stay wrapped around him for the rest of the morning. You lingered there for a moment longer, savoring the rare quiet before he had to face the demands of the day.

He turned off the burner with a sharp flick of his wrist, then nudged you gently with his elbow, his tone playfully gruff. “Go sit down, idiot. I made all this for you, not so you could just stand around and get in the way.”

You smiled at the familiar edge to his words, knowing the affection that lay underneath. “Okay, okay,” you teased, stepping back and heading to the table. As you sat down, Katsuki brought over a plate piled with perfectly golden toast, eggs cooked just the way you liked them, and a small portion of your favorite fruit. The meal was simple, but you could feel the care in every detail.

He placed the plate in front of you, then leaned down, brushing a quick kiss to the top of your head before heading back to the kitchen to grab his own breakfast. “Eat up,” he said over his shoulder, his voice softer than before.

You dug in, and the taste of the food, combined with Katsuki’s quiet gestures of love, made your chest feel full. It wasn’t grand or elaborate, but that was what made it so special—the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, sharing something as simple as breakfast.

As Katsuki sat down across from you, he kept glancing up from his plate, watching you eat with a soft expression that only you ever got to see. He didn’t say much, just occasionally asked if you needed more coffee or wanted another piece of toast. There was a contentment in the air, one that spoke of a love that didn’t need constant words to be understood.

When the meal was finished, you stood to clear the table, but Katsuki stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist. “I got it,” he grumbled, already starting to collect the dishes.

You tilted your head at him, a smile playing at your lips. “You’re spoiling me today, Katsuki.”

“Tch. Don���t get used to it,” he muttered, though there was a teasing glint in his eye. “Just thought I’d do somethin’ nice before I head out and have to deal with all those extras.”

His words made you laugh, and the sound seemed to soften the lines of his face even more. Katsuki wasn’t a man of many words when it came to expressing his feelings, but in moments like these, you didn’t need them. The way he made breakfast, the way he took care of the dishes, and the way he kept checking in on you—it was all Katsuki’s way of showing how much he cared.

When he was done cleaning up, he grabbed his hero jacket from the back of a chair and shrugged it on, his movements fluid and practiced. You walked over to him, your hands naturally finding their place on his chest as you helped him adjust the collar. He looked down at you, eyes soft despite the serious set of his mouth.

“Be careful out there, okay?” you murmured, your fingers lingering on the fabric of his jacket.

Katsuki huffed, but you could hear the affection in his voice. “I’m always careful, idiot. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, and for a moment, Katsuki’s hand came up to cup your cheek, holding you in place just a little longer. When you pulled away, his red eyes were dark with something you couldn’t quite name, but you could feel the weight of his affection in that look.

“Get some rest today,” he said, his voice low and serious now. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded, watching as he stepped back and adjusted his gloves, his usual sharp, determined expression settling back in place. But before he opened the door, he turned back one last time, that softer version of him peeking through once again.

“Love you,” he said, and it was quiet—so quiet you almost missed it. But it was there, and that was enough.

“I love you too, Katsuki,” you whispered, your heart swelling as you watched him leave, already looking forward to the moment when he’d come back and the world would quiet down again, just for the two of you.

The hours passed slowly after Katsuki left. You tried to keep busy, flipping through a book or scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, but your mind kept wandering back to him. It was always like this when he was out on patrol. You trusted him more than anything, knew he was one of the strongest heroes out there, but that didn’t stop the small flutter of worry from creeping in now and then.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed with a message from him.

"On my way back. Be there in 20. Don’t start dinner without me"

You smiled at the screen, already feeling the familiar warmth in your chest. Katsuki was always direct, even in his texts, but the fact that he let you know he was coming home—that he was thinking of you—made your heart skip a beat.

When he finally walked through the door, there was none of the usual tension from his long day. He dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his boots, heading straight for you without a word. You barely had time to set down the book you’d been reading before his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug that left no room for anything but the two of you.

“Missed you,” he murmured against your hair, his voice quiet but full of that raw, unspoken affection you had come to know so well.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned into him, letting the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek wash away the last traces of the day.

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the quiet warmth of Katsuki’s presence and the simple, steady rhythm of your life together.

