#like if I want to ensure something cannot be reblogged

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

The university protests are the result of so many complex socio-political and economic factors, and I genuinely don't want to minimize the presence of other influences

But at the same time, it is REALLY hard not to look at the liberal and republican response to college students exercising their First Amendment rights and hear the sound of decades of authoritarian parenting standing over you and yelling "look what you made me do!"

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your Internet consumption.

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Part three

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time? 

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee. 

But he didn’t believe it at first.

 He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others? 

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved. 

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck. 

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me? 

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all. 

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets. 

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling.  A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles.  You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee. 

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.  

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting. 

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans. 

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth  slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening. 

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.” 

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished. 

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you. 

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being.  This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all. 

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office. 

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again.  You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily. 

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning. 

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening. 

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department. 

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is. 

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person. She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?” 

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” 

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation. 

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping.  If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she  told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well.  Dinner too, perhaps? 

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.” 

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.  

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The  handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you. 

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

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Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations! 

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

Taglist: @cerisearan @julietdelamare @ghostdoodlen @mochinon-yah @queenofspades403 @alittletiredcry @burningaestheticsimp @proper-fox @neutralrobot @reallysparklychaos @tired-of-life-86 @nunezs-stuff @yandere-dark-cupid @imperfectbloodmoon @cassanderasblog @faux-ecrivain @abelheilonwife @ixchelhernandez4 @diannaflight @sweetbatherodonkey @strangepoppy @persephone-kore-law @swallowtail-lotus @tonightwrites @majestichugs @pinkynecktie

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

[starryevermore]

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au

the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. (AO3) (pinterest board)

series warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later 

TOTAL WORD COUNT (up to this point): 51,687

i DO NOT consent to my works being reposted, translated, or published on any third party site or app. if you see my work posted on any platform that is not my tumblr, my wattpad (starryevermore), or my ao3 (illiterate), it has been stolen and reposted without my permission.  

reblogs and feedback encouraged. 

my blog is strictly 18+. by clicking on the links or read more, you are agreeing that you are an adult. any minors found interacting with my blog will be blocked. 

chapter one

your parents are convinced that you will marry the king by the end of the social season. and so, too, it seems does coriolanus snow. 

chapter two

though you want nothing less than to marry coriolanus snow, he seems intent on finding you a reason to comply.

chapter three

coriolanus will make you fall in love with him one way or another. 

chapter four

you realize there is more to this than snow just wanting a bride.

chapter five

snow does not like the idea of others playing with his toy.

chapter six

now that he knows of sejanus’s interest in you, coriolanus can only think of how to keep you away from him. 

chapter seven

snow is pushing his luck with you, but you will not let his attempted slights go by. 

chapter eight

sejanus crosses a line.

chapter nine

he is in love.

chapter ten

coryo haunts your every moment.

chapter eleven

finally, coriolanus can call you his.

chapter twelve

you can’t believe that this is truly a good thing. 

chapter thirteen

coriolanus doesn’t understand why you've shut him out. 

chapter fourteen

you try to reconcile your feelings. (you fail.) 

chapter fifteen

you cannot seem to stay away. 

chapter sixteen

coriolanus gets to enjoy you.

chapter seventeen

finally, you enjoy your honeymoon. 

chapter eighteen

you say the words coriolanus is so desperate to hear. 

chapter nineteen

you and coriolanus return to the capitol. 

chapter twenty

the ton learns of how its king adores the queen.

chapter twenty-one

changes are coming.

chapter twenty-two

you and coriolanus adjust.

[ilovejoo]

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

habits they get from dating you; enhypen

word count: 1.5k warnings: n/a gn!reader a/n: like & reblog & follow for more; new blog here lol THANK U FOR READINGG

heeseung

always looking for you in a crowd to make sure you were doing okay, even if the situation doesn't call for worry

at parties, he can't help but scan the room to look for your familiar eyes. were you doing okay? were you having fun?

when performing while you're in the audience, he looks for your approval in the crowds while also ensuring that you were safe. was his singing as good as the singing he shows you at 3am on the living room couch? were you being trampled by his fans?

this type of habit that he developed is something he really can't help: though he trusts you to take care of yourself, he just wants the best for you.

subconsciously putting food on your plate before he takes his own

this can mean sneaking an extra choco pie into his pocket from a en-o-clock episode site or grilling the meat and placing it on your plate for you during kbbq nights. he grabs the first slice of pizza for you, reaches for the best piece of pie for you, and makes sure you have food to eat before he starts taking and shoving his own food into his mouth, even though everyone knows how much he values eating.

he saves the first, last, and best bites for you. if he knows you like a certain side dish, he'll move his onto your plate.

jay

making meals for two rather than one, or eight rather than the seven of his group

he got so used to cooking for you that even when you aren't there, he finds himself making a bigger meal than he used to out of habit.

two servings of ramen- damn, he only meant to make it for himself, but he added two on accident since two is the amount he makes every time.

whenever he's cooking, naturally he adds a few scoops extra of each ingredient without even thinking; caring for you and making sure you have food to eat is something he does subconsciously.

calling you "my" when talking to other people, as in "my baby," "my y/n," "my darling"

you overheard him talking to jungwon while referring to you as "my y/n," and you felt your heart skip a beat. "my y/n baked me a cupcake the other day!" or "my darling studied all night for their exam, i hope they aren't too tired."

the way you both know that he is yours and you are his is something that incorporated itself into his daily life and daily conversations.

jake

seeing you in every little thing, from the clouds in the sky to his eyes naturally spotting your favorite snack

his members are tired of hearing "oh y/n likes this!" "this looks like y/n!" "this reminds me of when y/n..." jake cannot get you out of his head, he is so down bad for you that every little thing reminds him of you.

somehow he will connect the color of a random car to the time when you went to the movies together and the commercial that played had the same shade of gray somewhere in it. romantic?

saying "i love you" literally every waking moment

when you wake up, in your sleepy eyes and messed up hair, he can't help but express the love he holds for you. seeing you shove a cupcake into your mouth: he's never seen anything more perfect in his life. you scored a 50% on your final exam: it's completely fine!

everything from your strengths to your flaws about you is so perfect, mesmerizing, lovable to him, and so he finds himself saying the words "i love you" every hour, every day. every time he feels grateful to have you in his life, he says a quick "love you," which is much more often than you would think.

sunghoon

playing with your fingers whenever you were next to him

like in iland where often he found himself fidgeting with the hand of the person next to him, your hand is always in his once he mustered the courage to grasp it the first time. rings, fingers, nails, anything on your hands becomes his personal fidget toy: all anxieties gone, all pressures relieved, everything perfectly fine. sometimes he will crack your knuckles, pinch your skin, earning a playful slap on his shoulder from you; the different ways he plays with your hands are endless.

asking questions like "did you sleep well?" or "was the food good?"

is this him being awkward and not knowing what to say to fill up silence, or is this him being a caring boyfriend? neither of you know, but you do know that he still genuinely wants to know in order to check up on you and make sure everything is good. his "did you like the chicken" translates to "i love you and i want everything to be just perfect in your life."

sunoo

attentively studying the hair stylists to learn how to do your hair when he gets back home

whenever his stylist tries something new on him, a different idol from another group, or one of his members and he finds himself particularly liking it, he studies it to the best of his ability to best replicate it when he sees you again. the way the straightener moves, the type of products to use: he memorizes it all.

he will see a certain style and think about how good it would look on you, and how he needs to see it on you asap, so learning from a real professional would be the best way to do it.

saving saturday nights for dates and building his schedule around it every week

"wait, saturday night? i can't, i have plans." he did not have plans.. yet. but! every saturday is saved for you, no matter what. therefore, on the way home, he picked up some face masks and candles for a self care night.

he finds himself saving every single saturday night just for you, no matter what may come up. he loves spending time with you, so having this time together means a lot to him.

jungwon

taking selfies everywhere to send mini updates of literally his entire life

you're his personal diary at this point, with the number of selfies and pictures he takes and sends to you. you thought he takes a lot of pictures for his fans? while that is true, he takes double the amount for you.

he makes up for all the time you guys are apart by updating you on things like his meals, practice ending, going to sleep, his member leaving his sock on his bed, etc. does it get too personal sometimes? yes, but you love it.

watching for your safety whether you are known for your clumsiness or not, his hands always ready to grab you

whether this means walking on the outer side of the sidewalk or hovering over you when you walk down the stairs, your safety is his priority.

when you bend down to grab something, he walks behind you so you feel safe, covered, and nobody bumps into you. when your head is dangerously close to the corner of a table, his hand gravitates between your head and the edge to prevent any potential injuries.

he can't bear to see you hurt or in pain, so he'll do his best for that not to happen.

niki

always sleeping with something by his side, and he can't sleep without the feeling of another presence right next to him

his members have been replaced by you at night sleeping next to him. twiddling with your hair as your eyes began to close, snuggling into that crook in your neck: all flows right into his nightly routine. after a while, he got too used to your warmth that whenever you are absent, he can't fall asleep.

this is where weighted stuffed animals, heated blankets, and such came into play; he really could not sleep without you, or at least a subpar replica of you.

dancing, singing, and trying to look his best whenever you're around to impress you and earn words of praise

"y/n look over here!" he'd do a quick but fancy dance move that he learned in the middle of your living room.

"wait, watch this." he'll play a video of him that heeseung took of him shooting a basketball into the hoop from afar.

"did you see our new performance? wasn't i just so cool in it?" he will say anything to hear praise coming from your lips: of course, he hears it all the time from his fans, but hearing it from you has a different meaning, so he makes sure to always look his best and impress you with all that he does.

he wants to look ultra cool and awesome in front of you, but can you blame him? he's just so in love with you.

[trans-axolotl]

how many times are intersex people going to have to remind you all to stop throwing us under the bus. when i see dyadic trans people say shit like “no kids are ever prescribed hormones/have surgery” you’re ignoring the hundreds of intersex kids every year who are forced into “normalizing treatments” because the idea of letting kids exist outside the sex binary is something doctors refuse to let happen. doctors and legislators are both incredibly interested in controlling our bodily autonomy as both trans and intersex people—they don’t want any of us to have the freedom to live authentically as ourselves. for trans people, that shows up like restricting access to gender affirming care. for intersex people, that looks like non consensual surgery and hormones that is often times used almost like conversion therapy, especially if you’re both trans and intersex. y’all CANNOT forget about us when you’re calling out transphobia, because I promise you that the transphobes have not forgot about us, as almost every single transphobic bill about restricting gender affirming care in the United States has also left explicit provisions to ensure that intersex genital mutilation and nonconsensual hormone therapy can continue. Dyadic trans people, you really should be able to understand why doctors denying people the ability to live as their authentic self without coercion is a problem, and you all NEED to stop acting like our fights for bodily autonomy are in conflict when in reality, it is two sides of the same coin.

okay to reblog

[whaleofatjme1920]

Hey! I've been trying to dig for some new way of water fics, and I found some on your account but... I was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a Jake sully x daughter reader. Because when he was "what's wrong baby girl" I internally melted and I would love it if you would make me melt with a fic plssss

Home Sick

[Daughter Reader with parents Neytiri and Jake Sully!]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: There are spoilers for Way of Water in here!!

Man I'm glad someone else enjoyed that too. When I saw it in theatres, my heart MELTED at how paternal Jake was to his girls. It genuinely made me so happy. Love to see it. Headcanons for now but I might revisit this and make something more in depth!!]

[Reblogs are appreciated!]

Alright some context here you are a born Na'vi but you're adopted as well. Your parents were hunters in the Omaticaya clan and were unfortunately killed while out providing for the clan. Jake and Neytiri, who were very close to your parents, took you at a very young age. I'm putting you around the same age as Kiri.

In general, you're very happy. Your parents adore you and so too do your sisters and brothers. I honestly feel you and Lo'ak are thick as thieves, but Kiri understands you in a way no one else does. Tuk loves to hang from your arms and swing around. Neteyam bears the responsibility of keeping you all out of trouble!! Which he cannot STAND at times but sigh, that's what you do when you're the eldest son. He loves you all though.

I don't want to talk about Spider. I will not.

Leaving the Omaticaya was the hardest thing your family had to do. You cannot count how many hours you're cried. And well, settling in with the Metkayina hasn't been easy. While Tsireya is very sweet and helpful, often ensuring you and your siblings feel safe and learn well, her brother and his friends are not on the same wavelength.

One late evening, you and your father finally have a chat. Your siblings are all out doing Great Mother knows what, and you're alone, tail swishing, ears bent back with tears in your big, yellow eyes.

Your father gently nods to your mother who frowns before gesturing for him to join you.

You run your fingers through the water and sigh.

"Is something on your mind?" He asks. His voice is soft and calming, like the rains that used to fall after a great storm. His hands gently run through your hair, beautiful braids that your mother and sisters worked on before you had left the Omaticaya.

"No," you answer curtly, tail sway9ing in frustration.

He raises a brow and cocks his head to the side. "Mmm, I don't recall an agitated tail being a sign of relaxation," he lightly chuckles. He knows that you're frustrated about the change and it's like, the first week of you guys being settled in. He sees you relent and frowns. "Baby girl, something you're not telling me?"

You finally look up at your father and readjust your position so you're sitting cross legged beside him. "I miss home," you say plainly, not wanting your voice to crack.

Wordlessly, he takes you into his side, wrapping you up in his strong arms and rests his head atop yours. "I miss it too." Everyone does.

He lets you cry into his side, his voice quite, willowy, as he holds you. He knows the move has been tough on you. His words are comforting.

Eventually, your mother comes on your other side and she and your father cradle you as if you were their small baby again. Your mother hums to you. She's loving and gentle, her touch not that of a warrior, but someone who truly adores you.

You cling to them. Your smaller hands grip at their forearms, their waists, burying deep into them. You can still smell the forest from your mother, how the nostalgic scent of the winds carry from your father's hair. They still smell like home though it is fading.

Your father presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes locking with your mother's. Their hearts have broken seeing you this hurt, and they're pained with the feeling their hearts will break again.

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

Evermore: Part. One

A/N: I just wanted to thank all of you, wonderful friends, who liked, reblogged, and left kind words! Words cannot explain how much they mean to me! To be honest here, I didn't think that this would be a success! So thank you from the bottom of my nerdy ass heart!

