#weird decoration choice but whatever

[causenessus]

i'm on figure skating tiktok now and i keep thinking about cold kisses the impact you made on me fr 🧎🏻‍♀️ i keep giggling bc i imagine yn skating with oikawa and atsumu going >:( at the side 🌷🐻

AWHH IMPACT I'VE MADE ON U 😭 i want to cry dw 🌷🐻 anon that's what inspired me to make cold kisses in the first place those figure skating edits are no joke bro i wish i could skate like them!!! >:( is so accurate that is the exact face atsumu would be making rah </33 now i'm missing cold kisses!!! i hope you're doing well as always love <3

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[redcoralpot]

Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

-

-

Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 

-

Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

[wolfiesmoon]

hey, i wanted to say first that i love ur writing style. Also I wanted to ask (if is not a problem) jade, floyd and leona the prompt “cheek kisses that leave red lipstick stains”

awwww i'm so glad u think so!! i'm not sure if you mean the more silly one or the more serious one but either way i'm very happy 🩷

the reader is gender neutral in essence but they do wear lipstick because it's needed for this fic

jade's is suggestive i suppose????? so watch out for that????

⋆୨୧˚ Jade Leech

"Interesting choice of lipstick. Not in a bad way, of course." Jade commented upon seeing you.

"I bought it yesterday, but I still have something I have to test out." You tried your best to look innocent and nonchalant.

You've had this lipstick for a while actually, but you still haven't tested if it's transfer proof yet. Jade is the perfect candidate to test that out. Atleast in your humble opinion.

"Oh? And what might that be?" he smiled at you.

"You'll see. Like, literally right now." you mirrored his decievingly innocent smile. After you kiss him, his eyes will probably go wide like they always do when he isn't expecting something. Which just so happens to be one of your favourite expressions of his.

You reached your hands out to him and pulled his face close to yours, then pressed a nice, long kiss on his right cheek. You mirrored it on the left one too, of course. Symmetry always looks nice.

Just like you predicted, he made the exact face you envisioned, with slightly pink cheeks as a bonus.

"Oh. I was... certainly not expecting that." he sounded genuinely surprised, smiling happily at you and showcasing his sharp teeth in the process. Knowing Jade, you honestly don't want to know what he thought you were going to do with that lipstick.

"Aw man, it's not transfer proof." you acted slightly dissapointed, but in reality, you couldn't be more glad that it isn't. Hmmm, it kinda feels nice to catch Jade off guard like that. Maybe you should do it more often.

"You don't realise what you've just done, do you?" his smile quickly turns sinister in a way you can't quite put your finger on. It makes you feel all weird, like you're pray getting cornered.

"Done what?" you laughed nervously.

"I do hope that you are good at hiding bite marks." as he said that, he was already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to god knows where.

"Wait... Jade, where are you taking me? Jade?!"

You have a feeling the lipstick might get smudged by the time you're done.

⋆୨��˚ Floyd Leech

"I don't wanna talk to you..." Floyd sulked, not looking at you.

"He's been like this for the whole day." Normally, Jade would deal with Floyd's bad mood, but he's been causing even more trouble for the Lounge than usual today and was not very willing to be put in a better mood by his brother, so Jade was forced to employ higher forces to help him out. The higher forces being you, of course.

"Right... Actually, I think I might have an idea on how to solve this." You thought of a certain thing you wanted to for a while now but never had the chance to.

"Is that so?" Jade noticed the mischevious smile on your face, amused at whatever you'll come up with.

.

"Floyd, come with me." You pulled on his collar, sounding confident and serious.

"I told you, I'm not going to talk to you..." he glared at you, trying to push your hand away.

"There's no talking involved." You pulled harder and he finally let up, silently letting you drag him to a quiet corner of the school.

Because he's still in a bad mood, he hasn't looked your way at all. This also means he hasn't noticed the lipstick.

Suddenly, you grab a hold of his face and press a kiss to his lips before he can protest.

"Oh... oooooooh!" His face brightened up and it seems his mood has instantly improved. Floyd's a surprsingly simple guy sometimes, isn't he?

But, you're not done yet.

You pepper kisses on each of his cheeks without letting him say anything at all. He lets out strange but not entirely unwelcome noises while you're busy decorating his cheeks with kiss marks.

"There. Are you in a better mood now? Because the Mostro Lounge needs you." you looked satisfied with your work and so did Floyd when he got a glance of himself in the mirror.

"Ehhhh, do I really have to? I feel like squeezing you, not going to work. Especially not now that I'm all decorated with your kisses." he looked annoyed at the mention of work, wanting nothing more than to smother you with love and bonecrushing hugs right now.

Seems your plan kinda backfired since he became a little too happy and doesn't seem fond of letting you go anytime soon.

⋆୨୧˚ Leona Kingscholar

It is a bit unusual for you to wear such a bright lipstick color. He brushes it off, thinking you were just in the mood for a bright color or something.

Why should he care what color your lips are, anyways? Does not matter at all.

"Leonaaaa.... come here, kitty kitty~" you called him over jokingly and he glared at you in annoyance which only made you snort harder. But he still came over anyways, so you call it a win.

He looked at you, waiting for you to clarify on what you called him over for. Better be worth his time.

You grabbed a hold of the two braids at the front of his hair and pulled him into a kiss. Though it was a short(er) one since your main targets are his cheeks.

You made sure to thoroughly decorate them with kisses, turning his head left and right to inspect your work and make sure the number was about equal.

"You done?" he tries to sound unbothered, but you immediately see through it. He's definitely really happy about it.

"Yeah. You can go back to napping now." you let him go, and he lingered for a moment, no doubt dissapointed that you actually said yes. But since he didn't want to show it, he returned to his napping spot under the tree and you went back to studying in the library.

.

"Leeeeeoooonaaaa! Are you here again? Professor Crewel is mad at y- What is that on your face?" Ruggie's scolding session was cut short when he noticed the lipstick marks on Leona's face.

"What are you.... Ugh..." turns out Leona kinda forgot about the fact that lipstick usually leaves marks and that his cheeks were full of 'em this whole time. He groans at the realisation.

Though... they might not be that bad if they were made by you.

"Oh my god, stay still. I gotta take a photo of this. I'm sure your family would be happy to know you're doing well in your love life." Ruggie was about to pull out his phone but was stopped by Leona who swiftly grabbed his wrist. Wait, since when was he standing, anyways?

"Jesus, you scare me sometimes..." Ruggie pushes his phone back in his pocket. "Well, do I go get something to clean your face or what?"

Leona hesitates.

"Yeah, yeah."

[asidian]

Set breakdown time! Next up: Niko's room.

As before, I've circled the points of interest and numbered them to make them easier to talk about. Cool? Cool. Let's do this!

1: Niko's mom's name! This part is her and Niko's surname. The kanji are 佐々木.

佐 – sa, meaning help or aid

々 – an iteration mark. When you see this, basically it means "exactly what the last one said, one more time." So another sa meaning help or aid

木 – ki, meaning tree

It's really neat that they picked a last name for her that doubles down on her role in the narrative. Just like Niko is there to support and help other characters in whatever way they seem to need, her surname hammers it home by including 佐 not once but twice.

2: Riza (リザ) Niko's mother's given name. Somewhat odd here is that it's written in katakana and not kanji. Without getting sidetracked too much (you can pop over here to read more if you're interested) most Japanese people write their names in kanji.

Katakana seems like a bit of a strange choice here, unless a) Niko for some reason doesn't know the kanji for her own mother's name (weird, given that she's in high school) b) her mother is a foreigner (a possibility; foreigners usually write their names in katakana) c) the set designer/whoever prepped the letters didn't know the appropriate kanji for "Riza" (seems unlikely, given how accurate all the rest of this is) or d) some sort of personal habit. An interesting side note is that her letter to Niko also puts Niko's name in katakana.

3: Cutesy stationery, used for marking your place in a document or book

4: A cute blue purse!

5: Watermelon! Judging by the shiny material and placement near the other bag, I'm going to guess this is another purse

6: Niko's clothes :>

7: Pink luggage

8: Lots of instant noodles

9: A rice cooker

10: Rice vinegar

11: This girl LOVES her some plants

12: Probably food items…? The one on the right looks like it might be a five-pound bag of rice, but I don't recognize the brand

13: Lots of unwashed dishes

14: A toaster oven

15: Chopsticks

16: A cute octopus pillow. I think I saw someone mention that it's from Ikea :>

17: She often leaves dirty dishes sitting on the bedside table

18: A painting of what seems to be a skyscape

19: Brightly colored pillows

20: Metal art in the shape of a moon

21: A decorative window hanging

22: More plants :)

23: Candles

24: Her tv

25: Cute pens with pompoms on the end

26: Regular tape

27: A cute cat statue

28: Marble Pop Ramune, strawberry flavor. Ramune is a type of soda that's a popular festival drink in Japan. It's sealed with a  glass marble and you have to pop the marble down into the little catch basin before you can drink it.

29: Anime wall décor

30: Fruit jelly cups. In Japan, small gelatin based snacks like this are popular. They're tiny, about an inch tall, and you eat them in just one or two bites.

31: Niko's laptop. She has stickers on it

32: Washi tape! It's decorative Japanese tape, often with bright colors and patterns, used for crafting.

33: A lot of cute magnets, including the bunny one, which serves double-duty as a kitchen timer

34: Niko's grocery list. The only thing on here that's here because she wants it is strawberry ice cream. The rest of the items, licorice tea, manuka honey, and Epsom salts, are all natural remedies. She's been trouble-shooting how to get rid of the effects of the sprites. She knows she's sick, but not why

35: Cutesy craft supplies! Sequins, glitter, and pompoms

36: More washi tape!

37: Niko's manga collection. She is that particular brand of organizational mess that does not put her numbered volumes in order. She has made an exception for the series that makes a complete picture when you line them up, though

38: More plants :)

39: Manga posters! Issho is one of the series that she has on her shelf

40: A decorative jar

41: Little metal bird sculptures

42: What seems to be the only framed picture in her room. The angle is wrong to see what the photo is, but it's interesting that they added just one in here. Maybe it's her family…?

[mercurycft]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎 — 𝐀𝐖𝐅𝐂

## awfc x teen!player reader - TRIGGER WARNING !!

therapy is expensive but tumblr is free. i love you all - PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!! APPLY AFTER THE BREAK. THANK YOU. love always - RG x

tw self harm, suicidal thoughts, angst, foul language, anger, anxiety, depression talk.

please put yourself first. do not read this if you feel like you can’t. thank you.

——— 1.1k words

it didn't hurt, didn't burn.

it didn't feel the way you remembered it to.

it numbed.

you were hot, far too hot. the heat pricked at your skin and tormented the skin of your cheeks - now tight and sticky as your tears dried. the tiles were cold beneath you, pressed up against your legs from where you slumped on the floor.

the dull ache set in as a backdrop for the muffled voices just a few rooms away. you were pleased to hear them still occupied by whatever crap was on the tv - pleased by the possibility that you could slip away without causing a disturbance.

nothing phased you anymore. instead, the scrape across your skin soothed the fire raging in your mind. it calmed your beating heart and pushed away the anxious bubble in your throat. it silenced your sobs and subdued the race of your emotions.

you didn't know how long you had been there, laying limp on the bathroom floor. in some weird way that helped, not knowing whether time had stopped or sped in your determined absence. you didn't care for time anymore, constantly torn on the ability to have more or have less. time, that is. are you an avid hater of time or a waster? did you need less or want more?

the last time you were here, you remember it was quick. short and sweet, cleaned and sorted before you had the chance to long for more. this time, however, you were quite content.

finding comfort in the chaos of your thoughts when your weight shifted, head back against the bath as you drew in a shaky breath. your eyes grew heavy in the peaceful quiet of your own personal refuge from the monstrosity of life - the life that sat on the other side of the door.

you recall memories fondly, a weak smile pulling at your cracked lips. you recall your friends, family, the people you've met and the lives you have changed - it was never enough. never enough to dismiss the disgrace that followed you. it lurked in the shadows and clung to your back like an infection - sucking the nutrients straight from the source until you were a shell. left to decay under the ever-unforgiving eyes of the universe.

you were drifting, politely fighting with consciousness as your fingers twiddled with your poison of choice. the cold of the metal dancing with your shaking fingertips. the paint from your work splashing the blank canvas of the floor - decorating the space around you with a vulgar display of your wilting petals.