Gimmie soft pro bakugo ..I guarantee this man would treat you with respect u deserve

[syluslnd]

mutual secret baby trapping? 👁️

he gets you pregnant on purpose & you let him

• Sylus, ever the manipulator, wanted you to carry his child. While he may have never been direct about it, he made sure that the outcome of your encounters would lead to this—ensuring that you’d become dependent on him in the way he wanted.

• He’s never been one to show his emotions easily but the moment he knew you were pregnant, something inside him shifted. It was a power play, yes but it also filled him with a deep, possessive satisfaction. He knew that now, you would be tied to him in a way that no one else could be.

•Sylus can’t help but feel a possessive glee when he sees you with your bump. It’s like a physical manifestation of his power, his control. He watches you, amused at how cute you look with your rounded belly, waddling slightly as you move. It’s an intoxicating combination of adoration and ownership.

•He’s giddy, though he hides it beneath his usual stoic demeanor. Deep down, he knows he’s secured you in a way that no one else could. “You’re mine forever sweetie” he thinks to himself, not just as a lover but as the father of his child.

•When you look all bummy and cute, Sylus absolutely melts—but only in private. He’ll tease you for looking adorable, maybe even mockingly calling you “helpless” in a teasing tone. He wants you to need him, to rely on him and seeing you like that, with your swollen belly and a tired expression, only reinforces the fact that you’ll never be leaving his side.

•He can’t help but think “This is it. This is my life now. This is forever.” Every time he catches you in an unguarded moment, lounging around in comfortable clothes, he’s reminded that he’s now the father of your child, and that makes him feel invincible.

• Sylus has always kept his distance from emotions, but now, seeing you in this vulnerable state, he realizes just how deeply tied to you he is. You’re carrying his child. This bond will never be broken. There’s no going back now, no matter what.

•In his mind, you’re not just someone he has in his life temporarily—you’re his forever. The thought of you as the mother of his children is oddly reassuring, knowing that you won’t be able to leave without tearing his world apart. He’s possessive in this sense, not just for the sake of control but because he can’t bear the thought of losing you now.

•Despite his hard exterior, Sylus finds himself becoming strangely tender with you. When you’re tired and asking for something simple, he’ll be the first to jump to your aid, never allowing you to carry more than you can. He’s not overly affectionate but when you need him, he’s there.

•In private moments, when it’s just the two of you, he’ll rest his hand on your belly, maybe even press a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s not one to show vulnerability but this is one of the few times where his feelings for you—his deep attachment—shine through.

•He might act nonchalant, even cocky, about it but Sylus knows in the depths of his mind that you’re never going to leave him. You’re bound to him now, not just by love, but by the child you’re carrying.

•This thought alone makes him feel more powerful than he’s ever felt before. You will always be his and while the idea of having his child makes him feel giddy, there’s also something else beneath the surface: a deep sense of satisfaction in knowing that he’s got you. Forever.

[onthecrescentofthehill]

i love this early chapter illustration. living armor was a turning point when i read the manga for how it shows laios and his solo analytical process but the contrast here…. this is the very first time he’s drawn without armor in the manga (this doesn’t fully happen in-story until chapter 28 when falin goes to check on him after she’s been resurrected, the heartbreaking hug scene)

before living armor he’s demonstrated wild feats of strength and bravery, his enthusiasm is deeply alienating, and then there’s this sparse illustration with him looking quite small and thoughtful.

he looks extremely Human. i feel like the contrast is a really forward thinking narratively.

something i find really interesting about laios’s characterization is how the dungeon is such a small window into his personality, and the few moments where he’s more aloof and cold, sometimes resentful are probably what he’s like most of the time (there have been posts showcasing those but i can’t find them rn.)

his default state is not trying to take up too much space, a little bit in his head. i think this chapter pic does a really good job bringing in that idea in really early, while also saying that he’s a lot more than an enthusiastic, leadership driven tank character. he’s vulnerable and analytical.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐏 𖥔

summary ; your relationship with daryl only deepens when he reaches an all new level of vulnerability with you.

notes ; daryl dixon x girlfriend!reader, established relationship, fluff + angst, mentions of scars.

