#pillars of morality or anything

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Now that I'm back in the online discourse of the Red Dead community after half a decade away waiting to have the ability to play and beat the second game, I'm really fairly quickly learning that there's this... weird, romanticized version of Arthur Morgan's character out there that really has no basis in reality.

Today I accidentally stumbled upon an anti-John Marston post and I'm not going to get into that here (even though I have A LOT to say), but the top comment was very strange to me. It talked about how Arthur is this 'giant', this 'greek hero', a perfect person, and as I read it I just... wasn't sure if I played the same game as them.

There's obviously a way of playing the game where he's this high honor hero, and I largely played that. But Arthur is also a deeply violent man, a deeply cynical and sometimes cruel guy. He's not a gentle humored guy, he's deeply sarcastic and at times kind of nasty with his humor, even to people he likes. He really often struggles with his worse nature, and it's not a struggle without reason. His first response to a situation is really often the most extreme, and the only reason I feel like people don't realize that outside of having a hand at deciding his honor is because he's the most outspoken about unnecessary vengeance... but that's not because he's opposed to it on principle, it's because it's important for him to protect his people, and that requires letting things go.

This isn't me bashing Arthur, by the way. The beauty of his character is how he struggles against himself, his own nature. How everyone can see his kindness even when he can't himself, even when his actions say otherwise. He's conflicted between what he wants his life to be and the life he has lead, the most important man in his life, one that's practically a father to him, instilled in him rules for life and he's watching him break every single one. For the first time in his life he has to figure out who he is and how he wants what little time he has to be defined. THAT'S a fantastic character, a hero even... but far, far, FAR from perfect. He's a deeply flawed human being who has done terrible things, and it makes me wonder the level of media literacy it takes to not understand that.

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

+

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

+

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

+

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

+

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[atzfilm]

— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [6] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find. it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader, mxm (this chapter); yeosang x reader, wooyoung x reader; 12.7k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder references, manipulation, blood, torture references, dark magic, lying, emotional turmoil, injuries, slight descriptions of gore, worship references (?), smut

Chapter 6

You've grown to notice that it is never truly cold in the forest around their home. It feels as if it’s a warm bubble, unaffected by outside elements. None of the faeries ever mention it, probably accustomed to the odd temperature. You yourself are not, jacket wrapped around your waist as you walk through the small path Yeosang has taken you on. His clothing is loose, steps gliding along the slow breeze. All of them are quiet when they walk, barely the sound of a leaf crunching beneath their feet. He does not move as fast as San did when you arrived. In fact, there's little space between you, his skin close to brushing against your own.

Since you have known him, he has been indifferent to your presence. Oftentimes mulling in silence whenever you two spent time together, or glued to whatever object was around at the time. Being alone with him didn't happen often – most occasions he'd have San tied to his side, fingers wrapped around his waist, moving where he moved. Or Wooyoung lingering around you. So you're quite surprised he even wants you out here alone with him. You aren't close at all.

“The house could be quite a nuisance,” he says softly, hand sliding in yours as you climb around a protruding rock. Now that you know he can feel what you're thinking, the coincidences of him answering your thoughts aren't so shocking anymore. You expect him to let go once you’ve steadied yourself but he doesn’t, fingers entwined. “Everyone is watching your every move. San unwilling to leave your side for even a breath,” he smiles, slightly toothy grin. “Now you know how I feel.”

“It’s like he’s attached. Each time I leave the room he follows,” you say, and Yeosang snorts, nodding.

“Seonghwa warned him that he is to keep his eye on you. None of us know when you’ll–” he snaps his fingers on his free hand– “Better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’m not going to do anything.” There’s little ground to defend yourself on, but still. You can barely remember what happened then. It was a life or death situation. You doubt it'd happen now. “Just don’t try to kill me or anything.”

“Is that a threat?” he teases, brow raised. “Not to worry. I doubt any of us would do such a thing. We have morals, you know. Even as Unseelie.”

“San was explaining that to me. Between the chaos there is comfort. I can see it when you're around each other. You tease, but you do care. In different ways.”

“We do. Our inane element of chaos is fairly simple. We reign terror on human lives. It has lessened over the years now since humans aren't as inept as before. It takes time for us to ruin their lives,” he glances at you from the side. “You may witness it in person eventually.”

“Just like how you've caused it on mine?” You barely speak above a whisper, but Yeosang catches the irritated murmur, laughing softly as he helps you over a fallen tree. The sound is a bit eerie under these circumstances. You are trapped and he knows it so clearly. His laughter is evident enough of that.

“Precisely. We are almost there, human. Watch your step,” he pulls you closer to him, arm wrapped around your body, fingers light against your waist. Oddly it reminds you of Wooyoung – neither of the two's actions in consideration of the person they bother. In a way you believe that while Wooyoung touches you whenever he likes on purpose, Yeosang fails to realize there is an issue at all. He lets go when you enter the field, gracefully crossing his legs as he rests on the flower petals. You sit next to him with far less elegance, taking in your surroundings.

It is strange to see anything like this in the forest nearest your town. A small waterfall and a body of water sit in front of you, the sound of the liquid splashing filling the night. You pay no mind to how Yeosang watches you, your interest in the natural structures in front of you. A group of deer bend their necks, drinking the freshly cycled water from the pond.

“Hongjoong showed me this place when we first arrived,” Yeosang explains, head resting in his hands. “He told me that I can come whenever I like to clear my mind or hide away. He hasn't shown up here since, I'm sure out of respect for me. If you'd like I can come with you here whenever you need. I thought it would bring you some comfort amongst everything else.”

It does. Your emotions weigh heavy on you. Missing your family, mourning your lost relationship. Hurt sitting inside you with everything that's happened. You haven't gotten the chance to really let that feeling settle because you haven't had time to yourself. Though now you technically still don't, Yeosang doesn't speak. He doesn't interrupt the silence. No, all he does is stretch out his fingers, a book appearing on his palm. He flips through the pages, filling the air between the two of you.

“Thank you.”

The grass beneath you is comforting as you lie back, eyes closed. The sound of a page flipping continues.

“Thanking me is not needed.”

—

“Where did you take her?”

Yeosang barely looks up from his literature, a sigh escaping from his lips. Perhaps the two of you should have stayed out much longer. “Welcome home.”

“You can't just take her out of the house, Yeosang. We have to keep an eye on her at all times. You can't be alone without any of us near.” Seonghwa's voice is frustrated as he opens the fridge, digging through the drawers. “If she attempts to kill you we're too far away to stop it. You have to think these things through before committing to it.”

“The human isn't going to kill me, hyung,” Yeosang murmurs, frowning as he reads the next line. “Oh what a pity.”

“What?” Seonghwa turns, seeing his mate staring at the book.

Yeosang looks up, pointing to the page, “They died before meeting. They've been waiting years but they both died. It's horrific,” he shakes his head, continuing to flip through. It only gets Seonghwa more frustrated, frown on his lips soon to permanently embed itself in his face.

“You are not listening to me–”

“Oh, but I am listening perfectly, Seonghwa. I just wonder when you will finally let one of us know what's on your mind. And why you continue to lie about her to us,” Yeosang hums. “Maybe then I will give you my full, undivided attention. But for now, since you will likely respond with another lie, I will continue to read.” he looks up from his book, eyes resting on his. It makes the lump in Seonghwa's throat grow. Disappointment. Yeosang isn't like the others in that sense. He's hidden with his emotions, only letting his frustration or irritation through individual talks. Never letting another person around hear it. So now, even though they are both alone at the moment, it hurts Seonghwa to see that even with this privacy, Yeosang does not let his true feelings slip out. His hurt must be larger than he can comprehend.

It's not like Seonghwa doesn't want to say it. But solidifying his suspicions without being one hundred percent sure would only be useless. Turn them in a direction that they don't need to be in right now. They should be focused on the growing threat of Seelie entering their land, not you. You would just be a distraction between it all if you are human. And if Seonghwa is right about what you really are, then you're an asset to their team. If his spark all can fall under your charms without much effort, the Seelie are sure to fall for it. And they could finally subdue them once and for all. The only glaring problem with his plan, that is, is if you turn on them. It is the main reason why he dislikes whenever you’re left alone with just one.

“It is for a reason, Yeosang.” Seonghwa holds the tangerine in his hand, slowly peeling off the skin. “I hope you can understand.”

“We don't hide things from one another,” Yeosang says, writing into the pages of his novel. “So if you expect sympathy from me you've gone to the wrong mate. Perhaps Hongjoong, or Jongho will give you what you desire.” His brows furrow, frustration etching itself into his skin. “Now you can go. I'm getting distracted.”

Seonghwa places a tangerine in front of Yeosang's folded legs, leaving the room altogether. Once he is gone, Yeosang grabs the fruit. He stares at it, thumb running along the surface. It pierces the skin, juices sliding down his skin, spilling onto the book that rests in his lap. He sighs in frustration, tossing the fruit into the sink several meters away.

“Everything would be solved if she were dead,” he murmurs.

—

“Three.”

“Nope.”

“Less than that?”

“Much less.”

“It can't just be me, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung grins, palm holding up his head as he looks up at you. “It's surprising, no? But it's true. All I've ever wanted, no, desired, was other faeries or creatures beyond your comprehension. Humans are only playthings to me. Meals at the end of the day. Nothing more.”

The thought makes your stomach want to fold in on itself. “You're joking?”

“Unfortunately no,” he sighs, letting his head flop down to your sheets. “Your scent is all consuming, solaris. No other human has affected me in such a way. And it wouldn't make sense to have a human partner when all I'd do is just kill them in the end.” His eyes shift to you. “I wouldn't do that to you though, I like you too much.”

“How wonderful,” Sarcasm drips from your words as he laughs. Easily speaking of killing humans, as if he's talking about playing a game. Some things you'll never get used to when hanging out with Unseelie. Their lack of care for living still makes you feel queasy. Your one murder haunts you every night, but he, no, they, thrive in it. You just cannot imagine it.

“You've overstayed your welcome,” Yeosang stands on the outside of the door, arms crossed against his chest. He nods at you, expression surprisingly warm. Since that night, Yeosang often spent time with you. He hasn't said much, as usual, but he sought you out for quiet. Wooyoung being here right now is likely the opposite of what he wants.

Wooyoung's head rolls to the side, eyes narrowing at his mate. “You bother her too much. Give solaris some space.”

“You're in her room every night,” Yeosang deadpans.

“Yes, and? She enjoys me around her, I liven up the place! Don't you enjoy me?” His pout matches the whiny tone of his voice. In the beginning it was mildly irritating, but you do enjoy it now. Not that you'd admit it to him. He'd never leave your side at that rate.

“No.”

“Solaris!” He whines, tucking himself further into your sheets. It would be humorous if it weren’t for the look Yeosang gives him.

“Leave,” Yeosang says, his voice firmer now. “Mingi and San need you.”

“On a scale of not needed at all to they're currently dying, where does the need of my presence fall–”

“Go, now.”