Before I go on, I just wanted to say another big thanks to @hollybee8917 she not only made this beautiful mood board.... but she edited this! So thank you, babes!

Warnings: You might need a tissue for this part. This took me a while to finish due to my crying.

A smile formed as you opened the door. A familiar face was before her that she hadn’t seen in a long time. But with the look on his face, a look of concern, something was wrong. Her thoughts immediately went to her husband. Did something happen? Did he do something stupid?

She quickly put that thought to the side. After all, Ari promised to call her, and nothing had ever happened to him before.

“Andy? What are you doing here?” You asked. 

Andy removed his hat and sighed.

“Hello, may I come in?” He asked. 

You were taken aback by what he said. Typically Andy had this happy-go-looking attitude, but something told you something could be wrong. But you quickly pushed that thought to the side once again. You moved to the side to let him in.

Andy walked in, and you closed the door.

“Did you want anything to drink, Andy? Water, beer?” You asked as you gestured for him to sit in the living room.

“No, I’m okay, Y/N,” Andy replied as he sat down. 

You nodded and took a seat across from him. You quickly looked at the bassinet beside you to ensure Chloe was okay.

“She’s getting big now. How old is she? 5 months now? I haven’t seen her since she was born.” Andy asked, giving her a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, she is. Her personality is starting to show.” You answer.

The awkward silence came in, and Andy’s hands were laced together. He looked down at the ground. Your thoughts again went to the same one as earlier. Something must have happened. Andy looked up at you before you could say something else and cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I came here for a reason. Before I came, I was trying to figure out how I would tell you.”

You looked at him for a moment, and the thoughts came back again.

“Andy, you're scaring me.”

Andy sighed and reached for your hand, “Y/N, there was an accident.”

You stared at Andy and laughed, “Oh, come on now, Andy, you know that Ari likes to play games very well.” 

You quickly stopped as Andy's face was telling you something else.

“It’s not this time. This was a high-risk mission, and Ari died a hero.” Andy said, and you told yourself that was complete bullshit. You sat up and let go of his hand.

“Andy, just stop with the foolishness! I just spoke to him! He’s set to come home in a few days! He called me the other day, and he promised me! You know damn well that Ari NEVER breaks a promise!” You argued.

“Y/N, have a seat-“

“NO!” You yelled as you started pacing around.

“I know you Y/N. Please have-“

“What happened, Andrew Barber? Because I know you are lying.” 

Andy sighed and stood up, “Y/N- I-“

“Andy, I know you can tell me; if you don’t, I expect Ari to be here in a few days.” You said and headed towards the kitchen. Andy sighed and followed her into the kitchen. Andy leaned against the counter, and you leaned back against the stove.

“I’m waiting, Andy.” You tapped your foot. 

Andy wiped his eyes with his eyes, with his thumb and index finger.

Beep

Beep

You both looked down at your phone and saw Sam’s name on it.

“I’ll get it; maybe Sam will tell the truth that you are lying.” You said, grabbing your phone and going out to the backyard. You then swiped the green button and placed the device against your ear.

“Hi Y/N, it’s Major Sam. How are you?”

You sighed and rubbed your head with your fingers, “Hi Sam, I have a specific Air Force Lieutenant General at my house.”

There was silence for a moment and a sigh, “What has Barber told you?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Come on, Sam, you know Ari likes his-”

“Y/N, I’m afraid. Andy is right.”

You rolled your eyes again and groaned in frustration, “Just stop it, Sam! It’s not funny! Ari is coming home on Friday! We have a vac-”

“A bomb exploded in the Humvee in front of them. The driver lost-”

“Stop it, Sam! Just stop! It’s not him! You must have mistaken it for another car! Just stop it!”

“Y/N Ari was in critical condition, and he died on his way to the hospital.”

You hung up, and your heart started racing. You kept telling yourself it’s not true, it’s all a sick fucking joke. He’s alive, and he’s going to come home on Friday night. He's just saying this as a joke to surprise you. The door opened and Andy came out. You looked at him and you saw red. You stormed towards him and began to hit him, “You and Sam are sick bastards! He’s not dead, Andy! He’s not de-dead!” 

You yelled as you began hit him in  his chest. It hurt, but Andy allowed her to.

“Y/N, Ari loved you. You have no idea how much he spoke of you. Ever since high school, Ari wanted to marry you. He got that wish.” Andy told you.

“Sam said-“

“Ari died on his way to the hospital-“

Your punching became less and less and everything started to come together. You then screamed and held onto Andy. He grabbed you and held you in his arms.

“Andy-“ You sobbed, gripping onto his shirt.

“I know, Y/N, I know.”

“Andy-“ You barely said, as you started to mumble and sobbed.

The pain in your heart grew and you collapsed. Andy held you on the ground.

**

That night, Andy couldn't take the chance and leave you alone at the house. You cried yourself to sleep in his arms, and he carried you back into the house. He placed you down on the couch and placed a blanket over you. During that time, Chloe had woken up from her nap. It didn’t feel right to wake you up, so he picked her up from her bassinet and placed her onto his hip.

“Mommy isn’t feeling good, okay? Uncle Andy will take care of you.” Andy said as he found her high chair and sat her down. Without knowing what had just happened, Chloe smiled and giggled.

There was a slight tug at his heart with the way Chloe looked at him. “You look just like your mama. And Ari’s eyes.”

It didn’t take long for Andy to find Chloe’s dinner. It was in the fridge with a label on it.

“You could have woken me up,” Andy heard, and he turned around to see you. 

A blanket was wrapped around you, your eyes puffy and red.

“It’s okay, plus you-“

You sighed and ran your hands against your hair, “I know. I have a lot of work ahead of me. I wasn’t ready for this. I mean, I knew what I was signed up for, but just didn’t-“

“Think it would be this soon?” Andy finished. 

You sniffed and adjusted yourself, “For now, Chloe is my concern.” 

You placed a gentle kiss on top of Chloe’s head.

**

4 Days later

Andy parked the car in the parking garage and got out first. You sat staring straight out into the front. The whole ride to Boston Logan was quiet, and you said nothing. Andy knew, and he was okay with that. The door opened and you turned to see his hand in front of you. You hesitated at first, then you placed your hand into his. You then got out of the car, and he closed the door. You adjusted your jacket and made sure that you had everything. Exiting the parking lot, you saw Major Sam and Captain Rachel.

“Hi, Sam,” You said quietly. Sam gave you a small smile and went to hug you. You then also greeted Rachel.

“Sam and Rachel, this is Ari’s best friend. Lieutenant General Andy Barber.” You spoke. 

Greetings were made, and Sam then led you to the restricted area. Once you were in, the four of you were led to one of the gates. It wouldn’t be long until your Ari came home.

Ten minutes later, the loud engine was heard, and you looked up to see the Boeing 767 come towards you. Two fire engines stood on the opposite sides and the water cannons were on. You watched as the plane went through and you started to tense up. Your hands began to grip your purse. The plane stopped, the ground crew went to work, and the soldiers marched towards the plane. The door latch of the airplane opened, and the conveyor belt was placed in. 

And that’s when you saw The American Flag resting on top of Ari. You then watched as the Army slowly marched towards your husband. The soldiers lifted his casket and loaded it into the hearse. You started to feel the pain in your heart again. Sam stood next to you and he held his arm out and you linked your arm through his. You had to take a moment before Sam guided you towards Ari. As you walked, everything felt like a blur, and it felt like a dream, and you would wake up, and Ari would be right next to you.

But it wasn’t a dream. Reality hit you as you stopped at the casket in front of you. You then let go of Sam and he stood back to give you privacy.

Your breathing became rapid as you placed your hand on top of the casket. You had wished you could open the lid and hold his hand, but you couldn’t. All you had was the flag in your way.

“Welcome home, my love.”

[wwdits-kink-meme]

WWDITS KINK MEME

Why not start a revival? Send in your prompts!!

This is an experimental format, so hopefully it works out!

SUBMIT A KINK MEME

FAQ (also under cut for mobile users)

What is a kink meme? Basically a public (usually nsfw) prompt, popularized on Livejournal. One person will throw out an idea that they don’t or can’t fulfill themselves in the hopes that it will spark creativity in someone else! A kink meme can be as simple as pairing + trope, or a full well-thought-out AU!

How do I submit a kink meme? Use the ask button on this blog and it will go into the queue! You can submit anonymously (traditional), but it will be posted either way - make sure you click anonymous if you don’t want your face on it!

How do I fill a kink meme? Any way you like! You can write a fic directly in the reblogs, post it on another site and provide a link, or even post a 32 part series in the replies! We just ask that you link the prompt on your creative piece and/or reblog the submission with your piece included or linked (whichever applicable). If you are putting an explicit fill in reblogs, please remember to add a community label if the original post does not already have one!

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What content do you allow in submissions? All kinks are welcome - yes, even that one. We will reject submissions that are not WWDITS-based, are hateful in some way, or appear to be submitted in bad faith. Venting, character-bashing, or incomprehensible prompts will be deleted. Transphobia, racism, homophobia, antisemitism, ableism, etc will get you blocked. Due to the limitations of the mods, we are currently only accepting submissions in English or Spanish.

How are kink memes tagged? Tags will include any and all pairings, kinks, applicable tropes, and potentially triggering content to the best of our ability. If we have missed something or you would like to request a certain trigger tag, send us an ask! We cannot guarantee that we will be able to tag for everything, however, and it is important to remember to protect yourself and your online experience. Submissions with explicit language will have community tags attached.

Can I submit SFW prompts? Of course! Despite the name, kink memes aren’t just for porn.

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Can I submit RPF prompts? No, as we prefer that this kink meme focus on the characters in the show rather than the actors who play them. However, celebrities who have appeared in the show as themselves count as characters and are fair game (within reason)!

Can I submit crossover prompts? Yes, under certain conditions. This is a WWDITS kink meme, and we want to ensure those characters have the spotlight! So if your prompt is mostly about the crossover property, or if the WWDITS character is simply one of a medley of different characters, it may be rejected. No Harry Potter, please.

Can I make my own kink meme for a different fandom using this blog as a template? Of course! We encourage this - please bring kink memes back to fandom!!

Who are the mods? Just some adult fans who long for the insanity that was LJ back in the day.

Mod the Impaler - they/them ModMilla - she/her

[megamindsecretlair]

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Chapter 12

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. ANGST. Dirty talk, mentions of grief and violence. Soft Loki, Jealous Loki

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. It has been a week since the dust up with Loki and you are not sure how much more you can take.

Word Count: 3,939k

Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long! My family are my opps. I will try to update this a little quicker, I'm excited to see where these two go. A little something something before we get into the nitty gritty. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings @nerdieforpedro @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide@foxherder @itzgabz22

“I hate it when Mom and Dad fight,” Sweetie muttered, just loud enough for your benefit. You ignored her just as you ignored the rest of the staff all week. They weren’t stupid, they could pick up on the tension between you and Loki. 

You weren’t ignoring him, not completely. He’d throw too big of a temper tantrum. But he was also unwilling to talk about what happened when you saw Thor. You just wanted him to budge, even a little.

He had forced you to confront things you hadn’t been ready to. Forced to draw out those deep grooves in your heart and put them up to a mirror in all its ugly glory. You cried in front of him. Bared your soul and body to him in a way you never had before. And what did he do? Completely shut you out.

You couldn’t survive in half a relationship. So sue you. You weren’t a half measure type of person. You loved and hated in absolutes. You didn’t know how to give up. It was why you were still looking for your family five years later with all evidence pointing to the inevitable truth: Thanos snapped them away.

Your heart cracked thinking of such a thing. That they were just…gone. There was no body to bury, no tomb to mourn. You couldn’t accept it yet. You couldn’t look your siblings in the eyes and tell them that there was no hope left to give.

So no. You weren’t giving up on Loki and you didn’t care how old he was, how powerful, or how much he considered himself a god. He would have to use his big boy words. 

“Sweetie, I’m expecting a visitor today. Please make sure to notify me,” you said. It wasn’t her job, but you smiled at her so that she got the message. 

“Do we need to Parent Trap them?” Honey asked, not bothering to be subtle. She sat with her usual suspects hunched over cups of coffee, bottles of water or juice, and random pastries. 

You grabbed your coffee, unable to fight the smile at the reference. Movies were something you all enjoyed once coming to Earth. As far as being stranded, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. You all have torn through plenty of movies so far, Parent Trap being among the favorites. You were still shocked that the little girl wasn’t a real life twin. 

You walked over to the table while the group looked at you expectantly. Some leaned forward as if you were going to share something juicy. Others looked almost genuinely worried for you. You hated the pity. You didn’t owe them an explanation. 

“The saboteur has been too quiet lately, so make sure you keep your eyes peeled. This person likes to watch the chaos from the front seat,” you said. You smiled when they groaned and leaned back. 

“Princesa, please! We cannot live like this!” Honey said, her face scrunching up comically into a heartbroken frown. 

“You make it sound like we’re in Hel,” you said and chuckled. 

“He’s miserable without you,” Sugar said. 

You took a sip of coffee to stop yourself from going on a rant. You were their boss, not their friend. Though, some dark pleasure rippled through you at the thought of him suffering. You hoped your scent still lingered in his bed. The gods knew that you tossed and turned in your bed thinking of him between your legs.

And…that was enough of that thinking. You took a deep breath. “Loki is a god, as he likes to remind us. He’s fine,” you said.

They didn’t believe you. You didn’t give a shit. You had more pressing matters to worry about. Like supply requests and restock. A prickling awareness settled over you and you straightened up. 

Eyes snapped towards the door. This was all so dreadfully dramatic. You turned towards the door and saw Loki looking as delicious as ever. He couldn’t be that miserable and still look that damn good. It was unfair. His hair should be messy, clothes unkempt. Something. 

Your eyes skittered over his before you looked away. It still hurt too much that he didn’t trust you with the truth. And you weren’t the begging type. So you walked over to him. “Loki,” you said with a nod.

“Is it me or is it fucking icy right now?” You heard somewhere behind you.

“Mom and Dad need to figure it the fuck out,” you heard as well. 

“Darling, good morning,” he said. He stood and stared at you, making it hard for you to deny that there was anything amiss. He also blocked the damn door. 

“Morning,” you said, nodding towards the door. Loki dug his hands in his pockets. You glared at him but his face didn’t change. Nothing about him did. Your hand was beginning to shake. You longed to run your hands through his hair, pull him to you, and demand kisses and smiles. 