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

daryl’s eyes stay locked on you as he slowly shrugged off his shirt, the scars and markings on his olive-toned skin now fully visible in the dimly lit room. large jagged lines of damaged tissue stretched along his back, some old and overlapping, while others were newer and more defined. each one told a story of the battles he had survived. the pain he had endured. every one of them making him the man you had grown to love.

you knew daryl had scars, just as you all did, but you had only ever glimpsed his before in passing - an accidental run-in while he was changing - but this was different. this was deliberate, a conscious choice he was making to bare not just his skin, but a part of himself that he typically kept hidden. the act alone spoke volumes about the growing trust he had implemented in you. no matter how hard he tried to remain his usual stoicism and keep you at arms length, you had weaselled your way into his heart, and there was no turning back now. 

“i told ya, they ain’t pretty,” his voice is low and rough as he spoke, a hint of insecurity in his guarded gaze.

“no, they aren’t,” you say softly, agreeing with his comment as you slowly and cautiously step towards him. “but they’re a part of you, of who you are, and i think you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.”

daryl’s body tensed slightly as your fingers gingerly touch one of his larger scars, the rough callused skin shifting beneath your light touch. his breath hitched for a moment, his gaze locked on you through the mirror before him, watching every movement closely. 

no one had ever touched his scars before, not like this, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he stayed still, letting you explore the map of his history etched deep into his flesh. it was like electric jolts through his system, the way your soft touch sent a shiver across his skin under your fingertips. no one had ever touched him with such tenderness, especially not his scars. the air around them seemed to crackle with tension as he gazed down at you, the weight of your words and touch hitting him deep in his heart. 

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper, “ain’t nobody ever called me ‘beautiful’ before.”

“... you are.” 

a soft whale escapes his lips as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him back into the comfort of your soft embrace. the feel of your body against his back shoots sparks through his core, and he subconsciously leans into your touch, craving more of the soothing warmth. 

he feels your lips graze his shoulder blade, the tenderness of a kiss sending a shiver down his spine. the gesture almost undoes him as you nuzzle into him and he lets out a low, shaky breath.

“do you not think you are?” you ask. 

he hesitates for a moment, his rugged features etched with a mix of vulnerability and self-doubt as he struggles with the unfamiliar praise. 

“dunno,” he mutters, voice gruff. “never thought of myself as beautiful, just a tough old redneck who’s been in a few fights.” 

he glances over his shoulder at you, dark eyes assessing, waiting for your reaction. the walls he had built up over years of pain and rejection are starting to show cracks, revealing the deeply insecure man underneath. the man that very few people got to see.

“that may be who you think you are, but that doesn’t mean it’s all that you are.”

his gaze locks onto yours, raw and exposed. he’s not used to having someone see him, not just the scars on his body, but the scars of his soul. his throat feels tight, but he manages a raspy reply.

“yeah?” he cocks his head slightly, his usual gruffness undercut with a hint of vulnerability he can’t quite hide. not with you. “what else am i then?”

with each word you speak, you press a kiss to his back, “you’re a strong… courageous… loyal… caring… stubborn…misguided…gentle…man, who deserves far more than this world can offer him.” 

with each word and each kiss, daryl feels a wave of emotion well up within him, his defences slowly crumbling. the way you speak about him, your words dripping with genuine sincerity, stirs something deep inside of him. it’s almost too much, and he has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms. 

he huffs out a wry, amused laugh when you call him stubborn, “and i’m just supposed to believe all that?”

“like i said… stubborn.” you press one more kiss to his back, smiling into it. 

daryl can’t help but let out a husky chuckle as your lips press into his back once more. his head dips down, trying to hide the slight blush that creeps across his cheeks at your teasing. 