'it'll be okay,' you whisper into the space surrounding you, voice hoarse as it grumbles from your throat. you were at ease as your body became weightless, right hand fighting the exhaustion as it raised perpendicular to your left wrist. unforgiving, relentless.

your body didn't argue, embracing the sting when you felt it. humming contently at the final contact before your eyes became too heavy under the iridescent lights. your arms fell to either side of you, overtaken by the tiredness that crept through your bones - intoxicating each muscle until they couldn't take anymore.

this is fine, you think. mind finally quiet - no longer buzzing. this is fine. you hear the small clang of metal to the floor, internally amused as it bounces and chimes.

you can't hear beyond your breathing now, too focused on the shallow inhales as your lungs fight to stay useful - working overtime.

two minutes, or two hours, you weren't sure. unaware of the approaching patter of feet towards the door. a soft knock is what brings you back momentarily, still grasping onto the last strands of your being.

"y/n? did you fucking fall in" katie. she has a nice laugh, you think.

she knocks again. confused by your lack of answer, concerned by the eery silence that sits waiting to greet her beyond the wood. she knocks a third time, and the silence spreads and engulfs the house. the silence was soon interrupted by the approach of more feet and bodies towards the bathroom. you can just about make out the pounding of their knocks through the ringing in your ear.

beth calls your name. no reply.

caitlin shouts about a prank. no reply.

the ringing eventually overpowers their hollering and you let the darkness behind your eyes take you. peace.

outside your almost lifeless body, away from your slack limbs, the door opens with a crash - creasing invertedly on its hinges when lotte throws herself against it. the frame split in half at the lock when it's forced out of position.

you can't recall anything after that.

you come to for a moment in the back of caitlin's car, leah sat with your head cradled in her lap and beth with your legs against hers. your eyes stir, unable to make out anything other than the throb behind them. the stab through your temple and the sting of pressure against your wrists.

leah can feel you tense beneath her and halts her shouting of directions to sweep your hair out of your eyes and study your face. the blue tint to your lips and lack of colour through your cheeks, her stomach sinks as she watches your eyes flutter.

"it's okay, sweet girl, we're nearly there." she whispers with no reply, voice cracking with a silent cry as a tear slips from her waterline. shes quick to wipe it away when she feels your head droop again.

beth has her own hands wrapped around your wrists, tea towels stained with the life from your veins by the time they arrive at the hospital. she's squeezing, keeping the pressure consistent under the order of lotte who whips her head round from the front seat every couple of seconds - careful to not distract caitlin from driving. katie's voice is coming through the car, her, alessia and viv following behind.

lotte is out of the car as soon as it stops, sprinting towards the double doors and assembling help. sobbing and gasping for breath as she directs nurses and doctors to the car parked across an ambulance bay - unbothered by the glares of passersby.

you're surrounded by people, doctors, nurses - anyone who can provide an extra set of hands. each helping to pull you carefully from the car and carrying you into the hospital.

you can't speak, can barely here and can't feel your body by the time they got you in a bed and rushed you through the halls. your friends, your people stood watching them take you away through a set of double doors. parts of them shaded by you - beth's hands. leah's lap. lotte's shirt. caitlin's arms.

silence fell upon them. the world standing still when you disappeared into the depths of the hospital. they shared the moment, a breath. no words exchanged. just knowing touches - a shoulder clash, a patting hand.

you don't pay them a thought - unbothered by their fading presence. instead, your internal monologue tried to shout above the noise of your bargaining. let me go, you beg. silently. to no one. maybe to life - maybe to death.

let me go.

[marvelfanfics1]

I know Halloween already passed but imagine looking for Halloween costumes with CG Rafe and Sofia. I feel like little!reader would pick a super cute costume(I imagine she goes as a bunny, and suggests a magician and assistance for Rafe and Sofia so they match) and rafe begrudgingly doing it for little!reader and Sofia lighting hitting him in the chest when he makes a face.

(Sorry if this is incoherent, my ears are stilling ringing from dance class😬)

Your fingers skim through the different costume options of the store, not having found the right one yet. Rafe and Sofia are following right behind you, hand in hand while keeping an eye on you so you won't get lost like the last time you guys went to the mall.

Rafe decided to throw a Halloween party at his house this year, with costumes, decoration, and all that. So you just have to wear the perfect outfit for that occasion.

Frustration starts to creep up as you're still searching until your eyes catch the sight of a white full body bunny onesie, quickly grabbing it off the hanger and holding it up for your caregivers to see. "This one!"

Sofia smiles softly, checking if it's your size and nods. "Good choice, sweetie. You'll be the cutest bunny at the party."

Rafe nods as well, looking down at his watch. "A'ight, we gotta go now...before someone gets cranky when she doesn't get her nap." He mutters the last part to Sofia.

"But Rafey! We gotta find you both costumes to match mine!" You pout at him.

"I'll stick to my ghostface mask." He responds quickly, sighing when your frown deepens, trying to find a reasonable excuse. "And- look, they sadly don't have any more matching ones in my size."

Sofia's heart breaks at the disappointment on your face as you sadly nod your head. "What Rafe's trying to say is we gotta see if we can order something online instead." She says, ignoring Rafe sending her a look.

The way your face instantly lights up has him groaning quietly. "Right. That's exactly what I meant."

And that's how Rafe finds himself standing in front of a mirror, adjusting the bow tie of his magician attire, a scowl on his face.

"You better wipe that look off your face when she comes out of the bathroom." Sofia warns him, pulling up the black tights up her legs, in the process of getting in her own costume as Rafe's assistant.

"This is ridiculous, I'm never gonna hear the end of this from Topper and Kelce." He mutters, grabbing the hat and putting it on his head.

"Just remember who you're doing this for." She responds, going to stand in front of him, fumbling a little with his collar with a small smirk on her face. "You know she loves Halloween 'cause she can dress up as whatever she wants without people giving her weird looks."

Rafe sighs before eyeing her up and down, a smirk forming on his face. "I gotta say, you look hot in that. Can't wait to rip this off you later." He says, reaching up to grab her tie, pulling her into a kiss.

Just as their make out session could escalate, the sound of the bathroom door opening has them pulling away from each to look at you.

You stand there with a big smile on your face, dressed in your bunny onesie and the hood already on your head, a little messily drawn whiskers and button nose painted on your face.

Rafe, for the first time since putting on his costume, smiles at the sight of you so happy and excited for the coming evening. "There's our beautiful bunny. Better be good tonight or I'll have to make you disappear." He teases, waving the plastic wand before your face.

Sofia hits his chest at the comment but you just giggle, rushing over to hug them both and they quickly return your hug, each of them kissing your cheeks at the same time.

Taglist

For Everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[vodika-vibes]

*breaks down your door in the middle of the night* first kiss in A/B/O AU with Alpha-17 and inexperienced F!Omega reader (not in a weird way ya know?) whose never been anyone’s first choice and is completely blown away that someone as awesome and amazing as Seventeen actually wants her romantically and not just physically. He makes her feel pretty and cherished and loved and she gives it back to him tenfold in return. (Not to show all my emotions at once. P.S. I read your fic with Keeli and it pulled at my tender heart strings it was so cute, yes I’m cross faded as a mf and fighting for my life this took me over 30min to write)

I See You

Summary: You’ve spent your whole life knowing that you’re not as important as the people around you. You’ve never been anyone’s first choice, not a day in your life. And that doesn’t change when you start puberty and realize that you’re an Omega. You’ve come to accept that, at best, some Alpha will pick you for your body, which will be the end of it. And then you meet Alpha-17, and for the first time in your life, you wonder “What if?”

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1585

Warnings: ABO AU, Reader is slightly insecure

A/N: So, full disclosure, I have no idea if this was a request or you just coming into my inbox to discuss it. So I made the decision that it was a request and wrote it! I hope you like it!

Join my taglist: HERE

There are some perks to living on Kamino.

Like the free suite that you can decorate how you like and the biweekly food delivery that allows you to cook whatever you want. Not to mention, you get free medical attention and as many blockers as you might need.

Plus, and here’s the biggest perk, you never have to see your “family” ever again.

Naturally, there are some downsides to Kamino too.

You work constantly and can be called into the lab at any hour of the day. There aren’t many places where you can spend your generous pay on Kamino (you have to order your clothes online and have them delivered). And you’re one of only a handful of human Omegas on Kamino. 

You’d think that that would force all of you to get together now and then to chat or whatever. But, the truth is, you have no desire to interact with the other Omegas.

Popular fiction tends to make people think that all Omegas are soft and demure and good. Honestly, you wonder if the authors have ever actually met an Omega or if they’re just fantasizing about what an Omega should be like.

Honestly, Isabet is as mean as a rancor with a toothache, and twice as violent. And she’s not afraid to take that temper out on anyone who gets in her way. Including you on several occasions.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts at the sound of the door to your lab opening, and you slide your gaze away from the machine that you’ve been staring at and willing to work faster.

Even clad in armor, it takes you less than a second to recognize the man standing in the doorway. 

No one on Kamino is quite as big as Alpha-17, after all.

A thoughtful frown pulls your lips down, and you turn away from your machine to pick up a nearby datapad to scan the information on it. Alpha-17 never comes to the labs unless he’s due for some testing. 

You scan the schedule, and then set the datapad back on a nearby table, “If you have an appointment, I’m afraid that no one notated it in the schedule.” You say apologetically.

He tugs his helmet off and sets it on a table near the door. “I don’t have an appointment,” Alpha explains as he rolls his neck with a slight grimace.

“Oh.” You watch him a moment longer, “Are your implants acting up?”

“They ache when it rains.”

You shoot him an odd look, “It’s always raining, Alpha.”

He tosses a grin in your direction, “I know what I said.”

A heavy sigh falls from your lips, “Alright. Take your armor off and hop up on the table and I’ll see what I can do. But you really should make an appointment, Alpha.”

He obediently strips out of his armor and peels off the top of his blacks, before he lays on his stomach on your examination table. “Why would I do that? We both know that you’ll see me even without an appointment.”

“What if I had been busy?” You ask as you step over to his side and scan the cybernetics with your eyes first, before grabbing a scanner and turning it on, “Or had an appointment with one of your brothers?”

“I’m more important.” Alpha counters as he turns his head to watch you work.

“Well, someone certainly has a healthy ego.” He laughs and you press your hand between his shoulder blades, “Lie still Alpha. I’m trying to scan your cybernetics.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He doesn’t sound very sorry though, “But, come on Doc, we both know that I’m just going to have to live with the pain.”

You frown at him, “I might be able to do something. I don’t want you in pain, Alpha.”

He catches your free hand and squeezes your fingers, “Which is why you’re my favorite.”

You shake your head with a soft laugh, “You don’t have to try and flatter me, Alpha. I’ll help you without it.” You slip your fingers from his grip and start the scanner.

“And why do you think I’m just trying to flatter you? Why can’t I mean it?” He asks as he tucks his arm back under his chin while you work.

You shake your head with a sigh, “Men like you don’t say stuff like that to women like me, Alpha.” You eye the scanner and scowl at it, “It says everything is connected properly, you can sit up. I’ll find some topical pain gel—” You trail off, your mind racing as you try to come up with ways to lessen his pain.

You’re so lost in your ponderings that you don’t realize that Alpha has sat up until his large hand wraps around your wrist and he lightly tugs you around to face him.

“Yes? What’s wrong?”

“I’d like some clarification.” Alpha’s dark eyes scan your face, and his severe expression softens, slightly. “What do you mean by ‘women like you’?”

“Oh,” You pause to gather your thoughts, “I’m just…” You hold your free hand to the side, “Not enough. Not smart enough, not clever enough, not pretty enough, not charming enough.”

Something forbidding slides across his face, though his grip around your wrist is still gentle enough that you could pull away if you wanted, “And who, Doc, told you that?”

A soft laugh falls from you, “Only everyone I’ve ever met. Well, barring you.”

“They’re wrong.”

“It’s fine, Alpha.” You try to reassure him, “I’ve long since come to terms with my lot in life.” He shoots you a puzzled look, so you clarify, “I’m never going to be anyone’s first choice. That’s just how it is sometimes.”

Alpha huffs, “Fine. We’re doing this then.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Not smart enough? You’re a doctor. A specialized doctor. How much smarter do you need to be?” Alpha lists, “Not clever enough? I know I saw you exchanging barbs with Vau the other day and you won. Not pretty enough?” Here, he pauses and scans your face, “Whoever told you that must be blind or stupid or both. As for not being charming, I happen to think you’re very charming. So they’re wrong about that too.”

“Oh…ah…” You blink at him, and you can feel your face burning, “Thank you?”

“Honestly,” His voice is light, “I find it absolutely shocking that you haven’t chosen an Alpha yet. Stars know you have to have your pick.”

“No one’s ever shown any interest,” You reply honestly.

Alpha-17 mutters something under his breath, though you can’t really hear what he’s saying even as close as you’re standing to him.

“Alpha, I need to find the ointment for you. Can I have my wrist back?” You ask as you touch the hand wrapped around your wrist gently.

