#or then from space themed name to flower name to normal name

[helaintoloki]

Winter Flower

pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x reader

warnings: themes of kidnapping, drugging, violence, trauma, suggestive content. mentions of pregnancy, eventual happy ending

notes: wanted to try writing something out of my comfort zone so pls let me know what you think and if you’d like to see more!

summary: fate binds you to the Winter Soldier, but will it be enough to keep you together when you’re constantly being pulled apart?

“We’ve decided to give you a new pet.”

The Winter Soldier isn’t sure what to make of the barely conscious woman that’s been carelessly thrown at his feet by his handlers, but he knows better than to ask questions by now. His handlers seem to find his predicament comical as they laugh at a joke the Asset is not a part of and watch the scene unfold with malevolent smiles.

The woman, unbeknownst to the soldier, had undergone weeks of physical torture and anguish as various Hydra doctors poked and prodded at her mind and body until there was not a single ounce of fight left in her body. She’d been battered and bruised until she was almost nothing, and in the end it had all been a complete waste of time. Their hopes for a new weapon were diminished by the discovery that her body had not taken to the serum; her brute strength and aggression had only lasted for three days before she had crashed and returned back to normal. The experiment had failed, and Hydra now looked to their prized possession to dispose of her properly.

“We will let you have your fun,” his handler had snidely remarked before slamming the door shut behind him, leaving the Winter Soldier locked in his holding cell alone with her. She hadn’t moved in the time since she’d arrived, so the man felt it necessary to firmly nudge her ribs with his boot to wake her up. He didn’t want her here, didn’t enjoy a stranger in the only space he could remotely consider his own, and he wanted this to be known.

Slowly, the failed experiment uses every ounce of strength she has left to lift her head and will herself to look up at the man tasked with terminating life. Unlike the soldier, she knows why they have thrown her in here with their deadliest killer, and the trembling of her bottom lip reveals her trepidation. He initially expects to feel disdain and disgust for this supposed pet that lies at his feet, but when her wide eyes meet his own something inside him shifts.

The Winter Soldier was never one for compassion or empathy; he was programmed to kill without remorse, to void himself of any warmth or humanity, but as he looked down at her his chest swirled with emotions he could not name. It wasn’t pity or mockery, but a compulsive need to protect her from harm the way one wishes to protect a helpless animal from awaiting predators. She is not a pet, but he decides in that moment that she will be his to look after.

Wordlessly, the soldier scoops her limp form off of the tile ground and rests her in the small cot he calls a bed. A pathetic whine of pain leaves her body at the discomfort of being moved around, causing his chest to tighten unbearably. This shouldn’t be happening, there shouldn’t be a sense of longing suffocating his entire being when he gazes upon her weakened form, and yet the man finds himself taking extra care to tuck her under the blankets.

He lets her sleep, keeping careful watch over her form like a guard dog as he seats himself in front of the metal door and basks in her presence.

The Winter Soldier had a new purpose now.

~~~

No one had expected the Asset to become so taken with you.

When the guards came to see if the Soldat had finished the job, they were stunned to find you fast asleep in his bed while he stood watch. They had tried to terminate you themselves only to be met with gruesome ends after just looking at you. The Winter Soldier was adamant that you were not going anywhere, and no one could understand why he had become so fond of you within such a short span of time.

The answer had been discovered a week later by the scientists tasked with creating the new weapon. Though your body had not taken to the physical changes of the serum, they found that it had permanently altered your inner body chemistry and DNA as a result. Your new genetic makeup had triggered something within the Winter Soldier as soon as your eyes had locked with his own, almost as if your blood spoke to his. You were bound together on a biological level by this new serum, and this bond could not be broken.

The deaths of twenty men left Hydra with no choice but to let him keep you as the ordeal was not worth losing more valuable resources than necessary. Your survival did not come without cost, however, and they made it clear that you were expected to earn your keep. The Winter Soldier’s handlers had decided that you could be quite useful in forcing the Asset to comply. The cost of any mistakes or failures were yours to pay, and the possibility of your torture or isolation from one another proved to be a good motivator for the Soldat to execute missions without flaw.

You are an unwilling prisoner in all of this, your freedom taken from under you with no regard to your autonomy, but you know that this is the best possible outcome to have happened to you. Being a pet is much better than being a weapon to abuse or a failed experiment to get rid of, and you know that no real harm can come to you under the protection of the Winter Soldier. You have no choice but to make the most of the course life has chosen for you, and so you fall into your role as his companion.

“I don’t like when you leave,” you utter quietly while making careful work of combing his hair. He is scheduled to be sent away to Italy to locate and execute a deserter known to have important Hydra files with them, and your soldier will be gone for a week. His absence is isolating, and you know that once he is gone a nurse will arrive to hold you down while the doctors drug you to prevent you from causing any problems while he is away. Your brain becomes foggier and foggier with each dosage, and as time goes on the details of your life before the Winter Soldier become hazier until you almost forget everything.

“I must,” is his gruff reply. “It will keep you safe.”

“I want to leave, too,” you whisper despondently, taking great care to ensure your words cannot be heard by anyone other than him. He stiffens, and for a moment you fear being reprimanded, but his quiet utterance in reply has you hopeful for a chance at something better.

“You will.”

~~~

You wake to a man violently grabbing you by the hair and dragging you out of bed. You kick and claw at his arm in a fruitless attempt to free yourself, but he remains unfazed as he drags you to your destination. You know these hallways well enough to know where you are going, and despite your groggy state at having just been woken up from your drug induced slumber you are aware enough to know what is about to come.

Your soldier is waiting for you when you finally arrive to his handler’s office, eyes wide with fury and helplessness as he watches the man lift you by the hair before slamming you back down onto the ground. You cry out in agony and reach for your companion only to have a heavy boot land down onto your hand. The Winter Soldier moves to attack only to have several guns pointed at him, and he is forced with no choice but to stand down and watch you take on the abuse.

“You did not comply with orders, Soldat,” the man says simply, casting an irate glance your way at the sound of your pathetic cries. “I asked you to return with those stolen files and instead you lost them. What good are they to me now?”

A swift kick is driven into your ribcage and you curl into yourself with a sob. His entire body is vibrating with anger, each blow landed only fueling his need for vengeance, and yet he cannot save you. This was the arrangement made, the only reason you were allowed to still be alive, and it was his fault that this was happening to you. A single tear slides down his face at the sound of bone cracking when you take another hit to the ribs, and just when he thinks he can’t take anymore the man raises a hand to signal the assailant to cease his abuse.

“Do not fail again, or next time she will endure worse than a broken rib.”

The guards file out until all that remains is the Winter Soldier and his battered pet that lies unmoving in the center of the room. He’s on you in an instant, hands that were built to kill being used to gently lift your broken form from the ground. Every movement sends painful jolts throughout your body that make you let out pained shrieks and cause his chest to tighten as a result. The Asset cradles you to his chest like a child would their favorite teddy bear and does his best to console you. His metal fingers gingerly comb through your hair as you sob into his chest, and his mind is frenzied with thoughts of how he could ever possibly make this better.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into your neck, his salty tears staining your skin when he presses his face against you. “I’m sorry, my pet.”

You are a prisoner just like him, and he cannot help you when he himself is bound to Hydra forever.

~~~

A week has passed and your injuries have improved gradually overtime, though your Soldat still takes great precaution when touching you or holding you close at night. He handles you with care, and it will never cease to amaze you how a man who was created to be the perfect weapon can be so tender with a woman who would mean nothing to him if not for the serum running through her veins.

He has been gone more often as of late, assisting in the training of a new batch of soldiers. At times you worry he might take to one of them the way he did you, might abandon you in place of a new pet, but from what you have gathered from overheard conversations the scientists had fixed this issue when creating the new serum. They couldn’t risk him showing loyalty to others and chance him deciding to fight back. He was yours, and admittedly you liked it this way. Perhaps it was the constant drugs being put in your system or the isolation of being confined to this building forever, but you loved him.

“I want a name,” you tell him when he returns from a grueling day of training. He looks at you almost puzzled as he removes his tactical clothing in preparation for a shower.

“Name?” He repeats with furrowed brows, planting himself in front of where you sit on the edge of the bed. You open your legs to allow him refuge in between them and hum in approval when he reaches down to gently run his metal fingers along the lines of your jaw.

“I don’t remember mine anymore, or anything before I came here, not completely. I need a name now.”

The Winter Soldier had never stopped to consider these details before you’d brought them to his attention; he didn’t know anything about himself, and he’d forgotten that this was considered abnormal. You had a life before him, an identity, and yet he’d never stopped to try and ask you.

“цветок.” You tilt your head in confusion and he smiles, a rare laugh escaping him as he explains, “Flower.”

He bends forward to press a kiss to the crown of your head, and in that moment you decide you like your new name.

You prefer being his Flower over his Pet, and you make sure to express your gratitude for this change when joining him in the shower.

~~~

Your privileges, while not many, have increased with your time spent as the Winter Soldier’s companion. You aid Hydra in keeping the man in line and ensuring optimal execution on missions, and your permanent bond to him means you never once have tried to escape in his absence. Thus, they felt it appropriate that you finally be able to leave the four walls of your bedroom.

You now have the ability to follow the soldier once a week to training, and you accompany one another to doctor’s visits rather than having them send the physician to you. So long as neither of you screw up, you can continue this routine of leaving your confinement to enjoy a small taste of freedom.

One of your new privileges is the responsibility of grooming the Winter Solider. Now that you can fully be trusted around sharp objects, you can trim his hair and shave his face while he sits back and enjoys how sweetly you fawn over him. Hydra had lost several workers to this task as one accidental tug of hair or cut to his chin could cost them their life, so this was one job they were happy to rid themselves of.

His blue eyes stare intensely up at your scrunched features as you carefully frame the pieces around his face. You work with practiced ease like you’ve done this before, and maybe you have, but there’s no way for either of you to find that out now. Your tongue pokes out discreetly from between your lips while you trim his ends, and the soldier envisions pulling you into his lap then and there to steal a kiss. He’d never do so in front of watchful eyes such as those of the guard who supervise your activity, it’s too intimate and he refuses to share you in such a way, but it brings him solace to envision a word where he can love you without inhibition or fear of putting you in harm’s way.

“I wish they would let you keep it long,” you hum thoughtfully, voice followed by the quiet snipping of the scissors.

“Not good for missions, Flower,” he reminds you before allowing his eyes to flutter shut at the feeling of your fingers combing through his hair.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Not for long,” the man consoles, flesh hand coming to rest on your thigh before giving it a comforting squeeze. “Hydra says I must complete this one last task, and then we both will go to sleep.”

“Sleep?” You repeat hesitantly, pausing your ministrations to meet his steely gaze. His silence has you unnerved, and you return to your previous work in order to distract yourself from the nerves that begin to settle into the pit of your stomach. “Winter, I don’t want to-“

“It is an order, so we must,” he interrupts. He doesn’t mean to be harsh, but he needs you to understand that even with these new freedoms you are still under Hydra’s commands. He cannot risk you becoming bold, becoming defiant, because he knows better than anyone what Hydra does to those who step out of line. He will not have that for you, and he would rather you understand to comply now than have it beat into you later.

You set the scissors down and step back to admire your work. His blue eyes follow your every move as you begin to clean up the mess, and his chest tightens with yearning as he pictures a life of normalcy. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend that you are a normal couple living a regular life- you’re with him because you love him and not because your biology had been programmed to yearn for him only, and your trimming of his hair is an act of love rather than a necessity forced upon him by his handlers. You’ll never know just how much it pains him to know you will never truly be his, and it is his fault you have been subjected to this life.

“Winter,” you call out gently, breaking the man from his obvious turmoil. You say his name so gently, different from what he is used to. His lips barely quirk into a smile, and for you that is a win. “I love you.”

Placing his metal hand on the back of your neck, he carefully pulls you closer so that your foreheads are pressed together. You can feel the gentle fanning of his breath on your face as his nose gently brushes against your own and inhales your scent. One day he will free you from this cage, even if it is at his own expensive.

“I love you.”

~~~

Your Winter returns to you in shambles and it scares you.

You’ve never seen him so frenzied, so unsure of himself and the world around him. His eyes are welled with tears, and he’s on you the moment he spots you, nearly yanking you out of bed as he pulls you impossibly tight to his chest and begins to comb his fingers through your hair.

“Winter?” You whisper meekly while scrambling to find purchase in his hold. You feel his hot tears trickle down onto your neck and the tremble of his hands as they splay across your back, but his hold never relinquishes.

“There was a man,” he shakily whispers into your hair, faltering to swallow the rising bile in his throat, “a man on a bridge.”

“What happened?”

“I knew him,” he whispers agonizingly, the turmoil evident in his tone. His shoulders tremble with each sob he fights to hold back, but the feel of your fingers gently rubbing circles into shoulders allows him the strength to continue. “He called me- he called me Bucky.”

Your features contort into a frown as you hold the sobbing man impossibly tight. You know just how difficult it is to have no semblance of your past or your identity before Hydra, but you can’t imagine just how awful it is to be given a piece of the puzzle only to have nowhere to place it. You want to help him but you don’t know how, and it pains you to be so useless.

“I think he knew you, too,” you reassure him quietly in case of any prying ears. “Maybe Bucky is your name, and this man is a friend. Maybe… maybe he can help us.”

The soldier stiffens at your words, carefully pulling himself out of your grasp to meet your gaze. You fear that perhaps you’ve misspoken and angered your companion, but once you see the rare glimpse of hope shining through his tears you realize your words have struck a chord within him.

With feverish movements he pulls your body back to him and slams his lips onto your own, swallowing your startled gasp and pushing you back towards the mattress. You accept him willingly and without complaint; you let him take you over and over again to the point of exhaustion until neither of you can hold yourselves up any longer. He worships you, comforts you, ensures to you that he will take this new lead and run with it until he can gain your freedom. His mission has always been you, and you trust him with your entire being to complete it.

They come for him hours later. The door to your room slams open, and two guards stand on the other side. Despite your entangled limbs and state of undress, you know well enough to immediately move yourself out of the way by pressing yourself as far back into the corner of the wall as possible. They grab him roughly by the arms before dragging him out of bed, and you watch helplessly from behind the cover of the sheets as he is taken from you once more. Despite the roughness in which they handle him, his eyes remain gentle as they look upon you fondly, and your heart sinks in your stomach when you note how differently this gaze feels. The door shuts harshly behind him, and a part of you fears that the look on his face wasn’t an expression of love.

It was his way of saying goodbye.

~~~

You haven’t seen your Winter in three weeks, and no one has come to check on you in five days.

You feel like you’re losing your sanity with each second that passes- you never thought you’d miss the interactions that came with your daily injections or the physical touch of the nurse holding you down. You’re thirsty, starving, dirty, delirious, and spiraling in your isolation. What could have happened to make them abandon the Winter Soldier’s pet? What could have happened to make him abandon you? Maybe he’s dead, or maybe he had never truly cared about you enough to get you out of this place, and you’re not sure which is worse.

You think you’re dreaming at first when the door to your prison slowly begins to creak open, and the sudden downpour of light is so blinding you can barely make out the figure standing before you. You whine and tightly shut your eyes, but you’re still able to hear the careful footsteps that approach you as if you’re a scared animal who might bite at any sudden movements.

“I’ve got something,” the feminine voice murmurs. “East Wing, last door to the right. They left someone behind.”

You attempt to open your eyes again and are met with the kind features of a woman. She offers you a comforting smile and attempts to reach for you only to flinch, but she’s quick to immediately retract her hands and hold them up in surrender. It’s clear she doesn’t want to scare you, but your bouts of torture and mental scarring don’t allow you to trust so easily. The Hydra nurses had often smiled at you the same way before strapping you down and aiding in your torment.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she coaxes softly, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Are you with Hydra?”