“yeah, guess you’re right on that one,” he mutters, grudgingly admitting defeat. he then glances over his shoulder, his gruff exterior crumbling a little more. “you forgot somethin’ though.”

your eyes narrow playfully as he now turns to face you. his arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you against his muscular frame in a gesture that’s both tender and possessive at the same time. his dark eyes are intense as they look down at you, searching yours for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. 

when he speaks, his voice is softer than usual, and there’s a slight nervous twinge to his tone, “you forgot to say i’m yours.”

you smile, leaning up to kiss him but stop just before you do, your lips barely brushing against his, “that’s just a known fact, sweetheart.”

the closeness of your lips against his was enough to make sparks dance under his skin. but your coy response, that hint of a tease in your voice, does him in, and he’s powerless against the magnetic pull between you both. when you finally close the distance and kiss him, he responds almost immediately, the kiss deep and intense right from the start. 

his arms tighten around your waist, his hands splaying across your lower back to pull you even closer, eliminating any space between you. his lips move against yours in a desperate dance, a silent affirmation of what you both already knew. 

when you finally break apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding as if it wants to leap out of his chest. he gazes down at you, a mix of awe and wonder in his eyes as he takes in the vision of you, your swollen lips and flushed cheeks. he looks almost dazed, as if he’s trying to process the fact that you, a creature of such beauty and kindness, exists in his crazy, unnatural life.

a small, disbelieving chuckle escapes him as he speaks, “the hell’d i do to deserve you?”

“everything. you did everything to deserve me.” you reassure him, his heart swelling in his chest as you do. 

he lets out a shaky exhale as you kiss him again, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go for even a second. 

when he speaks again, his voice is low, rough around the edges with unguarded emotion, “don’t you ever leave me.”

“even if i did, i know you’d find me,” you run a hand through his hair, an adoring smile on your face as his eyes flutter shut at the touch. he lets out a low hum, the corners of his mouth curving up into a rare smile. 

he opens his eyes to look at you again, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and determination, “i’d tear this whole world apart to find ya if i had to.”

“and i’d be waiting for you.”

[vintagerobin]

Was just thinking about Battinson and how imo he's one of the very best live action movie adaptations of Batman to date for the very simple fact that they repeatedly show him experiencing empathy and sadness for the pain of the people around him. And not in some high minded idealistic way that's just there to showcase his strength and heroism, but in a deeply personal way, in little moments of vulnerability where he's looking helplessly on at the suffering he couldn't prevent. Like yes thank you for understanding the assignment, finally.

[littlelamy]

untitled

drew starkey x victoria’ssecret!model!reader

a/n: the fashion show last night was underwhelming to be honest. i wish they dedicated more money and time on the lingerie and wings rather than having high profile models. but i did enjoy seeing tyla, lisa, bella, jasmine, adrianna and so many others; they looked amazing!!

the backstage chaos hums around you—makeup artists rushing, models adjusting their wings, designers shouting last-minute adjustments—but all you can focus on is the gnawing anxiety building in your chest. your heart feels like it’s pounding out of your ribcage, palms damp with sweat as you fidget with the intricate straps of the lingerie you’re supposed to wear. the excitement that had carried you through rehearsals, fittings, and sleepless nights now feels like a distant memory, swallowed by a crippling sense of doubt.

“what if i trip? or my walk looks awkward?” you whisper under your breath, eyes darting toward the stage where the show is already underway. each model that struts down the runway with effortless grace only seems to magnify your insecurity.

before you can spiral further, you feel a hand—warm, steady—gently squeeze your shoulder. you turn to see drew, standing just behind you, his brow furrowed in concern but his eyes soft, deeply grounding. he doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls you aside from the noise and chaos, into a quiet corner.

“hey,” he says softly, his voice low and reassuring, cutting through the frantic energy around you. “look at me.”

you hesitate for a moment, still caught up in your head, but you eventually meet his gaze. his expression is serious, but there’s something else there too—an understanding that goes deeper than surface-level comfort.

“you’re freaking out, huh?” he asks, but it’s not condescending. there’s a knowing warmth in his tone, like he’s seen you unravel like this before, and it’s never phased him.