He scans your face for a moment before something seems to settle over him. He’s always been a confident man, settled in his skin, but he suddenly seems more, and you’re not sure why.

“Alph—?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His question shocks you into silence, and you blink at him dumbly for a moment, “I…what?”

“I want to kiss you,” Alpha says as he releases your wrist and moves his hand to gently brush his fingers against your chin. And then he flashes a wry smile, “Well, full honesty, I want more than that. But I’ll start with a kiss.”

“I don’t—”

“I want to be your Alpha.” He clarifies, “I want you to be my Omega. But if you’re not interested then this will be the last time I bring it up.” Slowly he presses his forehead against yours.

And you stare at him, kind of feeling like you’ve been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. “You’d…pick me?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You believe him. He’s not the sort to lie to you.

“I’d like a kiss,” You whisper up to him.

He grins then and tilts your head so he’s able to press his lips against yours.

And it’s good. Better than good, it’s perfect.

You’re not able to help yourself from stepping closer to him, moving to stand between his thighs, and wrapping your arms around his neck. Alpha’s arms wrap securely around your waist as he tugs you as close as he can and he holds you tightly, as if afraid that someone might rip you from him.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re breathing is slightly unsteady, something that makes him smile smugly. “We can go as slow as you want,” He murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek, “But you are mine now, little omega.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then you smile at him, “And you’re mine?”

Alpha laughs then, “And don’t you forget it.”

Slowly he releases you, and you take a step back. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and then take another step back, “If you still want that pain ointment, Alpha—”

“Maybe later.” He stands, “I have ARCs who need training.” Alpha glances at you, “If I chrome by your suite tonight, maybe you can give me some options to handle the pain?”

“I can do that.” You reply with a small smile.

Alpha lightly brushes his fingers against your cheek, “It’s a date.” He ducks his head to kiss you one more time, and then he leaves. And you’re left with butterflies in your stomach, and excitement in your heart.

You’ve never been anyone’s first choice. 

But Alpha…he’s different. And now you know it.

@bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach @dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97 @falconfeather23435 @etod

@bb8-99 @kiss-anon @continous-mistakes @imabeautifulbutterfly @n0vqni

[jumpingjoltiks]

I want sugar daddy submas but a date with emmet. I feel like after a fancy lunch. They went to buy luxury furniture. And emmet asks the reader to decorate their house or room in ways that she wants it to be. And when the reader is choosing what sofa goes best in the living room (or her room) Emmett is just imaging all the kinds of things he can do with you on that sofa (and whether that sofa is good for sexy time.) when looking at all the mirror he just thinks about how he can f you in front of the mirror and see all the angle

Anon, I am so unbelievably sorry that this took so long to answer, but it has been eating at my brain for the entire time it's been sitting in my inbox and I really wanted to get it right. I hope what I finally came up was worth the wait!

Luxuries

Summery: Emmet takes you furniture shopping for the twin's summer house. Certain unspoken presumptions and misunderstandings in your relationship with the twins come to light. A little angst with a happy ending 💕

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Emmet x Reader (GN), Implied Sugar Daddy!Ingo x Reader

Warnings: 18+ content (Minors Begone!), Sugar Daddy-esque relationship (and the consequences and implications of such), smut, dirty fantasies, personal and financial insecurities.

After a wonderful morning of trying on clothes and being spoiled to death by Ingo, Emmet meets both of you at a small diner. You’ve never even heard of this place but the atmosphere here is incredibly cozy.

The whole interior is a beautiful, solid hardwood, and each covered table is set up against a curtained window that lets in the light. The booths, far from the cheap vinyl you're used to in diners, are instead actual loveseats made with real leather. The tile floor below you is a lovely dark green, which makes the isle in between tables look like an emerald sea.

“I didn’t think you’d like a place like this. It’s very vintage.” And fancy. You think. This is like no diner you've ever been to.

“That’s because it’s been in business for nearly a century.” Ingo says as he takes the seat across from you, “We’ve been coming here since we first started at Gear Station.”

He sets a small bag under the table. It contains a wonderfully soft cardigan you'd found on a sale rack on your way out of the tailor's. Its price tag could have fed you for two weeks, but Ingo insisted on buying it for you anyway.

It's absurd to feel weird over a cardigan, you tell yourself, especially when it was the cheapest thing bought for you today. You put on a brave face at the tailor’s, mostly because there was someone else already there, but you’re really not used to having so much money to use on whatever you want.

Maybe that was it. The rest of the beautiful, beautiful clothes could be excused as a business expense, like a uniform for a job. But the cardigan, that was for you only. There was no getting around that.

Emmet's voice startles you out of your thoughts, and all of a sudden you're back in the diner.

“Yup yup! This building used to be the dining carriage on the luxury cross-regional line.” Emmet explains, sliding in next to you. His whole expression is aglow with happiness. You’ve come to understand that different smiles mean different things with him. This one shines with warmth. “They have done a lot of work to preserve and recreate as much as they can. These are even the same kind of chairs and tables they used back then!”

“I never even knew this was here…” You take a moment to marvel at the intricate wallpaper and polished wooden walls and try very hard not to think about how much has already been spent today.

“It’s a real gem, don’t you think?” Ingo’s eyes are sparkling. He looks so happy just to share this with you. “Everything here is wonderful as well. Please take a look at the menu and order whatever you’d like. It’s on us.”

~~~

If the twin’s choice of lunch surprised you, Emmet’s choice of where to take you on a date shocks you even more.

“Is this… a furniture store?”

“Mhmm!” Emmet watches your expression carefully. “I know it is unusual. But I want your help picking out some pieces for my and Ingo’s summer house. We have to host a bunch of parties this year. You’ll be spending a lot of time there with us and we want you to be comfortable.”

To his credit, Emmet doesn’t mention a thing about wanting to buy furniture for your place. He’s never been inside (truthfully, he doesn’t even know where you live), but judging from what Elesa’s told him about your lifestyle, it could probably use something nicer. And he would love to give it to you.

“But shouldn’t Ingo be here for that too?”

“Hmmmm, no. We have verrry similar tastes. And we both trust your sense of style, so he agreed to let us go together.”

“Oh. Okay then.” You still look unsure, but Emmet doesn’t seem to notice. He takes you by the hand and your heart flutters inside your chest.

“Full steam ahead!”

~~~

Calling the store massive is an understatement. Even in a city like Nimbasa, you've never seen anything like this.

It's like a labyrinth in here. Every way you turn is a new room full of a setup of furniture. Some of them are kitchens with huge sinks and granite countertops. Others are elaborate dining rooms with tables set for fifty. The ones Emmet most wants to explore are the living rooms.

Maybe this can be a good opportunity to get to know him after all. While browsing a whole wall full of chairs, you ask about his decorating style and preferences.

"Ingo and I like a modern look. It fits with our professional image, so it’s good for places we have to host in." His expression seems reserved, despite his smile.

You think back to how much they loved the old, vintage dining car, and wonder if sticking to a modern 'professional image' can be joined with what they actually like in practice.

Your eyes scan over the chairs, and you find a dark brown, almost black leather piece toward the center. It's traditional, in that the upholstery is very classic, but the lines are crisp and sharp, modern. You don't think it would look out of place in either scenario. You point it out.

"What about that one?"

Emmet brings a hand to his chin, considering, silent. You're worried you may have made a mistake until he quite suddenly turns around and marches across the room. He stops in front of a matched pair of very modern, round side tables, one black and one white, accented with marble tops and gold trim.

"A pair of those chairs with these tables could fill a nook by one of the windows." He says. "Verrry nice. An excellent combination!"

"That would be so cozy! It would be a nice place to sit and talk for a while." You say, excited that he's on board. "A rug under them all would help mark the space as its own little area.”

"Yes!" He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Let's mark these down and remember to look at rugs later. For now, couches."

~~~

There are almost as many couches in this place as there are chairs.

At one point, Emmet grabs your hand and pulls you down onto a loveseat with him to test it out. It's very comfy. Comfier still with you cuddled up under his arm.

Across from you both is a mirror on a large wall. It’s beautiful, with golden leaves and flowers surrounding the frame. In it, Emmet can see you curled into his side. He sees your reflection turn and gaze up at him. The look in your eyes is like he hung the stars. He wants you to always look at him like that.

How easy would it be, to turn his head and kiss you? His lips would fit against yours perfectly. He’s thought about it so many times already. In the dead of night. In the quiet morning. In the dull monotony of the work day. He wonders how you would react. Would you swoon against him, melt into him like he was made for you? His hand has already found its way to your waist. One quick tug, and you'd fall right into his lap - where you belong.

You'd sigh as his lips ghost their way down your neck. He'd trail kisses across your shoulders like rain. You’d gasp at the rough texture of his sideburns against your sweet, soft skin. He’d nip, maybe even bite. Ingo had gotten you those clothes in black… he’d have to mark you in other ways. In places only he could see.

Emmet thinks of his hand slipping across your neck to give a gentle squeeze. You’d shudder in his arms and your eyes would slip closed. His hand would slide down across your chest. Lower. Lower. He feels you breathe against him. The fluttering of your heartbeat. Lower. To the waist of your pants. He’d stop, rubbing his thumb against the line where clothing meets skin, until your hand wraps around his and shows him exactly what you want.

He’d look up from where he sucks dark bruises onto your shoulder. Silver eyes blown dark with lust would meet yours through the reflection. You’d watch yourself become the very image of desperation as he worked you. You would see how he took you apart piece by piece and built you back together with only his touch. The jerking of your hips against his hand. The friction driving you to a squirming mess against him. You’d be laid out before him in the mirror like a feast.

"Emmet..." Your voice is like honey to his ears. A voice on the breeze that whispers, begs for more. He’d give you anything. Everything. "Emmet..."

…

"Emmet, are you there?"

He snaps out of his trance. Just like that, the dream is gone. He's back in the furniture store with you sitting next to him.

"I am Emmet. I was lost on a train of thought. What were you saying?"

“This chair is nice, but I don’t know about the color. I wanted to know what you think.”

“I think we should get this mirror.”

“The mirror?” You look baffled, and turn to make a face at your reflection. It doesn’t really seem like his style, “Why?”

“I like the view I’m seeing in it.”

~~~

Emmet circles a huge sectional. It’s been presented with a luxurious, dark grey fabric. His hands sweep across the back and he notes that even the top is cushioned. There’s so much room, he could fuck you in a different position on it every day for a month and still have opportunities for more. The prospect has merit…

He shakes himself out of it. Any more daydreaming, and you’ll start to get worried about him. Besides, as much as he wants it to be, your relationship isn’t like that with them. Not yet.

“What about this couch?” He asks as you take a seat. You bounce as you plop down, and his fingers tighten indistinguishably on the upholstery.

Its humiliating for you to think about how this couch wouldn't even fit in your apartment. It’s lovely, really. And very nice to sit on. It's even softer than your bed! But it’s far too big for your little studio, (if you could even call a space so small a studio. You’re pretty sure Elesa's closet is bigger than your apartment).

“It’s really comfy! Will it work in your summer house?”

“It might be a little small…” He thinks aloud, coming around the side to drop next to you. Emmet leans back, putting his feet up onto the ottoman in front. “We could add a few more sections to it. It would look nice in the conversation pit. Or…”

He turns to you with a look on his face that’s clearly trying to be nonchalant.

“We could always get it for your place.”

You nearly choke. “My place?” You look away, trying to control your expression. There’s no way that would work. It couldn’t even fit it through the door. You try to keep your voice measured, throw in a small laugh, “I don’t know about that…”

“If you do not like it, there are lots of other things here. We could always find something else.”

Emmet says it like buying something like this for you is nothing. And for him, maybe it is. It occurs to you that you don’t really know much about their lives at all, or how well off they actually are. Maybe they really did go through life not even thinking about what it cost them.

Meanwhile, your funds have been so low that you haven’t even thought about replacing the ratty old futon you’ve had since college. There are a million other things that you’re more concerned about than your comfort - like fixing your car, or paying off your school debts, or how until recently, you struggled to afford just surviving from one month to another.

“Um.. maybe. Why don’t we take a look in the next room.”