The staff was right, this was icy. Nothing like the heat and passion he was capable of. You moved to walk past him and he cut you off.

“We have to talk about the VIP list tonight,” he said. There. A wince. A crack. A glimpse into that stormy brain of his. 

“Well in hand, Loki,” you said. You smiled, turned around and bowed for the audience. “And scene. Back to work, you bunch of lazies,” you said. The tension in the room melted a fraction before you shoved past Loki and out into the hallway.

Loki trailed behind you. He made no sound but you were attuned to him like never before. You were always aware of him before. How he moved, how he talked, that smile that never failed to trick and tease. But it was amplified now. As if invisible strings connected the both of you. 

“Darling, stop,” Loki said. You took a deep breath at his deep timbre. That voice. Hell, let’s be honest. Everything about him drove you crazy. And you had resisted for five long, beautiful, torturous years. It was hard to quit cold turkey. 

Still you marched down the hallways towards your office. You weren’t going to make a scene here. 

Loki’s strong fingers wrapped around your arms, pulling you to a halt. You swung your arms wide, careful to avoid any slippage of your coffee. You growled, facing Loki finally. 

“You’re such a child,” you hissed. 

“You’re the one ignoring me like one,” he said. 

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m busy. Work, remember? The thing you hired me for?” You asked.

“Fine, then you’re fired,” he said.

You giggled. You immediately shut up because it wasn’t funny, not at all. You drank your coffee to hopefully scald your throat and prevent you from letting any more giggles escape. You weren’t done being angry. 

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he whispered. His hand left your arm and he brought it to your face. He stopped before touching you and you finally looked into his eyes. The sight nearly robbed you of breath.

Away from prying eyes, he let you see the raw pain. The whites of his eyes were wide, mouth straining, jaw clenching. 

“Ready to talk about why you blew up at me?” You asked. 

“I already said–” 

“I have things to do, Loki,” you said. You turned on your heel. Turned away from that look in his eyes. If you stared too long, you’d cave. And you didn’t want to. You did the work and now he had to as well. 

Loki didn’t leave it there. He followed you to your office where he waited for you to settle behind your desk. He leaned into the doorframe, watching your every move. You moved a pen here, opened a folder there. But there was no way you were getting work done while he was here. His presence made your brain foggy and hands shake. 

Finally, the mounting pressure got to you. You slammed your hands on the desk and looked at him. “Why are you still here?” You asked.

He crossed his arms and took a deep breath. “I don’t like that you’re mad at me. Not when we’ve come so far,” he said. 

You leveled him with a stare. “This is on you. You love to talk but won’t talk about this. With me,” you said. 

“That’s not it,” he said with a scowl. 

“If you won’t talk, I don’t know what to think,” you said.

His jaw flexed more as he spoke. You’d give anything to know what he was thinking, what he was running through his mind. 

“Believe it or not, I have a hard time admitting faults,” he said, chuckling to cover what he said. 

“So you can stick your dick in my mouth but can’t tell me what’s on your mind?” You asked.

“Don’t be so crass,” he said. 

You’d have to be the bigger person here. Which you hated. But you took a deep breath and looked skyward, praying to the gods and ancestors in Valhalla for strength. “I told you no more running. I meant it. But as much as you say otherwise, I need this to be as equal as possible. You cannot demand everything from me and give none of yourself,” you said. 

“People are entitled to lick some wounds in private,” he said. 

“I’m not asking for every detail of your sordid history. I just want to know why you blew up at me. I only asked about why you didn’t want to speak to Thor,” you said.

Loki finally looked away from you, drawing his eyes downward. He frowned as he picked at an invisible lint on his jacket. “I can’t,” he said, with a sniff. He looked back at you briefly. 

You slowly nodded. “At an impasse, then. Get out, Loki,” you said. Your voice sounded tired to your own ears. You were weary, downtrodden. Maybe it was unfair to demand so much from him, something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. 

You had enough on your plate without worrying about Loki and his moods. You had decided over the course of the week that it hadn’t been a mistake sleeping with him. You had known bliss in his arms and that couldn’t really be a mistake. It just likely wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon. Not while he held on to whatever the fuck was preventing him from speaking. 

Never one to listen, Loki approached your desk. He leaned over it, planting his hands on it and leaning further still. His hair dropped forward like a curtain pulling open for a dramatic scene. His face could technically qualify as a dramatic scene. So many lines and planes, mouth made for sin and eyes dancing with mischief. 

“Darling, please. I–” he paused and just looked at you. His eyes moved, taking in your face. You didn’t know how you looked to him. Just another angry and bitter lover? A messy subordinate with a mouth that gave as good as it got? A once irreparably damaged Asgardian without a clue in the world? 

“I don’t like this between us. I finally got you in my arms, in my bed. I finally got a peek inside and it feels like you’ve closed the doors forever,” he said. 

“You’re the one unwilling to walk through it,” you said, softly. 

“And have you told me everything then? Every dark and horrible secret in your past? Like where you run off to every few months, disappearing at the drop of a hat? Every scar on your skin?” 

Your heart roared in your chest. It beat wildly, thumping against your rib cage. “You should know that I’ve shared far more than I ever cared to with you,” you said. You thought back to the day in his office when you finally let yourself feel. 

For the first time in a long time, you stopped disassociating. Stopped trying to hold it all in. You stopped trying to take flight while your feet were planted on the ground. And he helped you. 

“If you want to know where I disappear off to, I’ll tell you. It’s no secret. But only if I get to demand something too. Only if you let me in,” you said. 

“Ask me for anything else,” he whispered. His voice was so soft, softer than a raven’s wing. He rounded the desk and moved to stand in front of you. He got to his knees and looked at you. He was still damn tall, practically eye level with you. 

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “Ask me for anything else and I’ll give it. But not that,” he said. 

He kept his eyes on your hand, his lips resting softly against it. You brought your other hand to push his hair behind his ear. “That is my price, Loki.” 

He loosed a breath while your phone rang. The damn thing was still foreign, even after five years. You answered it. The front desk host let you know that your visitor was here. 

You pushed your chair back away from Loki and moved around him. He said nothing and made no noise while you left the room. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest. Each step you took from him felt like lead in your shoes. 

Still, you marched on. You walked to the front and greeted the Asgardian tracker you hired. He was impossibly tall, taller than Loki even. With smooth bronzed skin, short hair, but a host of tattoos criss crossing his bare arms. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in this type of climate, but well, you weren’t going to complain. 

“Erik!” You said, wide grin splitting your face and you hugged him. 

He turned when he saw you, grinning. His smile was so heartbreaking. Why couldn’t you be head over heels for someone like him? He held on a second too long, having last seen him months ago. 

You grew up with Erik in your village on Asgard, running through the streets and getting into all kinds of trouble together. You had entertained something between you many, many years ago, but it was clear that you were better off as friends. You had already given your heart away a long time ago. 

You sat on a lounge chair in the front and tried to temper your expectations. But hope was a cruel thing. It cropped up, over and over no matter how many times you tried to squash and burn it within you. Erik settled next to you, but he wasn’t smiling. 

“No word yet on your family. The universe is very large,” he said. 

You nodded. You figured as much. You tried to hold it together, but throwing that door open within you opened yourself to it all. You felt the tears but you weren’t completely transformed. You blinked them away and squared your shoulders.

“I have people on it though. They’re out there,” he said. 

You shook your head. “They’re not.” You took a shuddering breath at that realization. Five years was too long to keep searching for people that clearly weren’t here, wasn’t it? The fall of Asgard had to have spread by now. For half of life to be eradicated, even people who had never heard of Thanos likely knew his name now. 

If not, well, they knew that those people were gone. Vanished from their lives. Turned to dust and never to be seen again. If Thor was here, all hope was truly lost. The Avengers he so affectionately ran with over the years had gone all but silent. If they were hopeless… 

“Perhaps it’s time to involve Heimdall,” Erik said.

You shushed him. You didn’t need that man turning his gaze on you. He was so eerie, seeming to know so many things. His eyes, like galaxies, were far wiser than your age. 

“I can’t. I can’t just walk up to him and ask. Maybe it’s time to call it,” you said. You didn’t want to say it. That same crack in your chest split wide open at the thought of stopping your search.

Erik grabbed your hand. “Hey, I’m not giving up,” he said. 

You patted his hand. “I’ve taken enough of your time. You have more important people to track down,” you said. Your voice warbled. You hated this. This was why you kept this shit locked away and buried at sea. 

“No one is more important than your family. They’re my family too,” he said. He scooted closer to you and drew you into his arms. You greedily took the comfort. He was always so warm and solid, giving the best hugs you’d ever known. 

“My, Darling, who’s your friend?” Loki’s voice cut into what had been a sweet and peaceful moment. 

You cracked one eye open, trying to disengage from Erik. But he was slower to let you go. He hadn’t missed the deadly tone of Loki’s voice. Where the hell did he come from anyway? 

Erik stiffened, turning fully around to face the larger threat. Loki had a devilish smile on his face, but his eyes were seething. 

“Loki, this is Erik,” you said. Before you could explain further, Erik stood up and blocked your view of Loki for a moment. Erik held out his hand and Loki shook it, keeping that smile on his face.

“Erik, haven’t seen you around,” Loki said. His eyes slid towards you and you inwardly groaned. 

“Erik has–” 

“I pop in every few months to check in on her,” Erik said. 

“Every few months? Really?” Loki smiled at you. Shit, shit. 

“He’s–” 

“Any friend of Darling’s a friend of mine,” Loki said. 

You narrowed your eyes at Loki. You didn’t know what game he was playing but you weren’t in the mood. “Erik has been looking into something for me. Right, Erik?” You stood up and nudged his shoulder to agree with you. His eyes were still trained on Loki. What was this, a fucking pissing match? 

“I was just telling Darling that I’d like to meet more of her friends. We see so little of them,” Loki said. He sauntered around Erik, putting his arm around you. “I like to make sure she’s happy. Always.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Erik took in Loki’s arm around you and lifted an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets, are we?” Erik asked. He crossed his arms and stared at you, putting you on the spot.

You licked your lips slowly, trying to describe what you and Loki were to each other. Boyfriend? Boss? Occasional sadistic charmer? 

Loki hugged you close and you looked at him. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Didn’t tell him about me? I’m a little hurt,” Loki said. Still with that damn smile. You were starting to panic. You might’ve been a little afraid of what he’d do. 

Loki moved his right hand to lift up your chin and plant a small, but sultry kiss to your lips. You gasped and he drank it down with a low hum. “Always so private,” he said against your lips.

You were going to murder him. Your hands itched with magic dancing between your fingertips. A dagger? A sword? You were going to cut him down where he stood. 

“Erik, he’s–” 

“Loki, of Asgard, everyone knows,” Erik said. He raised his eyebrow at you but you didn’t know what he was trying to communicate. 

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” You yelled. You drew the attention of some patrons who cast little glances towards you. The host stood in the corner with a few staff members, Honey among them, as they stared at all three of you. They saw the kiss. Your shoulders deflated. There went the little bit of respect you had around here. 

“Erik is a childhood friend who has been looking for my family. They went on a trip when the Snap happened so I don’t know if they’re out there, looking for us, or if they’re gone,” your breath hitched on the word ‘gone’ but you persisted. “Loki is…Loki. We’re figuring it out. Now, say hi to Denby for me,” you said, looking at Erik who slowly smiled. 

You shoved off Loki’s arm around you. “As always, you’ve gotten what you wanted and made out like a thief,” you tossed at him. 

“You’re no better than he is,” you told Erik.

You stormed off. Leaving everyone in the dust. An ache thumped in your head. You needed away. Away from here with all of its bullshit. 

“Darling!” Loki called after you. This time, you heard his steps behind you, heard him walking down the hall. You ignored him. Your fists clenched and unclenched. Your teeth grated. You were fuming with nowhere to direct the anger.

Loki caught up to you outside of your office once more. You pushed him when he was in arm’s reach. “What the fuck was that?!” You yelled. 

You were in the back, well away from any patrons. The hallways had music playing, soft muzak that kept up the hazy and alluring vibe of the club. Each room played its own music so there was no danger of being overhead. Except the staff. You imagined the rumors flying like wildfire, distracting the staff and performers. You were going to be sick. 

“A miscalculation,” he said. 

“What?” You said. He swooped in and waved his stake in the air like you were some prize he won over a miscalculation? 

“I didn’t know about your family–” 

“You would have. I would have told you. As always, you want and you want and you-”

“I have always maintained that I want you because you’re mine,” Loki said. All sense of propriety was gone. Extra eyes be damned. He advanced on you and pushed you against the wall. 

“Completely mine. Mine to do with as I please,” he said. His lips traveled from your temple down to your neck, bypassing your lips. Your body instantly reacted. Craved him. Craved another hit of what he could bring you. 

You grabbed his jacket and turned around, pushing him against the wall. He grinned as if he won. As if you would give in and forget all about your ultimatum. You licked the long expanse of his neck and his breath fanned over your skin. 

You pulled back and smiled at him. He grinned back, hanging his head and looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes. Then you slapped the smirk right off of his face. He licked his lips as if he meant to taste the sting. You raised your arm again and he caught your wrist.

“Darling, not in mixed company,” he said. He gave you a wink. “Save it for later.” 

“You are the most arrogant, infuriating, child-like, obnoxious–”

“Do keep going,” he interrupted.

“Confusing man I’ve ever met! You irritate the fuck out of me! You…bastard,” you said. 

“I don’t know how else to be,” he said.

You yanked your wrist out of his hand. You were breathing too heavy. You couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. You wanted to smack him. You wanted to curse him. You wanted to toss him into hot lava and see if he’d melt. You wanted to kiss his stupid face. 

“We promised no lies between us. And if you can’t give me that Loki, you can’t have me.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, all hints of playfulness gone. But then the lights went out and the screaming started.

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

[catboybiologist]

Hey, transfem who has only started to like her body about half a year ago here

As someone who takes a lot of pictures of themselves, do you have any resources/tips for angles or something that accentuates feminine features?

Also in regards to having a somewhat normal facial expression, like my eyes look so weird in every picture I take bc I don't know where to look

This response ended up WAY longer than I expected, and I think Imma add it to my pinned post- thanks for pushing me to talk about this! I don't think I'm really an expert here, but if people want to leave more advice in reblogs and comments, please do.