She shakes her head. “My name is Natasha, and I’m an Avenger. My friends and I are here to help you. Can you tell me your name?”

The name strikes a chord within you, but it isn’t impactful enough for you to truly grasp her importance or bring recognition to your mind. It is enough, however, for her to gain your trust and answer her with a quiet utterance of the word, “Flower.”

She hums thoughtfully before extending her hand to you again, and this time you take it without trepidation. Natasha slowly helps you to your feet, but your lack of nutrition and dehydrated state causes you to keel over immediately. The woman catches you in her arms and keeps you upright by allowing you to lean against her, but there’s evident worry on her features now that she fully knows the extent of your physical state. You appear weak and frail, delirious, and she hates to even think about what has happened to you during your stay at the Hydra base.

“Nat,” a new voice calls, and you muster up enough strength to lift your head and lock eyes with the man in the doorway. His features are kind and his eyes blue like your Winter’s, and his build nearly takes up the entire frame. His brows are etched with concern once they catch sight of you, and he’s quick to assist Natasha in guiding you out of the room.

“Flower, this is Steve,” she introduces in a hushed tone, “can he pick you up so we can get out of here faster?”

“I can’t leave,” you murmur hoarsely, eyes beginning to well with tears.

“It’s okay, no one is going to hurt you now if you leave,” she tries to assure you only for you to vehemently shake your head.

“If I leave he won’t know where I am o-or how to find me.”

“Who won’t know?” Steve presses gently, catching your figure as you stumble into his grasp before bursting into a fit of sobs.

“Winter,” you choke, too lost in your crying fit to note the way Steve’s body stiffens at the mention of the man. He shares an uneasy glance with Natasha before composing himself and offering you comfort through the careful rubbing of your back. Your cries echo throughout the abandoned Hydra base and send chills through the Captain’s spine.

He isn’t sure what the next step is or what to even make of this situation. They had been sent here to explore the Hydra base in search of any remaining personnel or files after the aftermath of Pierce, and while he had hoped to find some trace of Bucky he hadn’t been prepared for a battered woman to be the only link left to his missing friend.

Carefully lifting your frail body off the ground and into his arms, Steve trails closely behind Natasha as the two make their exit. You’re an inconsolable mess, but Steve does his best to offer the only words he can think of.

“We’ll find him, I promise.”

You never thought you’d ever get to see the sunlight again, but when Steve carries you over the threshold of the base and out into the open world you find yourself being blinded by its brightness. The feel of fresh air is jarring, its warmth kissing your skin as you are carried into their awaiting jet and set on the softest gurney you’ve ever been on. A multitude of voices surround you, but you can’t seem to focus on anything but the simple fact that no longer are you a prisoner to Hydra and their abuse.

You are free.

~~~

It took hours for Natasha to settle you so Bruce could properly examine you, but no one could blame you for your aversion to doctors and fear of needles. No one had ever been as patient or kind with you as they had been during the process of running blood tests, conducting a psychological profile, and settling you in with an IV to get you hydrated again. You clung to the Black Widow like a lifeline, but she never once seemed to mind. You almost got the impression that she understood the horrors that you’d been through, and that was enough for you to put your entire trust in her.

While your tests are being conducted, Tony and Steve sit in the intelligence room staring at the profile before them on the screen. Your innocent face stares back at the two men, a stark contrast to the woman who sits in the exam room with Banner and Romanoff. Your face is youthful and full of life, and the longer Steve stares at your photo the more the knot in his stomach twists.

“Her name is y/n y/l/n. She was a hairstylist in Manhattan before she was declared missing,” Tony reads along solemnly.

“Does she have any family we can contact?” Steve asks only for his counterpart to shake his head dejectedly.

“Parents passed away when she was in college and there’s no immediate family left. Hydra knew what they were doing when they picked her for their program.”

Sighing, Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in rumination before leaning in back into his chair. He felt a sense of responsibility when it came to your wellbeing; though he didn’t know the exact nature of your relationship with Bucky, he knew you must have been important to him considering how worried you were about him finding you, and that mean you were important to Steve now too. But there was so little to work with when it came to helping you enter back into the real world again, and who knew how long it would take for you to reacclimatize to your newfound freedom.

“This poor girl was tortured for who knows how long. If I could have found her sooner-“

“Hey, don’t do that to yourself,” Tony interrupts with a deep frown, “that doesn’t help anyone. We have her here now, and we’re going to get her the best treatment money can buy to help her get through all of this.”

Before Steve can reply, the two men are interrupted by the presence of Dr. Banner who holds a folder of tests results in his hands. The Captain is on his feet immediately, looking at Bruce expectantly with bated breath as he waits for the prognosis.

“As we suspected, there is super soldier serum running through her veins. However, it appears dormant since she showed no signs of increased strength or aggression or any other possible abilities. We’re not sure what effect it has on her, but I think she should be able to live a relatively normal life despite it being active in her system.”

“You couldn’t remove it?” Tony questions.

“She didn’t want me to. She said it’s what keeps her connected to Barnes, what kept him from killing her when Hydra dumped her on him.”

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Steve murmurs quietly. “Will she be okay?”

“Well, it’s going to take some time for her to psychologically recover from the torture and the isolation she endured, but there is a good chance her memories can be restored with time as well. Physically I’d say she’ll recover, and I’ll ask again when she’s in a better mental state about removing the serum, but…”

The hesitation in his voice is clear, prompting Tony and Steve to exchange uneasy glances before urging him to go on.

“What is it, Bruce?” Tony presses. Sighing, Banner adjusts the frames of his glasses and looks between the two men before landing his eyes on your holographic picture. He doesn’t want to voice the reality of the situation, but he knows he must if they want to help you.

Finally, he replies, “She’s pregnant.”

The room becomes deafly silent as the doctor’s words hang in the air, and it feels like ages before Steve finally works up the nerve to speak.

“Pregnant?” He nearly gawks in astonishment, clearly not believing the words he’s hearing.

“The blood tests and an ultrasound both came up conclusive,” Bruce confirms solemnly.

“And the father?” Steve hesitates to ask.

“Based on the details she shared with Nat, I think it’s safe to say that Barnes is the father.”

“So you’re telling me this woman is carrying a baby super soldier?” Tony questions bluntly much to Steve’s chagrin.

“It would be appear that way, yes,” Bruce replies almost annoyed at Tony’s poor choice of words.

“Is it safe?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I think the serum running through her veins increases her chances of survival and the possibility of a relatively normal pregnancy. We’ll just have to keep an eye on her in the meantime and hope for the best.”

“Well, Rogers, it looks like you’re going to be an Uncle,” Tony congratulates with a hearty clap to his back in an attempt to lighten the mood. Though Steve doesn’t exactly appreciate the jokes, his nerves are somewhat put at ease when he continues, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets everything she needs for the super tyke.”

It seems that finding Bucky is more important now than ever, and Steve is determined to do whatever it takes to reunite you with the man you love.

No matter the cost.

~~~

It’s been two months since you were freed from Hydra’s prison, but sometimes it only feels like just yesterday you’d been tangled in the sheets with your lover planning your escape. Should you even call him that? You’re not sure anymore. Your new therapist had affirmed you were an unwilling participant in all that had happened to you, but so was he, and he had taken care of you as best as he could given the circumstances you found yourselves in. You think you do love him even if she says you’d only forced yourself to feel that way as a means to survive.

Along with a new therapist, you’d been given all the resources possible to start your life over. Despite their insistence that you were welcome to stay at the Avenger’s compound while you healed, you were adamant about wanting the autonomy that came with having your own apartment. You wanted to learn to be your own person again, to live in your own space by your own schedule, so Tony had helped you find the perfect apartment in a quiet part of town.

Steve visited nearly every day to ensure you and the baby were doing alright considering he felt you were his responsibility now in Bucky’s absence. No leads have been found yet on the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier, but he is doing his damndest to find Bucky by all means. Natasha stops by every once and while when Steve cannot, offering you company and support during your transitional period.

Your body has healed from the grueling abuse you’d endured, but it’s taking your mind a little longer to catch up. You remember your name now, your real name, and vague remnants of your past, but it isn’t enough for you to complete the full picture. Bruce says it will take some time for you to regain your memories, but you’re not oblivious to the possibility that your mind might not ever be fully restored.

Natasha had accompanied you to another ultrasound appointment to check on the health of the baby and your own before taking you grocery shopping. The doctors say you’re almost three months along with a perfectly healthy baby, and Nat had cooed sweetly at the grainy image displayed for you both on the screen. You never knew how exactly to feel every time they showed you the baby- you didn’t hate it or detest the fact that you were pregnant, but the circumstances in which it had all occurred certainly weren’t ideal, and it served as a reminder that you would be going into this alone.

Once you were coherent enough, Steve had sat you down and carefully explained that your Winter once went by the name of James Barnes, though most people just called him Bucky. He told you of their friendship and how he had thought him to be dead all these years until the incident on the bridge, and he assured you he was doing everything in his power to bring you both together again. Of course, that had been a month ago, and Bucky was nowhere to be seen. It pained you to know that he wouldn’t be here to experience any milestones with you, to see his child grow inside you, to hold them and love them and enjoy his chance at having a family. You were supposed to start a new life together, but instead you and your little one are all alone.

You step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment with an arm full of groceries after finally making the trip home. Natasha had offered to help you bring them up, but you insisted you’d be fine on your own. You look forward to the hearty soup you plan to make for dinner and to frame the latest ultrasound on your fridge, and you don’t mind the fact that most days you dine alone. You’ve learned to get used to solitude once more, though it helps when it’s out of your own volition and not because you’ve been locked away in your own personal prison cell.

The apartment is quiet and untouched when you enter and hang your keys on the wall, but it’s only once you make it to the kitchen that you realize there is an intruder standing in your home. Your newly bought groceries fall to the floor with a deafening thud, fruits and vegetables scattering everywhere as you stare at the familiar pair of blue eyes that pierce straight through you. His hair has gotten longer again and his features are covered in stubble, but you know it is him.

“Winter?” You whisper in a trembling voice, afraid that if you speak any louder he might just disappear.

“Flower,” he breathes out, and before you can even blink he’s on you in an instant. Your frame is lifted from the ground when he picks you up in a bone crushing hug, one hand wrapped around your midsection while the other cradles the back of your head. He breathes in your scent as you nestle your face into the crook of his neck and begin to sob with the amalgamation of emotions within you. You missed him terribly, but you hated him for abandoning you and for loving you so much that Hydra had decided you were too valuable a resource to lose, and yet you were so relieved to see him alive and breathing in your little apartment.

“You left me,” you sob into his neck which prompts him to tighten his hold on you in response. “You promised you’d come back.”

“I could never leave you,” he hushes you, trembling lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “I could never ever leave you. I tried to come back for you but you were gone, and I couldn’t risk coming near you with the Avengers around or else they might take me away from you.”

“They wouldn’t do that, Steve has been looking for you. He promised we’d get to be together.”

“That isn’t his promise to make,” the man utters solemnly, finally relinquishing his hold on you so he can step back and admire your beautiful tear stained face. You look so different from the last time he’d seen you; your face was fuller and brighter, and the length of your hair had changed, but you were still just as beautiful as ever. “Flower-“

“Y/n,” you interrupt him. He falters at the name and furrows his brows in confusion until you clarify, “my real name is y/n. And yours is James, but Steve calls you Bucky.”

A look of recognition washes over his features and he nods. “We were… friends.”

“Steve can help us,” you attempt to reassure him again, but Bucky is not so easily convinced.

“No, no, I can’t… I can’t stay here. Many people want me dead, so it’s better to just disappear.”

“Disappear?” You blanch, already feeling the panic beginning to bubble within you. Your hands begin to tremble and you take a step away from him as you desperately try to process his words. “No, you can’t- you can’t leave me again!”

“I came here to say goodbye,” he admits solemnly before gently taking your shaky hands in his own. “You deserve to have a life without me in it.”

“I don’t want that!” You insist through tears only for him to shush you.

“My Flower, the serum bound us together, but it doesn’t mean that I have the right to ruin your chance at freedom. There is no future with me, a life on the run is not what you deserve. I will not put you through torment again. I-“

“I’m pregnant,” you finally blurt to get him to shut up. His wide eyes and stunned silence prove that your methods are effective. You feel his hold on you tighten as he takes a pensive swallow and slowly looks you up and down.

“Pregnant?” He repeats quietly in disbelief.

“I’m pregnant, and that means I do deserve a life with you in it. I deserve to raise our baby with you, to have you by my side. Please don’t leave me again.”

Tears steadily fall down your cheeks, and Bucky is quick to cup your face in his hands so that he may wipe them away. The apartment is quiet as he soaks up the news he’s just been given. He once thought he’d spend the rest of his life a slave to Hydra with nothing to lose and nothing to keep, but then he’d met you and everything had changed. You were his mission, his reason to fight, and now so was this baby. The answer is clear right in front of him, so he takes it.

“Pack a bag,” he urges you gently. “Pack a bag so we can leave and start over somewhere else together.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his insistence, but you don’t think twice about scurrying off to your room and gathering whatever items will fit in your bag. You did want a new life, a fresh start, but no apartment in New York would fill the hole within you caused by Bucky’s absence if he left you behind. You are grateful to the Avengers, to all they have done for you, but Bucky is right. Your chance at a happy life is not their promise to make.

You leave a note for Natasha and Steve to find explaining that you are safe and will be okay on your own, that they don’t have to look for you and can rest assured knowing you are perfectly happy wherever it is you are. You thank them for everything and leave behind the keys to your apartment, taking one last look at the place before following Bucky to his getaway vehicle.

“Where will we go?”

He rests a comforting hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze before meeting your gaze. The hopeful glimmer in your eyes fills his heart with warmth and only further fuels his need to protect you and ensure your happiness. He hopes he’s doing the right thing by bringing you along with him.