“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, barely above a whisper, your voice strained with vulnerability. “all these other girls have done this a million times, and i—”

“you’re not them,” he cuts in gently but firmly. “you’re you. that’s why you’re here. no one else brings what you bring.”

you shake your head, still not fully convinced. “but what if i mess up? what if i make a fool of myself in front of everyone?”

he steps closer, his hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly along your jawline, forcing you to stay anchored in the moment with him. “listen to me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave, more intense now. “you’ve worked your ass off for this. this isn’t some random opportunity that fell into your lap. they picked you because you’ve got something none of those other girls do. it’s not just about being pretty or walking in a straight line. it’s about the energy you bring, the way you make people feel when they watch you.”

you close your eyes for a second, trying to let his words seep into the cracks of your insecurity. but the doubts are still there, lingering like shadows.

“drew, what if i freeze? what if—”

“then you freeze, and you keep going,” he says, his tone steady, unyielding. “but i don’t think that’s going to happen. because you don’t give up. i’ve seen you face way bigger things than this, and you never back down. so why would you start now?”

his words hit harder than you expect, a mixture of challenge and belief that makes your heart clench. he’s not just offering hollow reassurances—he’s reminding you of your strength, of who you are when you’re not wrapped up in fear.

“and besides,” he adds, a softer note creeping back into his voice, “i’ll be out there, right in the front row. the second you step on that stage, i’ll be looking right at you, reminding you of exactly how badass you are.”

a laugh escapes you, despite yourself, the tension breaking slightly. “you always know what to say.”

he grins, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your forehead. “because i know you. better than anyone. and i know you’re about to blow everyone away.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, tucked away in this corner, away from the lights and cameras and expectations. drew’s hands drop from your face, but he keeps one hand on your waist, his thumb tracing calming circles against your skin.

“you’ve got this,” he says, quieter now, almost like he’s speaking directly to your soul. “and if you start to doubt yourself, just look for me. i’ll be there, reminding you that you’re not alone in this.”

the knot in your chest loosens, just a little, and you find yourself nodding, the panic subsiding enough for you to take a steady breath.

“okay,” you say, more to yourself than him. “okay. i can do this.”

he gives you a final, lingering look—one filled with so much pride, so much trust—and then steps back, giving you the space to gather yourself.

“you better go out there and make them all wish they had your confidence,” he teases, his voice light again, but there’s an underlying current of truth to his words.

as the stage manager signals for you to get into position, you take one last look at drew, and for the first time all night, you feel steady on your feet.

because no matter what happens out there, you know you’re not walking alone.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Different DNA

Summary - A deeply vulnerable Jace struggles with insecurity, and as his wife, her sole job is to reassure him and make him feel cherished, using every means at her disposal.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2246

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Jacaerys Velaryon was undeniably a different breed, and everyone knew it. As his wife, my role was to ensure he always felt valued for who he was, despite what anyone else might say.

"They were saying it again," he murmured, resting his head against my chest as we lay together on our bed. I gently stroked his hair, feeling his soft sighs of contentment against my skin.

"You're not like the others," I said, and he looked up at me with his deep brown eyes, full of vulnerability. "And that's okay," I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his face as he closed his eyes momentarily as if trying to believe my words.

"They called me plain-featured," he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness that cut through me like a knife. 

The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and it broke my heart to see him so wounded by the cruel judgments of others.

"You're different, but they don't understand you" I reassured him, my fingers tracing his cheek tenderly. He leaned into my touch, seeking comfort like a cat craving affection.

"But... maybe they're right," he whispered, his voice trembling with doubt. "Maybe I am plain, unremarkable. How could someone like you love someone like me?"

"You my love are from a whole other world, a different dimension," I said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "They can't see what I see, Jace. They don't know you like I do."

His eyes filled with unshed tears, and he looked away, unable to meet my gaze. "I do not deserve you," he said, his voice breaking as his insecurities came to the surface.

I couldn't bear to see him like this, so vulnerable, yet so strong. I wanted to protect him from the world that seemed intent on tearing him down. My heart ached at his words. I cupped his face, gently turning his head so he had no choice but to look at me. 

"Jace, listen to me," I said, my voice firm but full of love. "You open my eyes to things I never knew existed. You bring light into my life. You're everything I could ever want or need. And I'm ready to follow you, to be with you, no matter where that leads."

His eyes searched mine as if he was trying to find the truth in my words, the reassurance that he so desperately needed. 

He shifted then, moving to kneel in front of me, his hands cradling my face with a mix of reverence and desperation.