Anything to get away from this couch.

~~~

Emmet’s warm smile has fallen. His lips are pursed and there’s a furrow in his brow, like how he looks when trying to come up with battle strategies. You pick at your cuticles. Silence stretches out in between you two like an impassible river. Emmet has always been quieter than his brother, but it’s never been like this before.

“You said you have a conversation pit in your summer home?” You ask, trying to kickstart the conversation again. He’d also said you’d be spending time there, so… “When will I get to visit?”

And you pray the answer is still soon.

Some tension seems to leave him as he answers, “We usually host two parties for the season. Ingo and I would love you to be there for both,”

“I’d like that!” You answer, a little too quickly. But he seems to take it well. He almost looks relieved, and that comforts you as well.

Once you’ve broken the ice, conversation flows easily between you two once more. In fact, you’re both doing really well together! Your chatter is lighthearted, sometimes even boldly teasing, and though you have to hustle to keep up with his long legs and purposeful stride, you find he keeps looking toward you, like he wants to make sure you’re still with him. It’s endearing.

Until he tries to buy you another couch. Another wave of shame crests over you – it’s so powerful that you can’t think of what to do or how to save this moment without losing it. And it was going so well, too!

“Emmet, please stop. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should buy this.”

“What, why?” He seems baffled, like he can’t figure out what you mean, “Is the color wrong? You shouldn’t worry. We can get it redone to fit your tastes.”

“I- no. That’s not- I just wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

“But… it’s very comfortable?” Emmet looks confused, “The cushions are plenty soft. You just said so.”

“No, no. I mean, I don’t feel comfortable with you buying something like this for me!”

"But that’s why we're here. You deserve to be comfortable."

He pauses for a moment, as if struck by something.

"Are you not comfortable? With Ingo and I buying you things?"

You pause. Today has been a lot, with Ingo taking you to such a fancy, expensive tailor and Emmet wanting to buy you all of this new furniture. It’s so much money. More than you’ve ever had to spend on your own. But truthfully, it’s nice too. To be able to look at something and not have to worry about what it cost. To just decide you can have it, no matter what it was.

And it was nice, SO nice, to have people who wanted to give it to you.

"It's been really nice. But…" You sit down on the nearest couch, eyes facing downward as you try to put together the words to express how you’re feeling without choking.

But at what cost? You’re not naive. You know that this relationship is transactional. Every debt will have to be paid eventually. Once it’s all wrung up, what will the price on your shoulders be?

You’re scared that soon the spell will be broken. The debt collector will come knocking and demand something you can’t give. What will you do then, stuck with a price you can’t bear to pay and no way to back out? It’s terrifying. Would Ingo and Emmet do that to you? You’ve known them long enough to think that they probably wouldn’t, but how can you really be sure? How can you be sure of anything?

Emmet carefully sits across from you, patiently waiting for your next words.

“I don’t know why you’re both… It’s all so much, and I don’t know what you’re expecting from me in exchange for all of this.” Your expression is worried, almost scared.

Emmet feels his veins turn to ice. He suddenly feels like how he did as a child, making a rookie mistake in a battle and finding out how quickly and badly things could backfire on him. This was the last impression he or Ingo ever wanted to give.

"We are not buying you things because we want something from you. We wanted to do this for you because we like seeing you happy. You should have nice things." Your eyes are watery. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and offers it to you. “We only want you to be happy. Is that hard to believe?”

Emmet knows now that the game is almost up. The three of you are going to have to sit down and talk about your relationship – it’s all too quickly growing out of the convenient agreement it started as and into something more. They want to give you more, but Emmet realizes that they shouldn’t have assumed you’d just accept without talking it through first. You were so much more than what you could give to them. Yet somewhere along the way he and Ingo had both failed to consider how you might make assumptions about their intentions.

And then there’s the matter of their attraction to you. Emmet likes you. Wants you. They both do. But they can’t stand the idea of you thinking they’re buying you. Love that is an obligation is not what they want. It is so much more than that for them.

“I am Emmet. And I am sorry. I should have known it was too much to offer.” He says as you wipe your eyes. “I am serious though. Neither Ingo or I would ever expect anything like that.”

“I-” You take a deep breath, “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I should have told you how I was feeling sooner.”

Emmet reaches out and takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t pull away.

“Do you think we could start our date over?” He asks. You look at him and know that if you said no right now, he would take you home and everything would still be okay. “What if we just did something fun together instead? The amusement park is still open.”

You laugh through the last of your tears. “I’d like that. Can we ride the ferris wheel?”

He rubs a thumb over your knuckles.

“That sounds perfect.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! 💕

If you liked this fic, there is now a direct sequel!

[sakkiichi]

TICKETS TO BARBIE.

watching the barbie movie with him.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, Venti, Kaveh, Albedo, Arataki Itto x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, crack, modern au, headcanons.

word count: 1.6k.

so, i went to see the barbie movie the other day. my friend watched it too 🩵 (sadly we couldn’t go together, as we live miles away), but we both loved it, so i thought this would be a fun idea for some quick headcanons.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

— Kazuha just loves seeing how excited you are to watch the new Barbie movie. His warm eyes shine and his smile is lovestruck as he observes you rushing around, preparing your pink outfit.

— He’ll have to dedicate a poem to you, with Barbie’s signature color wrapped around you as the main theme.

— If you want to match outfits with him, your boyfriend will oblige, because even if the color choice is not something he’d wear usually, Kazuha loves the idea of matching with you and he adores even more how happy you look.

— Your sparkly gaze when you decorate his hair with pink strawberry and hello kitty clips makes his heart feel all warm and fuzzy, to the point of getting lost in your stare and completely spacing out when you call his name.

— “You’re so beautiful, dove.” Your lover dreamily sighs, when he finally comes to. Cupping your face, don’t blame him if he smudges your perfectly applied lipgloss with his honeyed kisses, alright?

— You and Kazuha are definitely that super cute and affectionate couple at the cinema. From holding hands, to him sneaking cheek kisses, to you feeding him popcorn… Everyone adores your little displays of affection, you two are just so sweet.

— Also, Kazuha looks so good in pink! If you tell him that, though, he’ll get all blushy. And oh, when you caress his face or kiss his forehead? He’s just like a baby bunny with how cute he is. However, he’ll be sure to fluster you with his multiple compliments…

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

— You quite literally have to drag him to watch the movie.

— “Barbie? Isn’t that for little girls?” He spat with a frown, arms crossed over his chest when you presented the idea to him.

— However, your boyfriend happens to be very soft for you, so just give him the puppy eyes and he’ll bend to your every wish.

— “Please?” “Ugh, fine, whatever.”

— He also pretends he doesn’t enjoy the hug and kiss you give him when he agrees to go with you.

— So, the day to go watch Barbie arrives, and Scara shows up at the living room of your shared apartment dressed in all black, ripped jeans on and purple headphones wrapped around his neck.

— “Well? Let’s go watch that stupid movie.” He says, purposefully averting his gaze from your all-pink outfit (he’s totally jealous he won’t be the only one to see you while you look this gorgeous).

— “Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”

— And that is how you proceeded to dress the angry cat that is your boyfriend in a pink top with frilly sleeves. (Alas, you couldn’t get away with making him wear a skirt, but at least you managed to put his hair in pigtails and snap a picture before he ripped the pink hairties off).

— Honestly, Kuni secretly enjoys the movie and thinks weird barbie is neat, even if he won’t tell you about it (yes, you definitely were imagining it when you saw him shed tears at that one scene with Ruth and Barbie).

✧ XIAO

— “Two tickets to Barbie.” And it’s two people, one clad in pink from head to toe, the other in all black, combat boots, and a bunch of tattoos and piercings. He’s wearing a pink butterfly clip in his dark teal hair, though.

— Xiao can’t say no to you, even if he’s overwhelmed by all the people present at the cinema, and the loud atmosphere and bright colors of a crowd dressed in shades of rose are not really his thing.

— But you squeeze his hand reassuringly, your gaze meeting his sharp golden one with that smile he adores to see on your lips. He gets to be with you when you seem so happy, so carefree, and that’s more than he could have ever wished for.

— Your boyfriend might not be wearing the signature color of the doll starring in the film, but his cheeks have certainly taken a deep flushed tone when you hold onto his arm lovingly, your fingers softly running over the swirling patterns of his inked skin.

— Please, please, please, buy something sweet for him to eat while you two watch the movie :( sweet pop corn, pastries, candy… Xiao enjoys mild and sweet flavors, so if you surprise him with a treat like that, he’ll get so flustered and happy! Are you gonna miss out on such an adorable sight?

✧ VENTI

— He’s right in his element!

— Totally wears pink clothes, pink accessories, heart shaped sunglasses and pink makeup.

— If you’d let him, he’d definitely show up in something like his archon outfit, but pink, wings included (yeah, he’s a victoria’s secret angel and he knows it).

— Don’t let him bring the bottle of rosé wine he tried to sneak past you, though, please.

— His mischief aside, Venti is actually one of the best people to watch Barbie with. He’s fun, is invested in the plot, songs and outfits, he’s a comforting presence and is well versed in pop culture.

— The only con is you’re a tad bit jealous that he looks better in pink that you do. He’s certainly slaying in that outfit. Rest assured, though, Venti is not at all shy when compliments are due, so he’ll be sure to shower you with plenty, and he means every single one of them.

— Loves the movie and loves getting to experience it with you. Under his carefree and cheerful front, your lover is someone who really craves for tranquil moments like this, just you and him, spending time together doing something you enjoy… Venti wishes all days could be like this, as much as he likes partying and drinks.

✧ KAVEH

— Similar to Venti, he’s thriving, and maybe he’s even looking forward to this more than you are.

— Has his outfit and makeup thought up days, if not weeks, beforehand (and obviously he has sparkly pink clips to combine with his clothes, as the babygirl he is).

— Kaveh will offer to do your hair, makeup and to help you choose your clothes. And who are you to refuse? Not when you know he’s amazing at it, not when he’s giving you the most precious puppy eyes this world has seen.

— He won’t let you pay for the tickets or snacks either, no matter how much you insist. Your boyfriend has a hard time accepting kindness, especially from someone as special as you; he could never let you invite him or even let you pay for your part and manage to sleep peacefully at night.

— During the movie, he’s living. Takes mental note of the dresses and fits, all the barbie dream houses and every different design he spots. His kind gaze is wide and sparkling and you find yourself staring at your pretty boyfriend more than at the big screen. To see him so… free and untroubled… You wouldn’t trade that for the world.

✧ ALBEDO

— You think it’s seriously unfair how good pink suits him (let’s face it, Albedo is royalty and will be pretty in literally anything) but right now, he looks not unlike a Barbie himself (unfair).

— If he’s in one of his teasing moods, he’ll give you the half lidded eyes and the shit eating smirk when you’re very much not inconspicuously staring at him with your mouth agape.

— “You look stunning yourself, my dearest.” The blonde will whisper, leaning close to your jawline as he cups the back of your head, the lingering caress of his lips on the skin right below your ear making your knees almost buckle.

— Actually is very interested in the critical message the movie intends to portray, and has everything figured out right before it happens (you can totally tell by the way his cerulean eyes glint knowingly, his chin cradled between his fingers, rosy lips titled upwards).

— Naturally, as an artist, Albedo takes note of every design and the whole colorimetry presented through the scenes. Your boyfriend hopes, one day, he can capture you in every shade of vibrant rose and sunshine, even if he believes no paint on canvas will ever do you justice.

— Definitely thinks weird barbie is cool and feels a little guilty because he knows if he were to give a doll to Klee, it would run the risk of meeting that exact same fate (probably accidentally, due to his little sister’s eh… rowdy and adventurous nature).

✧ ARATAKI ITTO

— “Itto, repeat after me: no, you can’t rename our shared apartment the mojo dojo casa house.”

— Itto probably relates to Ken, except for the latter’s actions, because your partner thinks all women are queens and he’d never do what Ken did.

— You probably have to keep an eye on him, to prevent him from being too loud during the movie; he means well, but he’s excitable and can’t help but comment and laugh noisily.

— Just give him a soft kiss on the lips and he’ll be silent for the rest of the film, wink wink. (Don’t blame him if he can’t pay attention to it afterwards, though, he’s just too entranced by your smiling expression).

— Itto would protect Ruth with his life. He adores his grandma, and somehow, the elderly lady from the movie reminds him of her; so, afterwards, he might beg you to help him choose a nice tea set as a gift and to accompany him to visit his grandmother.

— He’s definitely the type to buy some commemorative souvenir: an “I am kenough” hoodie; Ken’s fur coat, Barbie’s car… or any trinket made for the occasion. He’s just like a kid on a candy store, he looks so happy you don’t have it in yourself to deny it to him, even if he ends up buying some overpriced and maybe useless trinket.

[jokeringcutio]

Halloween requests!!! I've been vibing for pumpkin season since September 1st, so this is fantastic! I can't wait to see what Halloween horrors abound here 😍

Hook (Peter Pan 2003) x female reader

Smut: No preference, so whatever strikes your fancy

Reader is at a Halloween party and somehow ends up in Neverland? Bonus if Hook has something to say about her pirate costume (author's choice if it's in the style of big boxstore tacky, sexy, 'authentic', or what have you 🙃)

If you aren't up for the request, it's all good!

Captain James Hook (imagine Jason Isaac’s Hook) x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Halloween Party, Pirates, Kiss. AN: Hope you enjoy! I am open for Reader insert requests, come at me ya'll.