“Romania,” he finally answers. “I think you’ll like it there.”

~~~

The soft cries from the bassinet rouse you from your slumber, but Bucky is gently pushing you back into bed before you can even remove the covers.

“I got it,” he murmurs hoarsely, sleep still evident in his voice when he speaks. The sun is barely beginning to rise as its warmth seeps through the curtains, and you comfortably stretch yourself awake in bed as Bucky brings the mewling infant to your awaiting embrace. “Hungry again.”

“It feels like she always is,” you jest with a fond smile while lifting your shift and allowing the infant to nurse. Bucky presses a kiss to your temple and repeats the act to your child before retreating into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee for the start of your day.

Your life in Bucharest has been relatively quiet for the past year. As Bucky had promised, you’d made a fresh start in a new home for yourself, a home of your choosing where you could live in peace with your daughter and without worry of anyone finding your hidden paradise. Time had helped heal you both, and though there was still much progress to be made, becoming parents had softened you both and given you all the more motivation to be better versions of yourselves for your daughter.

Natalia Rose Barnes had been born eight months ago in a small hospital room and was deemed perfectly healthy despite your initial concerns of how the serum might affect her growth. She was the most beautiful little creature Bucky had ever seen, and his heart had bursted with pride when you’d handed her to him for the first time. He never once thought it possible for him to have a family, to take part of the creation of something so innocent and sweet after years of atrocities committed by his own hands, and yet here he was watching her tiny hand wrap tightly around his metal fingers.

Your days consisted of staying home to take care of Rosie while Bucky completed odd jobs around Bucharest to earn money. You practiced journaling often to keep track of old memories that would resurface with time to allow you to continue piecing your life together, and Bucky did the same. The thought of the Winter Soldier reawakening always lingered at the back of his mind, but he made it his mission that he would never show that part of himself to your daughter or to you ever again. You were no longer Winter and Flower but Bucky and y/n, and he was determined to keep it that way at all costs.

“I have to go out into town for groceries today,” he informs you whilst holding the cup of coffee to your lips and allowing you to take a drink. “Rose needs diapers, and we’re out of plums.”

You hum thoughtfully in response and reply, “If there is enough money leftover can you stop at the bakery for muffins?”

“Of course,” Bucky replies with a gentle grin, gently brushing his knuckles against your chin. “Anything you want.”

“I think Rosie and I will go for a walk in the park today,” you tell him. “Maybe you can join us once you’re done and we can walk home together.”

“I’d like that,” he affirms. You know how paranoid Bucky gets when you and Rose are alone, especially when it’s out in public, but he tries not to restrict your freedom too much and allows you to do certain things on your own.

You both prepare separately for your days and accompany one another out of the apartment. Bucky assists you in setting up the stroller and strapping a sleeping Rose in her seat, and he gives you a tender kiss before parting ways with you. The day is bright and beautiful, and your heart is content as you walk through the streets of Bucharest and to the local park.

You don’t have any friends or family in Romania, so you appreciate the friendliness of locals that greet you in passing or simply offer a smile your way. Many people especially like to stop and fawn over Natalia, so your guard is down when a woman seats herself next to you on the park bench and interrupts your journaling by cooing at your daughter.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, I-“ you begin to say only to freeze once you look up from your writing to acknowledge the stranger. She gives you a pointed look, but her smile is playful as she watches you process her presence before you. “Natasha?!”

“You’re hard to find, you know,” she quips with a raised brow, but she isn’t given a reply when you instead choose to throw yourself into her arms and hold her impossibly tight.

“I-I can’t believe you’re here,” you breathe in disbelief, eyes welling with tears at the comfort that comes with seeing a familiar face.

“I can’t believe you already had the baby,” she replies before pulling out of your hold to take in your face. “Are you alright? Banner was worried it might be hard on you because of the serum.”

“It was perfectly safe, Rose and I made it out fine.”

“Rose?” Natasha repeats before casting her gaze to the cooing baby sitting in the stroller.

“Well, her middle name is Rose, but her first name is Natalia,” you correct with a sheepish smile after seeing the way Natasha looks at you in surprise. “I wanted to name her after someone important, and after everything you did for me it only felt right.”

“I’m… honored,” she expresses, still getting over the initial shock. A new emotion flashes across her face for a split second before becoming unreadable again, but you detect the change before she can hide it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking you first,” You immediately jump to apologize in fear of upsetting her. You’d been so excited to see her you hadn’t even considered the fact she might be irritated with you for leaving without a trace and not bothering to reach out with your new location.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… well, it makes this next part a little harder,” she admits mournfully, taking in the way your eyes widen slightly and lips begin to pull into a frown at her sudden change in demeanor. “As much as I wish I could say I’m here for a friendly visit, I’m actually here to bring you in for questioning.”

“What?” You gape in quiet bewilderment. You can already feel the unease beginning to grow at her serious tone, and your mind is racing with possibilities of what you could possibly be in trouble for.

“A bomb was recently planted at the Vienna International Centre and killed several UN representatives including King T’Chaka of Wakanda. Security footage revealed that the person responsible for this was Barnes.”

“That’s… that’s impossible!” You immediately argue, mind scrambling to catch up with the news Natasha has just dumped on you. Your heart is racing in your chest and body beginning to feel the oncomings of a panic attack when you realize your peaceful little life in Bucharest has been abruptly ended by a false accusation. “He couldn’t have done that, we’ve been together almost every day with Rosie.”

“They have him on camera, y/n. My hands are tied. I’ve been asked to bring you in because of your connection to Barnes, but if you can honestly say he’s been with you here in Bucharest this entire time then that might help him out. Steve and Sam should be with him right now.”

You can almost feel the hope draining out of you as you process the fact that the life you’d built for yourself was crashing down all around you. No matter how far you run, the past continues to catch up to you both. Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, he’s trying to be better, and you wish others could see him for who he is rather than for what he has done.

“I’ll go with you if you promise they won’t take Rosie away from me,” you urge her. Natasha frowns.

“I can’t promise that, but I can promise that no matter what happens she’ll be safe. Can you trust me on that?”

You do, and that’s why you follow her willingly to Berlin for questioning. Bucky is already there when you arrive, and your heart breaks when you see how they have chosen to restrain him. His eyes are filled with sorrow at the sight of you and Rosie being escorted to a separate room, and he wants nothing more than to be there for you both, but he can do nothing as you are taken from him once again.

The prime focus is on Bucky, so you sit alone in the interrogation room for some time before the door finally opens and Steve enters. He has a tired smile on his face meant to hold up his facade while he hands you a glass of water.

“I thought you might need this,” he offers before taking a seat across from you.

“Are you here to question me?”

“No, I’m here as a friend. I don’t think you should be locked away in a room like this on your own.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” you offer bluntly. You don’t mean to be crass, but you’re beginning to become fed up with constantly having your life uprooted without any consideration of your feelings or autonomy. You didn’t choose this life for yourself or plan for it to be this way, yet it seemed you were always being punished for loving a tortured man who was trying to do better.

Despite your brashness, the air is void of tension and instead filled with the happy babbles of Rosie who continuously tries to reach across the table for Steve. She has Bucky’s eyes and his smile, and Steve feels a sense of protectiveness wash over him every time he looks at her. He has a duty to you and to Rosie to help prove Bucky’s innocence, and he hopes you’ll be able to see that he is on your side no matter what.

“Would you like to hold her?” You ask him after noting the way he eyes her so intently. He happily obliges, and you’re filled with a sense of ease to see your baby being coddled by Captain America. At the very least Rosie has a super powered support system, and this fact helps alleviate some of your stress.

“She’s gorgeous,” Steve compliments, allowing the girl to press her hands against his face in exploration. “This is all I ever wanted for Bucky. A chance to have the life that was taken from him, to start a family with a nice girl who loved him despite all he’s endured. I just wish it could have happened differently.”

“I know,” you reply solemnly before casting your gaze to your hands resting in your lap in order to hide your welling tears. “I do too.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the blaring sounds of an alarm. The interrogation room is coated in red, and Rosie begins to shriek at the assaulting noise. You look to Steve with wide and fearful eyes when he quickly rises from his seat and hands you back your daughter. The alarms are reminiscent of the ones at the Hydra base, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart for the sake of your baby. Steve rests a gentle hand on your shoulder and provides you a reassuring squeeze before instructing you to stay put.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” he avows before bolting out of the room. Your breathing comes in quick gasps as you press yourself to the furtherest corner of the wall and slowly sink to the floor with a crying Rosie to the floor. Your mind attempts to retrieve the therapeutic techniques you’d been taught to help you deal with such episodes, but none of them come to fruition fast enough for you to settle. You feel like you can’t breathe, and the blaring alarm has turned into a distant ringing as you curl in on yourself with the baby pressed tightly to your chest.

You don’t know long you’re stuck waiting in that room, unable to differentiate between minutes or hours, but you’re finally freed from your prison when the door swings open and Natasha rushes to your side.

“We gotta go,” she urges you whilst helping your trembling figure off the ground.

“Natasha, what’s going on?! Where’s Bucky?!” Your press for information falls on deaf ears as she uses one arm to keep you close to her form while the other holds out her gun for potential attacks. “We can’t leave him!”

“Someone activated the Winter Soldier,” she finally answers you after ensuring the area is secure and urging you forward. “It’s not safe for you or the baby.”

“No…” you breathe out before stopping in your tracks, “no, that’s not right.”

“Y/n, we don’t have time-“

“He wouldn’t hurt me, Natasha. The serum, it-“

“I’m not taking any chances,” she states adamantly before forcing you along with her to the exit. You can only stumble after her quick pace and follow her to safety while Bucky wreaks havoc on the building. The next few moments are a blur once you’re shoved into the back of a military van and sped off to a secondary location. The building grows further and further away, separating you and Bucky once more.

~~~

A warm breeze brushes through the grass around you, serene and comforting while you stare pensively at the lake before you. You’d sat at a lake like this once years ago with your parents when they were still alive, and it brought you the same comfort then that it did now. The world is calm here in your bubble, and you think you can finally breathe.

Rosie sits a few feet away from you in the grass playing with two of the local girls from the nearby village. The children adore your toddler and flock to visit her nearly everyday, but you don’t mind. This is what you had always wanted for her, to see her play with other children and know a world of peace where no harm could come to her. This was the most relatively normal childhood she could have, and you were grateful to be here in Wakanda.

After the Winter Soldier had been activated that fateful day, Natasha had stashed you and Rosie into a safe house while she dealt with the aftermath. Days passed before Steve finally came to get you, and you were promptly taken to be reunited with Bucky in Wakanda where T’Challa had granted you both asylum. They would work to erase his programming while you were there, and you would get to raise Rosie without the fear of having to up and leave at a moment’s notice. You’ll be forever indebted to the King for his kindness towards your family, and you truly think this could be the end of all your worries.

Your rumination is interrupted by the shifting of the grass when a new presence joins your side, and almost by instinct do you immediately lean into his side and rest your head upon his shoulder. You sometimes still expect to feel the sensation of cool metal against your cheek, but his appendage is gone now along with the Winter Soldier. Time has healed your husband, and there is no chance of anyone using him as a weapon now.

“I never thought life could be like this,” he voices aloud, a small smile forming on his lips at the sound of Rosie’s echoing laughter.

“It’s nice here,” you agree quietly. “Peaceful. We don’t have to run anymore.”

There’s a pause of silence following your words before he speaks again. “I don’t think I ever thanked you.”

His comment has you turning to look at him in puzzlement, your brows furrowing with uncertainty at what he’s trying to convey.

“Thanked me?”

He nods before shifting his gaze to you. His face is melancholic and full of sincerity when he reaches for your hand to take in his own. His eyes are swimming with devotion and admiration, and it has your stomach doing a nervous flip at the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“For giving me this second chance, for giving me a family. Hydra brought our paths together and the serum bonded us to one another, but Banner could have removed it from your system so you could live a normal life in Manhattan without a connection to me. You refused it. And when I returned you followed me to Romania despite me trying to set you free. You loved me anyway despite all you’d been through with me, you never gave up on me. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

You smile up at him with complete adoration and devotion before resting a hand upon his cheek. He immediately melts at your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he releases a relaxed breath and savors the feel of your palm against his skin.

“You’ll never have to thank me for that,” you assure him with complete sincerity. “I will love you for the rest of my life with or without some stupid serum. We came into each other’s lives for a reason, and this is it.”

You pull him towards you for a passionate kiss that both of you ensure to savor before returning your gazes to the landscape before you. The sun sparkles on the water while the wind rustles through grass, and Rosie begins to make her clumsy ascent towards you both with hands outstretched for her father. Bucky is quick to pull her into his chest and hold her securely in his lap as your little family enjoys a peaceful afternoon in Wakanda.

Life is still and perfect, and for now you can continue to remain in your peaceful bubble blissfully unaware of the dangers yet to come.

[thepeaklegendoffirstgen]

Okay, hear me out (I know this might be controversial but still…) I love both James and Jaegyeon but they are fundamentally different as lovers. Here’s my no-sugarcoating, brutally honest two cents on how each of them would be in a relationship:

Jaegyeon:He comes off like a total bitch on the surface, but deep down? He’s a devastatingly soft, pining, and hopelessly devoted puppy. At first, he won’t act gentlemanly—nope, not even close. Especially during his current blonde era, he gives off that annoying energy of guys who watch YouTube videos about how they're "too tough" to need a girl. But plot twist? He has a massive crush on that one girl who shows up at the same petrol pump as him.He’ll pursue you, but in an incredibly tsundere way. Like:

“Why are you even talking to that guy? He’s totally going to break your heart.”

“And why do you care, Mr. Na?”

Rough around the edges? No—very rough. But gradually, once you start noticing the little things he does—like letting you into his car even though it just came out of service, stocking your favorite drinks just in case, or quietly dropping you home—you realize there’s a tenderness there. He’s not bad. Not at all.

Once you’re actually in a relationship, though? Don’t expect roses and candlelit dinners. Sorry—no flowers and cheesy stuff. Fights will happen. Screaming, shouting—you name it. But in the middle of it all, he’ll catch himself, stop, and try to pull you into a cuddle. Still, he’ll give you space when needed… albeit very, very reluctantly.

You can be completely silly with him too—he’s totally down for theme parks, cat cafés, and dancing in the rain.

Now the not-so-pretty part: If you guys ever break up, he will let you go. Not in a “get lost, I’m better off” kind of way, but because he loves you too much to keep hurting you. His maturity will come through here. It’ll hurt—a lot. He’ll be a mess after the breakup. Jealous if you move on. But eventually, when he sees you smile genuinely after a long time, that aching part of him will finally let go.

Now to ......

James: Let’s skip teenage James for now (that deserves a whole other conversation) and talk about adult James—both when he was an idol and now as he is.

When he was still in the industry and you two were together, he wouldn’t even look at anyone from the entertainment world. Not because you were some “special princess” above actresses or models—no. It’s just that the risk was far greater. He already had Charles breathing down his neck, and a relationship with someone inside the industry would be much harder to hide. So weighing on the scale of vulnerability, dating someone outside, someone “normal,” was easier to conceal, protect, and cherish.

That said, James will be a gentleman. Gallant, suave, respectful—he treats you like a lady.But he’ll make it up to you with luxury—gifts, trips, anything you want—except his time.

Even in arguments, he won’t raise his voice. He’ll stay calm and composed. He’s the type who’ll quietly keep track of your preferences, your quirks, your dreams—you’ll feel like the one person in the world he truly sees. And you are. You’re the tiny corner of his heart he protects at all costs.

So what could go wrong, right?

Here’s where it gets dark : At his core, James is a manipulator. He’s soft on the surface but harbors a cold, calculating fury beneath. During fights, he won’t scream—but the words he says will sting deeper than any shout. “Sorry” won’t fix the wounds he leaves behind.

He’ll say: “You don’t need to know everything, sweetheart. I’ve already taken care of it.”

He always thinks he knows best. And when your relationship teeters on the edge, and you want to leave?

He. Won’t. Let. You.

You’re his. The only one who’s ever held his heart—and he expects you to cherish that privilege.

Who are you going to leave me for? Who could possibly compare to "James Lee" or "Diego Kang"—for the world?

He has the looks, the money, the power. And if you try to walk away? He’ll make it painfully hard. You’ll suddenly realize what it feels like to pry something from a lion’s mouth.

Now, I’m not saying he’s some yandere (ew, please no—I hate that trope). But in my interpretation, this is just how things would unfold.

To wrap it up: Being with Jaegyeon is chaotic, rough, and emotionally intense—but the guy’s got the right heart.Being with James? It’s a dream… until it’s not. And if you ever try to end things, be prepared: leaving James Lee is not something anyone does easily.

[societyfolklore]

Dangerous Notes - Part 11

Dangerous Notes - Part 11

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Singer!Female Reader

Fic Summary: Reluctantly agreeing to fill in for her sick friend at a prestigious jazz club, The Armoury, Reader finds herself thrust into a world of old-world glamour and unknown danger. The club’s enigmatic owner, Bucky Barnes, has set his sights on making her a permanent fixture on his stage-and in his life.

Chapter Summary: You thought the stage was the only place you could breathe—until even that began to feel like another kind of cage. Tonight, your voice betrays more than you mean it to, and Bucky Barnes is there to collect the pieces.