Mingi. You haven't seen him in a while, assuming that he was on a mission. Knowing that he's around makes you wonder a bit. He hasn't greeted you since you've arrived again. Was he afraid of seeing you? No, that couldn't be. You were afraid of him, not the other way around.

Wooyoung painfully drags himself off your sheets, sending you a quick look before moving past Yeosang. His hand reaches out and grips Wooyoung’s bicep, their eyes meeting. They often communicate without speaking, gazes flicking over one another’s before Wooyoung leaves down the hall. Yeosang turns to look at you, exhaustion easily lining his gaze. Still you envy their connection, unlike anything you’d ever experience yourself. You wouldn’t want to become an Unseelie, but their devotion to each other is formidable. If only your kind were the same. Perhaps if humans were equally bonded to one another, there’d be less infighting and more respect spread across the Earth. But of course, just wishful thinking.

“Hongjoong asked for you,” Yeosang says.

“The man of the hour,” you murmur, sighing. “Why can’t he just come here himself?”

“Believe it or not,” Yeosang smiles. “He is a bit more busy than you think. He didn’t technically ask for me to come find you, but I doubt he would find the time to leave himself. And Yunho is too preoccupied to come here. I’m the only one free at the moment.”

You lift yourself up from your seat, stepping past the small gap between Yeosang and the doorway. He shifts slightly, arm brushing against yours as you make your way around. He does not follow you promptly. You turn to look at him, his sight glued on yours.

“Something the matter?”

His expression changes, and he merely shakes his head. “Nothing. I’ll lead the way.”

—

Yeosang leaves you with him, fingers brushing against the back of your hand as he disappears down the hall. He did not try to start a conversation as you two were walking alone, briefly glancing at you from time to time. Whatever you did moments ago must have bothered him enough to not even attempt to dissolve the awkwardness resting between both of you. But you didn’t either, so there’s that.

You slowly enter, your steps echoing as you move further inside. You’ve been inside Hongjoong’s office once before, but never in his room. It is nothing like you expected it to be - no torture devices hanging from the walls. Instead, vinyls resting on clear displays, cds in between each one. In fact, there were several instruments decorated all about, some you couldn’t even recognize yourself. Many likely hundreds of years old. This is his place, his mind. The thought of peering into his personal space, his mind, even if ever briefly, makes you anxious, goosebumps rising on your skin as you take yourself further in. It can’t be that bad.

He at least tolerates you enough to have you still around.

“Why are you here?”

You turn to the side, Hongjoong hunched over at his desk, pen dragging across stationary as he writes. He does not look up so you can only assume he heard your loud steps enter his room. The notebook he writes in is well-worn, corners curved in and cover peeling. His eyes briefly meet yours after you don’t speak, brow raised in expectation. “Well?”

“Yeosang told me you wanted to see me.”

He rolls his eyes, staring at his writing before ripping out a page, crumbling it up and snapping his fingers. The paper engulfed in flames before flickering into ashes, sliding off his table and into the bin beneath. “Yeosang tells everyone a lot of things, that does not mean it’s true. You’ll learn to not listen to his words after a while. He’s quite mischievous,” he murmurs.

“Then I am not needed?” You’re thankful, really. Being in his space, his scent, creates a strange feeling within you. There’s a reason you avoid him, more than just being afraid.

Hongjoong stands, throwing his notebook off his table. You take a step back just as he moves forward, too fast for you to leave his sight. His hands grip your body, pulling you close to him.

“Personal space is a thing, Hongjoong.”

“You want me to speak to you, truly?”

You try pulling away but his hold only tightens. So instead of fighting a losing battle, you speak through tight lips, “Say what you have to say.”

“What is it you want me to say? That I would follow you everywhere, until your steps become my own, until your breaths mingle with mine? There's no need for that. There is no where you will go that will be where I am not. It is all but that simple.” He cradles your face in his hands, thumbs rubbing against the skin. It takes everything in you not to flinch. “That is all I need, and it is all you’ve wanted. We will no longer be separated; you won’t be left alone. Is that what you want?”

What is he even saying? The more he trails on, the more fear begins to circulate your veins. He does not seem to notice it, so he continues when greeted with silence. “Soobin is no longer an issue since he’s gone. You’re free to desire whomever you want without him holding you back.”

His name pulls you out of your confusion almost instantaneously. “He was my partner, Hongjoong,” your brows furrow. “He’s the reason I’m even in this town in the first place. Why would he be holding me back? I love him.” And it’s true. There has been a bit of wavering in your love, and he broke your heart not too long ago. Mourning a love lost is one thing, but losing that love for him completely is entirely different.

You don’t see the way his mouth twitches at the word love. What you do see, though, is the way his eyes narrow. “He’s gone.”

“Love doesn’t just disappear when I no longer see him.”

“Then how will it? Must he come to you and say he hates you? Will he have to attempt to hurt you for it to go away? Why do humans continue to love someone who’s left them? Why can’t you let him go?” What else does he have to do? Should he have manipulated the human’s mind before they killed him? Made him break your heart? He thought Mingi’s appearance was enough to stop your mind from lingering on him. But it seems like it has done little.

You stare at Hongjoong as he loses himself in his thoughts. You’ve believed in inherent goodness, but there’s always been this underlying fear of them, just for the nature of them being Unseelies alone. Knowing that despite all of what they say, it’s something they can’t change. It’s something you’ve settled with. But hearing his words, the way his eyes shake as he looks at you… something tells you that he’s off. That despite their comfort and sympathy, they know what happened to Soobin.

An even smaller part of you believes that they’ve done something to him.

“Why do you care?”

He does not respond, waiting for you to continue. In the position you are right now, it’s hard not to.

“It’s hard to,” you explain, choosing your words carefully. “I’ve known him since we were children, and even if I didn’t love him in the romantic sense, I still would love him as a former friend. It hurts to just lose a friendship like that.”

"If I killed it would you forget him?"

You still. His touch is ever so delicate as he waits for your response. Eyes warm, blinking slowly. It's as if he didn't just say he'd do something so heinous, so unthinkable.

"What?" Is all you can respond with.

He leans closer to you, barely a breath away from your lips. His eyes flick over your face, before landing back on your eyes. "If I killed your weak, miserable, disgusting, incompetent, lackluster ex-partner, as you call it, will you forget then? Will you mourn its loss then come into my arms? Will you love me as you love it?"

It. Perhaps his mask slid down just a bit.

"You're out of your mind."

"I am very much sane, y/n. It's a simple question with an even simpler answer."

"No."

"No…?"

"I wouldn't forgive you if you killed him, Hongjoong."

He rolls his eyes, a huff echoing around the room. "How boring and mundane. I thought you were more amusing than that." He moves away from you now, grabbing his notebook he threw across the room. “Yeosang was right, I did want to speak to you. Not yet, but I suppose I have little reason to keep it to myself. Seonghwa suspects that you are not human.”

He moves on from the moment as if it never happened, as if he did not threaten your old partner. The subject change easily distracts you though, the idea so otherworldly that you scoff. Hongjoong snickers at the sound, standing up. “You make that incredulous sound but Seonghwa has rarely ever been wrong in his findings. You may not be as human as you think.”

“I’m only human, Hongjoong. There’s nothing else to it.”

“That you know of,” he adds, placing his book back on his table. “You’ve lived as a human your whole life you know nothing other than that. Of course you’d think the thought silly.”

“What do you want me to say? First you threaten my old partner and now you say that I’m not human? Do you want me to beg at your knees and tell you that it’s not true?”

“The thought of you on your knees in front of me isn’t unappealing,” he chirps.

“You’re,” you hold your tongue. It’s not the smartest thing to do - insulting an Unseelie in their territory. Hongjoong is unhinged already, no need to push him further into his madness. But you cannot help yourself. “You’re disgusting.”

He shrugs, “That’s not the worst insult I’ve ever heard. You've overstayed your welcome, you can go.” His hand waves you off, giving you his back completely. Though you expect nothing less from him, it still feels humiliating. But there's nothing you can do. Not now. You decide it's best to just leave completely, door slamming behind you as you exit the room. Yeosang lingers outside, book closing when you walk past him. He reaches out for your arm but you shove his touch off, making your way to your room.

You don't quite notice how hard you’ve pushed him, his body thumping against the wood. Yeosang looks down at his hand. How his fingers curl into themselves. You pushed him off. Strength formidable to his own with just a spike in your anger. He does not follow you but instead, enter the room you just left.

—

“He is an Unseelie. It is not unlike him to thrive off of your anger and frustration. It's tantalizing, the energy oozing from humans. It is fun for us,” Wooyoung's laying on your bed once again, arms folded beneath his head, eyes on the ceiling. “It tastes wonderful, though not as good as fear.”

“Doesn't really ease my nerves,” you say, flipping through the book he handed you. It's something he grabbed from Jongho, the scrawny writing etched into the pages. You snicker at the jabs he adds in, his notations growing more humorous as you turn pages. It's distracting enough for now. A hand covers the writing, Wooyoung's pout forcing you to stop. You shut the book, placing it on your side table. “He is annoying, Wooyoung. I don't think I'll last here long with him constantly saying shit and me not being able to say anything back.”

“You can argue with him, solaris. He won't kick you out.” He sees your expression, sighing. “We all do it, and none of us have left yet–”

“You are his mates, his spark. He wouldn't throw you out because of an argument. I have nothing left if I leave, Wooyoung. My family would be in danger, Soobin would be in danger, right when I step outside someone is waiting to kill me. It's exhausting to think about.”

“You have to learn to put yourself first instead of worrying about others,” he says. “And your family is as safe as they can be right now. They do not remember you, and you’ve been pulled from their lives. If a Seelie truly digs for it they will find them, but we will know before anything happens,” Wooyoung presses his finger against his temple. “I’ve got them on my radar.”

“You’re only confusing me more.”

“A spell, solaris. I’m keeping my eye on them every second. You’ll know if anything is amiss. Unfortunately though, I’d rather not update you on mundane things. It’ll make letting them go harder to bear.”

You do not agree with his method of lessening your worry, but you’d rather not argue with another Unseelie, too distraught from the last conversation to probe any further. You sink yourself deeper into the seat, closing your eyes. His silence is enough to make you open a lid, meeting the eyes of the Unseelie who continues to stare. You shake your head, closing them once more.

“Taking a picture would be better than you just staring.”

“Is that a joke or can I really take a photo?”

This time both of your eyes open, moving to him. He hasn’t moved from his spot, the devilish grin still on his face as he laughs. “I was kidding.”

“How unfortunate.”

You hum in agreement, eyes closing again. Since Wooyoung is often lingering around your room and having time to yourself is only reserved for late nights, San hasn’t really come around anymore. Sometimes he’d show here and there, but only for a quick once over and disappearing back to wherever he spends his time. It’s why you’ve grown used to Wooyoung threatening to tear your door down if you don’t let him in. Sure, it’s a bit concerning and mildly threatening, but he hasn’t done anything nefarious. Flirting here and there, maybe a bit of annoying banter, but you enjoy it. He’s one of your only companions that you have, even if you were essentially forced to live with him.