Halloween Pirate

The night was alive with the laughter and chatter of guests, their costumes creating a colorful sea through which you had to find your way. The Halloween party was in full swing, held within a grand ballroom adorned with cobwebs and flickering candles, casting eerie shadows upon those who danced beneath the crystal chandelier. Macabre decorations of skeletons and bats hung from the walls, pumpkins were found in each corner.

It was a party you couldn’t just attend without an invitation. And a costume. Those who weren’t dressed for the occasion were bluntly sent home. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your own pirate costume. It was an ode to days long past, with loving attention paid to every detail, ensuring authenticity and capturing the spirit of a swashbuckling adventurer. From your tricorn hat adorned with golden trimmings to the billowing white shirt peeking out from underneath a deep red waistcoat, it was clear that no expense had been spared in the making of the ensemble. Your black pants hugged your hips, tucked into tall leather boots that comfortably encased your feet, perfect for dancing. Or dueling.

"Ahoy, matey!" a friend called out to you, raising their plastic lightsaber in salute. You grinned and returned the gesture, allowing yourself to be swept up in the lively atmosphere.

A fellow pirate approached you, clearly impressed by your attire. "You've really outdone yourself this time," they said admiringly, eyeing the gleaming cutlass hanging at your side.

"Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with warmth and genuine appreciation. "I wanted to make sure it was as authentic as possible."

As you exchanged pleasantries with other party-goers, you couldn't help but feel a certain thrill – a sense that tonight would be one to remember.

You danced a bit with your friends and laughed a lot. But after a while, you felt your mouth turn dry and looked around for the tables with food and drinks on them. Of course, the drink you had set your eyes on was gone. An empty spot glaring at you. There was more in the kitchen, one of the waitresses told you, and so you decided to venture into the kitchen for a drink.

You made your way through the crowd, which was quite the challenge, to find yourself in front of a closed door that should lead to the kitchen. Here you had seen the waiters pass through all evening with fresh snacks and drinks.

But the wooden door was closed.

Weird, you thought. The door wasn’t very big either, smaller than you had thought it had been. Hadn’t there been double doors here? You must have remembered it incorrectly.

Pushing it open with a sense of adventure, you stepped into an opulent chamber that seemed worlds away from the raucous celebrations outside.

"Wow," you breathed, your voice barely audible as you took in the lavish surroundings. The walls were draped in rich tapestries depicting exotic lands and mythical creatures, while the floor was adorned with plush velvet cushions and ornate rugs. An enormous chandelier cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating a magnificent table laden with delectable treats and goblets of sparkling wine.

"Where in the world am I?" you wondered aloud, feeling as if you had somehow been transported to a realm of enchantment and luxury.

As you wandered deeper into the room, your fingers trailing over the smooth marble of a nearby statue, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something strangely familiar about this place, as if you had stumbled upon a forgotten corner of your own imagination.

A large map spread across one of the walls. Curious, you approached it.

Only to realize that this wasn’t a world map. Not the one you were used to, anyway.

There was no Africa, no United States, no Europe. This was no ordinary map. Perhaps something of a fandom, you mused. Perhaps this was part of a storybook or a movie? It depicted a world unlike any you had ever seen before, a place where mermaids swam in crystal clear lagoons and pirates' coves lay hidden among rocky shores.

Absentmindedly, you traced your finger along the coastline of the fantastical island full of detail, more than you would have expected from a fantasy map. The word "Neverland" was emblazoned across the parchment in bold, swirling letters, and your heart skipped a beat as childhood memories of Peter Pan and his Lost Boys came flooding back to you.

"Neverland," you giggled softly, shaking your head. Of course, you knew about that fictional world.

"Ah, so you have heard of our little slice of paradise, haven’t you?" A husky, low voice came from behind you, catching you by surprise. The huskiness sent shivers down your spine. There was something raw about that voice, something that made a warmth spark in the pit of your stomach. You turned around to find yourself face-to-face with none other than a man dressed as Captain Hook himself. He didn’t seem familiar, not anyone you’d ever met before. But he looked amazingly in character.

His piercing blue eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul, while his long black hair fell in seductive ringlets around his chiseled, stubble-lined jaw. He was dressed in the finest velvet, his tall hat adorned with soft white feathers that quivered with every movement. A silver hook gleamed menacingly from the stump of his right hand, a testament to both his ruthlessness and cunning.

"Captain Hook," you breathed, entranced by the vision before you. It was as if the infamous pirate captain had leaped straight from the pages of your favorite childhood storybook, brought to life in all his dark and twisted glory. This man’s costume was superb.

"Indeed," he replied with a wicked grin, stepping closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "So you have heard of me?” A pleased hum escaped his lips. “No wonder, since you are here.” He clicked his tongue, brushing the tip past his lips in a pensive gesture while he studied you for a moment.

“And who might you be, my dear? I don’t remember having seen you on my ship before."

You laughed, thinking the man made a funny in-character remark. The room did look like a luxurious cabin on a ship, you thought. And the man himself, he looked astonishingly like the real deal. Or well, like how you had imagined the captain would look like if he had been real. A perfect Halloween outfit, you thought.

“A fellow pirate?” He asked.

"Something like that," you replied coyly, your pulse quickening as his intense gaze roamed over your pirate costume. There was something undeniably alluring about this man.

"Your ensemble is quite remarkable," Hook complimented, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. "One of the finest I've seen in some time."

"Thank you, Captain," you replied with a playful curtsy, enjoying the way his eyes remained fixed on you with a subtle undercurrent of attraction. "I do my best."

"Clearly," he murmured, stepping closer until the scent of leather and sea salt filled your nostrils. His presence was intoxicating, filling you with a heady mixture of excitement and danger, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. "Now tell me, lass—where exactly do you hail from?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you teased, meeting his intense stare with a mischievous glint in your eye. The game had begun, and you were more than eager to play along.

"Indeed, I would," Hook replied, his tone growing rougher as he sensed your willingness to engage in this dance of wits. "Perhaps I could persuade you to share your secrets, hm?"

"Perhaps," you mused, your heart pounding in your chest at his nearness. "But I think I'd rather keep you guessing for now."

For a moment, the man’s features darkened. As if he was frustrated by your response. Then his lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Very well," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "But remember, a captain always needs to stay informed. About anything,” here he paused and his blue eyes slid down your frame once more, “and everything,” he then added.

"Of course," you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt the weight of his words settle in your chest. Was he implying what you thought he was? Surely not. But then again, his eyes roamed your body and had darkened.

And then, before you could think about it any further, his left hand brushed past yours, and fingers tangled with yours, pulling you along gently but firmly. You followed, trying not to stumble at the sudden movement.

The tension in the air was palpable as Captain Hook led you away from the strange map and into a dimly lit, quiet nook. The atmosphere seemed to shift. You felt your breath hitch as Hook pressed you against the wall, his body effectively trapping yours.

“And right now,” the man whispered in your ear, breath tickling your skin, “I have stumbled upon a stranger dressed in such fine clothes, it makes me suspicious. Can she be a spy?”

Your eyes grew wide, feeling how you were still trapped between his upper body and the wall. The slight pressure was enough to keep you in place and at the same time, the friction created was making your nipples peak. “No, not a spy,” you quickly said, frowning. “I was looking for the kitchen. I never intended to end up…” Here you hesitated and tried to look around the man. Was this an expensive-looking office? Where exactly had you ended up?

"Be a mysterious, lass," he murmured, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. His gaze roamed over your outfit once more, this time lingering on the intricate details that made your pirate attire so authentic. "I must admit, I find myself quite taken with you."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. As Hook's hand began to explore your body, tracing the curves and edges of your clothing, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and excitement. His touch was firm yet gentle, and the contrast between his warm fingers and the cool metal of his hook sent an electric current through your veins.

"Tell me," he said, his breath hot against your ear. "If I were to take off these fine garments of yours, would I find you just as enchanting beneath them?"

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Was this man serious? Then again, why didn’t you even try so much as to stop him? How come you enjoyed this? He was a stranger!

Hook had always been a figure of mystery and danger in your mind, but never before had you imagined yourself in such an intimate situation with him. And yet, here you were.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" you managed to tease, your voice barely above a whisper. It was a risky game you were playing, but one you couldn't resist.

"Indeed, I would," he growled, his grip tightening on your waist. The pressure of his fingers and the sharp edge of his hook served as a reminder of his dominant nature, and you couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what he might do next.

"Perhaps," you continued, your heart racing in your chest. "But you'll have to earn that privilege, Captain."

Hook's eyes darkened with desire, and you knew you'd successfully stoked the flames of his curiosity. Whether that was a wise decision or not, only time would tell. But for now, you were both caught up in the dangerous dance of attraction, unable to break away from the magnetic pull that kept drawing you closer together.

"Very well," he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Tell me a story.”

His request surprised you, his voice low and inviting. A story? About what?

"Alright," you agreed, laughing softly. "Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a girl who found herself at a Halloween party, dressed as a pirate..."

You began to spin a tale that danced between fantasy and reality, weaving together your own experiences with elements from stories you'd grown up with. As you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how intensely Hook was listening to you. His gaze never wavered, and you felt as if he was seeing straight through to your soul.

Feeling bolder, you reached out and let your fingers trace the intricate embroidery of his velvet coat, finding it surprisingly soft beneath your touch. Not the fancy dress material, you noted, but the expensive real deal. Your eyes flickered up to meet his, gauging his reaction. He didn't pull away, instead, his lips curled into a slight smile, encouraging you to continue.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the party in the distance.

Emboldened by his response, you allowed your hands to wander further, exploring the taut muscles beneath his clothing. The contours of his body sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself both fascinated and excited by what you discovered. The dangerous undertone to your actions only served to heighten the thrill, making your pulse race wildly in your chest. Whoever this stranger was, he was well-built, making your core pulse hot and wet. You knew you should stop before things got too far, but why stop now when feeling him up was bringing you such pleasure? You deserved a little bit of fun every now and then, didn’t you? And this man was fun. At the very least, he was exactly the type of man you had dreamed of. And he wanted to be touched by you. How often have you had a chance like this?

Hook's breathing grew heavier as your fingertips grazed over his chest, the feeling of desire clearly mutual. His striking blue eyes darkened with lust, locked onto yours as if daring you to push the boundaries even further.

"Interesting," he commented, his voice husky and thick with unspoken need. "But how does your story end?"

"Perhaps it doesn't have to end just yet," you suggested, your voice trembling with anticipation. You were playing with fire, but you couldn’t resist. A tad longer, you thought, just a bit more. Enjoy it as long as it lasts…

You felt your fingers trail down the curve of his shoulder, every inch of him a testament to power and danger. The tension in the air thickened as you brushed against the fabric encasing his arm, your mind racing with the excitement of the unknown. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel it too.

"Careful," Hook warned, his voice low and almost playful. "There's more to me than meets the eye."

"Isn't that true for everyone?" you replied, curiosity guiding your hand further down his arm. When your fingertips grazed over something cold and metallic, you hesitated, your pulse quickening.

"Ah, you've found my little secret," he murmured, his eyes darkening as they held your gaze. "Would you like a closer look?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the gleam of metal. As he slowly raised his arm, you realized with a start that what you had felt was not a mere ornament or accessory. It was his hook, glistening silver and wickedly sharp.

It was real.

And its presence sent shivers down your spine. Because this was more than just a fancy dress item. This was more than a costume. The hook was attached with expensive-looking leather straps. Too glorious to have been crafted for a Halloween feast. Perhaps he had played the part somewhere else, you wondered. But an eerie feeling settled in the pit of your stomach that there was only one explanation for why this hook looked so real and so sharp.

This man truly had no hand.

And this hook was truly a replacement for it, sturdy and made to last all the wear and tear of ordinary day life.

"Your... your hook..." you stammered, your wide eyes shifting between the deadly weapon and his piercing blue gaze. "It's real."

Hook grinned, a sinister edge to his smile that made your heart race even faster. "Of course, darling," he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I am Captain Hook, after all."

In that instant, the line between fantasy and reality blurred. You were struck by the powerful realization that this man, this pirate, might be more than a man in a costume. He was alive, dangerous, and undeniably captivating.