Word Count:  4.4k

Fic Warnings: // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI,Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Possessive/Obsessive behaviour, Violence, Smut (eventually), Emotional manipulation / subtle coercion, Mob activity,   Chapter Warnings:  Manipulation and coercive, Bucky being a dick,power imbalance, Emotional vulnerability and psychological tension, Possessive behavior, Descriptions of anxiety, guilt, and emotional exhaustion, Mild sexual tension with undertones of control, Financial pressure and implied financial control, Mentions of identity questioning

A/N: Dangerous Note is updated Thursday – On a biweekly schedule.  Please be kind, I started my new job this week and my creative brain is crashing out.

You didn’t even realize you were still on the couch until the silence felt too heavy.

The call had ended minutes ago, but your phone still rested in your hand, screen dark, the soft echo of the debt collector’s closing words still lingering like smoke in your ears. You’d made the payment. A dent. A whisper of reprieve. Not enough to be free. Just enough to taste it. Just enough to turn the weight of that envelope from salvation into something sour. 

The money was supposed to be the icing on your pretty little cake- a polished perk, a gentle bonus for doing what you loved. It was meant to feel like a gift, a reward for letting yourself perform again, not the chain it had suddenly become, a chance to sing again, get paid.. paid well enough for it to help.. and yet now..

The thought barely cleared before the nausea started. It wasn’t just the number in your bank account that had changed- it was you. You felt forced into a shape you didn't recognize. Something invisible had shifted. As if you'd crossed a line you couldn’t uncross. The price of relief wasn’t zero. It was just deferred.

You rubbed your thumb across the edge of your screen, thumb pressing firm like you could erase the shame bleeding into your skin. It didn’t feel like relief. It felt like blood money. Like hush money. Like proof.

And still, part of you had breathed easier the moment the hold music cut out. That part shamed you most of all.

Your phone buzzed again.

Frank

His name and text bubble flashing up on the screen. 

 Just checking in. Jenny in the office said you’d called in sick for the week. Everything alright? You don’t usually disappear like this.

He didn’t say it, but you could hear it between the lines. The careful phrasing, the overly casual tone that tried too hard not to press. Frank knew your rhythms. He knew your tells. And this- this silence of yours- wasn’t normal.

You don’t lie. You don’t vanish. You don’t hide.

And those damn flowers! Barnes couldn't stop himself from invading your normality- reminding you that no space was sacred. That even in your quiet, separate life, he could send beauty as a weapon. The flowers weren’t just a gesture; they were a message. A warning. He knew where to find you, how to reach you, and worse, he knew how to make it look like kindness. That was his trick- blurring the line until you weren’t sure if you were flattered or trapped. and your other life, your real life was reaching out and you couldn't say anything. Frank wasn't going to let you just have the lie.. That it was eating up more of your life than you’d let on.

The lie between you pulsed now. Heavy. You could feel it wedge itself between your ribs and settle there.

You stared at the message longer than you should have before backing out of the app entirely, guilt clawing up your throat, thick and bitter.

Your gaze drifted down, thumb hovering over the message from earlier.. 

Barnes.

His last message sat like a bruise.

...I won’t be able to behave myself. Who knows where I'll want to put my hands.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, thumb hovering just above the screen when it buzzed again.

Bucky

Sending a car for you early. It'll be outside in half an hour.

You wanted to throw the phone. Across the room. Out the window. Through the goddamn wall. Hurl it somewhere it couldn’t reach you anymore, somewhere his voice, his orders, couldn’t find you. The audacity of it burned in your veins- like he was already sure you’d obey. Like your time, your evening, your body were already accounted for.

Instead, you stared at it. Stared until your vision blurred and the heat behind your eyes made everything else feel too sharp. Your heart thudded dully in your chest, like it knew what came next and wanted to beg for a different ending.

When all this was over, you’d- what? Run? Hide? Disappear into the life you used to have like nothing ever happened?

No. When all this was done, you’d go back to your life. That was the lie you kept telling yourself. The illusion that held your spine straight, that let you breathe around the panic.

Your life.

The one that didn’t quite fit anymore. That felt looser in some places, too tight in others. Like someone else had worn it while you were gone.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The Armory was quiet when you arrived. Too quiet.

The hum of music warming up drifted from the main room, but backstage felt still. Like a held breath. Like the walls themselves knew a storm was coming.

You were ushered through the side hallway, coat still clutched around you like armor. The dress tucked neatly inside the garment bag you carried felt like it weighed more than your guilt. You passed by the tall blond man you’d seen seated at Bucky’s table some nights, always flanking his side like a statue made of cold precision. He was speaking with a redheaded woman whose voice dropped to a whisper the moment you came into view. Their conversation cut off mid-sentence, and both of them turned just slightly as you passed, their eyes tracking you. Measuring. Logging.

You didn’t look at them. Your gaze fixed on the floor like it might open up and swallow you whole. Your steps quickened.

You felt dirty being here today. Filthy, even.

After what you’d seen in the boutique with Yelena- the folded envelope, the look exchanged, the transaction hidden beneath what was supposed to be. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore. You couldn’t ignore the dealings that pulsed beneath the velvet curtains, the ones that made The Armory thrum with more than music. The dresses, the drinks, the performances- they were only half the truth. The other half slithered beneath the surface, slick with danger and dressed in silk.

But you came back anyway.

Was this was happened to everyone else here? What this place did to people. It made them complicit with nothing more than a look, a favor, a dress that fit just right.

And worst of all, you were starting to feel comfortable.

In your dressing room, Pietro was already perched on the arm of the couch, tie half-done, drink in hand.

“Songbird,” he greeted, grinning. “Guess who's been asking if you have new songs today? Might start 'hinking I’m not his favorite anymore.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, hanging up the dress.

“Wanda’s bringing tea. Or whiskey. Dealer’s choice.” He glanced over at you as you started unzipping the garment bag. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just shrugged.

For a moment, you wondered if he was really there for you. If Pietro easy grin and quiet checking in was about concern- or surveillance. After everything, after what you’d seen, it was hard not to question it. Was he just another pair of eyes? Instructed to keep watch, make sure you didn’t run off into the night and disappear for good? Maybe he genuinely liked you. Maybe the smirk was real, the way he lingered in doorways with a drink in hand, trying to make you laugh. But part of you couldn’t help the way your stomach twisted. You thought about how closely he always seemed to be nearby, how he never pried but always looked like he already knew.

Had Bucky told him to check in? To watch for cracks? The possibility hung there like fog, settling around your shoulders until you weren’t sure if you were being protected or monitored. The thought settled uncomfortably, making your skin feel too tight.

Pietro tilted his head slightly. "You're being awfully quiet tonight."

"Just voice rest," you offered quickly, softly, barely above a murmur.

Wanda entered a second later, a tray balanced in her hands. "She probably needs it," she chimed in lightly, but her tone was too breezy to be careless. She set the tray down, the scent of jasmine and honey drifting up in delicate steam.

You gave her a small smile and played along, nodding once like it explained everything. Like it excused the weight on your shoulders, the silence in your bones.

But the two siblings shared a look. Brief. Knowing. It made your skin prickle.

Were your feelings that obvious? Was your unraveling written across your face? Maybe. Maybe it was. But maybe they'd pretend it wasn’t. Just like everyone else around here. Just like this place taught you to do. Maybe they'd offer you that same kindness.

Wanda brushed her hand against your arm as she turned to leave. "I’ll bring you something to eat in a bit," she said lightly, but her eyes lingered a moment too long on your face. Pietro gave you a lazy smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and pushed himself off the couch.

"Maybe we’ll just take it a little easy tonight, Songbird. It’s a weeknight… you can do soft if you want."

He lingered in the doorway a moment longer when you didn’t reply, sipping casually from his glass, eyes unreadable. You kept your focus on the steam curling from your tea, not trusting yourself to speak.

His knuckles tapped once, lightly, against the doorframe. A gentle rhythm that somehow still echoed.

Wanda’s voice came from behind him. “Come on, Piet. Let her breathe.”

She pulled him away with a nudge, and he let her, that lazy smile still plastered on his face like it could cover what was in his eyes.

Then the door shut softly, and you were alone again.

You didn’t move right away.

You just sat there, staring into the mirror, unsure of who exactly was looking back. The tea in your hands had long gone cold, but the weight of your reflection burned. You didn’t look like yourself. Not the teacher. Not the friend. Not the woman who’d once made music just because it brought her joy. The woman in the mirror had shadows under her eyes and something else buried deeper- something you couldn’t name. Something that almost looked like longing. tea cooling in your hand, your own reflection staring blankly back. You felt raw. Sanded down. Like every layer of protection had been scraped away until only nerve endings remained. Even your posture had wilted, your shoulders curled inward as though trying to protect something already too exposed. You didn’t even recognize the look in your own eyes- tired, glassy, too wide. There was something vacant there, something too still, like the part of you that used to push back had been gently, methodically hollowed out.

You could see water forming along your lash line, clinging stubbornly but threatening to fall. It shimmered against the faint stage light spilling in from the hallway like a warning, like the last edge of something you weren’t sure you could come back from if it dropped.

The idea of crying felt lethargic. Heavy. Like even your grief was too tired to scream. Like your body had internalized the silence of this place, learned how to echo it. And maybe you would have let it fall- if you trusted the walls here. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not when you were sure the walls in this place had ears..

Swallowing you wiped the wetness away before it could fall, before it could be proof of anything.

This place- it was getting to you. The quiet seeped in through your skin like smoke. The walls weren’t just lined with velvet; they were lined with whispers. And you were learning, slowly, what it meant to carry yourself like a secret.

Then, finally, you stood. You changed in silence. The navy dress slid over your skin like water, hugging your waist, skimming your thighs. You hated how good it looked. How expensive. How right.

Like it had always belonged to you.

Like you belonged here.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The lights were warm against your skin as you stepped into them, golden and theatrical, wrapping you in a false sense of security. But underneath that glow, a cold truth pressed against your ribs. This wasn’t like other nights. The warmth didn’t reach inside. It didn’t touch the knot of dread coiled low in your stomach, or the way your pulse jumped- not from nerves, but from the weight of being watched. Of being owned. The stage was no longer sanctuary; it was spotlight and scrutiny, an altar dressed up as escape. And you weren’t sure if the person stepping into it was still you- or the version of you he’d started building. the silence of the room buzzing like a low-grade current under your skin, angry and alive, heavy in your chest, crackling across your nerves as though the whole place had teeth and it was smiling. It was the kind of hush that demanded reverence- not for the performer, but for the room. The Armory made you feel that way, even now. Like you were stepping into a cathedral of something older, deeper, more dangerous than jazz. Something sacred and feral, all at once.

Even the air felt different under the stage lights. It wrapped around you like pressure, like an expectation too heavy to shrug off. Your heels made no sound as you crossed the stage, but you swore you could feel every eye in the room adjusting to your presence, recalibrating their focus as you moved into the spotlight. The buzz in your skin only got worse.

You didn’t look at him.

You knew where he was. That same table, his figure outlined in the dim lights, command wrapped in shadow and smoke. You could picture it without turning your head- the way his fingers curled around a glass, his thumb tracing the condensation like it was a habit. The lean of his body, casual to anyone else but poised to pounce. The tilt of his jaw when he smiled- that slow, sharp smile that could gut you with the quietest of edges.

You didn’t want to see him in this dress.

Not when it felt like something he’d put on you.

Not when it felt like an unspoken collar. A claim made in silk and shade, stitched with the invisible thread of ownership. The fabric shimmered under the light like it knew who paid for it. Like it was proud of it. You hated how it made you feel- watched, held, framed. It wasn't just the weight of fabric; it was the weight of being chosen. Of being displayed.

And still, somewhere beneath the heat of the stage lights, beneath the press of eyes and the tension in your chest, there it was: the truth.

You wanted this.

You wanted to perform. Music lived in your blood, in your breath, in your bones. It was the only thing that ever made sense. That part hadn’t changed. But you wished this stage didn’t belong to him. Wished this spotlight didn’t feel like a transaction. Wished the act of opening your mouth and letting your voice soar didn’t come with a cost.

But it did. It always did.

And yet… when you sang, it got quiet inside. When you sang, everything else- the fear, the guilt, the pressure- faded like smoke. Grief didn’t feel like a chain around your neck. Money wasn’t constantly playing on a loop through your mind. You weren’t in survival mode. You were just breathing. Just being.

The song took up all the space. It was the one place in your life that didn’t feel compromised. And somehow, in that spotlight, the chaos went still. It made you feel like maybe you could stay. Like maybe you were meant to. It gave you purpose and presence, and in that moment, you felt powerful in a way nothing else had allowed you to be.

That was the part that scared you most.

Because deep down, you didn’t know if you wanted to stop. Didn’t know if you could walk away.

And worse than that? You didn’t know if part of you enjoyed the fact that he was watching.

Tonight it felt like the music was muscle memory. Your voice steady, your breath measured, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up. The rhythm of the set pulled you along like a current, one note chasing the next. And for a little while, you let yourself drift in it- pretend it was just another night, just another stage. But under it all, there was still that scream lodged in your chest. A pressure behind your ribs that wouldn’t release.

This place- he- was tainting all of it. Right?

But then again, wasn’t it yours too? Weren’t you the one stepping into the spotlight, the one accepting the dress, the one returning each night?

You heard the song crescendo and you just… couldn’t hold it back. Couldn’t lie, even if the lyrics weren’t yours. You cracked something open and let it pour out, your voice catching on emotion you hadn’t meant to reveal. The notes didn’t just rise- they ached, pulled from somewhere deep, someplace you didn’t let people see.

The pain you’d buried clawed its way out, threading itself through each syllable, wrapping around the melody like a vine. It was all you could do to keep your breath steady as the audience melted away.

You weren’t singing for the room. You weren’t singing for the applause.

You were singing because it was the only way to bleed without making a mess.

When you finally looked up, you caught him mid-smile.

And you saw the exact moment it faltered.

That was the worst part- how it satisfied something in you. How his confusion, his unraveling, sparked a thread of power in your spine you hadn’t felt in days. For a split second, you wondered what it meant that you had knocked him off balance.

You kept going.

The crowd loved it. You could feel it in the air- the way their breath caught, the shiver running under the surface.

But Pietro didn’t.

You saw it in the furrow of his brow, the small tilt of his head, the subtle tension in his shoulders. He wasn’t clapping. He was watching. Closely.

He felt it. Felt you slipping.

You reined it back in. The next number was safer. Simpler. Pretty. Something that didn’t risk revealing anything more.

But it was too late.

You’d already let something out.

And it was clear Bucky Barnes knew it. 

~#~#~#~#~#~

You didn’t make it back to your dressing room.

You came off stage too fast, eyes fixed ahead, ignoring Pietro’s subtle reach for your elbow as you passed him. You didn’t want comfort. Didn’t want questions. Your head was a mess, your chest even worse- like something was trying to claw its way out. You wanted to peel back your skin and climb out of yourself.

The moment you reached the hallway backstage, it all hit you. You leaned back against the cold wall, eyes closing as you tried to catch your breath.

And just like that, all the feeling- all the noise- stopped.

The fire that had threatened to devour you onstage flickered out. Burned through. And in its place was nothing.

Not peace. Not clarity.

Just hollowness.

You felt emptied out. Like someone had scraped you clean from the inside.

And in that emptiness, you stood there a moment longer, head tilted back against the wall, wishing you could disappear into it.

Then you pushed off, the wall cool behind you as you moved forward, trying to gather whatever fragments of composure you still had.