So when I say "I had two years of femboy experience before transferring to the related (and potentially overlapping) but separate field of trans womanhood" I'm only like... half joking. Selfie angles took a fucking wild amount of time for me to figure out, and guess what? The pictures I post are usually 1-3 in a set of about 20 that I take at any given time. I'm still unhappy with most pictures I take, you just gotta take a lot of them, and figure out for yourself.

That said, I think I have gotten a lot better over time. Behold, the first selfie I posted on reddit (warning for kinda cringe but I know y'all fuck with that):

(Damn, my thighs look good when I properly shave, gotta do that sometime)

(btw I'm 23 in this pic so feel free to simp if you so desire)

And another early one:

This was still selected from a bunch that were horrible, but you can really tell that my face is basically just covered in fabric entirely. My eyes look very dead in both. Compare that to:

^this one is still pre-transition, so don't blame the estrogen.

So what are my specific tips? Well, the classic "selfie angle" is from above. This angle certainly helps, but why? Personally I've found that its far less about angles are far more about lighting. Since most lighting is overhead, taking selfies from above means that you'll have a well lit face in those standard lighting conditions. Notice that in both the early selfies and the later one, the camera is actually positioned below my height level, and there's still a noticeable facial difference between them. The reason this is possible is good, forward lighting. Generally, you want a soft light source to be vaguely behind the camera, shining onto your face- but make sure its not too close, or too bright. This will ensure that harsh shadows don't artificially make your features look much different than they actually are.

Another thing that cannot be understated: DISTANCE between yourself and the camera, especially if you're using a phone camera. There are several reasons for this- notably, it'll help make the background be framed more pleasantly, as well as prevent the camera/phone itself from shadowing your face. But there's also a massive, insidious reason this happens- all phone cameras have some degree of fisheye to their lens to increase the field of view while still using compact optics. Multiple lens have helped a bit, but its still a problem on all of them. Higher end phones will algorithmically correct for this, but they also add a TON of other postprocessing "beautification" in ways that are sometimes completely invisible (insert entire rant here about how this is a deceptive marketing tactic to make a brands phone cameras seem better than they actually are). Sometimes, these edits are way off base. But I digress. The fisheye is killer because it takes any slightly more prominent feature and bulges them out, including the nose and chin. Conversely, recessed features, like eyes and the sides of your cheeks, are going to be less emphasized. Moving further away from the camera significantly reduces this. If you can get a small phone tripod and take selfies that way, it'll alleviate this. Unfortunately my living space is not large atm, and I have less motivation to bother my roommates in the common areas and use their hallways for picture taking, so this has been a little lacking in more recent selfies. It's also just a lot of work for a couple quick selfies, so its hard to do right- but it genuinely makes a world of difference.

Otherwise, my advice about eyes would be that your eyes show your overall facial expression, even if you're covering your mouth. Most of my pictures are taken while smiling slightly under the mask, and it shows in the eyes. If I want a scarier looking picture, I'm stone faced or deliberately make my entire face angrier, and you end up with the "glaring directly down the camera wanting to kill you" face. Referring to the pictures I just posted- the first two are both dead faced under the mask, whereas in the last one, I'm doing a smug, sultry smirk. The eyes then reflect that.

Don't focus on specifically trying to open your eyes wider. Change your facial expression and just let them be how they want to be in relation to that. Eye position should fully commit to looking straight into the camera, or be fully distracted with something else, imo (including the screen of your phone, if you're doing something like a mirror selfie). If you're taking a mirror selfie, look at the camera lens as it's reflected in the mirror. A HUGE takeaway is that cameras, especially phone cameras, straight up lie to you. They don't work the same way as the human eye, and have to compensate for that- but they'll never be a completely faithful representation of what you look like. Don't let your ego be affected by how you look in pictures, when all is said and done.

And of course, experiment, experiment, experiment! Figure out the lighting you can get in the space you have available, and the angles that work for you! Don't be afraid to delete selfies you don't like! Show off your style and your features in the way you want to! There are no rules for what's attractive, this is just what I do and you should develop your own style!

I guess I'll take this with both femboy and trans tags bc the selfies are pre-HRT

[mylostloversbookmarks]

thank you!! My request is: Joel x female reader. Age gap. They met after Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, they started to know each other, at first they kept it a bit like a secret but then, when things started to get more serious, they didn’t hide anymore. Things got so serious that after a while (not immediately, like a year or two) Joel asked reader to move in with him and Ellie.

Ellie loves reader and she’s more than happy that Joel found his special someone. Could you add a scene where reader is with Ellie one afternoon and they see Joel with a woman, acting really intimate, which connects to reader’s thoughts about Joel being a bit weird the previous days. She thinks he’s cheating on her, also because the woman is really close and intimate to Joel in that situation.

She wants to leave before he sees her but Joel notices her presence, tries to talk to her but doesn’t deny the accusations at first, (so a lot of angst!!!) which makes reader think she lost the love of her life.

They don’t talk for a few days and try to ignore each other when possible, despite living together. Ellie is sad and suffers from this situation. Joel loves reader too much to ruin things so he puts his pride aside and tries talking to her. They eventually talk it through, he was not cheating (choose whatever the alternative to that is!!) maybe a little fluff at the end or also something else? You choose!

also, if you have any rules or have triggers about something that I requested please let me know and change the story how you need to.

And I’m extremely sorry if this request is too long and detailed.

thank you!!!

Guiding Lights - a Joel Miller one shot.

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count - 8.7K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol consumption, , Sus!Joel, Soft!Joel, insecurities, suspected cheating, no actual cheating, I think thats all?

A/N - @addictedtotlou This is my first ever fic request and I cannot thank you enough for sending it through, and also for dropping into my inbox to let me know it was you that requested it! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

You often find yourself reminiscing on the day you met Joel and Ellie, it feels like forever ago now, though it has only really been a few years.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Knowing that Joel and Ellie will forever be your guiding lights.

[nixiefics]

Posses

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to drop a quick note about something that really helps me out. If you’re enjoying my fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear it! However, simply hitting the 'like' button doesn’t help spread my work for others to see and enjoy.

If you could use the 'reblog' button and share your thoughts in the comments, it would make a huge difference. Reblogging promotes my work to a wider audience, and your feedback (both the good and the constructive) helps me improve my writing.

Thank you so much for your support and understanding!

Best,

💕 Nixie 💕

Robb Stark winces as you carefully manipulate his leg, guiding his hip back into place with practiced hands. The sharp intake of breath that escapes him when the bone finally clicks into its rightful position tells you just how much pain he’s been enduring. You’ve been a Silent Sister in training for only a short time, but already you’ve seen more suffering than you ever imagined possible. Yet, this man, the Young Wolf, is different. His pain seems to ripple through you as if it were your own.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice strained but genuine. His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget the vow of silence you took upon entering your order. You nod in acknowledgment, your fingers still lingering on his hip, feeling the heat of his body through the thin linen of his undergarment.

Days pass, and you tend to Robb’s injuries with unwavering diligence. His recovery is slow, but each day he grows stronger. You watch as he interacts with his men, see the respect and loyalty they have for him. He’s not just their King; he’s their friend, their brother. It’s a bond forged in the fires of battle and tempered by the fairness and justice he shows them.

Grey Wind, his direwolf, is never far from his side. The massive wolf seems to sense your importance to Robb, often watching you with intelligent, piercing eyes. When you approach, Grey Wind’s posture is relaxed, but the unspoken warning is clear: you are under his protection as well.

But it’s not just his men and his direwolf who are drawn to him. You feel an undeniable pull towards Robb Stark. His kindness, his honour, his unwavering dedication to his family and his cause – all of it captivates you. You’ve seen men broken by war, their spirits shattered as surely as their bodies, but Robb remains whole. More than whole, he seems to grow stronger with each passing day, his determination like a beacon in the dark.

One evening, as you’re tending to another soldier’s wounds, you feel his eyes on you. Robb watches from across the camp, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. Jealousy? The thought lingers as you stitch up the gash on the soldier’s arm, your hands steady despite the intensity of Robb’s gaze. Grey Wind is by his side, growling softly, mirroring Robb’s protective feelings.

Later, as you change the dressing on Robb’s hip, he grabs your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “You spend too much time with the others,” he says, his voice low and edged with frustration. “I need you with me.”

You look up, startled by the intensity in his eyes. You try to pull away, but his hold tightens. “I don’t want you tending to them,” he says, his voice rough. “I want you by my side. Always.”

You nod, your heart pounding. His possessiveness is startling, but also oddly reassuring. It means he cares, that he values you more than you realized. From that moment on, you are always at his side, tending to his needs, ensuring his recovery. Grey Wind often lies nearby, his presence a constant reminder of Robb’s vigilance even when he cannot be with you.

The other men notice, their eyes following you with curiosity and a hint of envy. Robb’s attention and possessiveness are clear to all, and it changes the dynamic in the camp. No longer just a healer, you are now the woman who has captured the heart of the Young Wolf.

One day, you’re tending to a minor injury on a young soldier when Robb storms into the tent. His face is a mask of barely controlled anger. “Leave us,” he commands the soldier, who scrambles to his feet and exits hastily.

Robb strides over to you, his eyes blazing. “I told you, I don’t want you with them,” he growls, grabbing your hand and pulling you close. “You’re mine.”

You can feel the heat of his breath on your face, the intensity of his emotions crashing over you like a wave. His jealousy is raw, visceral, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never seen him like this, so consumed by his need for you. Grey Wind stands at his side, his eyes fixed on you, a silent enforcer of Robb’s wishes.

“I can’t stand seeing you with them,” he admits, his voice a harsh whisper. “It tears me apart. You’re the only one who understands me, who makes me feel whole. I need you, only you.”

You reach up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, feeling the tension in his jaw. You nod, your silent promise to be by his side always. His grip on you softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Grey Wind nudges your leg gently, as if to seal the promise.

In the weeks that follow, Robb’s possessiveness only grows. He keeps you close, his eyes always on you, ensuring that no one else can claim your attention. It’s a fierce, consuming need that drives him, a reflection of the depth of his feelings for you. Grey Wind is never far, his protective presence a constant reminder of the bond you share with Robb.

One night, as you sit by the fire, he pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “You’re mine,” he whispers into your ear, his voice a low growl. “No one else’s. Remember that.”

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and something darker, more primal. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who would fight the world to keep you by his side. And as you look into his eyes, you know that you would do the same for him.

One afternoon, you are out gathering herbs when a group of soldiers approaches you. They’re friendly, asking for your help with minor ailments. Before you can respond, Grey Wind appears from the trees, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling from his throat. The soldiers step back, fear evident in their eyes.

You pat his head gently in warning, but the direwolf’s eyes remain fixed on the men until they retreat. When you return to camp, Robb is waiting, his eyes dark with concern and jealousy.

“Were they bothering you?” he asks, his voice tight.

You shake your head, but Robb pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I don’t want you going out alone anymore,” he says. “Grey Wind will accompany you, or I will.”

You nod, understanding the depth of his worry. His possessiveness is more than just jealousy; it’s a need to protect you, to keep you safe in a world that is anything but. You feel his love in every fierce look, every protective gesture, every time Grey Wind’s eyes follow you like a shadow.

As Robb’s recovery progresses, your bond deepens. He confides in you, shares his fears, his hopes, his dreams. You listen, your silence a balm to his troubled soul. And in those quiet moments, you realize that you’ve found something rare and precious in the midst of war.

Robb’s men see the change in their lord, the lightness in his step, the hope in his eyes. They see the way he looks at you, the way Grey Wind shadows your every move, and they understand. The Young Wolf has found his heart, and it beats for you.

One night, as you sit by the fire, Robb’s arms around you and Grey Wind at your feet, he whispers, “You’re mine, and I am yours. Always.”

You smile, knowing that no matter what the future holds, you will face it together. Robb Stark may be the Young Wolf, a fearsome leader and a brilliant strategist, but to you, he is simply Robb – the man who captured your heart with his honour, his kindness, and his unwavering love. And in his eyes, you see the same love reflected back at you, a bond that no war, no enemy, can ever break.

"You should rest, My King," you say softly. "Let us retire for the evening."

Your words leave him stunned for a moment. You have taken a vow of silence, yet here you are, speaking to him. The surprise in his eyes quickly melts into something deeper, a mixture of relief and gratitude. Robb nods, allowing you to help him up, your hands steadying him as he leans on you for support. Grey Wind shadows your every step, his amber eyes watching protectively.

As you guide Robb towards his tent, the camp around you starts to quiet down. The fires burn low, casting flickering shadows that dance in the night. You can feel the weight of Robb’s gaze on you, the unspoken questions simmering just beneath the surface.

Inside the tent, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You help Robb ease down onto his furs, his eyes never leaving yours. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Why now?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern. “Why break your vow of silence?”

You take a deep breath, kneeling beside him. “Because I need you to understand,” you begin, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “My silence was a shield, a way to distance myself from the pain and suffering I witnessed. But with you, it’s different. I can’t remain silent any longer. Not when my heart speaks so loudly.”

Robb’s eyes soften, his hand squeezing yours gently. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying that I want to leave the Silent Sisters,” you declare, your resolve hardening. “But I will only do so if you share my commitment, if you promise that our bond is as strong as I believe it to be.”

Robb’s eyes widen, his surprise evident. He pulls you closer, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You would give up your vows for me?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your heart pounding. “Yes. But only if you promise to be with me, to share this life with me. I cannot leave my order for uncertainty. I need your commitment, Robb.”

Robb’s expression transforms into one of determination. “I promise,” he says firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “You have my word. I will stand by you, always. You are not just my healer, but my heart. I need you by my side.”

A sense of relief washes over you, and you lean into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. Grey Wind huffs and trots to settle just outside the entrance to the tent, a silent sentinel watching over you both. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and belonging.

Robb cups your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’ve given me more than just my health,” he whispers. “You’ve given me hope, a future I didn’t dare dream of. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, to make you happy.”

Tears of relief and joy well in your eyes as you nod. “And I promise to stand by you, to support you in every way I can,” you vow, your voice filled with emotion.