"Kiss me," I murmured, my eyes locking onto his, my need for him as clear as the love I felt.

"Make me yours, completely, permanently," I continued, my voice soft but intense.

He hesitated for a moment, his insecurities still holding him back, but then he leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss filled with desperate longing. 

The kiss was deep and passionate, as if he was trying to pour all of his emotions into that single act, to show me how much he needed me.

His hands roamed over my body, urgent and possessive, as he gently pushed me down onto the bed. Every touch was a blend of hunger and tenderness, and I could feel the intensity of his need in the way his fingers explored my skin.

"Take me," I whispered when he momentarily pulled away to catch his breath. My voice, laced with urgency, echoed in the quiet of the room. 

"Take me," I repeated, my words a plea, a command.

He responded by trailing kisses along my shoulder, his lips warm and soft against my skin. 

Slowly, he began to untie the delicate ribbon that held my nightgown together, each movement deliberate, as if savouring the moment. 

My body arched into him, craving more, while my own hands slid beneath his tunic, feeling the hard planes of his muscular stomach beneath my fingertips.

With practised ease, he pulled the fabric of my nightgown down, discarding it carelessly to the side. His mouth continued its journey, leaving small, wet kisses along my chest, each one igniting a spark of pleasure within me.

"You're so perfect," he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with need. "I can't believe you're mine."

Jace was always a generous lover, ensuring that I was left satisfied and comfortable whenever we lay together but tonight, I wanted to give him the same level of attention, the same pleasure he so selflessly offered me.

I placed my hand on his chest and gently pushed him back. He stared at me, confusion flickering in his eyes as if wondering if he had done something wrong. I simply smiled a silent reassurance and pushed him further until he was lying down completely.

"Let me," I whispered, my voice gentle but firm. 

Slowly, I removed his pants, savouring the way his body responded to my touch, the way he shivered under my fingertips. Once he was fully exposed, I straddled him, leaning in close, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping me as if he couldn't bear to let go. "I need you so much."

"You have me," I whispered back, trailing my fingers along his chest. "All of me. Just relax, and let me take care of you."

I began kissing down his neck, trailing my lips over his collarbone and along his chest. My kisses continued their descent until I reached his arousal, the anticipation building with each passing second. 

I glanced up at him, wanting to see his reaction, and was met with the sight of pure bliss in his eyes as he watched me.

A smirk played on my lips as I traced the tip of his hardened length with my tongue. His body immediately tensed, a soft groan escaping his lips at the sensation. 

"Gods, you're incredible," he moaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love the way you touch me."

"Does it feel good?" I asked, my voice low and sultry as I continued to tease him with my tongue, my hand gently stroking him.

"So good," he gasped, his eyes dark with desire. "You're perfect."

I pushed my head further down, taking him into my mouth, the taste of him intoxicating. I maintained eye contact, ensuring he could see the pleasure I was giving him. 

Slowly, I began to move up and down, my lips and tongue working in tandem to bring him the same satisfaction he always gave me.

His hands found their way to my hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he pulled softly, guiding me with gentle encouragement. 

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I need more of you... I need all of you."

The sounds of his pleasure filled the room, and I knew without a doubt that this night would be one neither of us would ever forget.

As I continued to pleasure him with my mouth, his soft groans turned into deep, guttural moans that reverberated through the room. I could feel his body tensing beneath me, every muscle taut with the overwhelming sensations I was giving him. His usually composed expression was completely undone.

His fingers tightened in my hair, and his hips began to move instinctively, thrusting gently in rhythm with my movements.

I trailed my tongue along the sensitive underside of his length, feeling the way he shuddered in response. I could tell he was fighting to stay still, his hips twitching as he tried to keep from thrusting too forcefully, but I welcomed his need. 

I wanted him to lose control, to surrender to the sensations I was coaxing from his body.

His hands, still tangled in my hair, tightened their grip, and I could feel the barely restrained power in his touch, the way he held back despite the overwhelming pleasure.

I adjusted my angle, allowing him to push even deeper, and the sound that escaped his lips was pure ecstasy.