And that’s when you saw him- Bucky stepped around the corner, his silhouette sliding from the shadows like he’d been waiting just out of sight. He was all sharp angles and dangerous calm, the tailored edges of his dark suit catching the low light. But it was his eyes- icy, cutting blue- that locked onto yours and made it impossible to breathe. They were too clear, too focused, like he could see every single thought you were trying to bury.

His brows were furrowed.

But you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Or something else.

You wanted him to feel something. Guilt, maybe. Shame. Remorse.

But men like him didn’t feel those things. Not really.

They just watched. Just waited.

And he was waiting.

"What was that?"

You stiffened.

"What was what?" Ignorance being the best defence. Though who were you trying to fool. Barnes took a step forward, voice sharp now, cutting through the quiet. "That- just now Out there." the accusation landing as you felt yourself shrink for a moment "You don't normally sou- "

"Like you'd know what I 'normally' sound like." The words left your mouth before you could stop them, bitten and bitter. "You don't know me."

You felt yourself getting upset again, something hot and sharp rising up your throat.

His expression didn’t shift. If anything, it hardened.

"People who are alright don't sing like that."

"You don't know anything," you snapped, chest tightening.

There was a beat of silence.

Then he said, quieter, "I'd like to. Is this about the dress?"

"It's not about the dress!"

You pushed past him, not waiting for whatever he might throw at you next, your shoulder brushing his chest. You headed straight for the dressing room, throat tight, skin too hot. You needed out of the hallway. Needed out of the dress. Needed out of this.

But he followed.

"I'm just asking if you were okay," he said as he trailed after you. "I've put a lot of money into- "

"I KNOW!" Your voice cracked on the shout as you spun around. "You keep telling me that... like it's a leash I'm supposed to be grateful for."

He blinked, taken aback by the volume, the sudden tear in your composure. You were trembling, shoulders tight with the effort of holding the rest of it in. You didn’t want to scream. You didn’t want to cry. But everything in you was buckling under the weight.

It hung in the air, loud and raw.

He didn’t move. Just stood there in the soft, suffocating quiet, watching you breathe like he was counting the rhythm of your collapse.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Controlled. Polished around the edges. Too clean to trust.

“You were good tonight.”

The words sounded like praise, but they felt like possession. Like something cold slipping beneath your skin.

A pause stretched, heavy and deliberate. Calculated.

“Too good to just be borrowed. Starting to feel like I might not want to give you back.”

The shift in his tone made your stomach twist. It wasn’t flirtation. It wasn’t even admiration. It was intent.

Your chest tightened. Not in a flattering way. Not in the way it did when the lights hit you right, or the band found your rhythm. This was something else. Something you wanted to shake off and couldn’t.

You swallowed, voice tight. “It’s not your decision.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing- not with anger, but with something worse.

Interest.

Like you’d just made the game more fun.

He kept trying to grease the path of your descent. Every gift, every compliment, every so-called kindness laid like a stepping stone toward somewhere darker. But you were fighting. Something in you was always fighting. You were still fighting now. But it was getting harder to tell who you were fighting- him or yourself.

He took another step forward, this one slower. Purposeful.

“I want you to have dinner with me,” he said, quieter now. Not a demand, not a plea- something in between. Like a promise hidden in silk.

"What?"

You stared at him like he was demented, trying to ignore the stupid flutter in your stomach that seemed to come when his voice got soft like that. The offer threw you off your axis… hadn’t you just been shouting at him?

“I want you comfortable,” he added. “Or... more comfortable than you are now.”

You hated how your body leaned a little toward the words before your brain caught up. Hated the way his gaze dragged heat to the surface of your skin like it belonged there. Like he’d always known where it was hiding. Your hands clenched at your sides, not because you wanted to strike him- but because you wanted to reach for something.

"Comfortable?" You repeated, sounding as skeptical as you felt.

Bucky made it sound like comfort was a currency, a tool. A means to an end. And you knew, in your bones, he wasn’t planning to give you space. He was planning to close it. He stepped closer, his hand brushing hair back off your bare shoulder like he had every right to. It burned like a brand.

Some part of you, the part buried deep, bruised and stupid. You wanted to see what he’d do more. Wanted to lean in. Wanted to push. You hated yourself a little for it.

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice dropping, “to make this easier. You're such a little puzzle…”

Your laugh- sharp and without humor- caught in your throat and that blasted handsome smirk shifted onto his face. You wished you didn’t like the sound of him trying. Wished you didn’t want him to keep trying. Wished the part of you that wanted him to unravel you would just shut the hell up.

“Take the offer, say yes to dinner,” he said then, more firmly. “You and me. One night. You ask your questions. I ask mine.”

You opened your mouth, but he cut you off.

“Or… we skip it. You can keep pretending like you don't want to be here...”

He stepped even closer, but his chest didn't touch yours. His voice dropped to a murmur, curling into your ear like smoke.

“And that'll put me in a difficult position. I won’t be able to promise Kara will still have a spot here when she’s ready to come back.”

Your breath caught. Fury, fear, desire- everything tangled in your chest like a net.

“You son of a bitch,” you whispered.

His smirk didn’t reach his eyes.

“Dinner. That’s all.”

"Fine...." The pressure in your chest folding in on itself. You weren’t agreeing- you were conceding. There was a difference. He’d twisted your arm with velvet, not steel. And somehow that made it worse. The surrender didn’t sting because it was brutal- it stung because it was gentle. Laced in charm and false care, designed to make you feel like you had a choice when all along the walls had been closing in.

He leaned in, breath brushing your ear, stubble grazing your jaw. The warmth of him was suffocating, but not in the way that begged escape. It was intoxicating- infuriating. The scent of his cologne clung to the air between you, woodsmoke and something darker, something that curled into your lungs and wouldn’t let go. You hated how close he was, hated how your breath caught and your fingers twitched like they didn’t know what to do- push him away, or pull him closer. The worst part was, he knew. He could feel the hesitation, the confusion. He always knew. And he pressed in, just enough to remind you exactly who was in control. It was maddening how soft he could be when everything about him radiated threat.

“Wear something that makes it hard for me to behave,” he murmured.

Your skin flushed, pulse stuttering like it didn’t know whether to spike with anger or something darker. The line lodged somewhere between your throat and your gut, blooming heat and shame. The same way it had when he'd texted you something similar that afternoon. 

Every muscle in our back tightened up, making your breath shallow. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of reacting, but it felt like your entire body had been rewired by that sentence. A jolt of heat flared under your skin- fury and thrill tangled so tight you couldn’t tell them apart.

He stepped back, the space he left behind somehow feeling colder for it. He looked at you like a man satisfied with the shape of his win, gaze trailing over you like he was already imagining the next round.

“Oh, and the next time you sing like that…” His voice dipped again. “Keep it off my stage. That’s a voice only I want to hear now.”

Your breath hitched.

“I- ”

You didn’t even get the rest out. He’d stolen your voice again, dismantled it with nothing but words.

“I’ll text you.”

Bucky slid his hands into his pockets, already turning. He didn’t look back as he left the room, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the velvet-lined hallway.

It was only your pride that stopped you from hurling something after him.

Barely.

[mxyirin]

Yandere!Gaara

warnings: yandere!gaara, younger!gaara, older!reader, female!reader, non-confirmed age gap but not the illegal kind, normal yandere themes, pronouns used are she/her, unreliable narrative so reader is referred as '[name]' or you

― 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒

▸ There was one thing Gaara thought that he liked among the darkness.

▸It happened to be [Name], the daughter of the owner of the local florist in Suna. 

▸To the little redhead, [Name] had been light when he was shunned by everyone, even his own family, who were scared of him.

▸She was the reason he lived.

▸Offeriong him sweet candies secretly whenever she could or offering to teach him about the flowers in the shop.

▸When her parents decided to travel the world when [Name] was old enough, she took over the shop.

▸At the same time he became the Kazekage.

▸Gaara continued to woo her so that he could win her affection.

▸He didn't succeed until the tailed beast was separated from him, making him more rational.

▸Without the beast, his obsession grew but didn't leak that would make [Name] run away from him.

▸Gaara and [Name], would be forever together.

You stepped on the hard tiles of your shared home as softly as possible to not alert a certain redhead.

Only to open the door to your bedroom to see Gaara with his arms crossed.

His sea-green eyes seemed too intense as they gazed upon you, making you cringe and step back.

"Where were you?" Gaara asked, his tone was calm but underneath that facade was a possessive man who didn't want you to stay away from him. 

"You left without telling me." His tone tune accusatory making you gulp as your mind raced to what you could say to him.

"I just wanted some... some fresh air." Your voice turned timid as you finished the sentence making those cold green eyes soften to a degree.

"You know how dangerous the world is right?" When you nod, he continues: "Don't go without informing or I won't be able to protect you."

He wanted to have some ninjas guard you from the shadows but betrayal was easy, especially among humans, he thought about how his friend Naruto had summoning frogs and thought he should also do the same.

"You wanted fresh air right, let's go." Gaara dragged your body into his arms and held you close.

The relationship was nice in the beginning, you felt flattered that such a high-ranked man wanted you.

Soon, you realised that the rose too had its thorns.

You were isolated and while you were introverted in nature, it didn't mean you absolutely disliked every human interaction.

There were some people you liked but in the end, even they drifted apart because of Gaara who used all the tactics so you could only rely on him.

With everyone running away in fear, your flower shop was forced to be closed making you rely on Gaara even more now that he had the power in the monetary terms as well.

There was no space for you, you thought to yourself.

Then a hand gripped your wrist tightly making you wince.

"Who are you thinking about?" The dark undertone in Gaara's voice made you shiver and he tightened the grip on your wrist.

"No one." You replied trying to get back your wrist which was now hurting.

"Really?" 

Seeing you nod, Gaara loosened the grip on your hand and you could see the skin become bruised under the harsh grip.

The redhead clicked his tone as he gently brushed his fingers on the dark bruise on your wrist

"See, how will you live without me?"

He loved you too much, he could not let you go.

Gaara would never let you go.

character: gaara anime name: naruto requested: dinxx_vii

a/n: i was originally gonna write manipulative reader again but i felt i need to write something different this time.

[crucifiedramblings]

liability — unsub!spencer x bau!reader (part one)

minors dni, adult content ahead. minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.

summary: after a year of being engaged, spencer reid left you behind and resigned from quantico. you haven’t heard from him since, and your life has finally returned to a somewhat normal state. you moved into your own place, got promoted to hotchner’s prior position, and started to heal. it’s been two years since that fateful day when you get an unexpected visitor at the office— and you’re all alone. 

warnings: heavy smut, implied dubcon, manipulation/gaslighting, sadistic themes, pet names, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation if you squint, choking, spit, bruising/marking

word count: 2.4k

next part: n/a

notes: so, spencer being an unsub isn't really discussed (there isn't much talking at all, if we are being real), but he is one of their open cases when him and the reader, uh . . . reconnect. he is more dark-natured and resilient than he used to be. this is gonna be at least two parts, apologies for any leading on i may have done here!

you rubbed your eyes intensely, powering through the last few pages of reports that you had to proofread before faxing over to hotch. when you agreed to take over his job, celebrating his success in moving up the chain of command, you never expected it to be so draining. you rarely got to go home on time, spending most evenings in your office when everyone had long since hit the road. your fellow agents often offered to keep you company, but you refused. there was no good reason that multiple of you had to have a spoiled evening. it was very odd being the boss, but also endearing. you had to make frequent tough calls, some nearly impossible, but it was part of the charm. or, at least, that is what you told yourself to justify it. 

you sipped your coffee, staring at the brazen plate on your door with your name engraved into it. you went as far as to move into hotchner’s old office space, filling the cream-colored walls with frames of pressed flowers and pinned moths. you were a collector of your favorite people and experiences; you kept a dart board for jareau, a mockingjay print for gideon, a colorful puzzle collage for penelope, and— unfortunately— a chess board for spencer. you had other things too, but those were the main items on full display in your office. although, you kept a group photo of you, morgan and hotch on your desk. 

you used the armrests of your chair to push yourself to your feet, stretching and starting the walk to the kitchen area. you made a small snack and a fresh pot of coffee, running to the restroom before pouring a new cup. the steam curled up into the air, the aroma of the grounds filling your nose. as you tried to enjoy the earthy smell, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being observed or studied, like an animal in its enclosure — analyzed. you turned slowly, greeted with an empty room and a door that was slightly ajar, although you could’ve sworn it was closed when you came in. it was getting late, nearing almost two in the morning by now. your memory has never proved to be the most reliable when deprived of much-needed rest. 

you slowly tugged your way back up the stairs to your office, the elevators being locked down after a certain time. rounding the corner, you narrowed your eyes, confused to find your office flooded in darkness. the lamp had shut off when you were gone. you didn’t like how this felt — you weren’t losing it, were you? this floor had frequent surges in random rooms, so it wasn’t entirely nerve-wracking. you sighed, blindly making your way to the lamp in the far corner and tugging the cord to turn it on. you allowed your eyes to adjust, making a disgruntled groan when you remembered the reports waiting for you. 

as you turned to sit back at your computer, you were met with a very familiar face — doctor spencer reid. he sat, nonchalantly occupying your chair with a hairpin curve of a smirk on his lips. he looked smug. you weren’t sure if it was because he had been able to sneak past security without detection, or because he was able to sneak past you. your face fell flat, dropping the mug of coffee you had been carrying. it shattered on the floor, hot coffee spilling all over your leather shoes. you didn’t even care, so stunned that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. spencer picked up on that, standing from the chair in one swift motion and approaching your smaller frame. 

“you look wonderful,” his voice was melodious to your ears, even if it shouldn’t have been, “even better than the day i left.” spencer let a low chuckle bubble up from his chest, gently grasping your hands in his own. you ripped away from his touch furiously, stepping back as your eyes stung with prickling tears that collected in the corners. 

“you don’t—” you sniffled, swiping your hair out of your face, “you don’t get to fucking do that! you don’t get to drop everything, abandon the people you love, just to come back whenever you feel like it!” you raised your voice, determined to make him feel what you had, “get the fuck out.” you gestured to the door and shoved past him, sitting in your chair and starting up the report you had due. spencer lingered by the introductory door plate, reading it with a chuckle. 

“you really made something of yourself, huh, angel?” spencer’s voice adorned a soft and flirty lilt, “i’m so proud of you—” he approached your desk once more, leaning across and steadying his weight on his palms. “i don’t think you really want me to leave, do you, pup?” he circled your desk like he was a starving piranha, placing his hands on either side of your chair and forcing you to have nowhere else to go. he leaned in close, face dipping down to your neck as he left a trail of haphazard kisses along your jaw and throat. he occasionally pulled the tender skin between his teeth, sucking down hard and fast to see what kind of noise he could force from your perfect mouth. “i think you still need me, even if you don’t want to.” spencer hummed, tongue running a stripe of saliva along your collar. 

“stop,” you weakly whispered, only because your pride wouldn’t allow you to tell him what you truly wanted; him. spencer had been gone so long, you almost forgot how effortlessly good he made you feel. the wet patch on your panties tripled in size the longer he toyed with you, but everything aside, he hurt you. he abandoned you. yet, in this moment, no hurt he was responsible for mattered. you knew that if hotch were here, he would have talked some sense into you. unfortunately, spencer knew how to melt your brain right out of your cunt in the most devious ways. 

“am i making you nervous?” spencer danced his fingertips along your collarbones and released a content sigh, “i’m willing to bet that i am— the way your breath hitches when i touch you, clenching your teeth and trying to hide any sign of how turned on you’ve gotten from the lightest brush of my fingers—” he took a brief pause, gently sliding your blazer from your shoulders as you absent-mindedly parted your back from the chair to assist him. “the human body is so strange; you could be the best profiler in the bau, keeping your emotions under wraps with no error, and your silent cues would still give away everything i need to know.” spencer’s voice dipped into a low, sultry tone as he felt the newly exposed skin of your upper torso. 