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

Robb leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “We will face whatever comes together,” he murmurs. “From this day forward, we are bound by more than just duty. We are bound by love.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and certainty. You feel the heat of his breath, the nearness of his lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The world around you fades away until there is only Robb—his eyes, his touch, his unwavering gaze that holds you captive.

Slowly, he tilts his head, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a touch. The sensation is electric, a spark that ignites something deep within you. His hands cup your face gently, his thumbs caressing your cheeks with a tenderness that belies the intensity of his emotions.

Then, without warning, the kiss deepens. His lips press against yours with a fervour that takes your breath away. It’s as if he’s pouring all his love, all his passion, into this single moment, and you respond in kind, matching his intensity. Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands as you pull him closer.

The kiss is searing, consuming. It feels like the world is burning around you, but all you can focus on is the sensation of his lips on yours, the taste of him, the way his body presses against yours with a desperate need. Every brush of his lips, every flick of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

Robb’s hands slide down to your waist, pulling you even closer until there is no space between you. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, mirroring the wild rhythm of your own. His lips leave yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, igniting a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasp, your head falling back as he finds the sensitive spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sends a jolt of pure pleasure through you. “Robb,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire. He responds with a low growl, his hands gripping your hips possessively as he brings his lips back to yours in another fevered kiss.

Time loses all meaning as you lose yourself in him, in the heat of his kiss, the strength of his embrace. The world outside the tent, the war, the uncertainty of the future—all of it fades away until there is only this moment, this man, and the love that binds you together.

You're vaguely aware of his fingers at the laces of your dress, tugging impatiently at them. Soon, it seems, he loses all patience and you gasp as he violently rips at the seams of your dress, pushing it over your shoulders and hips with a growl. "On the bed."

You crawl to the middle of the bed of furs, your heart pounding with anticipation as Robb stands before you with a hungry gaze. His possessive nature has always been clear, but now it's different - now, it's thrilling and exciting.

He sheds his own layers first, causing you swallow thickly as his chest is exposed; thick thighs built for fighting but that make you think they might be good for other pleasures as well. And then he is completely bare and you feel your core clench at the sight of his cock. Thicker than it was long, with veins running all along it; the thought of running your tongue over those veins makes your mouth water.

"Gods, you're glorious." you whisper, resisting the urge to chew at your nails.

Robb's calloused hands trace the curves of your body, sending shivers down your spine. His touch is confident and passionate, and you can't help but feel desired under his gaze. His lips find yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervour that leaves you breathless.

As he breaks the kiss, his mouth moves to your neck, nibbling and licking the sensitive skin. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continues his assault on your senses. His hands slip under your shift, caressing your breasts with calloused hands. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch, wanting more.

Robb takes the hint, his fingers deftly removing your shift and freeing your body to his gaze. His mouth finds your nipples, and he sucks and nips at them, his stubble adding an extra layer of sensation. You gasp, your head falling back as he worships your body.

His hands trail down your body, fingers find your clit, and he begins to rub slow circles, making you moan and writhe beneath him. His other hand joins the first as well, his fingers sliding into your wet pussy. You are more than ready for him.

His head dips between your legs, and his tongue finds your clit. He licks and sucks, his fingers still inside you, curled to hit that perfect spot. You moan louder, your hips bucking as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you're about to cum, he stops. You look at him, confused, but he just smirks at you. Robb pulls himself to his knees, positioning himself between your legs. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit, making you moan loudly again. He teases you like this for a moment before slowly sliding inside you.

He fills you up, stretching you in the most delicious way. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you.

Robb's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You can feel yourself getting close again, and you urge him on. "Harder, Robb, harder," you gasp. He complies, his cock slamming into you, making the bed shake.

You feel yourself on the brink, and then you're cumming, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Robb keeps thrusting, drawing out your pleasure until he finally follows you over the edge, filling you up with his cum.

He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy and ragged. You wrap your arms around him, feeling closer to him than ever before. Robb's possessiveness has always been a part of him, but now, it's something else - it's a sign of his love and devotion to you.

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, you know that this is just the beginning of your journey together. And you can't wait to see where it takes you.

[dollwritesarchive]

𝓌𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝑒 ⎹ 𝓣.𝓘.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ jujutsu kaisen / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ toge inumaki x geto’s protege!reader ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ semi dark fic. you are responsible for your own media consumption. dub con ( unconscious people cannot consent ), somnophilia, groping, assisted!masturbation ( him ), fingering, needy!toge

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 2.7k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog & leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions. enjoy!

you’d heard the zipper, felt the shift of his feet directly behind you, and you’d spun around, eyes narrowed, daggers in both hands jutting for him. but you hadn’t expected his fists to grab your wrists, halting the sharpened blades mere inches from his exposed throat. or, perhaps, you hadn’t anticipated how strong he was. after all, it had been years since you and Toge sparred. had you forgotten, or had he gotten stronger?

your brows knit together, digging your boots into the dirt, pushing against him. his violet gaze pours into yours, begging you to stop. he didn’t have to say it; you could read it on his countenance. “Gonna hurt me, Toge?” you ask, gritting your teeth. his grip is tight around your wrists, but not tight enough to make you wince. you were straining, trying to break through the barrier of his strength and drive those cursed daggers into him. “I’m not going to stop,” you bark. not that you could, even if you wanted to. you can still hear Geto’s last words before he sent you into the forest in pursuit of Sukuna’s vessel. succeed, or die trying. if you come back empty handed, I’ll kill you myself. and then, he’d kissed your forehead like a proud father, and hurried you inside. “Not unless you kill me!” you ease up just a bit, only to double down, hoping the abrupt push of energy could force his guard down.

Toge’s lips are parted, but he’s hesitating. there’s a part of you, deep down, that wished he would just do it.

“Say it!” you screamed, pushing again. the blades graze his naked throat, drawing a single ruby each to the surface. “Break my arms! Send me deep into the bottom of the river! If you want to stop me, you’re going to have to kill—“

❝ Sleep. ❞

your eyes widen as the command registers; you’d never been on the receiving end of his technique, and yet? yet, you didn’t imagine it would feel like this. trying to fight the sudden drowsiness that overtakes you is fruitless, and you have the overwhelming urge to simply give in to it. you don’t want to beat it, you just need to rest. your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds each, and the daggers slip from your limp fingers and hit the solid ground with twin thuds. next to give in are your knees, buckling as you sag forward with naught to say but a puff of air hitting his cheek as the world around you bleeds into an abysmal dark.

Toge lurches forward to close the distance before you fall and hooks both arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight, protective hug. it’d been something he’s always wanted to do, but it felt strange right now. wrong. you were limp in his arms, feet turned in and dragging against the ground, your head lolling to one side. he frowns, easing you down to lay you on your back. once squatting beside you, he sighs, and looks around. the others would probably need his help.

so, why couldn’t he leave you there?

he told himself it was because there were too many curses on the loose, and leaving anyone unconscious would make him a villain, but deep down he knew that wasn’t why. and his violet eyes didn’t dart the circumference of the tree line to ensure that none would sneak up on the two of you. they did so to confirm that there were no witnesses— that you and him were completely alone.

he slumps on to his knees, and admires your countenance, his fingertips brushing back the hair that threatened to obstruct his view of it. he’d always found you so fetching— the softness of your features, your lashes that fanned out against your skin when your eyes were closed, the dip of your nose, the supple flesh of your cheeks, the curve of your lips…

Toge realizes he’s breathless, staring at your mouth. so many times you’d fixed those tiers to swear at him, to threaten him, and they would turn down in a tight-lipped frown when you were frustrated that you couldn’t beat him. but there was something more— times Toge could remember where those lovely lips tickled your cheeks, pulling upwards when he used to make you laugh so hard your eyes would water, or every time you crooned to him, “Inumaki-Senpai~!” and he lost his train of thought every. single. time. you always had that effect on him— you made it impossible for him to focus on anything else but you, even right now. his digits delve downwards, tracing your cheek until they careen over the edge of your jaw and finally reach your lips. he traces them, slowly, and stares, shoulders bunching up when he leans closer.

what was he doing?

his heart was racing, breath shaky on your lips as he inches closer.

Do you know how long I’ve wanted to be this close to you?

he wished he could say it out loud, but he supposed it didn’t matter; you weren’t awake to hear it. pressing his forehead to yours, he closes his eyes and inhales your closeness, the smell of you

If you were awake, would you want me to be this close?

his eyelids flutter when they part, staring at your closed ones. his lips were trembling, ghosting over yours when they do.

Would you tell me to stop, or would you… ask me to kiss you?

he’d always wanted to, and maybe he had the chance on more than one occasion before you disappeared. maybe there had been a handful of times that he considered grabbing you by the shoulders, and kissing you with so much passion it would make the pair of you dizzy, but when you looked at him, eyes twinkling, he always lost his nerve.

now, however, it was almost as if he couldn’t stop himself from closing what little distance there was between your slightly parted lips and his. his hand glides down to hold your jaw steady, his other hand planted in the dirt beside your head. he needs to taste you so badly it’s causing knots in his stomach, and so the first real union of your lips is unceremonious. he simply presses his to yours, his eyes shut tight. it isn’t how he wanted it to be; you weren’t conscious to kiss him back, you wouldn’t throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer or smile against his lips— but he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss; prying your lips further apart to shove his tongue inside, breathing hot puffs of air into your mouth as he shifts on his knees to get closer.

I’ve always wanted this.

I’ve always wanted you.

your taste was so addicting and Toge hated himself for getting lost in it. panting as he kissed you, his palm drops to rest against the top of your chest, feeling your heartbeat underneath it. he’d wished it would pound as hard as his was. instead, it was thumping steadily, evenly. he knew that he shouldn’t, but it was almost as if his hand moved downward of its own volition, acting out his deepest desire before he could stop it— he grabs a fist full of your breast through your uniform top and whines when he feels the mound give, squish against his palm. you were so fucking soft, just like he always imagined you would be.

Closer.

More.

he needed to feel your skin against his, and the hand steadying your face drops to join the other in gripping the hem of your shirt, tugging it upwards, panting into your mouth and kissing you more fervently. your bra is forced up along with the ruched fabric, bunched up under your chin. breasts jiggling from his roughness now that they’re free, he sucks on your tongue, both palms kneading your chest. he wanted to grind into you, the sensation of your silken flesh against his hands for the first time hardening his manhood against his thigh, but he was in the wrong position for that. he grunts, instead, shifting on his knees to get as close to you as possible.

I wish you could feel me, too. I want you to feel me.

Toge’s mouth travels down, past your sagging couplet, and over your chin. his breath is raspy and desperate when he latches on to your throat. his teeth and lips create a seal, and he suckles on your skin until he draws it up into a thick welt, the shape of his teeth wet with saliva when he moves to another, fresh section of flesh to do the same. but he’s not uniform— he’s too hasty, too needy, and the marks are scattered. he wasn’t thinking clearly; not about what you might think happened when you finally woke up to find your neck and chest littered with lovebites. he didn’t care if you knew it was him, not right now. his open mouth drags the edge of his teeth over the pleats in your shirt and bra, inhaling the smell of your perfume that clings to the fabric until they reach your breasts. his hands are reluctant to let go, but his lips are too greedy, and nudge them away, one falling to grab your wrist, whilst the other delves deep beneath the waistband of your shorts to press his first, two fingers against the cotton of your panties.

I need you to touch…

he brings your hand up, shoving it into his own waistband, shaping your delicate fingers around the shape of his hard on. he swoons; his knees would buckle if they weren’t already dug into the dirt. holding your fist together, steady at the base of his cock, Toge rocks his hips, falling into a greedy rhythm of fucking your hand.

Your hands are the softest. Touch me. Yes… Yes… Yes!

his teeth clamp down on your nipple, sucking to muffle his own pathetic moans, and the fingers between your legs rub the ever growing damp patch in your panties hard enough to coax a gurgled moan from your swollen lips. your lids contain your rolling eyes, his command too strong to allow you to wake up just yet, even with his uncouth treatment. still, your muscles jump, back trying to arch. Toge keeps his eyes trained on your face, even though they demand to close. it feels so good, but he wants to watch you.

You’re so… wet… fuck, I can’t stop… I need more!

digits curling around your panties, he jerks them to one side, stuffing his fingers all-too greedy inside. he wasn’t expecting the way your walls greeted his invasion, spasming around his fingers, clenching them tight, and he moans out loud, unable to muffle himself, tongue dragging along your engorged nipple.

It’s tight. It’s so damn tight!

you felt like a virgin, and there was something about the idea of being the first man to feel you like this sent him spiraling. he’d always fantasized about this— touching you in ways that no one else could. his hips buck violently, fucking your fist, longing to feel the squeeze of your cunt stretched over his cock instead of just his fingers. those digits curl, the lithe and searching for that sweet spot, pumping deep into you; if he could only think, maybe he’d try to be gentler, knowing that you might be sore when you finally woke, but his mind was a clean slate. you shift against his movements, pulsing around his fingers, and he knows he’s found it.

I need to see you cum. Need you to… before… before I…

but Toge couldn’t slow his pistoning hips, he couldn’t take the softness of your warm palm kissing every inch of his veiny girth, the tip already oozing sticky precum on to your fingers. his mouth searches, frantically, for yours, and his lips devour them. inaudible, he breathes the syllables of your name into your mouth, forming each one while sealed to your lips. he couldn’t speak it, he knew that, but he wanted so badly to cry out for you. a soft whimper dies at the threshold of your lips, your core quivers on instinct alone, and his eyes slit, gripping your hand around him tighter, pounding into your palm as his orgasm hits.

Cumming! I— I’m cumming! Please… yes… please…!!

his mind was screaming your name on repeat, his whimpers nothing more than mindless babble, forcing his tongue behind your teeth again. the fingers buried deep inside you stall, as do his hips, when he utterly falls apart, violet gems rolling back in his skull. his cum glazes your hand and his own, before bleeding a wet patch through his trousers, and he’s panting on your face, kissing you sloppy, his lips smearing saliva over your mouth, cheeks and chin. a shudder runs through his whole body as he slumps forward, laying against you long enough to try and catch his breath. his head rests against your exposed chest, and he listens to the steady thumping of your heart— his own like a ferocious drum.

when he finally pulls his fingers from between your thighs, he’s delighted to feel how you’ve soaked them, leaving webs of your desire wrapped around the digits that he stares at for a moment before bringing them to his mouth, sucking your taste off them.