Your mother wouldn’t let you out of her sight if she knew.

“Do you like me around, solaris?” he asks after a moment.

“No.”

“If that is truly what you think, you don’t have to say yes and allow me to enter your room if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Nope. You don’t want this conversation to happen now. Not when you’re still figuring this out, trying to decipher what your feelings are for him. “I’m… fine with you being around, Wooyoung. You’re fun to hang around with.”

“As friends?” He asks. You hear the creak of your bed and immediately open your eyes. He sits on the edge of it, eyes looking through the open porch door. He does not look at you and yet, you feel like his attention is focused on the beats of your heart, the sound of your breaths. “Do you consider me a friend?”

“I don’t know.”

And it is true. You’re not sure how to classify your relationship with him. You’re friends, maybe. But it would be a lie if you were just that. He’s open with his own feelings, how much he wants you to want him. You just… don’t understand how he could want you so badly when he has seven other mates to focus on. And from what you know, despite Hongjoong’s slip of information, you’re a human. There’s nothing truly special about you aside from your little blip a while ago.

“Are you afraid of me?”

This is one you can answer with ease. “Yes.”

He turns around to look at you. It’s hard to see his face, the sun shining on the back of his head draping his face in darkness. You can barely see through the rays yourself. You watch as he stands, a slight step towards you. You follow his movements, though making no move to back up or go forward.

“That’s good, to be afraid of me,” he murmurs. “Perhaps you are not as clueless as we’ve previously thought. Being on guard around us, holding your feelings close. It is good.”

“What are you getting at, Wooyoung?”

“What I’m getting at is that you fear us, I can see it. I see how you interact with everyone, with me. But we both know how you feel about me. Even if you cannot say it yourself.” he moves even closer to you. But instead of standing in front of you, he slowly goes down on his knees. “If I am so terrifying to you, will this change things? My submission to you?”

He reaches up, his hands slowly holding yours in his grip as he places them on either side of his cheek. His eyelashes flutter once they touch his skin, a slow, clear groan escaping his parted lips. “It could be so easy for us. You could be mine, and I yours,” he whines.

“You have mates, Wooyoung. There’s no need for me.”

“They do not mind my yearn for you, if that is what you are worried about. None of them do. We all love each other differently, in different ways. My care for you is nothing like my care for them, but it does not have to be. You are different.”

Oh no.

You hold his face in your hands, fingers shakily stroking the tan of his skin, brushing against the mole beneath his eyes. They remain focused on you, lips trembling beneath each caress. You can hear your heart in your ears, pumping violently against your ribcage. It is familiar. A feeling you haven’t felt in a while.

You might just be in love with him.

And it is terrifying.

The revelation is alarming, swelling. It frightens you each passing second. You love him dearly. How has he worked himself into your heart? Is this coercion? Maybe he’s manipulated you to the point of no return. It is reasonable to think so. Before you were terribly frightened of his presence around you, aware that at any moment they may decide to drag their lengthened nails into your chest, killing you. And yet here you sit, Wooyoung crouched beneath you, his nails leaving indents in your thighs from how desperate his hold is, his warm, aroused eyes flicking between yours. The gasps leave your lips as his hands travel closer and closer to you. Right now you are not as afraid of him, not completely.

How could you love someone so easily when you lost the man you thought you were going to marry not too long ago? It should have been harder to fall for his charms. It shouldn’t have happened so quickly at all; and yet here you are.

Your thumb presses lightly into his lips, the flick of his tongue eagerly dragging on the pad of it. Never in your life have you seen such desperation from a partner, such eagerness to have you. It is a wonder you’ve held yourself strong for such a long time when he is so willing under your touch. Is it sinister to want this to continue? Knowing who he is, who they are.

“You are pretty,” the words leave your mouth without much thought. His body shudders at your words, leaning forward, head pressing into your stomach. His hands leave your thigh, wrapping around the curve of your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Am I?” His breaths hitch, yearning lining and enfolding itself around two simple words. You have yet to kiss him, to taste his mouth, and he is distressed for you. Touch on your skin, but it is not enough for him. His head tilts up, pupils covering his irises completely. “Am I pretty to you?”

He slowly rises, warm, trembling body moving closer and closer to you. His hands stay on your hips as he hovers over your body, chest rising and falling quickly. Your hands leave his face and cup his neck instead. You are not unaware of how his breath hitches as you hold him. He leans forward, lips lightly brushing against your chin.

“Am I?” There is a pause in his movements. His unwavering despair to have you is not unknown, but he pauses. As if waiting for your approval to move further. A bit humorous how now he is holding himself back when he is so close to having you. “I want you to say it to me, solaris. Tell me.”

“You’re pretty, Wooyoung.”

His lips waste little time in covering yours, tongue entering your mouth immediately. His lips tremble as he tastes you, hands moving to the back of the chair to hold himself steady. The freestanding furniture slides against the floor, hitting the wall behind it as he pushes himself closer and closer to you.

You are overcome with the feeling of not knowing him, of not knowing his touch, his desperate breaths mixing with yours, his teeth sinking into your lips, begging for reprieve. He almost swallows you whole with his eagerness, hands wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. His strength lifts you from the seat entirely, your legs wrapping around him as he presses you against the wall. He lets his lips leave yours, tongue tracing down the slide of your neck, moans loud. It is not surprising he is a vocal lover, and for a moment embarrassment settles within you at the thought of one of the others entering the home, hearing his voice echoing down the halls.

“I do not care,” he murmurs against your skin, “Let them listen to me worshiping you.”

You're unable to speak.

“Would it bother you? For them to hear me kiss you from your neck to your feet, everything in between? Is it so wrong for me to want my palms to burn beneath your touch?”

You laugh at the suggestion, “I am no God that you’d be burned by my touch.”

He smiles against your skin, “How is that possible if I pray to you each night? Do they not say to worship in the low light?” his lips press against the tips of your fingers, teeth dragging across the skin. “You should have heard my prayers, solaris. I am an extremely devoted servant to you.”

“Wooyoung,” Somewhere in between sacrilegious and obscene, his chest rises with laughter.

“For you alone I am weak, solaris. For you, I will crawl, I will beg,” his lips leave your fingers, “San is not the only Unseelie who is violently devoted to the brink of utter obsession, solaris. Can you not feel mine?” His tongue drags against the skin of your collarbone, your body trembling beneath the wet touch. His hands have never left your hips, nails digging into the skin. You are too involved to feel how they slightly puncture, his longing words distracting. “Can you feel how devout I am to you? How gloriously blessed I am to be touching your skin?”

His hands release you for the briefest of moments, wrapping around your torso as he moves away from the wall. The walls around you shift, your mind lost for a moment. You blink, only a moment to glance around and see that you're in fact, no longer in your room. That he pulled you through the thin threads of reality into his. Wooyoung is ever so impatient, letting your body fall against his bedsheets.

“I think I prayed enough,” he continues, staring down at you. “You might have finally heard me beg to see you like this. How lucky I am to be the one to see you like this,” he leans over, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “But I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” you say. The words come out with certainty you didn't know you possessed for him, breathless and accepting of anything he may suggest. His lips lift, but you see that it does not entirely reach his eyes. You lean up, and he sits back down on the floor. Looking up at you. Just as you're about to sit yourself next to him, his hand stops you, shaking his head.

“I need you to tell me what to do to you.”

“Tell you what to do?”

“I can't do it myself. I can't do anything to you myself.” The tone of his voice is strange now. It is as desperate as before, but there is something else between the words. You do not know him well enough to even guess what it may be, why he truly needs you to guide him. But his despair is apparent, the way his hands tremble as they begin to hold your thighs, tears coating the brim of his lids. It is merely a guess, but it feels like he can only move further with your exact words. Your precise permission.

It should not frighten you how much control, even if facetious, you have over him.

“Please solaris.”

“I have to?” You whisper, and he nods.

“It is as I have said. I follow your word.” His hold is lighter now as he waits. “I cannot indulge in your sweetness without permission.”

You grow weary as he continues his explanation.

“The corruption is not merely just a surface level. None of the Unseelie can, not without word from the other partner. Though we reign in chaos, we cannot do activities like this without explicit permission. I need you, I do. But I need you to need me too.” His touch is claw-like, fingertips tracing the marks upon your skin, lips tantalizing as they drag over your knee, breathes tickling the small hairs. “Do you need me?”

You have only been the sun to him. It is no wonder he is so vehement on you aching for him a tenth of how he craves you. You can see it in his eyes, the darkened gaze settling on you, the cage preventing him from moving further. The thought is comforting perhaps, though you'd never suggest that he'd do such a thing, but knowing that Unseelie are unable to force themselves upon someone. Nature is still balanced.

You are the sun to him, his solaris. What he is to you…

You have yet to figure out.

He nods at your question long forgotten, hands unmoving as you lean down. He holds his breath as you place your hand at the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to entirely look at you. Submitting to you.

“I want you all over me, Wooyoung.”

His hands drag your legs forward, thighs spread apart. His body could crack a hole in the floor with how much he trembles in anticipation. His fingers change, nails lengthening. You watch in awe as they turn into claws, easily sliding through the material of your shorts, tossing it to the side.

“I've thought endlessly of how I would have you beneath me,” the words are barely let out as he pulls you closer to him, arousal dripping from his words. “Your lips desperately pleading for me, wanting me. How you would let me do anything to you.” His words are coated in lust, lips hovering over where you desire him most. “Can I taste you, y/n?”

“Please.”

His lips cover your clit, smacking together from the wetness that clings to them. Your fingers glide into his soft locks, tugging lightly as his tongue enters you. His moans into you are loud, the tug in your stomach tightening, worsening when you feel his fingers gripping your thighs, tongue finding your most sensitive point with ease.

You attempt to lift your head to see him, your gaze falling on his helmet of hair between your thighs, nestled. Soft whines spilled from your lips as you place your head back down on the sheets, the silk forcing your touch to only grip him. Your thighs tighten as you beg him for something you’re not sure of, his movements continuing until you tug a bit harder on his hair to pull him away. His shadow slides up your form, “I’m not just done with you, solaris.”

He lifts your head, pressing a light kiss just beneath your ear. “I haven’t had enough of you yet. You are godly, and yet I cannot help but sin,” his breath was hot as he exhales onto your skin, goosebumps left in his wake as he moves back to where he once was. His fingers tremble slightly against your skin, his hooded eyes resting on yours as he leaned back down, lips wrapped around your clit once more.

Wooyoung’s hand grips and tugs at your thigh. You blink once more, a field of clovers beneath the two of you. The evening sun is low in the sky, peeking through the trees, the sunlight leaving a streak across his cheeks, brown eyes lighter. He practically glows, eyes shining with need, tongue between his lips to softly flick over your bud. The pull in your cunt grows once more, stronger and stronger as his eyes flutter close. Leaves rustle, a warm breeze brushing against your skin.