“and—” you cleared your throat, straightening your posture as you locked eyes with the other in an attempt to assert yourself. “what do my silent cues tell you, doctor reid?” you narrowed your eyes, trying to persuade your inner, more sex-driven monologue to stop thinking about his hands on your—

“you’re torn,” spencer started, “part of you wants to kill me for leaving you— but you have to understand, sweetheart— you would have just gotten in the way. you weren’t ready for that kind of lifestyle.” you were confused, to say the least, and his patronizing tone only made you more pissed until he grasped your jaw and forced you to keep eye contact. “i’ve been very bad,” he grinned, “and i didn’t want to bring you down that road with me.” his expressions, his dialogue— all of it was reminiscent of the likable villain in a suspense film; although, in your line of work, there was rarely such a thing. 

“what about the other part?” you spoke up once his grip on your face has loosened, hands shoving into the pockets of his slacks. it was your turn to do the profiling, you thought, observing his pacing from the door to the window as he was almost lost in thought. spencer seemed uncomfortable in his clothes, as though he had avoided wearing business attire since the last time he worked in quantico. to you, it appeared as though he dressed up for this interaction, as though he wanted it to be memorable. he wore white socks, wanting to bring more attention to his shoes— brown leather oxfords, the same exact pair you bought him for his thirtieth birthday. 

his voice interrupted your long-winded hypothesis on his wardrobe choices, and you noticed that he was significantly closer than when you had gotten distracted. spencer was now behind your chair, hands gently caressing your shoulders and chuckling to himself. “the other part of you,” he dipped down to whisper in your ear, “wants me to bend you right over your own desk and show you how sorry i am for leaving you behind.” you silently froze, any words in response getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t bring yourself to make a sound, as if any noise would make him disappear. 

“why did you wait so long to come back?” you quietly asked, and he immediately spun your chair around to face him. spencer leaned in, pressing his lips to yours gently and moving fluidly with you at your chosen pace. he hummed, pulling away as he lapped up a bit of your spit from his lower lip. 

“derailing your life wasn’t my choice to make, my sweet girl.” spencer’s dark eyes grew soft, although you could tell it wasn’t as genuine as he wanted to sound. “i always stayed close, though.” his tone made you nervous, as though he were alluding to something. your eyes darted to the computer screen, reading a message from hotch that had just been sent through, until spencer ripped the cord from the wall and pushed the entire system onto the floor. 

before you could properly react, spencer was back onto you, lips attacking yours with a newfound desire and aggression. you melted into him, hands roaming anywhere and everywhere you could reach. his left hand snaked down to your thighs, pushing your skirt up and applying pressure against the front of your underwear. you shivered, a small gasp flooding from your throat as his middle finger effortlessly made a glide down your damp slit. he peeled your panties away from your body, making a comment about how your wetness had pooled slightly in the lower half of your chair. your face flushed with embarrassment as you quickly kicked off your heels and allowed your undergarments to fall to the floor. 

spencer took his time with your skirt, knowing it was one of your favorites. he assisted you to your feet, sliding the garment over the curves of your hips and drinking in the sight of your bare lower half. his erection had been slowly and steadily pitching a tent in his pants as the two of you took your time, savoring each other as long as possible. 

spencer pulled you flush against his torso and kissed you with unresolved pain and passion, letting his free hand dip between your thighs once more to rub circles into your clit. you let out a conflicted moan, burying your face into his chest and slightly rolling your hips into his touch. he chuckled, removing his fingers from your sweet spot and weaving them into your hair. he grabbed a fistful, tugging your head back in a swift, hard motion. you let out a subtle grunt, eyes staring at him in a way you could only describe as lovesick. 

“can i be rough with you?” spencer asked, voice low and hesitant. you were confused; he never wanted to be rough before, although you always hoped he would be. you nodded eagerly, practically begging. you wanted tonight to leave you bruised and exhausted, knowing you may not see him again. his eyes were dark, and he tossed you to the floor with a grin. you took a breath as you hit the ground, lying limp for him as you wondered what he had been waiting to do to you for so long. 

you watched with curious eyes as spencer swept his arm languidly across your desk and knocked everything onto the floor. he effortlessly hoisted you up and bent you over the polished wooden surface, smoothing his palms across your ass before striking your bare left cheek with no warning. you yelped, clutching the sides of the desk with white knuckles. he hit the other cheek a bit softer, humming before trying again when the previous hit’s reaction wasn’t to his liking. you let out a slightly strangled moan as he continued to land another blow, making your backside a rosy shade of pink. 

spencer wedged his shoe between your feet, forcefully spreading your legs. he ghosted his fingertips across your clit and you quietly begged. he tugged your hair, lifting you up to his level, “keep your fucking mouth shut and i’ll reward you.” spencer dropped you back onto the desk, making sure to keep his hand on your belly to lessen the impact on your ribs. you quietly gasped as he shoved his fingers into your wet cunt, curling them into you painfully slowly as you pushed back into him. his other hand firmly held your hips in place, warning you to keep still unless you wanted him to stop. 

. . .

hotch groaned, dialing your phone once again. he was anxiously pacing his livingroom, trying not to wake jack as he started to feel the panic set in. he found his eyes tracing the whiteboard again, the old one he had decided to lug out of his garage because he was always better at connecting the missing parts if he could visualize them. hotch had several photos taped up, lines connecting them between scenes and witness statements. there were only two things he knew for sure about this unsub; one— the suspect at large had experience in the field of law enforcement, and two— the suspect had an abnormally high iq. coupling those together with the timeline of events, hotch had made a break; the unsub they had been searching for was spencer reid. 

all of his victims had looked a bit too much like you for it to be coincidental, and were all stalked and referred to as pet names for weeks before their confirmed deaths. hotch had been trying to reach you for the last hour, a strong suspicion arising that spencer was going to visit you at the bureau, and— if he didn’t hurry— would make you his final victim. 

in a worried haze, hotch clipped on his belt, securing his gun in his holster before taking off full speed towards the only place he knew you would be— his old office.

[dakota-bah]

Night-themed subsystem

Requested by @vampyc I really liked making these, especially Violet! Almost every name here is from Latin because they're so pretty!! I lost your ask somehow - I might have accidentally deleted it - but I have the completed request right here. Thank you for being the first request I've gotten from here! :3

Name: Hailey, Victoria, Violet Pronouns: She/vamp Gender: Demigirl Sexuality: Lesbian Age: Ageless Species: Human Role: Drowser, Somnoian, Caregiver Signoff: -🦇, -📽, -🍕, -🎞 Source: None Fronting Activity: Vamp fronts almost every night, in the late evening, and sporadically at every other time. Innerworld behavior: She is quiet and prefers to keep to herself, but will make the occasional comment. Outerworld behavior: She's normally found taking care of the body, performing her role, or reading a book. She'll talk to people around her, but only when they start the conversation first - she doesn't often initiate chats and hates small talk. Personality: Vamp is a huge dork, but vamp is hard to hate. Vamp may seem quiet or closed-off, but to vamp's headmates or special people, vamp is very caring. Vamp also has a sarcastic streak. Likes: Taking care of the body, paper crafts, reading (especially sci-fi), neutral colors, soft blankets, watching movies, cold weather Dislikes: Rude people, slow walkers, school/work, pineapple, dry weather, summer Quirks: She speaks in short sentences. She loves children, seeing them as her babies. She is reminiscent of an older sister. Pizza is one of her favorite foods, before spicy snacks, of course. Faceclaim:

Name: Stella, Morgan Pronouns: She/fae/moon/star Gender: Fem-aligned Seagender Sexuality: Queer Age: Ageless/1000+ Species: Moon goddess Role: Hygienist, Auxiliary Signoff: -🧜‍♀️, -🌊 Source: None Fronting activity: Moon most often fronts at home but will take front when a situation gets uncomfortable for the previous fronter. Other than that, moon will occasionally front to bake sweets for the system and intentionally leave them where other headmates will find it. Innerworld behavior: Fae does all sorts of jobs due to faer role as the system auxiliary, but fae mainly reminds other headmates to take care of the body, engage in hobbies, log off, and so on, so forth when fae cannot front to do it faeself. Outerworld behavior: Star is usually found maintaining hygiene routines, such as bathing, showering, brushing hair, teeth... so on, so forth. Star is quite friendly to others and doesn't mind striking up small talk. Star doesn't shut up about the sky, either. Personality: She isn't very social but can be quite friendly and kind to those she takes a liking for. She is kind, but she is almost blunt and doesn't hold anything back. She goes through life with a carefree attitude - life's too short! Likes: Being early, skipping stones, pre-dawn, journaling, flower crowns, routines, decorating, baking Dislikes: Politics, strong winds, horror movies, closed spaces (especially with stuffy air), posters, the color red Quirks: She finds everything in nature beautiful, especially those 'ugly' deep sea creatures. She taste-tests everything she bakes. Her favorite animals are magpies because she collects trinkets like they do. Faceclaim:

Name: Vesper, Solstice Pronouns: She/he Gender: Girlboy Sexuality: Lesbian Age: Nonspecific Species: Doggirl Role: Artist, Patron Signoff: -🐕‍🦺 Source: None Fronting activity: She is fronting or co-conscious almost always, except in the rare moment where she doesn't feel social. Innerworld behavior: Outerworld behavior: Personality: Just like real dogs, Vesper is very outgoing and loyal! She is just as kind as a puppy, and she's always finding clever, creative solutions to problems. Likes: Movies (horror and romance), wearing things that make people go 'furry'/tails and ears, puppies, the colors brown and tan, flowers, her role/starting new projects every other day, forests Dislikes: Mean people in general Faceclaim:

[columba1234]

Hey Ben and Holly fandom, I need some help describing the show's Fairy Magic System please? I'm in the process of doing my Future AU and I need to properly understand it. I know it has:

An introduction post about the magic system in Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom

- Soft magic: It doesn't have much rules, but fairies need wands to cast spells, the wands can be sick and not waterproof, and no magic in No Magic Day. Moreover, the only magical limit I've seen is the number of spells the caster knows (which can be improved by further learning and practice).

- Appearance: Magic in Ben and Holly appear as white sparkles of light (can be compared to white glitter). In the winter or space, fairy magic would change into neon colours to stand out (which is a design choice that I love:

- Transformative: The characters use magic to transform something into the other. Eg: frogs, cats, other animals, etc.

- Unpredictable: How many times the magic went wrong in the series? I've lost count of it.

- Effects on the caster: Fairy toddlers have trouble controlling their magic, which makes it go haywire. Fairy kids and inexperienced casters have to use cast spells verbally, whereas experienced and adult fairies can cast them non-verbally.

- Spells and how to cast them: Rhyming and hand control are the most important aspects of a spell. A spell needs the right rhyming, clearcut meaning, and right hand gesture, or else it would go wrong. And all incantations is temporary, their effects will be worn off at some point.

- Wands: Strangely, the elves are the one who make the wands, and the general structure consist of a 6-pointed star head with faces, and a stick made from the fairies namesake plant, like this:

The internal structure of the wand consist of cogs and springs, truly a master of elven engineering to accommodate something as opposite and unpredictable as fairy magic. Inside the head has the structure that resembles that of a watch, with the faces eyes and mouth controlled by clockwork and magic (presumably from the wooden stick, since it needs to be specially grown). A spring in the stick's centre probably channels the wood's magic to the head, where it is used to control the cogs, then the wand's emotions, and being dispersed outside, in the form of fairy dust. (This is me attempt to explain wand mechanics, and for anyone who studies actual mechanics, please correct me for anything wrong). The internal structure looks like this:

Each fairy has a specific theme colour and has their clothes and wands in that palette and it does not have to be the same colour as the flower/fruit/plant, as shown by Holly (who should be red/green) and Rosie (anything but turquoise). In the reign of Vlad and Sharon, Millicent and Victor, (aka Granny and Grandpapa), the wands used to looked much bigger and crazier (with the exception of Mrs. Fig, whose wand looks normal). From King Thistle's reign to the present, all wands look like the model above, but with different colours and sizes depends on the fairy and their age.

- Healing properties: Fairy magic can cure anything but the common cold.

- Related to plants and life: the fairies' wands' handle is made from specially grown plants, which the fairies are named after). I think this is related to the transformative and healing properties of fairy magic, since plants grow and transform their appearances, and many of them are used medically. Plus, plants are life, and magical objects are sentient (Nanny's cookbook, the wands, etc) so it connects the plant/ life theme I guess 🤷‍♀️. Other observations from canon such as why the wands has faces, etc is in this ask by the blog @ben-and-holly-headcannon-blog (now deleted ;((()

This is the most I that I convey into words (my observational skills are not that good yet) . If you can describe it in more detail, please reblog me!

(Edit: I've accidentally made an introduction post about the magic system in Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom 😅)

[small-sinclair]

More Band!Au Sinclair HCs that no one asked for:

Au belongs to: @arkunder

Bo and Lester had a drinking contest on stage. Vincent was so disappointed.

They play rock-paper-scissors if one of them has to do an interview.

Ask Vincent about his hidden goldfish snacks! He has them hidden everywhere. He’ll just pull a little bag out of nowhere sometimes.

Bo is, indeed, in therapy. Not for drinking but for mental health.

They once live streamed Bo and Vincent playing chess for a charity event. They are both really good at playing.

Lester went off stage for a moment and came back with nachos. He didn’t play the drums for a set, so the twins did the heavy lifting.

The three brothers had the world’s hottest soup to see who can eat more. No one was surprised when Lester won.

They actually love playing catch! They have baseball gloves and a ball they bring. Before a show, they play catch and chill.

Vincent has a base that looks like a mermaid tail.

They went to a nursing home and played for an elder fan. She was 97 year old and loved heavy metal music. She died a few days after later. In honor of her, Vickey wrote a song and named it after her: “Lilith”.

One time, someone passed a fiddle to the stage and Bo took it. He opened up the case and started tearing into it. The crowd went nuts.

They have sibling tattoos. Bo has a sun, Vincent has a moon, and Lester has a star. It’s on their back.

Bo once sung in French during a song out of boredom. The girls and the gays went nuts.

Vincent likes smoking lavender cigarettes.

A kid placed a flower crown on Lester’s head. He nearly cried.

During a meet and greet at a convention, Bo held a crying baby and calmed them down to let the staff member take a little break.

Whenever they go to award shows, Bo wears his black suit and tie; Vincent wears a three piece suit with a Vincent von Gough themed tie; and Lester is in his finest blue jeans, shiny cowboy boots, a nice plaid, and wears his Luisiana belt buckle.

During an outside show, Lester came on stage with an opossum in his arms. Where did it come from? No one knows.

Whenever Vincent goes out to do charity work and Bo comes with him, the twins like to have fun! They’ll color and play with the kids, let them draw on their arms, and put things in their hair. At the end of the day, they do a group photo with everyone they spent time with and hang the photo in the bus. Vincent puts one in his base case.

Bo has an emotional support stuffie named Snuffles. It’s an alligator.

Vincent stopped the show and hopped off stage. Someone brought their cat and he wanted to pet it.

Speaking of cats, whenever they do an outdoor show, Vincent found a kitten stuck in the sound system under the stage. He crawled under the stage and brought them out. Shes named Soundwave and is loved by Jonesy and the fans.

Bo loves playing the piano before the show starts. He’ll come out in his heavy metal outfit and sits next to the keyboard and play classical music like Mozart.