“You seem surprised,” he murmured, “You weren’t a moment ago. What changed?”

Unable to find words, you stared at him, lips parting and closing like a fish.

"Does it frighten you?" Hook asked, his voice laced with a dark and seductive undertone that made it impossible to look away while he twisted and turned the hook in front of your face. You had no other choice but to watch the cold metal up close, see the sharp tip glisten in the light of the lamps.

You hesitated, but then your eyes met his hypnotic blue ones. A strange sense of resolve washed over you.

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I think... I think I like it."

Hook's grin widened, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn you saw a flash of genuine admiration in his eyes. "Well then," he said softly, as if sealing an unspoken pact between you. "Close your eyes," he instructed, his breath warm against your ear. Obediently, you allowed your eyelids to flutter shut, surrendering yourself to him completely.

And then, suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, soft and insistent, claiming you as his own. The kiss was like nothing you'd ever experienced before, a dizzying blend of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and aching for more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, losing yourself in the intoxicating taste of him.

As the two of you kissed, warmth spread through you, making your skin tingle. This man was a good kisser, you thought. Too good to be true. Your knees turned to jelly and you were grateful to be wearing such sturdy boots or you might have melted into a puddle.

When at last you broke apart, your chest heaving with the effort of catching your breath, you opened your eyes to find Hook smirking down at you, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"I think I know the ending to your tale,” he whispered, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. "And they lived happily ever after,” a soft whisper that sent goosebumps down your skin.

Then he started to laugh, his grip on you tightening as he pulled you in close. Then he cut off his own laughter by pressing his lips against yours once more in a demanding and sensual kiss that made you see stars.

“I suppose you are mine now,” the captain mumbled once the kiss was broken. “After all, you are on my ship. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

You wanted to laugh, wanted to say how silly that idea was, even though you felt flattered that he wanted to keep you. But then the wooden door through which you had come opened and a new man appeared. A sailor. Mr. Smee. He looked shocked, probably just as shocked as you. Because behind the sailor you didn’t see the ballroom you had left only minutes ago. Instead, you saw and heard the sloshing sea. Rambunctious pirates walked the deck. Seagulls flew overhead. And the very real and very cool metal hook was now near your throat, lovingly bringing you in for another kiss, when you realized, this was no mere man dressed in a costume to attend a party.

This Captain Hook was real.

~*~

AN: Out of 10, how screwed are you? Or… how much will you screw? . . . if you want to show me some support, why not buy me a virtual drink and help me buy new glasses in real life :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[bloodiedrogue]

I'LL CRAWL HOME TO HER (14)

SUMMARY: Upon waking up, you realize just how long you've been gone for.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,257

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2, so much angst (this time with comfort!), descriptions of death, probably incorrect lore about necromancers and how their powers work. :')

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, we're officially back in business baby, let's go! Sorry for the fillerish chapter. It's been so long that I kind of needed to keep things chill before the story starts up again. Hope you can forgive me??? <3 Also, thanks to @the-lady-amphitrite for letting me include their little necromancer Zamrie!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

It’s not uncommon for you to wake up breathless. With the presence of an unknown threat mixed with your history of nightmares, there have been countless moments upon gaining consciousness over the last few months that have felt like you’re dying. Gasping for air to no avail until Astarion’s hand meets your back to soothe your stress. 

At this rate, it’s practically inevitable, especially with the Absolute and all its developments. Each night you close your eyes, more often than not all you see is their hatred plaguing your thoughts, your mind forcing you to stop and stare at whatever vision it’s decided to produce. As you lie still inside your bedroll, experiencing the false depictions of whatever horrors that occur, you’re left without much choice. Forced to lay and wait for that moment you’re jolted awake, wheezing in the dark. 

Despite the intensity, you know deep down it’s always temporary. A passing thought that runs through your lungs until you’re forced to reset at the sound of Astarion’s voice telling you you’re fine. That he’s here and you’re there and that regardless of the dangers that lie ahead he’ll always remain. 

When you awake that day, however, gagging at the air that rushes through to the back of your throat, you can’t help but feel the weight of eternity. As you shoot upwards, desperately clawing at the base of your throat, it’s as if you’re trapped inside this unfamiliar limbo, struggling to gain a sense of self as you blink and breathe and—

“That’s it, just like that, dearie. You got it.” 

The voice that cuts through the darkness is light, their careful tone hitting your ears far gentler than anything else you feel. Closing your eyes, you can hear them humming under their breath, low and slow; working to match your own as you glance around the room, unable to properly see. 

“Pesi, can you get her friends, please?” 

Inhaling deeply, you suddenly feel a sharp pain erupt through your chest as the stranger speaks. Targeting your left side, you feel it push through you like a knife, catching every layer of flesh as you lean forward and groan at the impact, feeling a hand grace your back. 

“It’s alright, just take deep breaths, okay? Nice and slow.” 

Opening your mouth, you cough and clutch your chest, allowing the painful feeling to bloom outwards, each shot of pain targeting the span of your torso before filtering out. 

As it happens, you force open your eyes and glance at the blurry mess of colour in front of you. A figure doused in sunset tones —pinks and oranges with hints of purple that slowly filter through to reveal a bright-eyed tiefling smiling in your direction. Overall, her skin is doused in shades of peach and decorated with various tattooed dots that primarily sit beneath her violet eyes that scan you anxiously. 

“I’m Zamrie. A friend of Gale’s,” she tells you. 

In response, you go to speak but all that comes out is a plume of stinging air that rakes through your esophagus, making you cough and reach for your throat, feeling nothing but numbness at the ends of your fingers. 

“It’ll feel weird for a while I’m afraid.” She offers you a sympathetic smile, gripping your shoulder as the expression across your face twists with confusion. 

How does she know what it feels like?

Suddenly, she lets out a laugh, gently digging her fingers into your skin, massaging the tension that you just now notice is there. “I know, I know —you’re probably wondering how I know how you’re feeling,” she says, making your confusion only strengthen as she nudges your legs aside to make room for herself. “Rest assured though, I’ve lived and died a thousand times, so I’m basically an expert when it comes to the after effects of a good necromancy spell.” 

Necromancy? 

Your eyes widen —your thoughts whirling through you like a disoriented storm, crashing into the inner walls of your head. Looking around in a panic, you hear Zamrie try to pull you back in, whispering words of reassurance in between more quiet hums that only spur your anxiety. 

Shoving away her hands, you attempt to slip off the bed then, your legs wobbling at their newfound position, causing you to stumble forward, landing on your hands and knees. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Almost immediately, the tiefling abruptly rushes to your aid, reaching for hands that only work to slap her away, prompting her brow to furrow as she watches you struggle to move. “C’mon dear, don’t be proud. Just let me help you.”

You shake your head and groan, feeling your chest begin to ache all over again —the remembrance of your reality beginning to settle as you lower your head in pain. 

You died during the battle against Ketheric. Died. And as you sit there, now keeled over in pain, remembering all the horrible details of that blade pushing through your flesh —of the helplessness you felt staring into Astarion’s weary eyes as Shadowheart worked to drag him away— all you can think about is how careless you’d been. How stupid and reckless and overall selfish for thinking that you could do anything on your own like that. 

Gritting your teeth, you feel the numbness in your fingers slowly begin to subside the longer you kneel, granting you the opportunity to ball your hands into fists before pressing them angrily into the floorboards. Groaning loudly, you then punch the wood with what little energy you have, feeling your eyes begin to well up at the thought of your friends. At the thought of them potentially following in your footsteps into a world where everything meets nothing. Where every existing thing about you ceases all at once, leaving nothing but a shell for those to mourn. 

Releasing a shaky breath, you stare at the floor beneath you, praying that nobody did. That instead, they managed to succeed despite your failure and that they’re already on their way to Baldur’s Gate. 

“Where…wha—“

“Shhh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay, yeah? You’re alright.”

Grunting in frustration, you shake your head and look at Zamrie, feeling the tears begin to spill as you glance at her face, noting the stress that graces her features before the shock of loud voices erupts through the doorway, prompting her brows to raise before she turns her head. 

Following her gaze, you look up to see everyone huddled at the doorway, staring with varied looks that upstart your tears, realizing how worried they must have been. How angry and betrayed they must have felt watching you do something so painfully stupid. 

As you sit there, glancing at each of their faces, you can’t help but feel your heart break at such a realization. Taking in Karlach’s glassy eyes and Gale’s expression of pure relief —all of it quickly becomes too much to bear, forcing your head to drop again, allowing the threat of tears to overtake you. 

All at once, the awareness of their love becomes apparent then, causing you to sob until all you can feel is the presence of arms and hands —bodies of all shapes and sizes wrapping around your frame like a warm blanket on a cold winter night. 

All of them envelope you differently. While Shadowheart and Gale press themselves firmly against your back, Lae’zel’s hands are reluctant yet firm from a distance, taking refuge on your elbow with tight fingers, while Wyll and Karlach have completely pushed themselves into either crook of your neck, wrapping their arms around to pull you close. 

Feeling the warmth of their skin and the heaviness of their breath, you can’t help but give in to the fearful thoughts that plague your mind. The way they hold you close, bracing for an impact you all but knew was bound to come, you let the stress of the last few months overtake you, reaching for whatever body you can find so that you can dig your fingers into the fabric of their clothes. 

Immediately, the worn leather of whoever you're touching reminds you of war —of all the battles you faced thus far, struggling to maintain that same momentum you first started with. Running your fingers along the wear and tear, you feel a weight inside your stomach begin to swell, its unfamiliar heaviness making your face scrunch in discomfort, realizing this might be it. Having died and come back, there’s no way you could possibly keep going, right? After revival, you’re too weak to keep up —too broken and frail. A newly inhabited shell, replacing something that used to be much stronger. 

At this rate, you’d only hold everyone back. Either that or make another big mistake that could cost more lives and obliviously that’s not an option. Not after how far you’ve gotten. Not after risking so much with what little you have. 

“I can’t believe we’re hugging right now.”

Unsurprisingly, it’s Karlach who speaks first. Her voice quiet against the crook of your neck sends a chill up your spine like any other, causing you to let out a shaky laugh. 

You can’t believe it either. 

“She’s a bit out of sorts still,” Zamrie says then, forcing your eyes to glance up at her smiling face. “She’ll need to rest for a few more days. The process of revival is pretty taxing on the body. Considering you’re essentially reconnecting a detached soul to an already decaying body, you’re lucky you managed to preserve her as well as you did.”

As she pauses to let out a laugh, the majority of your friends sort of look around in discomfort, listening as Zamrie continues her long-winded spiel about the process of revival. All in too great of detail. 

Almost immediately, it makes you a bit sick, listening to the grotesque ways your body was essentially put back together at the hands of her and Withers, forcing you to close your eyes as your head begins to spin. You realize then that you should probably lie down again. Considering there’s more than likely a rough road to recovery ahead of you, you assume most of your time spent over the next few days will be in bed, drifting between sleep alongside Astarion’s—

Feeling a sudden panic rise through your chest, you look around to see him nowhere, causing your mind to slip further out of control, resulting in you pushing and pulling —desperate movements taking over your body as you work to distance yourself from the hold that currently binds you. Sensing your stress, the group quickly distances themselves in response, a handful of nervous and reluctant stares watching as you plant one hand against the floor to steady yourself while the other moves to your throat. 

“Wh— where—“ 

You cough violently as the previous ache in your throat rips right through, interrupting your words in the form of a distorted wheeze. 

As it happens, you can’t help but think of the worst possible outcome regarding his absence. Imagining his lifeless body somewhere all alone, trapped beneath the rubble of an aftermath of battle, all you can see is his flesh. Pale skin stained with crimson, all torn apart to reveal the inner parts of himself. Amongst the rubble, you envision tendons splitting between broken bones —a lifeless face ripped with wild red eyes so empty compared to the life they once held. Tightly shutting your eyes, you imagine shattered fangs and cut-up lips left open in preparation for a dying breath you never got the chance to try and fix. 

Suddenly behind your eye, you can feel your tadpole wiggling violently. Rushing from one end to the other, its presence quickly wreaks havoc on your skull, forcing a groan to escape your lips, realizing someone’s there. That there’s a voice calling out to you, telling you it’s okay —that everything's fine and he’s safe, so please stop crying. 

Focusing on the voice, you hear Shadowheart’s tone eventually begin to push through, prompting your tear-stained eyes to drift to her, catching a soft smile. It’s subtle, as most of her outward emotions are, but regardless it speaks volumes. Reassuring you in a way that makes you smile back, mentally thanking her again and again until there’s a set of footsteps at the doorway. 

“What the hell are you all—“

His words are dripping in confusion. Rattling through your system like an echo of waves, the mere thought of it pulls you forward, forcing your body to crawl closer, watching the way his eyes glaze over once he catches sight of your crumpled frame.