Sweet. So sweet.

his cock twitches— the mere taste of your cunt enough to urge it back to attention, but he simply sighs, and sits up again, pulling your shiny hand from his pants. he stares at his cum on your fingers and his own, and sinks his teeth into his lower lip, before his eyes drift to your mouth. your tiers are swollen from how hard he’d kissed you, and wet with his spit.

Would you want to taste me, too?

Toge swallows hard, his fingers reaching for your couple. he drags the knuckle over your lower lip, smearing his release in a thin, milky ribbon over it, before slipping the finger inside to do the same on your tastebuds. another shudder.

Will the taste still be there when you wake up?

he hoped it would, because he couldn’t stay.

carefully, he pulls your bra back into place, followed by your top, and adjusts the skewed waistband of your shorts. the shame of what he did, and just how much he liked it, was starting to seep in. Toge pulls your jacket from each arm, folds it carefully, and lifts your neck at the nape so he’s able to slide the makeshift cushion beneath it, before he tucks your arms and legs in to the most comfortable position he could. you expel a quiet sigh that causes him to hesitate, and stare at your face.

Things should be different. I wish things were different.

but, Toge wasn’t stupid. he knew that you’d made your choices, and you were too proud to backtrack. he sighs, too, and plants a soft, loving peck to your forehead. then, he pulls himself to his feet, that seem to protest the idea of leaving you there alone, and pulls the zipper on his collar up, securing his mouth behind the barrier of fabric. he takes one last look back to make sure you’re okay as he nears the tree line.

If you ever decide to come back, run fast into my arms. Otherwise, please be safe from now on.

[scribbling-dragon]

Crown of Antlers

Chapter 8: The Damned Kingdom

summary:

What’s the point in stars when you don’t even know their names?

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(6,463 words)

[reblogs are appreciated!]

Scott was…satisfied with the outcome of their meeting. It had lasted longer than he first anticipated when he visited the marshy lands of the Cod Empire, but that extra time spent was not for naught. The Codfather is certainly the character that every other empire swears he is – quoting him as impulsive and reckless, yet passionate and only ever acting on what he thinks is for the best – though Scott had very few opportunities to ever observe him properly.

The rumours are somewhat accurate. Some are so incredibly outside of reality that he cannot help but laugh at them; Cormac had agreed with him on those, xir disbelief at some of the more unsavoury rumours surrounding Jimmy had certainly overstepped some boundaries. And Scott places all of his money on those rumours being started by Jimmy’s Council.

Such thoughts are only at the back of his mind as he stands, rather patiently, and allows Axen to flutter around him anxiously. His advisor pulls at some of the layers of clothing, muttering about the heat as they run their hands over the fabric of his cloak, smoothing it out so it sits more comfortably on his shoulders.

Only when they reach to adjust his gloves does he halt them, circling one hand gently around their wrist and pulling it away.

“I do believe I am capable of adjusting my gloves myself, if I see fit.”

“If you were trusted on matters like ensuring you are presentable, then we would have you arriving in Mezalea looking like you had been hauled through several bramble bushes.”

“You overexaggerate.” He almost rolls his eyes at Axen’s fussing, only pausing because he’s rather certain they’d smack him for the disrespect. Aeor stands further back in the room, not having said anything; and yet He still manages to positively radiate amusement.

As a child, Scott had been a firm believer that animals were less adapted to communicate feelings based on expressions. Deer, he found, were rather inexpressive unless you studied their eyes or body language closely. Aeor destroyed all of those beliefs, presenting him with the knowledge that a deer can look incredibly smug when it wants to.

“I most certainly do not,” Axen protests, attempting to adjust something else with their still free hand before Scott manages to capture that one too. He can hear several elves snickering behind him, like the children they often are. “Do you not remember the most recent Mythland coronation? How you and your brother had to be wrangled into looking halfway presentable? There were so many resignations over the course of your fittings I worried there would be no tailors left to finish your clothes.”

“Again,” he releases Axen’s hands and steps back, carefully outside of fussing range. “You overexaggerate.”

Axen looks like they're going to continue. Scott ignores them easily, turning to where the rest of his Court stands, all of them abruptly straightening up as though that would disguise how they’ve been stood there snickering for the past few minutes as Scott was subjected to the torment of Axen’s last-minute fretting.

“I assume we are all ready to depart?” He clasps his hands neatly in front of him, feeling rather than seeing Aeor come to stand at his shoulder. The warm breath of the deer brushes over his cheek as he surveys the elves in front of him. Their luggage consists of only the bare minimum, Scott warning them that they were not to impose upon their hosts for the duration of their stay. “Fantastic,” he doesn’t wait for a response. “Now, I know a few of you dislike this method of transportation, but it beats having to travel by horse, hm?”

There’s a small round of assenting hums and quiet yeses, though no-one looks particularly pleased about the concept.

“Then we shan’t delay any further-“

“Sire,” Leukos interrupts him, looking rather out of place in the stark light of day rather than the muted tones of their library. “Please, let’s not make a grand entrance out of this? I don’t think any of us can cope with it after the last time.”

“Last time was not as bad as you all made it out to be,” he scoffs. He’d been a lot younger, and far more inexperienced with this specific talent. It had not been his finest moment, but at least he hadn’t been left to suffer it alone. “And I can promise, this time will be far less embarrassing.”

He ignores the murmured comment from Cormac about seaweed and fish, closing his eyes instead and feeling for the humming in the air around him. It reaches out to him easily, aided by Aeor’s close proximity.

It responds quickly, the sound of crackling ice travelling over stone reaching his ears. He tugs a little harder, a little harsher, and the sound of wind roars up around them, buffeting his clothes and drowning out any other noise.

It disappears just as quickly, leaving a wave of warmth behind it as he peeks first one eye and then the second eye open, looking around at the red sands of Mezalea gleefully.

“See?” He turns to his slightly dazed Court, a few of them looking rather pale. “What did I say, nice, non-dramatic entrances.”

“I think you’ll find that’s still rather dramatic.” Someone kicks at the ground behind him, and he turns with a smile to greet the Mezalean King. He’s nudging at the edge of the frozen ring of sand disdainfully, before looking up at Scott. “How am I meant to clear this up? Your ice doesn’t melt.”

“It will eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t good enough,” the King crosses his arms, looking more annoyed than angry. “I quite liked this bit of ground. Nice, not too much sun, not too much shade. A rather pretty spot with a good view. And now it’s covered in ice. What am I meant to do with all this ice?”

“You could use it as ice cubes in drinks.” Scott suggests.

“Ah, yes,” the man nods along, looking thoughtful. “A new trend – take the ice from the sand and put it in your drinks. It won’t ruin it at all, with the bits of sand stuck in it, why would you ever suggest such a thing?”

“Do you make it a habit to harass all of your guests?” He asks, voice dry. The warm air is beginning to make him feel overdressed in all of his layers, something that is normally not a problem suddenly rearing it’s head and making him feel uncomfortable in the heat.

“Just you,” the King smiles up at him. “Special treatment for my favourite person.”

Mezalea and Rivendell have never had great relations. What had started out as Mezalea distrusting anything magical, had quickly turned into them vehemently denying the existence of any magic. It was enough to break off the alliance between his great-grandfather and the King of Mezalea that had been ruling at the time. Such an event has been misconstrued and even stricken from records, leaving the actual cause of such a falling out to become blurred over time. The resentment has faithfully been upheld, however.

“Why, I thank you for your generous hospitality,” he presses a hand to his chest, bowing himself forward a little. He notices, with slight glee, that it does nothing to put them at eye level. “Though, some of us have a little baggage. Is there anywhere we would be able to leave this?”

“Your rooms are with everyone else’s,” the King jabs a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing towards the steady flow of people heading in one direction. It’s an interesting mix of people, with all the different colours and clothes of other empires mixing in together. He sees a few flashes of House Blossom lavender and whirling Grimland greys and blacks. “Someone’s waiting for you to arrive, and they’ll guide you to your rooms.”

He sounds bored, like he’s rattled the speech off a thousand times already. He likely has, judging by the sheer number of people that have arrived. Scott thought he might be pushing it by bringing the entirety of his Court, but his group seems like the smallest here.

…Ah, well. It simply means other people have a higher chance of embarrassing their empire.

He has to shove his way through the crowd none too gently, most of the people standing and speaking to their friends rather than actually moving towards their destination. Really, he cannot understand how someone can bear to move so slowly, inching along at a snail’s pace – do they not realise walking faster means they reach their destination earlier?

The “rooms” with everyone else that the Mezalean King had mentioned is actually several buildings specifically built with the idea of hosting people in mind. Rivendell hosts it’s guests in the Palace, with a specific quarter dedicated to visiting dignitaries and diplomats.

But Mezalea’s Palace is rather unfinished still. He can see workers scurrying over one of the domed roofs like ants, passing materials and clambering over the scaffolding. He hasn’t kept track of how many years this project has taken, but it’s something that had been ongoing for several generations of rulers at this point. It was being handed down like some kind of inheritance, but one that acted as a burden on their resources rather than anything actually useful.

Still, he much prefers sleeping in something with a completed roof, so he’ll take the accommodation they’ve been provided with happily.

“Elvenking,” one of the workers greets him. “And other esteemed guests. I hope the journey wasn’t too difficult.” The poor woman looks bored out of her mind, eyes drifting around the room as though looking for something more entertaining to occupy herself with. He wonders if they had to draw straws for which group they would receive. And which empire had the shortest straw assigned to them.

“Oh, it wasn’t too terrible.” He smiles, “A little cold, certainly, but nothing we aren’t already accustomed to.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Her tone of voice suggests she couldn’t care less. “Right this way, please.”

They're guided up a grand and winding staircase in the centre of the room. He may dislike everything Mezalea stands for, but they really can make a rather grand staircase. She stops them on the second floor, handing out keys she fishes out of her pockets seemingly at random.

She disappears a moment later, a shout from downstairs summoning her. She gives him what he assumes is meant to be an apologetic smile, but comes across as more of a grimace before she descends again, leaving him alone with his Court.

With the outsider gone, they begin squabbling again over who is sharing rooms with who. And then it devolves into squabbling over which rooms they wish to be in. He sighs and reaches for Cormac when xe look as though xe are about to wrestle a key from Ophelia. He admires xir bravery, but he prefers his Head Mage in one piece.

“Alright,” he yanks the keys towards himself, pulling them together with the minimal cold lingering in the shaded corridors. His grasp over it is weaker than usual, driven by Mezalea’s refusal to acknowledge anything other. Disregarding the fact that their land is nourished by a magical tree. “I will be assigning rooms to each of you, seeing as you are unable to keep your manners intact for more than five seconds.”

He pauses at the sound of footsteps on the staircase behind them, turning his head slightly to watch the Crystal Cliffs diplomat meander their way on up, eyes set in a far-off look, not even seeing them. He waits until they're gone, far out of earshot, before he returns to berating the elves in front of him.

“You are representing Rivendell right now, I do not care that this is a celebration of an engagement. You will not be getting drunk and making a fool out of yourself where the other empires can watch you. Whilst we are here, we are the ones that make Rivendell look good and I will not hesitate to send you home if I think you are not taking this seriously enough, alright?”

“You sound like our mother.” Calla comments, snickering as he turns to look at them. “Sorry, sorry, I was just saying what everyone else was thinking.”

“Alright,” he takes a deep breath in, reminding himself that he would definitely be heard by everyone else in the building if he raised his voice any more. “Ground rules, yes? Those are always a good way to make sure there is no confusion on what I expect from you, is that clear?”

“Aeor above,” Cormac mutters, “he really is acting like our mother.”

Scott gracefully ignores xem. “I expect you to exercise the entirety of your court training, meaning I expect there to be impeccable manners and for you to be polite. Please, I beg of you, be polite. I do not need to be defusing any situations because you riled up the wrong person and their ruler took it personally. And,” he overrides Sorin before he can even think to protest, “I do not care if someone else started it. You are all much, much older than them and therefore know better. You might act like children, but you are certainly not, so please, be the mature adult if someone else is determined to be the child.”

“You take all the fun outta these things,” Cormac huffs. “What’s a little scuffle between friends?”

“It’s the difference between keeping peace and stoking conflict.” There’s enough conflict looming in their future, he hardly needs anything more on his plate. He has been bored as of late, but overworking himself in an effort to maintain semi-peaceful relations is not the solution for that boredom that he envisioned. “Now, room assignments.”

He hands the keys out to people, ignoring Cormac’s protests when he pairs xem with Axen rather than Leukos. He silently apologises to his advisor, but Cormac needs someone to keep an eye on xem, and he certainly doesn’t need to hear whatever it is that xe do with xir boyfriend.

Leukos accepts it quietly and with far more grace than their partner. That is the way that he expects his Court to behave while in the public eye.

He manages to have a room entirely to himself, slotting the key neatly into the lock and ignoring the beginnings of another squabble behind him. It might be his circus and his monkeys, but he is far past his threshold of tolerance for the day, and it’s barely past noon.

It is with a barely restrained sigh of relief that he shuts the door behind him, blocking out the worst of the noise.

His room is nice, spacious enough for his three-day stay here, at least. He sets his bag down at the foot of the bed and pulls his cloak off a moment later, feeling far too warm still.

“You should bring fewer of them next time,” Aeor says.

“Yes, yes,” Scott sighs, shaking his head. “I expected them to be better than this really, I would have thought our last incident would be enough to dissuade them from acting in such a manner.”

When he looks up, Aeor is wavery and opaque, almost entirely see through with how little of Him seems to retain a solid form. He wisps away into smoke and mist at the edges, looking for all the world as though He would disappear with a small breeze.

“You should not hold a physical form if it will be a drain on you.”

“It does not drain me,” Aeor sniffs. “It simply weakens me. As though I am stood on the other side of a door rather than in the room with you.”

“Not exactly a comforting metaphor.” He comments. “Nor one that fills me with any kind of hope.”

“It was not meant to make you feel more hopeful, only to make it so that you understand the situation. To send you forward with false information would be foolish, if you were to find yourself wedged into a corner, you may reach for power you do not have access to.”

“Yes, whatever,” he sits down on the bed with a thump, toying with the edges of his gloves. He almost takes them off, just to see what Mezalea is doing to his hands. “I thought it had been getting better? When we visited for the coronation-”

“The current King’s claim over the land was not fully settled,” Aeor interrupts. He flickers out of view for a moment before He consolidates Himself into a deer once more. “The Mother Tree was still recovering from the loss of her previous child, and he was still growing accustomed to the matters of the throne. It is not surprising that whatever protection She has placed was not yet functioning at its fullest potential.”