He was on the edge, teetering between holding on and letting go, and I revelled in the knowledge that I had brought him to this point. His normally steady voice was laced with desperation, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Please... don't stop... gods, please..."

His hands fell to his sides, clutching the sheets as he fought to stay grounded. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his thighs trembled beneath me, the way his breath caught in his throat with every flick of my tongue.

But I wasn't finished. I wanted more, needed to feel the full connection between us. 

Slowly, I eased off, letting him slip from my lips, and I looked up at him, his face flushed with pleasure and his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The sight of him, so utterly undone, sent a surge of desire through me, and I knew exactly what I wanted next.

I moved up his body, my hands trailing along his skin as I positioned myself above him. His eyes were locked on mine, filled with a mix of longing and gratitude as if he couldn't quite believe the pleasure I was about to offer him.

"You're my everything," he whispered, his hands caressing my hips. "I've never needed anyone like I need you."

With a slow, deliberate motion, I straddled him, feeling the heat of his arousal pressing against me. I reached down, guiding him to my entrance, teasing both of us with the promise of what was to come. 

"Ready for me?" I asked softly, a teasing smile playing on my lips as I hovered above him.

"I'm always ready for you," he replied, his voice hoarse with desire.

His hands moved to my hips, holding me gently but firmly as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the moment.

I lowered myself onto him inch by inch, gasping softly as he filled me. The sensation of him inside me was almost overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and connection that made me feel like we were two halves of the same whole. 

His eyes fluttered shut, and a deep moan escaped his lips as I began to move. I started with a slow, steady rhythm, letting us both savour the feeling of being joined together. 

"How does that feel?" I asked, my voice low and breathy as I moved against him, my hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.

"Incredible," he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tighter, guiding me as I rode him. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

"Good," I whispered, leaning forward to kiss him, my lips brushing against his as I spoke. "Because I'm not stopping until I drive you crazy."

Every time I lowered myself onto him, a wave of pleasure washed over me, building in intensity with each passing second.

I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath my palms. 

The look of sheer ecstasy on his face fueled my desire, and I began to move faster, grinding my hips against him as I sought the release that was building deep within me.

"You like that?" I asked, my voice breathless as I moved harder against him, my body trembling with the intensity of the sensations.

"Gods, yes," he gasped, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Don't stop, please..."

"I won't," I promised, my voice a mix of determination and desire. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

His hands roamed up my back, tracing the curves of my body as I rode him harder. Our breaths came in sync, each gasp and moan a testament to the connection we shared. The intensity of the moment grew, our movements more urgent, more desperate as we both approached the edge.

I threw my head back, a cry of pleasure escaping my lips as I felt myself teetering on the brink. He thrust up into me, meeting me with equal fervour, his own release not far behind. I could feel the tension building between us, the inevitable climax drawing nearer with every thrust, every movement.

Finally, the wave of pleasure crashed over me, and I cried out, my body trembling with the force of my orgasm. A moment later, he followed, his release spilling into me as he moaned my name, his voice thick with emotion.

"Gods, you're perfect," he whispered as the aftershocks of our lovemaking coursed through us. "I don't deserve you, but I'll spend every day trying to."

"You deserve everything," I whispered back, my voice full of affection as I leaned down to kiss him, our bodies still connected.

We stayed like that for a moment, our bodies intertwined, both of us trembling in the aftermath of our shared ecstasy. I collapsed onto his chest, my breath still coming in ragged gasps, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we both came down from the high.

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing, the warmth of our bodies creating a cocoon of comfort around us.

I nuzzled into his neck, placing a soft kiss on his skin as I whispered, "You're everything to me, Jace."

He tightened his hold on me, his voice barely more than a whisper as he replied, "And you're my entire world." His voice was filled with a mix of devotion and awe. "I'll never stop loving you."

We stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, until sleep finally claimed us both, our hearts still beating in perfect harmony, knowing that no matter what the world said, our love was the only thing that truly mattered.

A/n - Saw an edit of him to this song (ET by Katy Perry) on TikTok and practically bolted to write this also really mad rn cause I just spent the last three days writing a 12 part series for Jace and like initially I loved it and then towards the end I was like tf is this, I literally have over 30,000 words just sitting there now.