“My solaris, how do I shine for you?” he whispers. The simple sentence along the return of his lips to your lower ones make your muscles grow tight, a soft moan vibrating up your throat once relief and warmth began rushing beneath your skin. Wooyoung holds you close as you tremble, lips still wrapped around you as you climax once more, unable to let your grip on his hair go, pressing him harshly into you.

His eyes are warm as they look up at you, your body covered with your shirt, chest rising and falling slowly. His lips are slow, peppering kisses along the inside of your thigh, “how are you? still with me?”

You swallow slowly, struggling to find yourself after what happened. A few seconds pass before you can speak, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

He laughs, continuing the seemingly never-ending drag of his soft lips up her stomach, his fingers pushed under your shirt to glide it up. They’re soft, warm as your lift your hands away from his hair and up, allowing him to see all of you. The last person that’s seen you this vulnerable was Soobin, and before that… not many. His eyes are glazed over as he takes in your exposed chest, his index finger tickling your skin as he lightly moves around the flesh of your breast. “Just for me?” He leans forward, cheek pressed against the soft flesh, trembling. “You’re more than what I’ve ever imagined.”

“Wooyoung…” Your mouth is dry as you let his name leave your lips, the word coming out rougher than you intended it to. He groans, shaking his head slightly.

“I would never tire of hearing you say my name like that,” he murmurs. “It is a shame the others cannot hear since we are so far.”

You look around as he slips his fingers into one of your free hands. The field is small, likely near where Yeosang brings you every once in a while. The thought makes you wonder – he did say that no one knew of the place aside from Hongjoong and himself. How could Wooyoung know to bring you here?

“Your thoughts move elsewhere, are you alright?” His eyes are coated with concern, hand lifting to brush a thumb against your cheek. “We can stop if it’s too much for you.”

“No, no everything is fine.” It may be that Yeosang let this private place slip his tongue while speaking with him. And perhaps Wooyoung found it as beautiful as you did and decided to bring you here. You let those thoughts settle within you as he leans down, his lips pressing against your jaw. A hum vibrates against his lips, your moment of confusion slipping away once he lines himself up and pushes forward, just enough to have your eyes widening almost immediately. You expect the impact to at least ache, but it feels warm and soft and full.

“So warm, my solaris. Made just for me, yes?” His entrance is slow, his hand that cradles your face sliding to your shoulder. “I need to ask, solaris.”

He leans forward, lips pressing against your forehead as he pushes deeper. “We… I feed on life. On human life. And you are full of it, pretty. So so beautiful and holy and bright.”

His words make no sense, a question still not uttered. “What are you saying, Wooyoung?”

“Can I taste you?” His hands slide down to your waist as he finally fully enters. They glow a dark orange against your skin, his eyes on yours. “It would be just a small taste. It wouldn’t kill you. It will feel good, solaris. You will feel good.”

The question is still vague, but even with you clouded mind, you can pick through the mess of words. A low moan comes from you as he pulls out slightly, entering again. “You want to eat my soul?”

“A sliver, it will barely be missed.”

“…Okay.”

The fear disappears once his lips cover yours, tongue entering your mouth as his hips set a steady rhythm. “You’ll love it.” You begin to keen under him, feeling wave after wave of heat surrounding the two of you, the sound of birds above you chirping as he takes you. The ache entering through you from the pleasure his cock pressing in and out of you and the sensation of being beneath his torso. His fingers gripping your waist break skin, and then you see it. The orange light that you presumed was spilling through his fingers was not him, no. It is you, your aura surrounding the two of you. Wooyoung’s pace almost doubles at the sight, the smell woodsy and sweet. The mop of black hair seeps into a orange color as it swirls through the air, eyes matching. It is a sight to see between pleasure, you, yourself, seen in an unknown light. Just as he pulls away from your lips, your soul enters your skin again.

His brows furrow, but he does not comment on it, instead, lifting up onto his hands to find another angle, sighing in relief it once your knees were up at his sides, feet hooked around his waist. The question as to why he cannot feed on you lingers.

“Perhaps my sin is too much for a soul like yours,” he whispers, dropping his weight down onto his elbows, then further, arms wrapping around you. “I will enjoy you nonetheless.”

“What are you–”

His hips press harshly into yours just as you begin to speak, watching as your eyes roll back, lids fluttering. You’re not quick to notice a hot tear falling down your cheek, rolling down your temple, lost in the darkness as his cum seeping out of his tip slowly but surely began melting your senses into nothing. The sound of skin begins echoing in the air and trees, his knees sliding up to push his thighs against you, pressing him deeper. You slowly lose your sense of the world you, focused on his cock pressing into you, his arms around you as you writhe with each thrust.

“So pretty,” he murmurs. “You always shine brightly, solaris, and yet you shine even moreso. How am I to keep my hands off you now that I’ve finally had you?” The sound of his voice is lost in between the sounds of skin slapping, the way he rocked into her body.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His eyes widen briefly, the orange fading as they meet yours. You somehow find the strength to keep focused on him despite how intensely your climax is coming. It’s the first time you’re unable to read his expression, perhaps a tint of wonder if you could focus. After a few seconds your thighs tighten, gasps leaving your lips. “Wooyoung–”

“Just like that pretty, just for me.”

Your head falls back, straining to let out the moan that clawed its way up, vise forming around his cock until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hell,” he grits, hips stilling as he cums, stuttering with each succeeding one. Your breaths escape your lips, lids heavy as you feel his own lips press lightly against yours.

—

“It has been hours since they were together, and he has still not let her leave his room. Should she not eat?” Yunho murmurs. They can see how his annoyance has gathered around him, hand gripping the apple between his fingers tightly, brows furrowed enough to become one. He is right – neither you nor Wooyoung has left his room. Seonghwa and maybe San could break the barrier that he has placed around his resting place, but neither wants to. Only making Yunho grow more irritated.

“They were together, Yunho. Let them simmer in it before they're told the news,” San rubs his arm, presses a soft kiss against his temple. “It is soon to be ruined once they enter a shared space.”

“He’s not going to move on from this,” Hongjoong sighs, eyes closed as he tucks himself further into the couch cushions. “I’m not ready to hear him boasting everyday about something I don’t care about in the slightest. San you might have to whip up a spell to shut him up.”

“I doubt he’d say anything outlandish-”

“Good afternoon~” His warm voice echoes through the room as he enters, almost floating as he glides along the tiles to the fridge. He presses his lips against Yunho and San’s cheeks while he passes by, the ghost of his magic roaming over Hongjoong’s arm and squeezing it. “Lovely day.”

Hongjoong’s lip twitches, but he makes no move to respond to Wooyoung’s words, annoyance already riddling his features. Yunho glances at Wooyoung, watching as he sings a song, pulling ingredients from open drawers and cabinets. No one says a word in response aside from San, easily wrapping his arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his mate’s temple.

“We haven’t seen you in almost a day.”

“Busy. And solaris is hungry, and I assume the rest of you are,” he places his utensils on the counter. “Ready for some human food?”

All of their faces wrinkle in disgust at his words, a chuckle draping his lips as he rolls his eyes. “It wouldn't hurt you to feed on things other than humans.”

“It tastes of chalk and sadness,” Yunho mumbles, watching as he coats the pan with butter. “And smells rancid.”

“Whatever, you're missing out on the joys in life. Sweets aren't the only thing that tingles the taste buds.”

“You would know,” San is barely heard as he bites on the apple slice, but it is audible enough for their joint laughter. “I'm surprised you haven't spilled your secrets yet. Not often do you keep your escapades to yourself.”

“I’m not going to brag, I would never kiss and tell.”

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “You do, in fact, kiss and tell. That’s all you do actually, I’m surprised you were even able to let that lie slip.”

Wooyoung sticks out his tongue, tapping the pepper into the pan. “Well not now. Solaris is too special for me to discuss things like that around you all. A star that glows like her demands privacy.”

“Did she threaten you?” Hongjoong snickers, peeking out a lid when he doesn’t hear an immediate response. “Oh? She did?”

He frowns. “Not necessarily. I would just like to keep it quiet. It's not just between us eight now, she’s different. Humans are more private. I don't want her uncomfortable.”

“Honorable,” Yunho notes. “Perhaps you have grown.”

“There’s barely a hundred years between us,” Wooyoung deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not as young as you think I am.”

—

“They were together.”

“Correct.”

“And you have no qualms with that?”

“They are not young and we are not responsible for their actions, Seonghwa. I don’t care what they do in their free time. You’re just upset that she wasn’t with you first as all. She likely would have if it weren’t for that disgusted look you give her every time you’re in a room together.”

“She’s not a commodity to be passed around, Hongjoong. I don’t care if she is with me first or not at all. All that I’m saying is, it’s irresponsible to ignore it.”

If Hongjoong’s eyes could roll further back they would. He closes his notebook slowly, looking up at Seonghwa. “What do you suppose we do, then? Place a chastity belt on Wooyoung, perhaps cuff him to his bed so that he cannot move near her? Ship him off to Yeonjun himself to deal with?”

  “That is not what I’m saying at all. You treat this like it’s a joke,” Seonghwa frowns.

“What you’re suggesting is a joke. I’m not stopping either of them from indulging in one another. I didn’t expect Wooyoung to win her over so soon, but it was inevitable. You hid your suspicions from them, but even with it, it would only make it more enticing for him. He does not back down from a challenge. Especially one he is so obsessed with.”

“You told me to keep it to myself,” Seonghwa rubs his temple, breathing deeply. “I was going to tell them-”

“You still could have. You still can. What I said was a suggestion, nothing more.”

There is no use in arguing with him, Seonghwa thinks. Hongjoong knows what his suggestions are - oftentimes there are threats hidden beneath them. And though he loves him more than life itself, he cannot stand how nonchalant Hongjoong can be. Even if the human, you, does not know your true nature yourself.

“Fine.”

Hongjoong smirks, “That was much easier to deal with.”

“I will tell them tonight. All of them.”

Hongjoong’s smirk twitches. Seonghwa is not looking at him directly, so he does not see the slight dip in his expression, “You will?”

“As you said, it was merely a suggestion. Perhaps their minds will change once they all know of her true nature. And we can finally kill her.”

“You want her dead?”

Never. The thought forms bile in his mouth. “I’d rather not touch her at all. But what other choice do we have? She will kill us all if we let her stay. It is the best decision right now.” He found you, he tracked you down. If he killed you in the beginning despite the resistance to their powers, perhaps it would have saved him from the guilt that begins to riddle his body. He should not care for a creature like you, knowing it is what you do. And still, with knowing, he cannot stop it from happening. Which is why he needs to tell the rest of them.

“They won’t let you kill her. Most have already succumbed to her charm.”

“... I will do what I must to keep us safe.”

Hongjoong shrugs, “Then so be it. You have no objection from me. I’ve grown wary of her being around anyway. Humans are too… irritating.”

“Not a human.”

“Right. I won’t let the others know of my opinion and side with the majority.”