On Saturdays during the summer, they take the day to go to farmer markets and pop-up sales in the little towns by the city. They wear ‘disguises’ when they go. Some people are able to figure them out, some don’t.

When Louisiana flooded, the boys went back home and helped cleaned up the town (I’m assuming Ambrose is still an alive town). Bo helps rebuild houses and sheds, Lester helps cleaning the mud and the muck along with returning any loose critters to the DNR for recovery, and Vincent cooks d and pass out food at a crisis center. If they have to, they’ll give blood.

SIDE NOTE:

Whenever they go home to Ambrose, everyone treats them normal as if they’re not famous. It gives them some space to breathe.

They don’t stay for too long, maybe a weekend or a week. If they stay longer, Bo is down at the garage, Vincent is in the art and hobby store, and Lester cleans up the roads and road kill. They also take this time to help their next door neighbor, Mr. and Mrs. Lane. They’re like grandparents to them.

They live in their own house while Trudy and their father are in the house from the movie. Because Trudy doesn’t approve of them doing this, she doesn’t visit them, and Victor ignores them.

[luuv-zomby]

Explosive Personality Themed Headmate

pt. Explosive personality themed headmate

General ✿ —⁠ name : Riot ✿ —⁠ pronouns : he/they ✿ —⁠ gender terms : neutral ✿ —⁠ presentation (masc, fem, neu) : feminine when able, normally masculine presenting due to being obsessed with the military. If he had a choice though, he would pick feminine clothing. ✿ —⁠ age : 17 ✿ —⁠ labels : demiboy, lesboy ✿ —⁠ birthday : June 11th

System ✿ —⁠ role(s) : BPD manager, BPD holder, anger manager, anger holder, depression holder ✿ —⁠ type : willogenic ✿ —⁠ source : luvv-zomby

Personality ✿ —⁠ general mood / emotion : depression boredom ✿ —⁠ traits : explosive personality, impulsive, disagreeable, active, gym rat, serious ✿ —⁠ mannerisms / habits : works out to take care of bad feelings. Has big emotions ✿ —⁠ priorities : taking care of himself ✿ —⁠ pet peeves : people that match his energy ✿ —⁠ introvert / extrovert / omnivert / ambivert : omnivert

✿ —⁠ aesthetic : military ✿ —⁠ theme : volcanos, explosions ✿ —⁠ theme song : Army Dreamers - Kate Bush

Appearance ✿ —⁠ body type : musclar, small ✿ —⁠ species : human ✿ —⁠ height / weight : average height, a little overweight ✿ —⁠ voice / accent : medium, American accented ✿ —⁠ hairstyle / hair type / hair color : black messy straight hair ✿ —⁠ facial shape : diamond shaped ✿ —⁠ eye shape / eye color : narrow brown/black eyes ✿ —⁠ nose shape : big ✿ —⁠ lip shape : thin ✿ —⁠ other features : scar over right eye, big bushy eyebrows

✿ —⁠ clothing aesthetic : military

Ideas ✿ —⁠ dream job : to work at an escape room ✿ —⁠ fears : being trapped in tight spaces. Being trapped in relationships; He would rather have it come to a point of mutual hatred than break up. ✿ —⁠ regrets : ✿ —⁠ insecurities : big emotions ✿ —⁠ core values : loyalty ✿ —⁠ philosophies : everything happens for a reason. You must work on yourself to be better

Interests ✿ —⁠ likes : rock music, learning, small interest in nursing, cats, dogs, animals in general, working out ✿ —⁠ dislikes : rocks in his shoes, swimming ✿ —⁠ loves : alternative and metal music, Sabaton, Powerwolf, Civil War (band), getting his emotions out ✿ —⁠ hates : himself ✿ —⁠ hyperfixations : military things ✿ —⁠ unbearable : being away from his interests for too long ✿ —⁠ comforts : working with animals, learning history, learning about the military

✿ —⁠ favorite color : yellow ✿ —⁠ favorite activity : learning about interests ✿ —⁠ favorite song : Army of the Night - Powerwolf ✿ —⁠ favorite music genre : heavy metal ✿ —⁠ favorite game : chess ✿ —⁠ favorite TV show : Band of Brothers ✿ —⁠ favorite movie : Fury ✿ —⁠ favorite food : any hot meal ✿ —⁠ favorite drink : Starry ✿ —⁠ favorite scent : the earth ✿ —⁠ favorite flower : roses ✿ —⁠ favorite feeling : happiness ✿ —⁠ favorite season : fall ✿ —⁠ favorite weather : windy

Extra ✿ —⁠ other : Part two of a subsystem

[that0nebird]

Part Two of my OL×ACNH headcanons

I actually had a lot of fun and a lot of trouble making this.

So first off I'll explain his lazy boys I chose Zucker and Stitches. First not only is Zucker a giant piece of food but he's also one of the few sea creature villagers (Octopi) in the game. Truly a villager designed for cove. (Besides Sasha who literally Cove if he was a villager imo.)

Now stitches may seem like a bit of a wild ard BUT her me out. Stitches is one of few animals that is based off an object and not really an animal. He's a stuffed bear and he's like the animal crossing embodiment of childhood. His room is filled with gifts from "mom" and because his hobby is play he's constantly running around like a little kid playing with toys and playground equipment you place. If anything stitches would fit most of the our life love interests in my opinion. I feel like it would remind them of Jamie/Franky. HIS FAVORITE SONG IS I LOVE YOU!!! Like he's perfect.

Next up is his Peppy Audie. She was an obvious choice as her house is literally a mini beach vacation and she was made for new horizons so she's a very tropical girl. She looks like she'd be right at home in sunset bird.

Next up his Cranky. Octavian would have been chosen purely because 1. He's an octopus and 2. He's the only cranky design cove liked that fit with his beach/space theme.

Next is his snooty Diana. Diana might also seem like a bit of a wildcard but I chose her mostly for her interior as it's a beach/flowery themed bathroom.

N e x t we have his smug Cephalobot. Cove would love him no doubt about it. He's once again a sea creature, his name is a pun about octopi. hIS HOUSE IS ALSO SPACE THEMED! Another perfect fit he and Cove would be besties.

Now up for his sisterly Faith! Faith is an adorable little koala with flowers and her house is beach themed as well! He'd have no choice but to take her.

Next up is Frobert, he's the closest cove could get to an aquatic like villager that was also a jock. Grew on him like moss to a brick wall.

Finally for his normal gals we have Marina and Ione. Marina is once again a little octopus so he had to choose her to complete the collection. Ione is a star/space/alien themed squirrel once again another obvious choice for our Space Cadet!

It's the B-Man's turn! This is the one I'm most proud of.

First we'll go with obvious choice, His smug Zell. Zell is literally step 3 Baxter I he were an animal. He's a smug, monochrome gazelle what more is there to say?

Next are his Sisterly villagers Muffy and Agnes. I decided to give him two because he's an only child so I feel like he'd really like them. I chose Muffy specifically because she's an alternative queen which is right up Baxter's alley let's be real. I also chose Agnes because she was the only other monochrome sisterly and she's a very sophisticated girl.

Now for his lazy I chose Antonio because he's the only black and white one I could find. He's just a little guy <3.

Next for his peppy girls Piper and Bella . I must repeat myself and say LOOK AT THEM, young Baxter and those two would be besties. Piper and Bella are so bitchy looking (compliment) I love 'em. Also Bella is another alternative queen.

Now up for his lazy Wade! He's a cute penguin with all around good vibes and a solid design.

Up next to bat is his snooty Portia. Portia is not only monochrome by much like Muffy wears a lot of purples! Her design request in the Happy Home DLC is place where she can listen to classical music! All of the snooty's give off mom vibes so I feel like her personality mixed with design would definitely make her a favorite of his.

Now it's Marlo time! His smug villager is a fancy looking hamster who may also be a mafia boss secretly (???) Peak Baxter vibes once again.

Aurora is our final Baxter-brand villager his resident normal. Aurora needs zero explanation I feel, her catchphrase is b-b-baby and the quote on her photo says "Always keep your cool." She's perfect.

[lucius-the-sinful]

Get to Know Faewynn

I need to do these more for all my oc's and d&d characters, but I thought I'd start with Fae because she's been occupying a lot of space and not paying rent. Inspired by the OC Interview tag games I see but I wanted to make my own version, so if you like this template you can totally copy and paste it, you don't have to tag me but I would love to read others <3

Nicknames: Fae, Bee, Typhoon (only her uncle calls her this)

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 98

Height: 6/6"

Orientation: Pansexual

Race: Half-elf

Class: Druid/Monk

Alignment: Chaotic good

Family?: Fae is the biological daughter to my OC's Zafir (guild leader and knight) and Helvia (land druid). She has an older half brother named Avren (druid/ranger), and a secondary guardian, Finnegan (ranger, partner to Zafir and Helvia). She has one uncle, the king of elves, Yhendorn.

Friends?: Most of her friends are vargyr (my partner's version of worgs). She is the leader of their pack. Fae also has a corvid animal companion.

Favorite Animal?: Wolves/wild canines

Favorite Flower/Plant?: Sweat peas

Favorite Food?: Mushrooms

Favorite Weather/Time of day?: The break of dawn after a particularly cold night

Hobbies?: Hunting, bonecarving

Theme Song: Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos

Background/Fun Facts:

Fae is the first and only biological child of Zafir, as he is normally completely infertile. She was conceived via a wish spell.

She is half-deaf like her father, and was taught Elven Sign at a very young age.

She cannot sleep within buildings, and must always sleep within a natural environment. Her parents compensated for this by helping her build a lean to within her mother's druid grove.

Fae initially trained as a fighter, but her father quickly realized she preferred hand to hand. He brought in people from his guild to help her train to be unarmed.

Fae inherited a lot of her druidic like abilities from her mother, and her love for animals from her brother.

She had a difficult time with schooling, as she always wanted to be outside.

When she became an adolescent, her father started taking her on long survival expeditions to teach her how to live off the land. This is where she picked up bone carving as a hobby, as she was taught to never let an animal she killed to go to waste.

As an adult she began traveling wherever her feet would carry her. Fae would help out almost anyone she came across, either by bringing them food she hunted or supplies she harvested.

Her pack formed when she came across a wounded female vargyr, and brought her to Avren. The vargyr later revealed she was pregnant to the siblings, and asked if she could stay until the pups were born. One of the pups became one of Fae's animal companions, the rest started their own pack.

Fae has two tattoos, the vines up her arm start at a seed on the back of her hand. Then she has an oak tree that covers her entire back sprouting from an acorn at the base of her spine. Both of them are magical, the vines form whips that Fae can use as weapons, and the tree can form full plate armor around Fae (think the dragon aspect shout from Skyrim but with wood instead of dragon bone).

Fae carries a magical griffon shaped medallion that was her fathers.

[therpsllc]

One Way Vision Sticker Printing For Glass in Dubai

Have you ever looked at a window with a picture on it from the outside, but when you’re inside, you can still see outside clearly? That’s the magic of one way vision stickers!

In this blog, we will learn what one way vision stickers are, how they are printed, where we can use them, and why they are so cool. Whether it’s a shop, school, or car, these stickers help show a design on one side while keeping things see-through from the other!

 What is a One Way Vision Sticker?

A one way vision sticker is a special kind of sticker for glass. From the outside, people see a design or picture. But from the inside, you can still see out! That’s why it’s called “one way vision”—you can look outside, but others can’t look in.

These stickers are made with tiny holes called micro-perforations. These holes let light in, so it feels like a normal window when you’re inside. But the outside only shows the printed design. It's like window magic!

 What is One Way Vision Sticker Printing?

One way vision sticker printing is how we add pictures, logos, or messages to the sticker. A special printer prints on the sticker using bright, colorful ink.

Printing companies use strong machines and good-quality materials so the sticker looks great and lasts long. You can choose any design—your shop name, a cartoon, a big sale sign, or anything you want!

Whether it’s for a car, bus, shop, or home, sticker one way vision printing helps your glass turn into something amazing.

 Where Can You Use One Way Vision Stickers?

One way sticker for glass can be used in many places! Here are some cool ideas:

 Shops & Stores

Shops use these stickers on glass doors or windows to show offers, new products, or their store name. People can see the ad from outside, but inside the store, it’s still bright, and you can see out.

 Cars & Buses

Have you seen big posters on bus windows? That’s a one way vision sticker! People inside can look out, but from the outside, you only see a big colorful design.

 Schools & Offices

In classrooms or offices, these stickers add privacy. People can’t peek in, but students and workers can see out. They also make the space look fun or professional.

 At Home

Want privacy on your glass doors or balconies? Use a one way sticker for glass at home. You can even choose fun or cute designs to make your room special.

One Way Sticker Design Ideas

Here are some cool one way sticker design ideas:

 Pretty flowers or nature designs

 Space or planet themes for kids’ rooms

 Sports logos for fans

 Company logo and phone number

 Big Sale signs like “50% OFF!”

Your design can be colorful and match the size of your glass. A good printing company will help you create the best design that fits your style.

 Why People Love One Way Vision Stickers

Here are 5 reasons people like one way vision stickers so much:

1.  Privacy

People outside can’t see in, but you can still see out. Perfect for homes, offices, and schools!

2.  Advertising

Shops can show their logo or promotions without covering up the window view.

3.  Fun Designs

Make your glass look amazing with fun pictures or signs!

4.  Sun Protection

These stickers can block some sunlight and heat, which helps keep your space cooler.

5.  Easy to Use

Just peel and stick! They’re easy to clean and can be removed if needed.

 Who Prints One Way Vision Stickers?

Many printing shops can help you with one way vision sticker printing. Just tell them your design idea, and they’ll do the rest.

Choose a trusted printing company in Dubai or online. They’ll use high-quality printers, strong ink, and good sticker sheets to make sure your design looks bright and lasts a long time. They can even help you stick it properly on your glass!

 Fun Facts About One Way Vision Stickers

 Used on airport buses and metro trains

 Tiny holes are almost invisible to the eye

 You can print your own family photo and use it on your window

 Final Thoughts

One way vision stickers are not just stickers—they are smart and fun tools that help you show messages, keep your privacy, and decorate your space.

Whether you want to promote a store, block sunlight, or just add a cool design to your glass, these stickers are perfect. And with easy one way sticker design and sticker printing services, your windows can look awesome in no time!

So next time you see a colorful window, remember—it could be a one way vision sticker doing its magic!

[thryth-gaming]

Final Girl and Monster of the Week

Yesterday, I shared a bit of a recent (successful) run at the Once Upon a Full Moon Final Girl feature film on the Keeper's Fellowship discord server that pointed out something I hadn't initially thought of regarding these two games.

------ Text of the posted comment:

"Lull (he/him/any) — 12:02 AM

Was looking at a couple of the others - the maps are actually a really great level of detail for those who want to run MotW with maps. Like, here are fun locations and how they relate, without going into too much detail"

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Final Girl and Monster of the Week very obviously share some themes, especially if you look at the Wait, Monsters are Real?! scenarios MotW now has with Codex of Worlds: Apocrypha. But mechanically, one is a board game and the other is a tabletop RPG. Those two hobbies do have some overlap, especially with the more involved games, and I hadn't really thought of this one as one of those.

Unfairly so really.

Final Girl has complexity without complication. There's a lot of layers to the game such that the pretty simply mechanics and systems interconnect in interesting ways, especially with the custom rules each Killer or Location comes with. Which is where I want to focus.

So let's look at the maps of the games I own.

Most of these maps have around 6-7 named locations. There's a simple map showing how the locations connect to each other and a few simple markings to relate to common and special rules. Each feature film's location comes with a set of unique items and associated events which will reference the various titled locations. And each location has special rules associated with it.