He sighs, staring down at his upturned hands. “Shame.”

“Oh?” Aeor’s hooves do not make a sound against the tiled floor as He steps closer, but Scott can see the sparks of frost that sparkle for a moment before fading away. “Did you have something planned?”

“I don’t always have something planned,” he rebuts. “I had simply thought that Her protection for the land was failing – She could have been dying for all we know. Can you imagine the state of things if she simply began withering and nothing could be done for it?”

Aeor hums. “I see your point. However, if it got to that point, someone would be able to bring in a mage to heal Her. If the She begins to die, so too does her protection. If that protection dies, then magic can once again be performed on these soils.”

“Hm.”

“You can simply tell me to stop talking if you grow bored,” Aeor’s nose nudges at him. Where he would normally feel a slightly wet sensation and the pressure that comes with being touched, he only feels the whisper of cold over his skin before it disappears again. “I do not wish to lull you to sleep.”

“I am simply thinking.”

“About what?” Aeor asks, ever persistent. Scott has seen His realm before, on the few occasions he’s been invited into that landscape; it’s possibly the most boring place he’s ever seen, with everything a sterile white and glowing slightly, stretching on for miles and miles of nothing but the same white expanse. He would prefer to bother whatever Champion he had chosen too. “No, don’t tell me, actually, allow me to guess.”

“I don’t need to tell you if you're right.”

“You can’t bear to let someone go uncorrected. Now, let’s see if I can get it with my first guess: you're attempting to decide whether to go looking for your dearest ally.”

He continues to stare at his gloved hands, but his non-answer is apparently enough to amuse Aeor. The faint sound of bells fills the air as Aeor laughs, shaking His massive head in disbelief. “Are you sure he is right for it?”

“I am rather sure,” Scott replies. “He’s been around for several years, settled comfortably into his power and influence for just as long.”

“And yet you never interacted with him before now.”

“Interacting with him wasn’t something that mattered. I was simply watching him. He is a rather interesting being, don’t you think?”

“Oh, there are many interesting things about the Codfather. Which one is it that you wish to discuss with me?”

“None of them.”

“Not even his purpose? Not even the reason why you had chosen to accept his proposal when it promises nothing but calamity for you? Did you think about the possible repercussions of your actions before you agreed to assist him in his ill-planned revenge plot, or were you simply considering what he could do for you?”

“You make me sound so shallow.” He complains.

“I did not call you shallow, I am saying that you rarely do anything without some ulterior motive. Forgive me for being doubtful of your motives in this situation.”

“You already know the motives.”

“Do I now?” Aeor laughs, again. “I may know a lot of what goes on inside of your head, but I don’t know everything, dear Champion. Are you sure your mind will remain clear during this alliance, and that it won’t be…polluted by whatever infatuation he has with you.”

“Infatuation is so offensive.”

“And what else would you call it? He has watched you at every single meeting for the last few years – the entire time he has held the title of Codfather, he has seemed to hold some level of attraction to you.”

“I am aware.”

“And do you intend to act on that?” Aeor continues to prod. His voice hasn’t changed at all, but the tension in the air grows, becoming heavy like the moments before it begins to snow. “Guiding someone because they find themselves attracted to you is a new low, even for you.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest, curling over it slightly. “Right through the heart, that one. You wound me, really.”

“I would find that easier to believe if you injected even a little emotion into that.” Aeor pauses, as though waiting for his response, before sighing, “Mortals are fragile little things, their hearts especially so. Did you know they can die from a broken heart?”

“I am just as capable of doing so.”

“Which is why I am warning you of this.” Aeor forces his way into Scott’s field of view, forcing him to look his God in the eye. “You are valuable to me, no matter the outcome of this plan, but seafolk are a fickle species, as prone to change as the tides are. Do not let yourself be led astray by your heart when you have more important matters to focus on.”

“I am not being led astray, sometimes I am able to act upon my feelings without compromising anything. It’s called balancing something. Have you ever heard of it?”

“I have yet to see you successfully put it into practice.”

“Gods, sometimes I am almost glad my mother died. I don’t know how I would cope with two of you attempting to mother me at once.”

Aeor makes an offended noise at that and promptly disappears, leaving Scott to stew in silence until the celebration in the evening – he doesn’t understand the point of holding a celebration for their engagement when they're getting married tomorrow.

Apparently it’s a Mezalean tradition. Everything wrong with the world seems to be a Mezalean tradition.

=== === ===

He has discovered that it does not cool down once the sun sets. He had been hoping for some relief from the stifling heat once the sun disappeared below the horizon, but no such relief has been granted thus far.

The stone all around them seems to radiate heat, having absorbed it during the long day and only now releasing it into the environment. He can be a little thankful, at least, about the celebration being hosted outside. He cannot imagine it would be pleasant inside one of those furnace homes at this time.

It seems they often host celebrations outside, at least, as there is an entire courtyard outfitted to host a part of thrice their size. He’s heard tales of the parties the King is apparently willing to throw, with noise complaints coming in from their neighbours due to how late these celebrations seem to run.

Scott can’t think of one thing that Mezalea has done recently worth celebrating.

He and his Court arrive a few minutes late, just enough to not be the first people there and thus awkwardly standing around as they wait for more people to arrive, but not late enough to offend their hosts. One of which already holds some resentment towards him.

Jimmy does not hold the same qualms as his allies, brightening up as he sees Scott entering the courtyard, passing beneath an intricately weaved flower archway. It’s rather impressive, unfortunately.

Jimmy waves at him, turns back to his allies, and then breaks away from the group to come towards Scott. Huh. He had expected Jimmy to stick with his allies, perhaps to keep the peace for the evening when one of his closest allies holds so much obvious disdain for him. Apparently, though, he has no such qualms about displaying their not-yet announced allyship.

It seems this evening will be the time where this alliance is announced informally. The entire courtyard of people seem to hold their breath as Jimmy comes to a stop in front of him, tilting his head back slightly to look up at him.

“You clean up nicely,” Scott compliments, if only to watch the way Jimmy immediately averts his eyes and goes a little pink in the cheeks. Cormac makes a gagging sound behind him.

“Ah, you look nice too.” Jimmy responds, still averting his eyes. Scott makes eye contact with the Mezalean King for long enough to see him roll his eyes hard enough that he almost falls over. He’s only saved by his fiancée grabbing onto his arm and keeping him upright. She sends a tight smile in Scott’s direction. “I like the, uh, gloves.”

Scott looks down at his gloves. They're different to the more practical leather ones he usually wears, these ones more delicate and made from silk. He turns his hands over slightly, looking at the gloves from all angles, as though he’s never seen them before.

“Thank you.”

“Ah-hah, yeah,” Jimmy pauses. “Did you want a drink?”

“A drink would be lovely, thank you.” Jimmy nods at his response and promptly flees, getting to the nearest refreshments table as quickly as possible without running and looking like an idiot.

“Must you stand and stare at him the entire time?” He turns on his Court, switching to elvish so he can berate them in relative privacy. “He is nervous and you watching on like a flock of hungry vultures hoping for a good meal does not help.”

“He’s pathetic,” Calla says, with some amazement in their voice. “Like a little, cold cat. One you’d find on the side of the road in a cardboard box because no-one else wanted him, and then you can’t help but be drawn in by his sad eyes and general pathetic aura-”

“Thank you, Calla.” He interrupts. “I think we got the idea.”

“Only doing my job.” They chirp, before disappearing as well. Ophelia follows behind them with a quick promise to look after the youngest of their party.

“The walls are thin,” is Cormac’s parting statement before xe leave with Leukos, the librarian giving him an amused look as they link their arm with Cormac’s. He grimaces a little at the thought that forces into his mind, doing his best to banish it before Jimmy returns.

He just about manages, focusing instead on the different details of his outfit – all the ways it differs from what he normally wears. It doesn’t help much, drawing his attention to the cut-out windows of fabric that frames his hips, leaving very little to the imagination.

He averts his eyes, taking his drink from Jimmy with a murmured thanks and immediately downing half of it.

“I didn’t know you liked Mezalean wine so much,” Jimmy laughs, cradling his own drink close to his chest.

“I don’t.” He responds, reminded immediately of why he dislikes it so much when the sourness of it floods his mouth. It’s something to do with the type of berries used and the way it’s fermented out in the heat rather than in a cellar. He had searched for answers after the first drink that had left him feeling discontented rather than elated, a sour taste invading his senses rather than a sweet one.

He drinks a little more of it, if only to ignore the way that Jimmy’s hair has been braided intricately, enough so that he wouldn’t have been able to do it himself and thus would have required outside help…

“Do you know when the dancing starts?” He interrupts his own thoughts with the first question that comes to mind, hand tightening momentarily around his glass, before he looks at Jimmy again.

“Uh, pretty soon.” Jimmy’s eyes meet his, darker than usual in the rapidly approaching nighttime. “I think. I didn’t really ask, actually. Do you want me to?”

“No, no,” he sips at his wine again, unable to help the nervous response. “I was simply wondering if you would like to dance with me when it does start.”

“That’s a rather formal way of asking me, don’t you think?” Jimmy tilts his head to the side, still smiling in that utterly disarming way of his. Everything about Jimmy sets him at odds with himself, leaving him off-kilter and utterly unsure of how to respond to him. “What happened to spur-of-the-moment actions?”

Jimmy must certainly know what he’s doing, watching him from beneath thick eyelashes, idly rubbing his thumb back and forth over the rim of his glass. It’s horrible etiquette to hold your glass in such a manner, but Scott ignores it easily as the wine he’s just drunk turns thick and syrupy in his throat, threatening to choke him if he doesn’t swallow and glance away for a moment.

“I am of the kind to plan my movements out with immense detail. To impose a plan onto someone else without their consent when the purpose is for enjoyment would not be…productive.”

“Wow,” Jimmy blinks, once, then twice. “Did you eat a dictionary before you got here or something?”

“I- no?” He has to resist taking another sip of the wine to fill the silence, regretting the several mouthfuls he’s already had as sourness continues to coat his tongue. Jimmy’s sincereness makes him feel almost dizzy, the sour taste in his mouth intensifying the longer the silence drags on. It’s been no more than a second before he speaks again. “Why would I choose to eat a dictionary? The paper would certainly be rather unpleasant-”

“It’s a saying,” Jimmy laughs. “A joke, I thought it was funny.”

“I am aware. I was responding to your joke with sarcasm, re-emphasising how ridiculous and outlandish your initial statement was.”

“Alright,” Jimmy holds a hand up, his wine sloshing dangerously close to the edges of his glass, threatening to spill over. Scott jerks back, imagining that wine staining his pristine incredibly white clothes. “There’s something up with you, you don’t speak like this outside of meetings.”

“This is technically a meeting.”

“This is a party.” Jimmy sighs, looking immediately like a kicked puppy- and Aeor dammit, he can see the pathetic cat comparison Calla made earlier. He’s never getting that out of his head now, Aeor above. “You're meant to have fun, relax and all that.”

“I am aware.” He swallows, the sour taste in his mouth persisting. Aeor wavers into being behind Jimmy, just over his shoulder, before disappearing again. Scott’s not even certain that he actually saw Aeor and that it wasn’t just some figment of his imagination. Some kind of reminder. “Parties…aren’t my thing.”

“Not…your thing?” Jimmy tries the words out while Scott tries not to shrivel up from embarrassment. The party hasn’t even truly started yet, and he already can’t stand to be enclosed within this courtyard for much longer. These things are far easier when he’s the one hosting them and able to disappear to a secret corridor for a few moments.

“Please don’t speak so loud,” he presses a hand to his head, rubbing at his temples. “It’s not something good for my image.”

“One of my Elders is already drunk.”

“That is besides the point.” His Court knows he’ll strangle them if they get drunk here. “Though I do extend my condolences.”

“Thanks.”

The music bursts to life between sentences, catching both him and Jimmy off-guard by the sudden surge in sound around them. Lights flicker on, too, bright and colourful. It sets a cheery atmosphere that is only bolstered by the happy couple already on the dance floor, hands entwined and practically leaning against each other.

“That’s definitely loud,” Jimmy laughs, releasing Scott’s sleeve. He hadn’t even realised Jimmy was holding onto him. “Jo- uh, he was worried about it not being loud enough.” Jimmy nods his head towards the Mezalean King.

“I think he can be assured that it is plenty loud enough.” He grimaces as a particularly high note is hit, burrowing into his skull in just the worst way possible. He’s been nursing a headache ever since they arrived in this damned place, reeling from the almost complete severance from Aeor’s presence and suffering with the heat that permeates this entire place.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

Scott looks down at Jimmy, narrowing his eyes. “How will they feel about their most treasured ally leaving them?”

“They won’t notice,” Jimmy says. “Really!” He insists, when Scott continues to look doubtful. “C’mon, they're all wrapped up in each other, all cutesy. I think we’ll be lucky if they notice when the music stops. They're not gonna miss me.”

“That’s rather hard to imagine.”

“I know the best places around here, too.” Jimmy assures, jerking oddly, before slowly reaching his hand out. He offers it palm up, hiding the scales that dot the back of his hand from view. Scott’s own hand hovers over the top of Jimmy’s for a moment, not quite touching, not quite closing the gap between their palms.

His hands are cold. Always have been and likely always will be. There is no way around that fact, and he’s learned to be rather grateful with the gifts that have been bestowed upon him. The leather of his normal gloves does much to disguise the chill that radiates from him, but the silken gloves he currently wears will do nothing to block that.

Jimmy’s hand is bare, warm and inviting below his frigid palm.

He joins their hands together with a held breath, preparing for Jimmy to shout and jerk away at the burning cold of their hands meeting. For him to draw the attention of the crowd towards them, exposing them for their…whatever their small moment in the corner of a party is. He feels almost embarrassed at the thought that people have laid eyes upon them in these moments that they’ve shared.

Jimmy doesn’t react. His fingers curl around Scott’s hand, humming happily as he uses their joined hands as a way to pull Scott along behind him.

They duck back beneath the weaved archway, the fragrant petals brushing over them as they sneak through like children sneaking out. He hunches over awkwardly to fit his antlers beneath the bushes, twisting his head and neck so he doesn’t get caught on the bush.