“Sometimes, they would like to hear what their leader thinks, Hongjoong.”

He pauses for a moment. “It will influence their decisions too much for me to say what I want.”

“And you think your thoughts do not influence mine?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely curious. Hongjoong laughs at the question, shaking his head.

“Seonghwa, I've known you for hundreds of years. You’d rather throw yourself in front of a deadly attack than take my opinion over your own. It is settled.”

—

You sit near the back of the room, Wooyoung’s presence wrapped around the headrest of the chair you occupy. No one else has approached you, though you sensed the lingering eyes of Yunho to the side of you. He gave you a smile when you entered, the slight downturn of his lips as he met Wooyoung’s gaze obvious. It did make you nervous that it was somehow your fault he looked furious. But the expression was gone with a blink.

“Mingi won’t be joining us, but he already informed me of his opinion prior to our meeting,” Hongjoong says, sliding past the rest and sitting in the loveseat farthest away from the entrance. His eyes bore into yours, oddly twinkling. “It will be kept in mind as we’re voting.”

“And what is it that we’re voting on?” Yunho asks.

“It has taken me a while to consider what has been going on the past few months, and how it affects all of us, including y/n,” Seonghwa does not meet your eyes as he speaks, staring at an unoccupied couch. “Our voting today is to decide if she lives or dies.”

Silence falls over the room. Your own chest tightens, palms growing moist as the seconds tick by. Kill you? Has what you’ve done destroyed their relationship with other faeries to the point of no return? Seonghwa’s reluctance to even be near you was not only for disgust like you thought before, but something deeper. Hongjoong wasn’t lying when he told you that they believed you to be not human. But you’re not hiding anything yourself. Being anything but human just feels impossible.

“You’re joking?” Wooyoung stands up from where he is behind you, slightly stepping forward. “She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She killed Beomgyu, Wooyoung.”

“So? I kill faeries and humans all the time! Why should that matter?”

“You know why,” San speaks this time, shaking his head. “It has caused us many problems. But Seonghwa, killing her? What use is that to us?”

Seonghwa sighs. “She is not entirely human, that’s why.”

Their gazes all meet yours from across the room. Even Wooyoung, his valiant effort to coax them into saving your life, expression drops slightly, confusion coating his gaze. As if questioning the validity of everything you’ve told him. Somehow that look makes you feel utterly guilty, despite not believing in his claim.

“I am a human,” you retort. “That, whatever happened at that time, it wasn’t… it was me, but it was a fluke. An adrenaline rush.”

“How can we assume she’s not human just because she killed a Seelie?” Yeosang asks. His expression remains neutral, potion book placed face-down on the counter. “Strength like that is not uncommon in humans.”

“Correct, but we all know that a human cannot tear apart a Seelie, especially the way Beomgyu was. His body was unrecognizable, torn to shreds. Someone with her size and strength, even with a burst of adrenaline could not take a Seelie down like that. She would have to know weaknesses, have weaponry-”

“It is unlike you to say allegations without undeniable truth,” Jongho interrupts him. “So I believe what you’re saying, hyung. What is she, if not a human?”

It’s interesting how despite being in the same room with them, they all ignore your presence entirely, speaking amongst themselves. Likely because you can lie with ease and without restraint. They won’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, anyway, except maybe Yunho or Wooyoung.

“Now this may bother you all. But there is no other explanation. She is a kumiho.”

“That’s impossible-”

“It isn’t,” Seonghwa interrupts Wooyoung before he begins, holding up a hand. “We are real, so it is not too far gone to believe in something that was once unreal to us. There are still beings out there that we do not know of. Her strength, the claw marks on the dead Seelie. She has not turned on the full moon and her blood does not contain any sort of wolf characteristics. Kumiho can blend amongst humans the easiest after they have lived over a thousand years. It is not unrealistic to assume that she has moved past that point and become a human woman.”

“She hasn’t even attempted to lure any of us.” Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Nor has she eaten human flesh.”

“That we know of.”

You can only scoff, shaking your head. “This is unreal.”

“There is no other explanation. Your strength is formidable to our own. Likely, the feline creature hiding inside this human appearance in front of us has prevented itself from remembering what it was. For protection or otherwise - we have yet to find out.”

Wooyoung’s gaze wavers the longer he listens to Seonghwa’s explanation. In fact, it seems that each of them believes everything that comes from his mouth. But it is impossible. What would be the reason for hiding your true being from yourself?

“Now we vote, then,” Hongjoong starts. “Mingi has voted yes to kill her. Seonghwa?”

“It is what needs to be done, yes,” Seonghwa agrees.

“Yunho?” Hongjoong asks, turning to him.

His gaze is on the floor, thinking. After a few seconds passed, “No. I don’t think she’s a threat to us. We keep her alive.”

Hongjoong looks at Yeosang.

Yeosang ponders the thought as everyone discusses loudly amongst one another. His eyes meet yours across the room, just being Wooyoung as he seemingly protects you with his body. You look afraid. Your eyes move to each person as they speak, your nerves palpable enough to be tasted in the thickened air. If he himself agrees to your death, it is likely that San would agree. Neither of them truly differ in opinion on things like this. Jongho would soon follow out of mere respect. And you would be killed promptly. It is what he has wanted since you’ve arrived here, turning everything sideways. So why, as he looks at your pathetic cowering behind Wooyoung, why does he feel such pity for you?

He looks at Wooyoung again. Though his fascination with you is beyond his capability of understanding, he can see it. How his eyes look at his spark desperately, pleading with them to save you. How Yunho’s jaw clenches, quietly observing. He wanted you here, wanted you protected by them. Though you aren’t exactly the pitiful human he once thought you to be, he still cares for you, strangely.

“Well, what do you want to do?” San whispers into his neck. Useless, since they all can hear what he’s saying aside from you. “Kill her?”

His next words will change everything. Yeosang meets your eyes across the room. His own widen slightly at your expression, flicking down to read your lips. The words mouthed to him are enough for him to decide.

Please help me.

“There’s no reason to kill her if she does not hold any threats to us right now.”

Seonghwa whips his head to Yeosang. Anger expressed along the vein on his neck, the set of his brows. He will not say it outright, but Yeosang has just betrayed his trust. Perhaps Seonghwa thought he would allow the woman to be killed just because … well, because he wanted it. But he cannot now, not when things are turning out so interesting.

“You are sure of this?” Hongjoong asks. His eyes sparkle. “Truly?” Despite only being the fourth oldest, his words hold weight for the rest.

“I am,” Yeosang says simply. The tense gaze of your expression has not dropped. Probably because you don’t realize that San would follow his lead, then Jongho. Your hand wraps around Wooyoung’s arm that traps you behind him. “If need be in the future with reason, sure. But now, no.”

“This is a mistake-” Seonghwa begins, stopping once Hongjoong flicks his finger. His mouth is shut in an instant, the feeling of magic swirling through the air.

“Hasn’t he spoken enough tonight? There are three remaining votes. As always, I will side with the majority. San, you’re next.”

“No need to kill her,” San agrees. Hongjoong’s smile grows louder, eyes flicking to Wooyoung.

“Your answer is obvious, but please Wooyoung, give your vote.”

Wooyoung covers your body almost completely as he speaks. “Of course, I will not kill her.”

“What does our youngest think?”

“I enjoy her being around, I can’t imagine her not being here,” Jongho smiles at you from across the room. “She can stay.”

“Well, as with the majority, y/n’s life is spared. Apologies to Seonghwa and Mingi, but as you know, it has now been decided. Take all the time you need to process this.” He flicks his finger again toward Seonghwa. The room expects him to roar his complaints, but he only looks around, tiredness seemingly flowing off of him.

“I trust you all and always have. And I assumed that you trust my words as well. But as Hongjoong has said, majority rules. I hope that you all keep an eye on her, and make sure that with the slightest change in behavior, monitor it. It can come at any time since she cannot control it herself,” Seonghwa looks at you, eyes meeting. “And I hope, y/n, you listen to my words yourself. Leave if you feel the change happening.”

He leaves the room, Hongjoong disappearing from his spot, likely following Seonghwa close behind along with Yunho. Leaving the rest of you alone.

Wooyoung’s body seeps into your figure the way he embraces you so tightly, lips pressing against your temple lightly. “I’ll be back, pretty.” His touch disappears as well. Jongho glances at you sympathetically, eyes glazing over yours for a moment before he too, blinks away. The instantaneous disappearing bodies is not something you’d ever get used to.

It does not distract you enough from what Seonghwa said, though. You are not human, despite how you’ve lived, how much you have insisted. A kumiho? As he further explained it, it still made entirely no sense to you. You’ve lived your life plainly, rarely if ever dated once in a while. Soobin was your second official relationship, the first lasting no more than a couple of years. The way he looked with such disgust as he explained it, how your age superseded everyone’s in the room. How your true nature was hidden from even yourself - it is impossible to think of.

“It is interesting to look at you, knowing what you are,” San says, looking around Yeosang to peer at you. “Do you have the urge to bite me?”

“I don’t feel anything, San,” exasperation coats your words. “I don’t even believe it myself.”

“Seonghwa is rarely wrong,” Yeosang murmurs. “That is why we take his word as the truth. Since you are kumiho, your training with Mingi will be much different now. Likely more intense.”

Your arms ache at the thought. You have yet to see Mingi yourself, but the training from before was strenuous. You look at Yeosang, remembering he expression on his face as he peered over at you, the tired eyes filled with curiosity as he voted to keep you alive. You are grateful, nonetheless. But the question lingers the longer you look at him.

“Do you want me dead?”

Yeosang pauses at the inquiry, straw resting between his lips. Eyes flicking to yours. There is little to decipher when it comes to him since he rarely tells what he may be thinking, and you're not with him often. But something in the way he looks at you. He does not respond right away – an indication that he may twist his words to satisfy your question.

“In the beginning I thought it'd be best to get rid of you before it escalated. Even more recently, I thought the same. But now I am not so sure,” he places his drink on the counter. “Most of us do enjoy having you around, human or not. Though I am not as enthused as Yunho or Wooyoung with your presence, I no longer hate it. So I have grown to tolerate it. Until I cannot.”

“You will kill me?”

His smile is strange, hollow. “If I must. Your life isn't that important. Or I'll wait until it has run out itself. You may only have a few more decades left, anyway. They will get over it – their fixation will move to something more interesting eventually.”

How casually he talks about your life. Like it is nothing. He does consider it as nothing, as he has said. None of the Unseelie is this house told you do directly as he has done. You should feel a bit wary around him now, knowing he could change his mind in seconds and kill you. Even now, as he reads the spellbook resting on his thighs, he could kill you. And San, sitting nearby, would only help.

So feeling comforted at the thought is unusual.

“Thank you for being honest,” you say, and he snickers. “Not much of that going around here.”

“Sure.”

San leaves a bit after that. The silence echoes around the small room, eyes moving to the doorway at the sound of the door clicking open. The sight nearly startles you, seeing him for the first time in months. Mingi is followed closely by Yunho, bodies brushing against one another as they enter. Yeosang takes that as a sign to leave you, closing his spellbook and gracefully hopping off the chair. His fingers drag across Mingi's arm as he leaves.