This pretty much encapsulates what you need in terms of setting up the locations for a Monster of the Week mystery.

First of all, each of the locations has its own special rules.

The USS Konrad has special rules regarding maintenance tunnels, keycards, and special functions available at certain rooms like setting the ship to self-destruct from the bridge.

The Storybrook Woods presents places to put rafts to move along the river and has a smaller than normal map.

Maple Lane focuses on the overall location and has fewer named locations but rules about talking your way into the various houses.

Sacred Groves has rules causing Divine Wrath to build up if victims hang around sacred places.

Creech Manor has special rules for ladders, one-way movement, and indoor/outdoor spaces.

And while most of the time, individual locations don't do much, but they might have events or terror cards that refer to them drawn as cards.

Creech Manor has event cards that reference windows.

The Storybrook Woods has event cards that do things like cause victims to be distracted by pretty flowers in one location, represented by using the panic rules to send them various directions.

Sacred Grove will have events that designate certain areas as hallowed or closed for maintenance, blocking the passage of victims.

Maple Lane has events like rain driving victims in the houses or fireworks drawing victims out into the street.

The USS Konrad has events look equipment malfunctions or functions like an emergency override that makes it easier to use the functions at some locations.

In addition, each feature film presents the chance of summoning certain special victims.

The USS Konrad has an orphan girl, a cat, and the ship's captain.

Maple Lane has "the boyfriend" and The Smalley's family.

Sacred Groves has the uber tourist, the holy man, and the tour guide.

Creech Manor has a team of ghost hunters that will ignore your warnings until one of them dies.

Storybrook Woods has Hansel, the Woodsman, and the Pied Piper.

Most of these special victims cause extra consequences when they die, some of them can provide you with some aid, and one of them (the Pied Piper) is villain in his own right that will kill other Victims.

Apply this approach to the design of MotW mysteries:

Define your overall location.

Define sub-locations.

Define custom moves for situations that will always be present such as a custom move to represent an ongoing blizzard or the need to deal with the suspicions of the local residents.

Create a small number of important bystanders. Some of these may have attached custom moves.

Have specific ways the characters can escape the mystery or get people out of the area, especially if you're in a survivor scenario.

Terror cards and Event cards are somewhat akin to the Countdown, especially as these cards represent events that could happen but won't necessarily do so. They also are similar to Keeper moves but as the cards are already made, they lack the function of sudden Keeper epiphany that an actual living person can provide. Of course having a small list of pre-planned possible encounters is a good idea, but that is basically what the Countdown is.

Key points to think about as well:

Not every event will happen.

Not every location will be visited.

Not every bystander will be met.

Don't go overboard, but create more bystanders, locations, and events than you will actually need.

The main difference between these cards and Countdown is that they don't have a set order... but... then again, once the hunters get involved, there's no guarantee the Countdown will proceed in the order it was originally planned for either.

The monster design is also a good thing to look at. Each monster has a specific set of initial behaviors it has at the beginning of the game and a collection of random possible dark powers or finales. The Big Bad Wolf might end up having a terrible howl that breaks items or a sixth sense that makes it harder to ambush them. The poltergeist can create an invisible wall or even add a time limit to the game, creating a second way to lose the game besides dying.

This is a good indicator for how to approach designing differing monsters with the same premise. Not all werewolves will have exactly the same powers and not all ghosts will do chill atmosphere or throw knives around telekinetcally. This is an application of adding powers or monster specific custom moves on top of the basic rules of harm, attack, and armor.

[sunilsainiarena]

Luxurious Wedding Floral Decoration in Dubai That Will Leave Your Guests Awestruck

When it comes to planning your big day, everything matters; nothing seems to be able to set the mood like flowers for a wedding decoration in Dubai. From large floral arches to ostentatious centerpieces, flower decoration has the power to turn a lovely place into an awe-inspiring scenery straight out of a dream. In a city known for its glamor, the expectations are indeed high. If you want a real show stopper, luxury wedding floral decoration in Dubai is where it all begins.

Why are Couples Choosing Floral Grandeur in Dubai? 

For Dubai, elegance, style, and sophistication are normal, and weddings are no exception. For many couples, spending on wedding floral decoration in Dubai is not just a choice; rather, it is a statement. Flowers communicate romance, tradition, and feelings. With a well-oriented design team, your wedding flowers will create ambiance, complement your theme, and enhance every moment of your special day. 

From timeless white roses to bold, exotic blooms, the right touch of wedding floral decorations in Dubai will keep your guests enthralled and create picture-perfect memories.

Trends in Dubai for luxurious wedding flowers

In luxury, it is all about the details, and florals in wedding decorations are in for some drastic trends in Dubai in 2025. These suggest towering floral installations, cascading bouquets, and immersive floral tunnels serving as unforgettable photo backdrops. The union of modern aesthetics with traditional Middle Eastern influences creates a signature floral language that is classy yet enchanting. 

Some couples favor an all-white floral theme highlighted by orchids and hydrangeas, while others embrace strong hues with peonies, dahlias, and tropical leaves. Custom flower walls with petal pathways and floral chandeliers are fast becoming icons of luxury wedding floral decoration in Dubai.

Here are some wedding venues that deserve extraordinary floral decoration. 

Dubai lays claims to some of the most stunning venues for weddings in the world—desert resorts, iconic beachside hotels, and grand ballrooms. Each venue has its own character and mood altogether to maximize your florals. The best part is, regardless of the style, luxury wedding floral decoration in Dubai is the ultimate converter of any space into a dream-filled wonder!

Picture yourself exchanging vows under a flower-filled pergola with breathtaking views of the Arabian Gulf or dining in a five-star ballroom under a suspended ceiling of blooms. Partner with an innovative floral design team, and the options are limitless.

Elements that Make Up Luxury Wedding Floral Decoration 

What makes luxury wedding floral decoration in Dubai? It's Artistry plus Scale plus Personalization. Here are some examples that define it: 

1. Oversized Floral Arches: 

They make the most beautiful entrances into a ceremony area or the most spectacular backdrop to an altar. 

2. Suspended Florals: 

Adds dimension and sophistication with installations or ceilings. 

3. Curated Centerpieces: 

Layered arrangements with a mix of textures and rare blooms bring depth and beauty to them all. 

4. Floral Aisle Runners:

 A carpet of fresh petals. The modern-day royal atmosphere. 

5. Customized Flower Walls: 

Initials, quotes, or just a sea of blooms - perfect for photo ops. 

Every tiny detail of your wedding floral decoration in Dubai should speak to your taste but also dare to amaze.

Planning with Professionals

Designing a floral masterpiece requires more than just flowers- it requires vision, logistics, and flawless execution. That is why working with experienced designers is essential. Professionals know how to deal with the weather of Dubai, where to get the freshest blooms, and how to make the vision come to life while not exceeding the available budget.

And of course, Flowerstoredubai would be among the companies that have a name for delivering sky-high design and seamless service. They convert wedding fantasies into realities, which probably last in the memories forever with their vast knowledge of luxury aesthetics. Whether it is a small affair or one for the crowds, their experts will bring to design wedding floral decoration in Dubai that leaves a lifelong imprint.

Budgeting for Floral Luxury

Luxury does not always mean inordinate expenditure, but knowing where to spend one's money for maximum effect. Focus the floral expenditure on the high-impact areas: entrance, ceremony backdrop, and reception centerpiece. With good placement and a little extra thinking through design, one can lift an entire event even when working to a specific budget. In season, combined with a florist, one can have exceptional results. Experts like those at Flowerstoredubai can guide you on how one can balance cost-effectiveness with elegance in wedding floral decoration in Dubai.

Conclusion

On the wedding day, Irene and Robert, and every couple, have the right to get as elegant, romantic, and unforgettable as their love story. But are luxury wedding floral decorations a must when putting together a pretty backdrop for a wedding? Very much. For in this set-up, your guests will have an unforgettable experience etched in their hearts forever.

In a town where beauty and opulence are way of life, only the best can be chosen by you for your flowers. Let the flowers speak their message, leaving your guests in absolute awe. 

Don't stop with that romantic idea or whimsical thought; if all else fails, ultra-modern floral decorations in Dubai guarantee a wedding day that shines. Above all, with a top-notch design and the right creative team, this wedding is going to be the talk of the town.

[vscera1]

VILLAIN / KILLER OC / MOLDED PVN

moved from @ vscera

┊ LAW . ┊ BIO . ┊ VERSES . ┊

LAW .

As usual we have a couple of ground rules , the common ; don’t be a jerk , have some tact and basic manners. i don’t feel like i need to add any so far but if with time i need to i’ll do so . the only restriction is that this blog is strictly mutuals only If you got this far then you’ll notice that GORE , VIOLENCE & TORTURE are main themes here , i do tag some however you are here on your own risk. feel free to hard block me if you feel uncomfortable with this ! ( i don’t mind ) my name is nox you might know me more commonly as pvn , i am 27+ and go by they / them feel free to speak to me if there are anything that is unclear i won’t bite i promise !

BIO .

info 

name : Naizō 内臓 ( internal organs / intestines ) Minagoroshi 皆殺し ( wholesale slaughter ) 

alias : Zōki 臓器 ( viscera )

age : 22 - 24 ( approx )

sex : male

gender : fem boy

dob : 01 / 04 ( april fools day )

pronouns : he / him & they / them

height : 175 cm / 5’ 9

occupation : sculptor , artist , clothing designer

appearance

eyes : salmon pink

hair : strawberry blond 

skin : pale to almost see-through 

build : lean , pear shape 

piercings: tragus - anti tragus in both ears

distinguishing characteristics: sharp fangs , generally sickly appearance

personal

positive traits : creative , social , comforting 

negative traits : tease , obsessive , no sense of personal space

likes : horror movies , art , fashion

dislikes : uncreative people , vegetables 

hobbies : autopsies , haruspicy ( fascination by the subject not practicing themselves ) , various types of art

VERSES .

VTM / WOD

tag . CONTORTED LIMBS . ��—   vampire the masquerade 

upon first glances given his adoration to the arts of many , mask of human innocence might trick your eye into the belief that he is a toreador not that he would deny the claims. in truth his clan is and will always be tzimisce , undeniable having contorted his very sire after a mere month of his turning.  Vicissitude — ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ○ ○ ○ ○ Auspex —  ● ● ● ● ● ○ Animalism —  ● ● ● ● ● ○

ONE PIECE 

tag . SPILLED GUTS .  —   one piece

originating from a island filled to the brim with oddly shaped flora namely organ shaped flowers , plant material it is all mimicking the appearance of  organs , muscles and structure if you listened quiet enough it was said you could hear them pulsating ironically enough this would be the fruit he would be graced with. the gore gore fruit which allows the user to manipulate flesh , organs and muscles of other beings and changing other organisms into these structures ( however they need to be organisms with living cells ) once leaving the island in the new world he was known as a mass murderer having a high price on his head earning the nickname ’ gut spill ’ given the amounts of humans left spilled all over the towns he’s visited. because of this he has been asked to join crews however never accepted.

BSD

tag . IN THE FLESH .  —   bsd

goes by the name naizō however his true name being CLIVE BARKER and is a infamous mass murderer however where his true allegiance lies is unknown suspicion is that he might have dabbled among Rats in the House of the Dead. his ability is the books of blood ( How Spoilers Bleed ) more TBA.

JJK 

tag .  ART OUT OF HUMANITY .  —   jjk

one of the few unregistered special grade curses that reemerged as sakuna was reincarnated , a curse able to manipulate peoples physical shape as long as they where within 5 feet as long as the person has a physical ( organism / similar parts ) they are able to shape them as well as move them to their liking being more infamous for leaving humans shaped like grotesque flowers. 

HAZBIN / HELLUVA BOSS 

tag . GROTESQUE PERVERSION .  —   hh / hb

quite known for his powers to manipulate organic matter to his whims , feared by normal inhabitants of hell since these changes are permanent. Due to his artistic nature he lurks around art exhibits in the pride ring on occasion he has his own …  sporadic ones when inspiration hits. ( appearance wise looks like a incubus but more feminine and delicate can be confused for a succubi )

CHAINSAW MAN 

tag . THE VICERAL .  —   csm

the flesh devil also known as the ' contortion ' devil in other circles due to their habits.

BNHA / MHA

tag . INSIDES OUT .  —   bnha / mha

the last descendant of his family line due to is unstable mind turned them all into ’ flesh flowers ’ this being his main pattern on her path to infamy , finding beauty in the human insides claiming that is the most beautiful side to humans. has been suspected of being involved with the league of villains on occasion  quirk ; chō ryūshutsu 腸流出 / gut spill : enables the user to manipulate flesh , organs and muscles of other beings and changing other organisms into these structures however they need to be organisms with living cells. in order to manipulate the cells he needs to be withing 5 feet the closer the faster he can mold you , most people does not survive this process due to the pain.

power : 3/5 speed : 4/5 technique : 6/5 intelligence : 5/5 morbidness : 6/5

POKEMON

tag .

[freycule]

𝗔𝗕𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗠𝗘

im a 20 year old aspiring author & artist, with an odd fascination for themes that surround blood :3

PROUD homosexual and freak and fundashi.

i am a full time shut in with an interest in astrophysics, and im currently working to get my certs for computer security! as such, i am like, the ultimate boyfailure.

i write fics x reader fics on my main blog, freyito. my ao3, aeragan, will have a mix of fics from my writing blog and from here!

i am writing several books atm! but my pride and joy is blood lily, with dog eat dog coming in at second place.

i love space, flowers, fantasy, and the like... i have very confusing/conflicting aesthetics

𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗦𝗞

-> why is [og] freyr naked>????!??

cause i want him to be! in his prime form, he doesn't posess ANY anatomy. i like to think of it as the ultimate vulnerability

-> why does almost every freyr act like they NEED blood??

prime freyr comes from a pantheon that does nothing but benefit from sacrifices of their patrons. these sacrifices normally include the sharing of blood. worshippers NEVER allow the god to directly drink from their body, and usually spill their blood in goblets or bowls. the only times a god will willingly drink from a worshippers body is to signify marriage. it is normally from the neck, like vampires! but sometimes they can drink from the wrist, which is a much more tame version of a ""wedding"". essentially, drinking from the neck = wedding, drinking from the wrist = eloping. this pantheon lives off of popularity. when popularity wanes for gods, they are ultimate cast out and begin the ultimate descent. freyr used to be a well-loved god, known for his kindness and energy among his worshippers! however, as the throne between time started to shift towards a more apathetic world, freyr lost popularity, and eventually began his fall from grace. his descent was so great, that he shattered across several timelines.

-> do all freyrs come straight from the og freyr?

no! some freyrs are ultimately part of their universe, rather than being kind of isekai'd in. like twisted wonderland freyr!

-> do all freyrs remember their descent?

also no! only a select few do, like honkai star rail freyr! this is why he's so nervous and scared and terrified! alternatively, blood lily freyr (also known just as the blood lily) is the OG FREYR who fell into the world of blood lily, and ultimately started the cruel cycle of flowers and rebirth.

-> can i send asks?

YES!!! PLEASE DO!!! ask me about my selfships, freyr, and whatever you want!

-> do you share?

also yes! the only character i don't share is my oc, of course. but i LOOOVE SHARING MY F/OS!!! the more the merrier... it just means i get more content >:)

-> who is caim oleander?

the main character from one of the books im writing, dog eat dog. he is a blind, 57 year old man. he is a big name in the criminal underworld, a kingpin. he uses his church as a coverup for his drug and weapon smuggling ring. he's also very handsome and i vloe him.