As soon as he notices, he promptly pushes past all the bodies that separate you, breathing so hard that when he inevitably drops to his knees in front of you, clawing at the fabric of your tunic to pull you into his chest, you can feel it shaking. Rising and falling through the stress of his unbound anxiety, showing you just how much he missed you. How much he longed for your presence however long you were gone. 

Feeling him shiver against you, you immediately break, crying harder than you ever have before. Allowing the catharsis of your shared embrace to fill up the room with desperate sobs that leave both of you breathless. 

Gripping the base of his shoulder blades, you then maneuver your body until you’re completely wrapped around him, sitting on his lap, tugging at tufts of hair as you push your fingers through his curls. 

“Star…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he speaks with disbelief, clutching you tight. As if the fear of this all being a dream has led him to believe that if you part somehow you’ll disappear entirely. 

Nodding against him, you press a gentle kiss to the side of his neck before pressing your forehead into the same spot, feeling him shift. 

“When did you wake?” 

You open your mouth to speak before swallowing hard, opting to use your Illithid. Not long ago. Where were you? 

Getting supplies. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Zamrie said—

Before he can finish his thought your hands are on his face, fingers splayed out to cup the delicate angles as you press your lips to his, feeling how cold they are. How the temperature bites against your own, forcing you to work for the heat you long for in the form of languid licks and nips that have you dizzy all over again. 

Hearing the background sound of footsteps followed by the shutting of a door, you can’t help but grin through the movement of Astarion’s mouth pushing open your own, realizing then that you’re alone. That for the first time in ages it’s just you and him and both of you safe from whatever evils lurk beyond the exit. 

“I’m still…very much…mad at you,” he eventually says, groaning between the kisses you steal through his frustrated tone —no longer caring if your behaviour bites you in the ass later. 

That’s fair. 

He snorts as he places a hand on the back of your neck, placing one last kiss to the edge of your mouth before pulling away, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “I can’t believe you left me with those idiots. Do you know how boring they are? I swear, the minute we arrived in Baldur’s it was like—“

You roughly tug at the collar of his shirt to get his attention, widening your eyes. Wait, we’re in Baldur’s?

In response, he immediately huffs. “Gods, of course nobody told you. They were probably too busy hugging you to death all over again,” he says. “I swear, it’s been nothing but chaos since you left. Karlach’s been crying for weeks. Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been at each other’s —ow!”

You narrow your eyes and pinch his cheek. Astarion, what the hell happened? 

For a moment he just sits there, watching you with those angered eyes that make your chest tighten and your stomach flip, remembering then that none of it matters anyway. That for now, despite the lingering curiosity of it all festering at the back of your mind, wondering how long it’s been and how everyone’s truly fared, you don’t care. So long as everyone’s alive and well and the progress you’ve worked so hard to push through is still on track, all you care about is him.

Are you okay?

Even with his unwavering resilience, you know deep down that he hasn’t come up the other side unscathed. That regardless of what he might say in replacement of the truth, there’s something uneasy hidden beneath the surface. You can see it in his eyes. In the way they drop almost immediately at your words, his expression shifting from anger to confusion to a mix of something foreign you can’t quite place. 

Opening his mouth, you see the quiver of his lips. The wobbling motion of uncertainty before he suppresses his thoughts, swallowing hard at the presence of fear to say, “I’m fine. Now that you’re here.”

Frowning then, you trail your thumb across his cheek, tracing the peaks and valleys of his flesh, skimming thoughtful patterns across the expanse of his face, eventually winding up at his lips. Thumbing the lower one, you press your own together and look at him with tired eyes, surveying the age of a man who’s so obviously been pushed to his limits. 

Yes, but are you okay? 

He isn’t. Not in the slightest. And you can tell because the moment you ask he’s crumbling all over again, clutching your frame —pulling you in with far too much effort for someone who claims such nonchalance. 

Pressing his digits roughly into your flesh, it’s as if he’s changed completely. What once was a man of constant mischief —a man with unlimited lies and tricks up his sleeve to hide the truest version of himself— has now become too honest. Too candid in the way he presents himself as he clutches onto your frame, acting as if you’re the last sliver of light in a forever-darkened sky. 

It breaks your heart almost instantly, feeling the tremors of his body releasing all the pent-up anger and betrayal —all the sadness of a passing he was ill-prepared to handle. Fisting the fabric that rests against his back, you grant him access to your neck without hesitation, feeling him burrow inside, whispering all the thoughts he couldn’t say when both of you were separate and alone. 

Inside your mind, you can feel the pain of his Illithid showing you a memory. A flash of magic mixed with a broken man’s cry filtering through closed lips. Unlike anything you’ve ever heard, it punctures your ears like a needle, painfully pushing through until it’s all but cut off without warning revealing the face of your last dying breath before everything goes black. 

“We tried to save you sooner,” he whispers, placing a kiss to your neck, then to the fabric that rests against your shoulder. “But every moment between then and now was spent fighting those bastards.” 

You place a hand on his hair, gently running your fingers through before repeating the process, hearing him breathe. 

“We’d only just arrived this morning, I swear.” 

You smile then, pressing a kiss to his head, telling him that it’s okay. That he’s okay and you’re okay, repeating the words over and over until you can feel his body begin to loosen at the seams, granting you both a moment of relief before he tells you he loves you and you do the same. 

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

[enby-jellyfish]

I Am Venus God.

Arthur Shelby X GN!Reader (POC friendly)

Pronouns: You/yours

Summary: You meet Arthur at your lowest, now the time has come to see him at his.

Warnings: TW PSYCHOTIC EPISODE, TW PSYCHOSIS, religious themes, marital neglect, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol and unspecified drugs), cursing, period typical ignorance to mental health issues, possible OOC Tommy, angst

Word Count: 2108

A/N: Inspired by that one scene from Queen Charlotte :)

Aside from your new husband sneaking off to various pubs and working in an actual gang, your marriage has been going smoothly, even if how it came to be was anything but.

The marriage in question was arranged by his brother, the fearsome gang leader Tommy Shelby. Your father's bakery had been struggling a lot, so he did what any desperate working man in Small Heath does and went to the infamous Peaky Blinders for help. Surprisingly Tommy accepted your father's plea with the condition that you had to marry the eldest Shelby.

You were furious when you heard the news, understandably so. How dare they basically sell you to a man you've never seen, but whose reputation precedes him. You, like anyone who has not been living under a rock these past few years, have heard horrible stories about the Peaky Blinders. They are cheats, liars, and most importantly, murderers. And Arthur Shelby is said to be the cruellest of them all.

Your fiancé.

On the day of your wedding, you had tried to escape. Emphasis on 'tried', you had been caught before you could. By none other than your future husband himself. You had tried to convince him to help you escape, not knowing who he was, lamenting about the monster you thought your fiancé to be.

"I'm afraid i can't help you, love." He had stated.

"And why not?" You had questioned, exasperated by his quick refusal to help you, someone in clear need.

"Because I'm the monster you're supposed to be marrying right now." He had given you that awkward smile you will come to adore.

After that he had given you a choice, something his brother and your own father had refused you. You could choose your future now, and surprising no one more than yourself you said the words 'I do." a few moments later.

During your honeymoon you had gotten to know him better. You had eaten, drunk, slept, and danced together. But most importantly you had talked. He was not a man of many words and would stumble over his words anytime the conversation would go deeper than 'How did you sleep?'.

Despite this he tried. He confided in you about his youth, the war, his family, and his relationship with God. He spoke about how he used to not believe, and how that changed when he met a woman, Linda. She had shown him 'The way of The Lord', and helped him find comfort when he had none. Anytime you would try and ask what happened to her, he would get a weird look in his eyes and change the subject. Your current working theory is that she either left him or is dead. You don't want to think about the further implications of either of those options, considering the whole crime family situation and all, so you stopped asking.

Ignorance is bliss after all.

Said bliss came to an abrupt stop after the honeymoon though. Tommy had called his brother back to work and so you were left alone in the house. It is a nice house, by the countryside, beautifully decorated with all sorts of knick-knacks, and a big garden. Normally you wouldn't have minded being on your own, and you didn't at first. You had your books, your garden, and when he came back from work, you had your husband.

However the time he spent away got longer and longer with time, and when he was home he was... distant. Whatever Tommy made him do caused Arthur to slip away from you. He started spending more time with a bottle and other substances, you don't even want to know what they are, than with you. Sometimes you didn't see him for days, or even weeks at a time. It was heartbreaking, to see the man you had learned to like and even love so stressed. You had only just gained him, his trust, his love, and now you were losing him.

Tonight, you are awoken by strange noises from the other side of your bedroom. At first you assume it is Arthur, coming back home under the influence of God knows what, and you are indeed correct about it being Arthur, but when you sit up you immediately notice something is off about him.

Confused you watch as he scratches something into the wall using a palette knife, muttering incoherently to himself. You try calling his name. No response.

You try again, a bit louder this time. "Arthur, is that you?" He still doesn't respond so you get out of bed, wrapping your blanket around you and lighting the candle on your nightstand. You walk over to him, trying to understand his ramblings in the process, but you can't make sense of any of it.

"Arthur."

Suddenly he stops his repetitive muttering and scratching. He drops the palette knife and stumbles around to face you. It's like he's looking right through you. He starts walking towards the door, not sparing you another glance. Concerned you follow him.

He walks quickly and stiffly, continuing his muttering, you can vaguely make out the words 'Show yourself.'. It's like he is so sure of where he is going, yet unaware of anything around him. He moves out of your bedroom, down the stairs, through the living room and exits the house. You have to jog to keep up with him. The two of you are now in the garden.

"Arthur! It's cold. You're not wearing shoes." He is running now.

You hear him before you can catch up to him. "I see you! God, your angels. I see you!"

See who? What? And oh, oh. He is undressing now. The few clothes he was wearing are now flying through the air while he keeps shouting at the sky. "I see you! I see you! My Lord, my angel, I'm here. I'm here!"

You have never seen him like this. He has had outbursts before, sure, but they were out of anger, never this.

"I feel you, talk to me!" He exclaims, falling to the ground, pale knees turning black from the dirt.

"I knew you would come. I knew it." He stood again, reaching his hands up to the sky.

"Yes! They will see. I know. Yes!" It stunned you, seeing him like this. You think back to the times you've seen him drunk or high, but this behaviour doesn't match anything you've seen him on before.

"It is God. Do you see it?" Is he speaking to you? "Say hello! Hello, God!"

"Arthur." You finally will yourself to speak.

He gasps, looking back to the sky, but doesn't respond.

"Arthur."

"Arthur."

Finally he turns to face you. "It is God. Say hello."

"No. I am God. Right here. I am God." The words slip from your lips before you can stop them.

"You are God?" Now he is the stunned one. "Yes." Perhaps indulging whatever this is may be the best course of action for now.

He lets out a gasp, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. "You are God?"

"Yes. And God is going inside. You need to come with me."

"All right. I thought..." Another gasp. "I thought you were in the sky." He looks back up, confused.'

"I was in the sky, but now I am going inside. Into our house."

"Here. Here." You wrap your blanket around him, feeling the goosebumps on his arms as you do so. "Come on." You gently lead him towards your house.

“God… is indoors.” He says it more like a question.

“God is indoors. With you. I am with you.” You affirm.

Once inside you sit your husband on the couch and tell him to stay there while you go and fill up the tub. He just nods, staring blankly ahead.

You adjust the blanket on his shoulders and move to put on the kettle. While waiting for the water to boil you pick up the phone and dial Tommy's number, that fucker has some explaining to do.

He picks up after the first ring, odd, considering it's the middle of the night, but you are not going to question it. “Get over here, it’s Arthur.” You hang up before he can get a word in.

You fill up the tub with the hot water, adding colder water so it won’t burn. You fetch Arthur and he allows you to move him into the tub. Gently you start scrubbing away all the dirt, sweat, and tears from his body. Gently running the sponge over his seemingly perpetually bruised knuckles. He is shaking, mouth moving without making a sound, staring into nothing.

When you finally manage to get Arthur clean and dressed his brother barges into your bedroom. Tommy quickly addresses you before starting to march over to his brother, who is now sitting on the bed.

"Tommy." You block his way. "What is this? What is happening?" He sighs out your name while rubbing his hand over his face. Like it is exhausting to even be in the same room as you. How fucking dare he.

"Thomas!"

You have never raised your voice at him before, you haven't dared. He looks at you, finally he looks at you. You don't think he has ever looked you in the eye before.

“What has happened to my husband?”

He sighs. “It’s just The Flanders Blues, he’ll get over it.” He says it in a way that, if you hadn’t seen what you had that night you would have believed him.

You laugh at him. “Don’t bullshit me Thomas, I’ve seen shellshock this,” you point at your husband, he hasn’t moved an inch. “, is not that.”

“He was talking to the sky, Tommy. I-” Your voice breaks and you have to give yourself a moment to take a breath. You will not cry now.

“Yeah, and what difference does it make, you wouldn’t have married him if you knew.”