The Mezalean King certainly didn’t take him into consideration when designing this ridiculous thing. Possibly on purpose, now that he thinks about it, hoping to catch him acting a fool and stuck in the vines like some stupid animal.

“Welcome,” Jimmy glances back at him, eyes reflecting the lights from the engagement party. Scott couldn’t care less about the engagement party right now, or the fact that his advisors could be doing whatever they please with themselves without a care for how it reflects on him. All he can think about is the way that the lights reflect in Jimmy’s eyes and make it seem as though he’s cradling the entire night sky in them. “To my favourite spot in the entirety of Mezalea.”

It doesn’t take much for Scott to realise why this is his favourite spot, looking around himself first, before glancing upwards, and…

The sky is breath-taking. The polar lights are missing here, their colours not filling the sky in the same way, but the shimmering canvas of velvet blue and pale cream is enough to leave him in awe, head craned back so he can take the entirety of it in.

“Fan of the stars?”

“I appreciate them on occasion.” He replies, returning Jimmy’s smile more easily now that they are alone. The wisp of Aeor’s presence at the back of his mind disapproves, but it’s easy enough to brush Him away, as weak as He currently is.

“And by appreciate I assume you mean study them intensively?” Jimmy questions, poking further into him with a smile. The ease with which Jimmy now talks to him, almost an entirely different person to the one that had first approached him with the proposition of an alliance, is exhilarating. He can’t seem to get enough of it.

Maybe there is something wrong with him.

“No, no,” he shakes his head, glancing down for a moment, if only to make his head stop spinning. The sight of his hand in Jimmy’s doesn’t help with that. “My brother was far fonder of the stars than I was; they could name every single one within sight, tell you all the stories they held. It was fantastic, the idea that someone looked at the very same stars I did, and found some kindred spirit in those lights that can only watch over us.”

“Ah,” Jimmy clears his throat, hand beginning to retreat from where Scott grasps it. “I'm sorry.”

He tightens his hand around Jimmy’s, unwilling to release this new warmth that he’s found himself. “Whatever for?”

“Your brother,” Jimmy refuses to look at him, strands of hair drifting over his face as he glances downwards. Scott only barely resists the urge to brush it away, reminding himself that Jimmy is a skittish thing, even if he boasts confidence with everything he says, and too much may scare him away for good. “I didn’t mean to re-open old wounds.”

“Ah, yes, well.” The sour taste of the wine returns, though he had been certain that the lingering flavour of it had long disappeared. “It has been a rather long time since then. I choose not to dwell.”

Jimmy’s silence speaks volumes.

Scott sighs, “I do not believe they would wish for me to mope every time I sit and look at the stars. Perhaps they would not be proud of the person I have become, but they would not wish such grief upon me for so long. Such a burden would send anyone to the grave.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I am telling you there is no need.” He squeezes Jimmy’s hand, and waits until he feels the tension in his shoulders loosen again. He looks up at the stars again, studying. No matter how many times he looks, he can never find the same stories that his brother had told him in hushed whispers. “I think they would have liked the stars tonight.”

[starflungwaddledee]

alright. look, we're going to go into this because i genuinely want to think you didn't mean harm by this, but it's unacceptable to use this sort of manipulative phrasing. especially with strangers, some of whom are kids.

this is not a call-out. i've hidden all names except my own. i just need to address this post i was tagged in, and don't want to add it onto the end of the original post. i could also have done this privately, but i want this to be here for the other folks who were @'d. i won't @ anyone else who was mentioned in this post, but many of us are mutuals, so if you see this post and you're feeling at all stressed out or bad, i recommend just clicking through because i'm going to go into this.

firstly, and i'm going to make this transparent, person who @'d me: i don't think you're being malicious or did anything purposefully bad. i don't think you intended harm or that you are "a bad person". i don't have a single negative thought about you as a person. i don't make this post to be mean. i truly think you made an earnest mistake that could easily have hurt others, and i am stepping in with the hope this can be avoided in the future! per my usual boundaries on reassurance seeking, i will not reassure about this further.

secondly, the post that you tacked this onto IS important and a helpful resource, and it is great to bring attention to it. we should be doing everything we can to not only defend against, but actively fight back against generative AI. many people cannot access the most commonly recommended tools (myself included), so a resource like this is fantastic and i'm glad to learn about it and share it! i don't speak for anyone else, but i've said before that i personally don't mind being tagged in resources that could help me or others and i'm usually happy to share them, especially if i think the latter

but, assuming that you are genuinely well meaning and don't know better, you need to know that this is not the way to go about it. i don't mean mass-tagging, which is fine in times like this imo, i mean your written add-ons that actively guilt trip every single person you tagged.

"if you weren't convinced by the idea of being a good person" and "I do hope anyone I @'d isn't a bad person" in particular.

you may not have realised, but these are profoundly manipulative and cruel things to say. regardless of how you intended them, they are inciting guilt in the reader, and especially in the people who you actively called to come and look at it. here's what it sounds like:

"hey! you! yeah you! come look at this!! come closer! now, do what i ask you to do, or you're a bad person."

there are a million and one reasons someone might not reblog something. being tired, offline, anxious, even needing to run a specifically professional blog with exclusively your art on it for your own financial survival which makes it hard to reblog important posts like this; none of those are bad.

in this case, only one thing makes them a "bad person", and it's "they're pro-generative AI and did not reblog because they want to hide this information to ensure they can continue stealing from creatives".

i'm fairly confident you don't actually think anyone you tagged here has that point of view, or that you really have any doubts about their stances on generative AI. in fact, of the folks i recognise here, they're all independent creatives, sharing artwork with fandom for free on the internet. they are the victims of generative AI, and like most of us, are facing a terrifying future and are already desperate to find a way to defend/fight back.

you do not need to use manipulative language like this to get us to care about this sort of content! this affects us all, content creators and content consumers alike!

in future if you want to direct folks to something like this, which is super helpful and it was good of you to do!, you can just @ them so they see it. you can even say something like "this is important and some reblogs would sure help to boost it!". this is still a call to action, but without the manipulative phrasing, just in case they cannot act for any reason.

in the end, guilt tripping people like this, intentional or otherwise, is dangerous.

at best it will make them feel like shit and they'll feel forced to reblog + share from you out of guilt rather than just believing in the cause. and sometimes it feels like it's most effective, especially when things are urgent; but in my opinion the risk of harm is just too high. because at worst, you could accidentally send someone into a negative thinking spiral. you can never know what people are going through offline, or outside of your spaces, and how something like this will hit them.

[writethrough]

The Diviner (Part II)

(Morpheus x Prophetess Reader)

Synopsis: Morpheus could be murdered at any time, but you've found a lead to stop it from coming true.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, hostage situation

Word Count: 1544

A/N: Thank you for all the love I've received on the first part of this series! I hope you enjoy this next one. Don't forget to reblog! I'd love to hear what you think.

Series Masterlist | Part III

You never considered an Endless could bleed as any human could.  

You also never considered what fear would look like in their eyes.  

You suppose you don’t have to think about it anymore.

—  

That first day, you and the others pulled all the resources you could. Hob reached out to a few of his colleagues that dabbled in rare and mystical artifacts. Death kept an ear out on the job, calling in some favors with certain people. Morpheus entrusted Matthew and Lucienne with reconnaissance within the Dreaming. And you touched base with some occultist friends and light magic users.  

Morpheus wanted to know what you saw in your vision, but after telling him, he remained silent.  

“I told you it was vague,” you said, flipping through your book.  

It was nearly sunset, and you hadn’t found anything about this mysterious person. So you switched to looking up protection spells, but they were all too weak. Whoever you were looking for had enough strength to murder an Endless—everyday incantations and ruins wouldn’t measure up. They'd never ensure Morpheus’ survival.  

“Are all your visions like that?” Morpheus asked.  

In retrospect, this vision was different, but not because of how unspecific it was—you’d been dealing with that since you received your gift.  

“No. It was strange. I felt disconnected from it somehow.”  

Morpheus sat beside you, waiting for you to continue.  

“Usually, I can feel something: temperature, pain, emotions, and most times, I can smell or hear what’s happening. But this,” you shook your head, “it was like I was a spectator, except everything was muffled.”  

The thought of being so distant from your power almost made your throat close up.  

As if reading your mind, Morpheus handed you the glass of water on the table.  

You sipped slowly.  

It was all in your head. You needed to calm down and figure out what was going on.  

“Does it concern you?” he asked. “How different it was?”  

You squeeze your eyes shut and rub the heels of your hands into them.  

“I don’t know. Everything about this is unusual, and I…I don’t know what to trust.”  

That was the most frustrating thing about all this; who was right? It was a matter of you and Death. For all you knew, she was never wrong. 

But neither were you.  

“Trust that we will find the solution.”  

He said it so simply it made guilt pool in your stomach.  

Morpheus had the most to worry about, yet he seemed calm.  

“Do you believe we will?” you asked, hating the uncertainty in your voice.  

“With all I am.”  

—  

“It’s been days, and we have nothing,” you said. “How is it that among two Endless, two immortals, and all we have at our disposal, we have not a thread of a lead?”  

You were beyond frustrated. Whoever Morpheus’ would-be murderer was, they were doing an exceptional job at hiding.

“I’ve seen nothing in the dreamers,” Morpheus said. “However, if he can kill me, he must know how to avoid the Dreaming.”  

You ran both hands down your face. The same thought occurred to you, but hearing it voiced—and by Morpheus no less—felt like a nail in his coffin.  

“My sister has yet to know my demise?”  

How could he ask that so casually?  

You shook your head. “She said nothing’s changed. So, according to her, you’ll be fine.” You sighed. “So, I have to believe we’ll find something to fix everything.”  

“Perhaps we need not find anything,” he said.  

“What do you mean?”  

“If Death herself cannot confirm my end, must we search for a solution?”  

“Morpheus,” you started, “when you let Destiny into my head, I had no idea how to use my power or why he gave it to me. But I’ve had the past six centuries to figure that out. And when I tell you, it’s to prevent catastrophic things from happening. I’m not exaggerating.  

“So, if Death hasn’t seen yours yet, I have to assume we’re on the right path, and if we stop, you die.”  

Morpheus stood silently.  

Had your bluntness angered him? Who were you to speak to him like that? Especially since you had your first real conversation a few days ago.  

“My apologies.”  

You hadn’t expected that.   

“I often forget it’s been so long since my brother shared his gifts with you. I will do better moving forward.”  

You sat there frozen, unable to think of a proper response.  

“I’ll return to my realm to check in with Lucienne. She may have discovered something,” Morpheus said.  

You nodded. “I’ll reach back out to my resources.”  

Before he left, Morpheus regarded you carefully.  

“Thank you,” he said.  

Your brow pinched. “What for?”  

“Not many would help me as you are. I am grateful.”  

And with that, he was gone.  

—  

You could barely contain yourself. You finally found a lead.  

It wasn’t much, but your network got the word out enough that someone called you. A new customer of that someone was looking for a specific ingredient few shops sold, and even fewer would admit to selling. But they knew where that customer could find it.  

You wrote down the address and hastily threw on your shoes.  

If you planned this right, you’d intercept them after the exchange once the dealer left. You’d sneak up on them, use the taser Hob got you, and call for Death or Morpheus to handle the rest.   

The dealer only did business within a small window, and you didn’t have time to gather everyone, but you could handle it yourself. You were no stranger to a sticky situation.  

The abandoned building you arrived at had probably seen many deals over the years. It was surprisingly sturdy. The only giveaway of neglect was the broken windows covered by garbage bags.  

You slipped through the opened door and kept to the shadows, waiting for movement.  

Five minutes passed, and you were beginning to doubt the legitimacy of your source until cold metal pressed against your throat.  

“I’m so glad you could make it tonight.”  

You went rigid, trying to keep as far away from the blade as possible.  

“What do you want?”  

He laughed. “What do I want? My dear, that’s no way to introduce yourself.” His hot breath invaded your ear. “My name is Warrens. And what I want, of course, is Morpheus.”  

It all came together. Warrens faked the information and tricked you.  

“So why bring me here?”  

“You’re my meal ticket to the Dream King,” he said. “Now, be a good girl and summon him for me.”  

—  

You never did well with following orders—that got beat out of you at a young age. You became a survivor, and for the longest time, that meant fading into the shadows. Avoiding notice was your number one priority.  

However, centuries of men telling you what to do brought that fire back.  

“Who said I was a good girl?” You breathe out a laugh, hoping that would piss him off.  

The knife slices across your forearm, and you clench your teeth to keep from screaming. Then he’s pulling you toward a pipe.  

“I’ve done enough research about Morpheus and his little diviner to know he gave you your powers—to know you owe him and that he has a special little spot for you.” He touches the tip of the knife to your chin when you struggle too much. “So, if you won’t call him, it’s only a matter of time before he shows up to fetch his pet.”  

Even with your hands now cuffed around the piece of metal, your features remain neutral save a quirked eyebrow. “I’ve never heard so many incorrect things come out of one person’s mouth.”  

His nostrils flare, and he draws the blade down your cheek.  

Still, you remain silent, glaring. 

He sighs heavily, like what he’s doing pains him.  

“You know, I’m not so stupid as to think you’d help me—it would’ve made things easier—but I didn’t give you that vision for nothing.”  

Your brow furrows. “What the hell are you talking about?”  

A slick grin pulls at his lips, his pleasure seeping out of his pores, and a pit forms in your stomach. 

“Come on now, a vision of Morpheus dying? I had to give you a reason to make him come out of hiding. And as the loyal lapdog the stories paint you as, I knew it’d be a sure thing.”  

You shake your head. “You couldn’t have known that. There’s no way you could make me have false precognitions.”  

He laughs, head thrown back. “And yet, here you are. It really wasn’t that hard at all. I thought a centuries-old being like yourself would be more conscious, more perceptive.”  

You narrow your eyes and pull at the cuffs, ready to wipe that grin off his face. But it's mostly to keep the horror off your face. 

That's why it felt different. That's why you couldn't feel anything. 

He leans down so he’s level with you. “It was easy enough, swiping a used coffee cup. And the spell was even easier, considering I learned from the Order.”  

Your heart sinks. Warrens is a disciple of the Burgess'. 

And he wants to finish what they started.

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