“Oddly quiet around here,” he notes, opening the fridge. Yunho sits where Yeosang just was, smiling at you. “Have you been getting along well despite today?” He asks, thanking Mingi as he passes him an apple. “Wooyoung said you've been making progress adjusting, but I rarely take his word for it.”

“It's been better now,” you say. “It's not one hundred percent yet, but I am getting used to being around here. I hope it just ends soon.”

“I heard your life was spared. It should make you happy. Ah,” he snaps his fingers. “They haven't told you yet,” Mingi sits on the opposite side of you. “We will have to leave soon.”

“We?”

“Half of us. Yunho, Wooyoung, Hongjoong, and myself. Seelie requested our presence. We would have all went, but with these circumstances, it may be best to leave half of us here.”

Circumstances meaning you. Mingi does not further explain and you do not insist on him doing so, instead sinking further into the chair you rest on. “So I am left with the rest of you.”

“Left is a strong word,” Yunho mumbles into his cup. “More like babysat.”

Your frown deepens, and he laughs. “It is but a joke. You can take care of yourself. They won’t do anything to you while we’re gone. Yeosang and San will likely stay to themselves now that Seonghwa has relieved him of his duty to watch you. Jongho will be entertaining enough, no?”

“She is older than us all, no need to treat her as a faerling,” Mingi murmurs.

“She thinks she’s almost three decades old, Mingi.”

“Time to see reality.”

They banter back and forth about you, clueless as to how you’ve already left, steps quiet as you make it to your own bedroom. Seonghwa’s words, no matter how convincing, is not something you believe to be true. He says you conjured up this false reality of your life to blend into the human world, but it makes no sense to you. Nothing, none of it does. You remember your parents, you remember your family life. How you so easily deluded yourself into thinking that it was real when it’s not is beyond your comprehension. Likely because you don’t believe it at all. Why would you hide it from yourself? There is no reason to block your own mind from it - even if you are as he says you are. Jumping to such a conclusion is ridiculous.

No. You’re not a kumiho.

You enter your room, shutting the door behind and locking it. Surely Seonghwa can easily create a spell to allow the others into your room, but he won’t. Not if he so vehemently believes that you’re a creature that he didn’t even think was real. You settle yourself into your sheets, ignoring the lingering feeling in your mind that he might be right.

[three-penguins-in-a-trench-coat]

Imagine how fucking weird it would be to marry the Stardew Valley Farmer

Like, you've lived a happy life in a small town, with friends and family but then BOOM. A smoking hot new farmer hits the town, flirted with you twice and gave you a shiny rock and a plate of food before smacking you in the face with a bouquet and yeeting a pendant around your neck. Congratulations, you just achieved the family life without ever knowing how the fuck you got there. And the person you married is insane.

You're outside feeding the animals and they materialise into existence right in front of you, a sword in one hand, dripping with blood, and their backpack bulging full. "Oh, hey honey." they say before sprinting off like this is the most regular thing in the world.

Things got weirder once they got an incubator. It was alright at first, Kluck may have a shade darker than pitch black and have eyes that burned bright with fire, but you only caught them casting ritualistic spells once. Then when a FUCKING DINOSAUR HATCHED you realised a conversation would be required with the farmer about the eggs they find and whether it was morally acceptable to see what was inside.

Apparently they have a deed to land on a deserted island??? "Nah, it's not deserted! There's an old lady, a crazy scientist and a tarzan living there!" They reply. Apparently they couldn't understand why you were so nervous when you realised they were farming tracts of land in an ancient rainforest, shadowed by a volcano from which you definitely heard ominous shrieks and wailing. The resort they built was quite nice, but when the flippety fuck did they have time to build it?

Occasionally, a man dressed like the night sky appears, but refuses to speak unless the Farmer is alone with them. You caught a glimpse of his skin once, and it was bright blue. The farmer leaves those conversations dazed and distracted. They never talk about them, but in the days after, you often notice them sit and stare into the distance.

You tell yourself that they do not explore the caves in the desert. You tell yourself that because you're already insanely worried by all the other shit the farmer does.

You notice that they enter the sewer a lot, and one day you follow. It's difficult to come to terms with the fact that your partner is friends with a shadow creature, but it did look rather friendly. It heard your footsteps once and ran away, so you decided not to come back.

Some days, new stuff will just... appear. First it giant pillars, that the Farmer swore were important. And then it was little huts, and while you never saw anyone go in or out, all the crops were harvested and neatly organised in piles on the inside. You decide to leave offerings to appease whatever spirits must the huts belong to. One day you get a letter saying thankyou, with 500g attatched. And then there was that day... why the fuck do you need a giant solid gold clock?

After the day the clock appeared, everything changed. Production stopped, they said we now have enough money to live off of for the rest of your lives. The farm got redecorated. Life is beautiful. Occasionally you have dreams, dreams of crying children turning into doves. They reach out for you, and you reach back, sobbing, trying anything to protect them, to ease their pain. Their small, frail hands scrape over yours, but you can never grab hold. You always wake up screaming and can never remember why.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

[cherryslyce]

Familial Impasses | Regulus Black

Synopsis: Pressure arises as a familiar face becomes embroiled in political trouble and moral ambivalence. Alternatively: As James Potter’s younger sibling, you fight for Regulus.

Pairing: Regulus Black x (Adopted) Potter!Reader

Notes + WC: 5.4k , James and Sirius are so chaotic.

The Potter household has long been a foundational pillar of love and ease for you. Plumes of cotton clouds were perpetually suspended above the sumptuous manor, and you distinctly remember the day you arrived in front of the regal front yard, donning new robes and the Potter surname. 

Even amidst the gloomiest of days, Potter Manor remained unblemished by the sheen of greys and drops of heavy rain. Your parents were tenderhearted folk, often unable to properly reign in the boisterous force that was your brother. James was the apple of your eye when you first arrived in the lived-in home at the ripe age of eight. 

Under the near-yellow lights of the entryway, he took you under his wing the second his eyes befell on yours. 

Yet, your reminiscing did little to quell the fiery frustration that singed at your patience. After so many years of tumultuous adventures and shared laughter, you felt everything drown away as the forefront of your mind became consumed by the imperious demands he was layering onto you. 

“James. You are being absolutely ridiculous right now, do you know that?” You huff out, arms crossed as you stare hotly ahead. 

Sirius is settled beside your brother, eyebrows drawn together as an uncharacteristically firm frown decorates his face. James clicks his tongue and pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to catch your eyes, “Y/N, we’re being serious here. Siri and I are graduating soon and we won’t be able to look out for you when we’re gone.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” You mused stubbornly, fixating your gaze on the sprigs of tulips peeking at you from the polished coffee table. “Besides, what the hell are you even protecting me from? Regulus? He would never harm me.” 

“You don’t know that.” Sirius interjects, hands rubbing together as James shoots you an admonishing look. 

Astonished by the field of conversation, you shake your head as you finally face the two boys, “Sirius, this is your brother we’re talking about! Merlin, if anyone said anything like this about me, you’d both have their head, would you not?” Your narrowed eyes dart towards Sirius as he sighs, placing his hand up to placate you. 

“It’s different, Y/N. Regulus is going to take up my father’s mantle soon, and there’s no doubt that he’s already been brainwashed into following the Dark Lord.” Sirius mumbles, face now looking weary as he gazes out of the window behind you. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Dark Lord, aware that Regulus had been researching the man for a few months now. Internally, you found solid reason to believe in what your brother was advocating, but your longstanding friendship with Regulus turned you away from the decision to abandon him. 

“I’m not going to stop being friends with him.” You announce, eyebrow slanting up as Sirius made an effort to protest your proclamation. “But, if it eases your worries, we’ll strictly talk about school work.” 

James and Sirius share a long look of consideration before your brother turns to you and sighs, “Fine, but we won’t like it.” His acquiesce fills you with tepid relief, but you could count it as a temporary victory. 

In the stirring waves of your mind, you were completely aware that you’d make little effort to actually change your dynamic with the younger Black brother, knowing that the boy was much more capable of independent thinking than given credit for. 

The remainder of your Yule Break is spent buried in swaths of parchments and tomes with the occasional migraine from James’ antics. A cavernous pit materialized in your chest as you seemed to gradually wither away from stress, mind carouseling around the plethora of O.W.L. exams you needed to study for. 

On the penultimate day before you, James, and Sirius were due to return to Hogwarts, a familiar black-banded owl came fluttering to your bedroom window. Clambering around the strewn leaflets of paper and open textbooks on your floor, you gaily greet the owl with a wide grin, gently grasping at the letter between its beak. 

“It’s always nice to see you, Belenus.” You coo at the perceptive bird. 

Cracking your window open further, you muffle an amused huff as the owl teeters through, resting straightly on your windowsill as it examines the disarray of your room.

“Er, it’s been a long day.” You wave in elaboration, not perturbed by the near judgemental look that flashes across the bird’s eyes. “Did Reggie ask you to wait for my reply? The lack of patience in that boy, I swear.” 

Sitting down at your dimly-lit desk, you carefully unfurl the letter with trembling hands, heart skipping at the sight of the boy’s penmanship.  

Dear Y/N, 

I hope that everything is well for you. It is a shame that we are not able to convene before the end of break, however, I will give you your gift when we get back to the castle. I hope that Sirius is not giving you too much trouble, mother and father were never able to control his rambunctious behavior. However, he strangely settles after a cup of peppermint tea (his favorite brand is Lady Bramble’s).  

I know you are brimming with anxiety from our last conversation, and for that, I deeply apologize. You will be pleased to know that I have given it much thought as per my promise to you, and I think we should talk more about it when we get back. I have not yet made any permanent decisions. 

I have much to tell you after break. I miss you dearly.  

R.A.B

You suppress a smile at the last few words, head feeling light with unadulterated joy. Threading together inklings of composure, you sit up straight and begin to draft your response, fingers unsteady with shreds of nervousness. 

Reggie, 

The week has been long and difficult without you, I must admit. I hope you are faring better than me with your homework (I fear that I may not make it). James and Sirius pulled me aside a few days ago to advise me against remaining friends with you. It is growing dire, Reg. I don’t want to sour this exchange by rehashing our last conversation, but I want you to know that even though my love and loyalty for you runs deep, I am unwavering in my stance against You-Know-Who. 

If you are giving me my gift in person, I suppose I will do the same. As for the tea, thank you for the idea. Perhaps, I can test it on James to see if their uncanny likeness extends to calming agents as well. 

Delighted to hear from you, I miss you so much. 

Y/N

Once you reread the passage with attentive eyes, you nod once to yourself and prepare your wax seal. Weaving around the flush of work on your rug, you carefully give Belenus your letter. 

“Give him my regards, will you?” You whisper, running your index finger along the owl’s head. The creature tilts its head before shuffling through your window again, taking flight in the blink of an eye. 