“I didn’t want to marry him in the first place, the whole idea of this marriage was against my will.” You take a breath, trying to calm yourself. “But if I have to be married, if I have to leave my home, my family, my life, it can’t be for a man I don’t know!”

“You should be grateful; your family is well provided for, and you could be doing so much worse, so what if he is mad!” He moves his arms exasperatedly.

“I don’t care about his sanity, I care about his happiness, I care for his soul. Let him be mad, if mad is what he needs. We are done, get out of my house.”

He looks at you with an unreadable look on his face. “Take care of him.” With that he leaves. You watch him leave, a mix of confusion and relief washing over you.

You hear Tommy’s car leave and only then you release the breath you’ve been holding. Hearing movement behind you you turn around, seeing Arthur move from the bed to the ground, sliding himself under the bed.

“Arthur?” His odd behaviour makes you worried for another outburst.

“It’s quiet here.” You close your eyes and nod your head, accepting that this is what he needs right now.

You move towards the bed, kneeling to the ground. “Is there room for one more under there? I could use some quiet too.”

He doesn’t respond but hear shuffling sounds and take that as permission and get under the bed with him. He is right, it is quiet down here.

“This has been an… exciting night, hasn’t it?” You look over at him, he looks calmer now, like he is actually here. “…Are you feeling better now?”

He nods. “Thank you, I’m sorry you had to see that.” His voice sounds hoarse. You think back to his screaming before, he sounded so desperate. Desperate to be saved, to be seen.

You swallow the lump in your throat. It broke your heart, seeing him like that, him apologising is just the cherry on top. You slowly reach over and grasp his hand into yours

“Thank you.” You aren’t exactly sure what you are thanking him for. Not letting you escape your wedding perhaps? Because despite everything that happened tonight, you are grateful to have him with you, right here, right now, under your bed, hiding from a deity in the sky.

“I love you.” You bring your intertwined hands to your lips and kiss the back of his hand.

“I don’t deserve you.” A tear rolls down his face. You use your free hand to wipe it away, cupping his cheek.

“Have me anyway.”

Masterlist

Thank you for reading <3

[thatawkwardmoth]

I had no power during a tropical storm so I wrote a bunch of shit by candlelight, like a Victorian ruler. So I'm sorry for the spam posts but...

Enjoy I guess.

Let's start with one thing that has been on my mind for a while; if Emma had been able to raise the Cuckoos from day one, she would've put an emphasis on them all being different, not just a hive mind. She maybe would've stuck with the matching outfits but she wouldn't have let anyone group them up. They had names. It's something I see in a lot of twins or parents of twins (being a twin myself) is that eventually, you want to be different. And the Cuckoos were all different at one time, two dead, three dying their hair. But then the Krakoa era started and I understood in a way why they all went back to looking the same. They were a complete set again.

But I think that if Emma had raised them, they'd all be individuals in their own way. Even their rooms, which are important to any kid, are your first chance to portray and discover your interests and a safe haven for you. In the White Palace, they share one room, by choice. And I think they would do that in any universe. They want to be close and probably never slept separately until Phoebe and Sophie (? I think) died. So I think they'd have one room together. But they'd have different decors and aesthetics if they were only allowed to have a character arc outside of being evil, dead, or a hive mind. More than just a few interests shown or spats between them.

I would imagine they'd get to decorate the space by their beds and that would be that. Kind of like the og X-Men dorms, if you've seen that panel, where it's the boy's dorm and everyone has a section of the floor and walls to decorate to their tastes (and sadly, Scott's is empty and barren). But their room would have that vibe.

And Emma would be so organized with them. She's a good mom. On top of her shit, not like Hazel. Not overbearing and with unreachable standards that her father. Everything would be in certain folders, certains baskets, certain bags, their names on each thing. Or even just their initals. Her assistant would have to keep with all of their after-school activities just as well as Emma does because the driver shoulder never be late. Emma would have a fit if her daughters ever thought she forgot. Meaning every dance practice, gymnastics competition, swim meet, beauty pagent, whatever the Cuckoos wanted to join, had to be put in the calander next to Emma's meetings and such. Only the best private schools but Emma is not afraid to pull them out if they want, unlike her parents when she was telling about her being the outcast, or letting her girls pass because of how much money Emma gave the school to improve.

Just let Emma be a mom. Not just an at-arms-length mom.

(The Emma mini-series in the comics really is one of my favorite things, despite the weird teacher thing. It was a wonderful insight into her character and why she acts the way she does with her students/children. Mainly because of how her parents were. I also think Emma enjoys seeing how close the Cuckoos are as sisters because the only sibling she's close to is Christian and all her sisters tried to kill her and they never recovered from it.)

[erensonly]

Moving is a bitch.

This was your only thought as you turned onto the street you would now be living on. Moving to England was a big decision that you had no choice but to make. From familial issues, to weird ex-boyfriends, you got tired of living in the States and wanted a change of scenery. The goal was to live a quiet, normal life and hopefully make some new friends.

Making the last turn to get into the driveway, you’ve finally arrived to your new home. You found it last minute but it was a good price that no one else was offering. The downside, though, is that you have to fix up whatever the previous owners hadn’t fixed, but considering that you now owned the home, you didn’t mind having to fix things up. Just have to worry about how to pay for it. You kinda have it planned out. Thankfully the previous owners were just doing their best to get rid of the house, they offered to help you get a remote job and they even helped find a furniture company that didn’t charge much for the furniture, delivery, and to put the furniture together. You truly didn’t know what you would’ve done without this lovely couple helping you out.

Hopping out of the your car, you took a look at the house. Not too bad, you thought. The house was a beautiful cobblestone cottage with a stone pathway, overgrown weeds and small flowers growing in due to the spring weather finally coming in. Looking at the house, it wasn't horrible. Just repairs. Lots and lots of repairs...

There was a patch of white lily of the valley flowers, more overgrown weeds, some even starting to grow along the house. The house has a nice sized front yard, and if you look to your right you notice a similar cobblestone cottage - in better condition, of course. (i know nothing abt flowers so if these dont grow in england... yes they do)

You were excited but nervous for this move, more-so excited. A new environment with new people sounded so intriguing so you moved the second you finished saving the money you needed. Maybe should've planned it a little better, but that doesn't matter. Making this cottage your new home is the goal.

You go up to the door and take a breath. This is finally it; its like the final confirmation you needed that you finally did it.

-----

The house wasn't bad on the inside, nothing decorations and a good clean can't fix. The living room and kitchen had been furnished by the previous owners, (they just left their own furniture). Not bad just a bit dated as they were a bit older than you. The only problem now was getting all your things inside. You didn't want anyone knowing you had gone, so you packed your things quickly, just shoving things in boxes and bags that you had lying around. You had barely been able to get them in the car.

You had already walked outside and popped the truck. What you hadn't noticed is the tall man standing on the porch of his house. You were clearly struggling so he had sauntered over, quietly. Too quiet.

"Need a hand?" You hear a deep voice ask from your right. Flinching, you drop the box out of your hand, backing away from him.

"Apologies, love. Didn't mean to scare you." He was a big man. Like.. huge. Over 6' tall, a strong sturdy body from year of working, muttonchops covering his thin lips, and beautiful lagoon blue eyes that looked kind and inviting. His eyes were crinkled, a smile maybe.

"No problem, should've been paying attention." You smile and introduce yourself, shaking his hand and him doing the same. His name is John. Joh Price. You reluctantly let him help you but not letting him go further than the living room. It didn't take long as you didn't bring much with you. When he finished bringing in the last box - he insisted that he should bring in the boxes so you didn't hurt yourself or whatever - he put it on the floor with ease, telling you that was the last one.

" Thank you so much, I really appreciate it. Is there anything I can do to repay you?" He smiled again, crows feet appearing in the corners of his eyes. He was honestly the finest man you think you've ever seen. Whatever he wanted he can get you aint hear it from me tho.

"It's no problem, really. Pretty lady like you shouldn't have to lift boxes anyway." This left you feeling flustered, not used to this type of attention, and Lord knows your pathetic excuse for an ex-boyfriend didn't. You just smiled and nodded, feeling a bit awkward, but you were going to repay him whether he expected it or not. You already started planning what you were going to do for him.

"Well, thanks again. See you soon?" He nodded in agreement and started making his way towards the door, letting himself, but not before flashing one last kind smile and gently closing the door. You couldn't help but feel giddy about the small interaction even though your subconscious was kicking you for letting a stranger inside your new home. But he just seemed so.. inviting and the authority that he naturally holds. There was no way you were going to turn him down.

-----

A few hours later, you were somewhat settled. Some potted plants from home in some window sills and on the table in the living room, clothes folded and put away in the closet of your room, and your jewelry displayed in a pretty box. Not a bad start. The biggest problem is you don't have a bed yet due to you ordering the furniture online and the shipment being delayed an annoying amount of times. Curse your last minute planning. But you have a temporary solution. Pop into the shops to grab a few groceries to last you until you could go full out shopping, grab some quick meals for supper, and grab an air mattress to last you a few days until your furniture came in.

Grabbing your phone, you finally check your notifications, so many filing in on the screen. Some unimportant emails, a text from your mom, another from your sister, and too many for comfort from your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend. You don't know why they haven't been blocked yet. Maybe it's because you want answers as to why your boyfriend and best friend decided to sneak behind your back, or maybe it's so you can come up with something good to say so you can send it and block them before they can respond. The world may never know.

[actual-changeling]

i am still looking at the arcadia house and ohhhh boy do i have more thoughts. this is about to be an unhinged meta ramble written at 2 am so buckle in folks.

i know the most likely answer is that no one considered this important enough to keep track of so fuck continuity i guess, but i am not here for the easy answers.

if we ignore the windows that open to the outside even though they

a) SHOULDN'T based on their architecture and

b) do NOT have any kind of handle

we still end up with one big mystery.

side note: these are the windows. if you can spot something i missed, PLEASE tell me. they gotta open somehow because they ARE open, but????? anyway.

my question is what the FUCK is happening with the front facing window?

in case you're not as obsessed with this episode as i currently am, i mean this one:

i am pointing out the position of the streetlamp for reasons that will become clear in a second.

now, what's wrong with the window? by itself—nothing. but once you add the view from the inside it becomes funky. we get a small number of shots at different times. here is the window behind the (about to be bludgeoned to death) klines.

it looks like some sort of mosaic which is a weird place to put it but okay.

side note: why is the bed right in front of it? the room is big enough for other options, but i digress. we've already talked about the atrocious architectural and interior design choices.

said mosaic is barely visible from the outside, you can kinda see the outlines here.

i now have several more questions.

firstly, WHAT do we see through the window? on the right, you can spot what looks like some sort of shelf, and since the mosaic colours do not add up to form that kind of pattern, it HAS to be something else.

you can spot it at different angles so it's not just a weird reflection, it stays consistent.

this non-existent object, however, is the least of my worries. before i tell you what caused me to write this post, i want to point out the direction said window is facing.

we can spot the sun BEHIND the building both in the morning and in the early afternoon. since we get a nice shot of mulder's watch, we can deduce that this is south.

while this opens more questions regarding continuity (it's february. why is the sun still so high at 2:20 pm???), it's more important that we can now say with certainty that our mystery window is facing NORTH. north-facing means it does not get any direct sunlight throughout the day.

remember the streetlamp? it is lower then the window and also at an angle, meaning that its light will barely if at all shine through said window.

which finally brings us to my problem: what the FUCK is happening here?

this is at night, and even if it were earlier in the evening, the sun sets at, what, 6 pm? it's DARK. so please explain to me why the hell this window is back-lit (???) by something and also what the fuck that pattern is because it sure as hell doesn't match up with the one we see with the klines. that window has not changed between then and now.

no, there are no plants outside that could cause these shadows.

no, there are no lights directed at this window at an almost 90° angle, which you'd need to get this kind of fully lit-up result.

no, there are no lights underneath the roof overhang, as can be seen here.

there is nothing weird or notable about the outside of the window.

where are the lights coming from????? it looks like some sort of LED back-lit decoration but we KNOW it is a north-facing window. we can SEE parts of the mosaic from the outside, so there is no barrier or whatever between two panes of glass (???). which would also be a weird fucking choice but this house is might as well have that shit too; i would not be surprised.

so what is lighting up this window? if anyone has an explanation that makes sense and aligns with the facts we already have PLEASE tell me because i cannot figure it out.

the real x file of this episode is the mysterious, spontaneous lighting up, mosaic window that can apparently also shapeshift. did no one give a fuck about any of this and that's why it's the way it is? probably. but again, not here for the cop-out answers.

that concludes my increasingly less sane meta spiral for the day, feel free to add your own thoughts!!