Just as you begin to fall into a peaceful lull, elbows propped against your windowsill, a thunderous knock against your door has you nearly falling into the pane of glass. 

“Y/N! Come outside with us!” Sirius’ shouts bleed through the thick wood as if it were made of thin air, and you roll your eyes sky high, grateful that your mother was out shopping and not napping. 

“Hold your horses!” You yell back, scurrying over to fling your door open, heart still stuttering in its beats at the clamorous interruption. 

As you crack open your door with an unimpressed look, you’re met with Sirius’ shit-eating grin and a highly entertained James holding a pile of plastic-wrapped goodies. Your brother juggles the crinkling jumble before he balances one in his hand, flashing it around as he practically vibrates on the spot. 

“What’s that saying again, patience is virtue?” You mumble sarcastically. 

Sirius shakes his head and waves you off, “Being virtuous is boring.” 

“Right. Where did you get all of these from anyway?” You question breathlessly, reaching forward to snag one of the items from James’ arms.

Plecky’s Triple Ruby Ice Cream. The bulky square is icy to the touch, the packaging’s lurid colors buzzing against your eyes as Sirius begins to impatiently tug you down the hallway. 

“No time to explain, we have to eat all of these before mum and dad get home.” James offhandedly hums, marching behind you and Sirius as you pace down the stairs. 

“I hate you both, do you guys not have to study for your N.E.W.T exams?” You huff, batting at Sirius when he squeezes your shoulders. 

James lets out a hearty chuckle at your words and Sirius clicks his tongue goodheartedly before whispering to you, “Nope! Moony and Lils are going to help us after break.” 

You sigh into the air, hands limply flying up as you mutter lightly, “I don’t understand how they put up with you both, honestly.” 

James bounds forwards past you both, flinging himself through the open door and into the pool of sunlight as he calls back, “We’re both extremely loveable. Now, I bet I can eat more of these than you!” 

The next time you feel any semblance of peace is the day you return to Hogwarts, school work long forgotten about when you hurry to meet with Regulus in the astronomy tower. You had practically inhaled your dinner, leg bouncing with uninhibited anticipation the moment you locked eyes with your devastatingly pretty friend. 

Once you’re situated atop the staircase, you quickly survey the open room for the boy, eyes dancing across the atrium when you find that you’re alone. The stars begin to peek through the canvas of the sky, thinning streams of clouds drifting away as the mottles of luminous spheres grow in number. 

The wind whistles sharply as it bats against the aged stones of the castle walls, providing a steady white noise as you wait patiently against one of the many iron railings. Only a few moments after you grow comfortable in your spot, you hear the faint padding of footsteps ascending towards you. 

Regulus’ eyes widen imperceptibly when they land on your lax figure, his body jolting to hurriedly close in on yours, “You got here early. Are you not cold?” 

The boy reaches for your hand, humming when he finds your fingertips cold to the touch. Shaking your head, you deftly wrap your arms around him as you mumble into his ear, “It’s so good to see you, Reggie.” 

Regulus’ arms find themselves around your waist as he reciprocates your hug, nuzzling against your neck as he lets out a low hum. Your relationship was not clearly defined by any title, nor was it barred by any conventional lines, and for the most part, you wouldn’t exactly say it was platonic in nature. 

However, affection was limited to hugs and handholding, the situation between your families and the state of the political sphere too convoluted for anything beyond that. 

“How was your break, love?” He asks with a soft voice, fingers ghosting against your hips as his arms loosen so he can crane back to look at you. 

You smile and drop your head onto his shoulder, “It was good. Though, Sirius got a bit ill yesterday.”

“Oh?” Regulus’ voice edges on concern, but he can decipher the amused hint in your tone to know it isn’t worthy of unease. 

“We ate a load of ice cream the day before, and Sirius is weak to bets.” You answer, not missing the light chuckle that Regulus releases. 

A few beats of peaceful silence ensues before Regulus detangles himself from you, eyes searching your face as conflict flickers through his eyes. A heavy burden seems to weigh against his shoulders as he huffs out a sigh too considerable for someone so young. 

“What’s on your mind, Reg?” You mumble, hands dancing up to rest upon his taut shoulders. 

Regulus frowns minutely before he throws his head to the side and indulges, “I won’t last much longer.” 

“Pardon? Helga, are you alright?” Your eyes are blown wide as you try to catch the boy’s eyes. “Regulus, don’t dance around this, tell me what the hell you’re saying.” 

Regulus’ shoulders give a shake as he swallows a dry laugh, facing you again with serious eyes, “Sirius had the right idea from the start, and I was too blind to see that I should have packed and ran for the hills, too.” 

Shock blisters across your mind as you reel back to process the information, mouth drawn into a small gape as you assess the boy’s expression. “What’s with the sudden change? I mean not that I hate it, frankly, I quite like this, but you were still uncertain just days ago.” 

Regulus mulls over your question for a few moments, hands moving to encircle your arms as he muses, “I’ve been corresponding with my Uncle Alphie since the start of break, and he was able to give me a rather impartial crash course of everything. From then, I just had to pick up the pieces stripped away and build on the bare bones…” His words taper off as his mouth furls into a small frown. 

“Love, you’re going to give me a hernia from all this roundabout talking.” You jokingly reprimand, eyebrows raising as Regulus nervously cracks his neck. 

“My parents are not good people, and I’ve seen those that Bellatrix surrounds herself with–” the word death eaters was notably eschewed, “and, well, it all seems like drivel now. Besides, I don’t want to fight on any side of any battle if I have to lose you. Your letter was a pretty jarring wake up call.” He finishes, his hands now unconsciously moving you closer to him. 

“Well, fuck.” You whisper into the air, mouth curling into a content smile as Regulus relaxes. “I didn’t want to lose you either, and I’m glad that I don’t have to. We’ll figure something out, but I won’t ever let you step foot back in that house ever again.” You promise with a firm voice. 

Regulus nods and his eyes shine with conviction, the promise quelling the storms of doubt in his bones, and erasing the wedge between you both. 

“Can I do something?” Regulus whispers, eyes capturing yours with an entrancing glimmer. 

“As long as it's not throwing me over this railing, then yes.” You whisper back coyly. 

Regulus chuckles, face now inches away from yours as he shakes his head, “Never.” 

As the little promise escapes into the air, Regulus tugs you into him, lips finding your own as he pours every inkling of passion and love coursing through his veins into his ministrations. Your hand tangles in his curls as he continues to heatedly kiss you, the silent push-and-pull between you both now long forgotten. 

Humming against his lips, you give a small tug to his hair before you pull back with a shaky breath, “There’s no going back, Reg.” 

“Good.” His words are hushed as he places his forehead on yours, “You’re my only constant. Not a bloody thing in this world I’d rather do than be with you.” 

“Is this the gift you were talking about?” You mumble, suppressing the tsunami of heat threatening to dissolve your self-restraint as you peer at the breathless boy.

“No, but forget about it for now.” He hums, “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be, I intend on keeping you here until curfew, love.” 

You laugh lightly and run your thumb across his cheek, “Bloody troublesome, you are. I can see the resemblance between you and Sirius now.” 

“Please don’t bring my brother up while I’m trying to love you.” Regulus huffs, swallowing your next retort with his lips as he dives back in to claim your undivided attention again. 

Luckily, you both made it back to your dorms before curfew came to nip at your tangled figures in a slew of detention slips and reprimands. The shift in your relationship was noticeable, but it did little to hinder your day-to-day routine, the both of you still trembling under the weight of your studies. 

It was the Friday of your first week back when James and Sirius bounded towards your hunched figure, your hands littered with inky streaks and eyes squinting painfully at your textbooks. The library upheld a faint degree of chatter, and you were itching to track down Regulus (the boy was likely off at Quidditch practice). 

“Heya, kiddo!” Sirius beams, slinking his way over with a respectable amount of carelessness as a few students side-eye him. James is beside him, hands in pocket, sporting a pitiful frown. 

“What’s up? And what’s with the frown?” You muse, stretching your back as they both pull out the chairs across from you. 

Sirius snickers and leans over to obnoxiously whisper to you, “Lily gave him a good scolding earlier.” 

“Sorry to miss it. What’d you do? We all know it was your fault.” You perk an eyebrow up at your brother, refusing to back down even as he throws his hands up with a flabbergasted look. 

“Well–er…” Sirius trails off, mouth agape as you could practically see his brain stuttering in its hollow glory. 

James sends a resounding kick to the boy, and shakes his head as he turns to you, “Nothing, just a disagreement about a certain Slytherin.” 

“Severus?” You inquire, lips tugging into a frown at the thought of your (reluctant) Potions tutor. 

Sirius huffs at the mention of the boy and clicks his tongue, “No, not Sniv–” 

“Finish that remark and I will maim you, dear boy.” You narrow your eyes, quill pointed threateningly in his direction. 

Sirius throws his hands up in surrender and opts to shuffle one of your open books over to him, eyes running along the words with vague interest. James’ eyebrows furrow and he seems to be debating on saying something when you continue your prodding, “So not Severus. Don’t tell me… Were you both arguing about Reggie?” 

“What? No!” James refutes, head shaking furiously as irritation stews in your gut. 

“Don’t lie to me, you don’t care about any Slytherins other than Reggie and Severus. But why the hell were you talking about my social life, again?” You huff, arms crossing as you see Sirius tensely peek up from his reading. 

James sputters for a moment before he breathes in deeply, a stern expression overtaking his face as he straightens his posture, “Lily agrees that I should be more… open minded about your friendship with him–”

You perk up and throw your hands into the air, “See!” 

James puts a hand up and shoots you a small look, “However, I am your brother, and it’s in your best interest to distance yourself from him.” 

“My best interest, or yours?” You ask with narrowed eyes, beginning to pack up your supplies. “James, we can’t keep having this conversation. Why don’t you try sitting the both of us down and having a completely reasonable, civil conversation with us for once?” 

“Well–” He begins, a frown pressing down on his features. 

You shake your head and huff, “No more excuses. Either you put on your big boy pants and try to understand where I’m coming from, or you can continue to mope, but if you choose the latter, don’t even think about approaching me until graduation.”

Without another word, you sling your bag over your shoulder and march away, ignoring Sirius’ calls after you, your textbook still in his hands. As you storm through the winding corridors, evading the swaths of students milling around, you set your sights on the Quidditch Pitch. 

The sun escapes into the stacks of pillowy clouds as you round the field, giving you an opportunity to peer up into the skies and track down Regulus, a pleased hum escaping your throat as you see the team begin to descend from the air. 

Shifting your weight from leg-to-leg, you wait patiently as Regulus hurries to break away from the circle of Slytherin players, nodding distractedly at Rosier. A few moments later, Regulus strides over to you with a flickering grin, eyes alight with lingering endorphins and excitement. 

“Love, what are you doing here?” He breathes out, dropping a small kiss to your cheek as he maneuvers his broom to his left hand, leaving his right hand to brush his curls away from his face. 

Beaming at the boy, you hum, “Just wanted to see you. And perhaps talk to you about something.” 

Regulus tilts his head and nods agreeably, “What’s on your mind?” 

“I’m thinking about telling my parents about us, and maybe you can ask your Uncle Alphard about y’know… leaving your house?” You mutter, fingers twitching with nervousness as a look of consideration passes through Regulus’ eyes. 

“Well, I don’t mind your parents knowing, but I also don’t mind them not knowing. I don’t want you to get into any trouble,” He confesses, rolling his arm back to stretch his sore shoulders. “As for my situation, I think my uncle would be willing to help me get emancipated. I don’t want to intrude in his home though, my mother would probably blow it up if I stayed there.” 

“So don’t.” You hurriedly say. 

He rubs your arm as he hums, “Don’t?” 

“Don’t go to your Uncle’s. Stay with us.” You mumble, eyes pleading with him. 

“Love–” He starts, eyebrows drawn together. 

A resounding voice echoes from across the pitch before he can finish, diverting both of your attention away from one another, “Hey, Black! Don’t dawdle! Avery said he wants you here for strategy!” 

“Go ahead.” You whisper, patting Regulus’ arm with a reassuring smile as you begin to back away. 

“Hey,” He whispers back, stepping forward to grab your hand with a fatigued frown, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, we’ll talk later, yeah?” You muse, lips furling upward as you squeeze his hand in farewell. 

You linger ankle-deep in the damp grass for a few more moments, watching as Regulus disappears into the distance with one last glance over his shoulder. 

Almost like a robot being rewound, you spin on your heel and march back to the castle, mind racing with threads of words to send to your parents. 

Once in your dorm, you immediately launch yourself on your bed, head craning down for indistinguishable reels of minutes, occasionally stopping mid-sentence to ponder on your next thoughts. When you lift your quill up from the parchment with finality, your eyes dart from the paper to your window, squinting with a light bristle as painful clouds of blue mull in your vision, the lighting in the room now too dim for comfortable writing and reading. 

As the sky grows gloomier, the wisps of lingering clouds withdraw into invisibility and you’re left to race against time as you fold up the finished letter to your parents. 

Dear Mum & Dad, 

I hope that you are both well! Please be sure to get lots of rest! Also, may we stock up on Lady Bramble’s peppermint tea? 

Rest assured, I am studying well. James and Sirius are as well (surprisingly). 

I was wondering if I could ask for a very large favor that would require the utmost discretion… 

To be direct, Regulus and I are together, and he needs to find sanctuary away from his parents. His uncle is willing to aid him with the legal processes of the matter, but he has nowhere to turn to for the summer breaks. 

I know this is a lot to ask, and I also know it isn’t ideal (for a multitude of reasons), but I will be forever grateful for even the slightest bit of deliberation. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Also, please don’t tell James. 

Your favorite child, 

Y/N 

The spiral of waiting threatened to tip you over the verge of complete impulsivity, one that would lead to you exposing your relationship prematurely and the subsequent Regulus-hunting that would ensue on your brother’s part. 

It had only been a couple of days since you sent off the letter to your parents, and at first you had been suspicious that your brother had somehow found out. After your disagreement with him in the library, he had been strangely distant, only occasionally giving you long, indistinguishable looks. 

Your sudden withdrawal from your brother and his circle spurred deep concern from your friends, and especially from Regulus, who managed to subtly bring up the development during every conversation you had with him. 

“Are you nervous?” You ask with a small frown, watching Regulus fiddle with his pot of ink. 

The boy shakes his head and flicks the ebony glass, “Not really. Rosier has been keeping an eye out on their new strategies and formations.” Regulus finally looks up and leans across the table toward you, “You’re coming to watch, right?” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you hum lightly, “When have I ever missed one of your games?” 

“Right… and you’ll cheer for us?” His eyes run along your face as you furrow your eyebrows. 

“Yes… like I always do. Are we playing twenty questions now, love?” You huff out with a breathy laugh, intrigue only swelling higher when Regulus says nothing and gives you a small, uneasy grin. “Okay, what’s up? You’re looking at me the way I look at Severus when I accidentally mince my cowbane instead of chopping it.” 

“Poor Severus.” Regulus hums, eyes retracting into a sheen glaze as he reminisces on your ineptitude in Potions. “Anyway, it’s just… we’re playing Gryffindor.” He continues, mouth parting slightly when you squint at him. 

“Yes, Regulus, I know. Are you alright, dear?” You enunciate with blatant concern, head tilting to survey the boy’s uncharacteristic apprehension.

He clears his throat softly and shrugs, “I’m alright, I just don’t want you to be put in a weird place because your brother is also playing.” 

“Merlin, Regulus. So this is what you’re getting at.” You click your tongue with a small smile, reaching over to pat his hand, “Don’t stress yourself out, I always cheer for you.” 

“Uh? Ouch.” A familiar voice echoes from your right, tearing through the little bubble of comfort you’ve established with Regulus.

Swiveling your head over to the interruption, you narrow your eyes at the perpetrator and huff a small Hello, James. 

“Yeah, hi.” He blinks emphatically, “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

Regulus flips his hand over and threads his fingers with yours as you direct your full attention to James, “About cheering for Regulus? Well, I’m not.” 

James holds up a hand and sighs, “Okay, that’s a whole different discussion to be had. But I’m not here to argue. Sirius and I,” James leans to the side and gestures, but when he meets nothing but dusty air, he chokes on his spit and fully turns around, “Sirius?” 

You and Regulus exchange a concerned glance as James continues to talk to one of the bookshelves, “Sirius, what are you doing?” 

A fragile silence collects in the air as the three of you seem to share a collective perplexion, all waiting with bated breath. Regulus runs a hand through his hair as he frowns at James, likely questioning the boy’s sanity. 

Finally, Sirius’ broad figure emerges from behind a bookshelf, eyes wide with sheepishness as he makes eye contact with you and Regulus. “Hey, guys.” 

“Sirius.” Regulus greets with a stiff nod, fingers tightening against yours. 

“Why were you behind a bookshelf?” You hum, wrestling down an amused smile as James presses Sirius with a similar questioning look. 

Sirius chuckles dryly and walks over to your table, sitting on the edge as he slides a book toward you, “I was waiting. I honestly thought you’d hex Prongs to next Yule.” 

“Smart. What’s this?” You pick up the tome, exhaling loudly once you see it’s the book that you left in Sirius’ possession after you stormed away days prior. 

Sirius taps his fingers against the table and gives an exaggerated nod to James, throwing his arm towards an empty chair as your brother shuffles awkwardly on the sidelines. 

“Right.” James muses, hurrying to take a seat as Sirius slides over to make room. “We’re here because we wanted to talk to you.” He chews on his bottom lip and glances at Regulus, “The both of you.” 

Regulus nods and looks to you for confirmation before sitting up, “We’re listening.” 

“Well, it’s just that… you can’t be that bad.” James says, rubbing his shoulder as he nods at Regulus. 

Regulus rubs his thumb along your hand as he coughs out a laugh, “Uh, thanks. You too?” 

“And if it’s true that you’re… changing, then Sirius and I are very happy at the end of the day.” James finishes, now more confident as Sirius reaffirms his statement with his own light hum. Sirius rubs a hand down his mouth as he seems to debate on what to say to his brother, eyes flickering between Regulus and the far wall. 

“Well, I’m glad then.” Regulus adds, shooting you a relieved smile. 

Sirius clears his throat and paces towards Regulus, clapping his hand on the boy’s shoulder as his voice thickens with emotion, “I’m really relieved, Reggie.” 

“Yeah, me too. It will be different now.” Regulus promises with a whisper, smiling up at his brother with resolution. 

As Regulus and Sirius have their little moment, James knocks his shoe against yours to grab your attention. “Here. This came with my mail today. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek or anything.”

Quirking an eyebrow up, you slowly reach forward as James extends an envelope to you, eyes brimming with curiosity as he surveys you. “From Mum and Dad?” You murmur rhetorically, getting an affirming grunt from James in return. 

Ripping open the thick paper, you deftly extract the folded letter with coiled anxiety, head beginning to feel heavy as you anticipate the letter’s contents. Unfurling the crisp pages, your eyes run over the passage of ink, sinking into concentration as everything fades into the backdrop of your mind. 

Y/N, 

You should finish the rest of your other teas first, however, I bought a few tins of the peppermint tea as they were on sale.  

I cannot say I am surprised by the development of your relationship with Regulus, you and James were always attached to the Black brothers since youth. We are not able to house the boy comfortably for the sake of safety, it is entirely too unpredictable to have both runaway heirs under one roof. However, your father and I discussed the matter and we have decided that Regulus may be safe at Godric’s Hollow for the summer. The plot is untraceable and not widely known about outside of our family. We will send along a portkey for him to take near the end of the school year. 

Your father is expecting an explanation when we see you next. 

Please look out for your brother. 

Your father and I love you lots, dear. 

With love, 

Mum

A cold pin of disbelief rocks through you for a few moments before blind elation envelopes it and has you sighing into the air. Dropping the letter down, you smile widely and practically fly over the table, grabbing at Regulus’ tie. The boy darts his eyes to you in alarm before his eyes light up at the joy written across your expression, “Love?” 

“You’re going away for the summer.” You whisper enigmatically, a grin stretching at your lips when Regulus’ eyes widen further. 

“I am?” 

Nodding, you lean forward and press your lips against his, “My parents gave the okay.” 

Regulus laughs brightly and pushes up from his seat, cupping your face as he reciprocates your kiss. You both continue to exchange affection as Sirius and James drift off to the side, disgruntled and looking anywhere but at you both. 

Amidst running your hands into Regulus’ curls, you vaguely hear James muttering under his breath. 

“Sirius, you better go wrench your brother away before I make you an only child.” 

masterlist

[overnighttosunflowers]

I made a post about Laudna and Orym’s interaction in ep102 yesterday as it relates to Orym’s broader arc, but I wanted to follow it up with one more purely about Orym and Laudna’s relationship.

I think that on a fundamental level, Orym simply doesn’t understand Laudna. I don’t know if he’s aware of this. I do think he loves her. But I think that he also can’t stop seeing her as a symbol.

Orym has spent his whole life hearing about history by proxy. He’s one of the only party members with a history proficiency. He knows Keyleth, and he knows about the Sun Tree bodies. So when he learns about Laudna’s “worst thing that ever happened to her,” he sees her double: as his friend who suffered tremendously, and as the effigy of Vex that Delilah constructed.

And that weighs on him. We know it still does. When he spoke at Laudna’s res ritual in episode 38, he told her that she deserved to be more than a footnote in Delilah’s story. This was then echoed almost 60 full episodes later in episode 96 after swordgate, when he told her that she deserved her place in history as much or more. He continues to position her in relation to Delilah in a way that shows some part of his mind is always remembering that she was meant to be an NPC in someone else’s story: the way she died, the tool she was.

And that’s the other thing: that Orym has been the person most visibly uncomfortable with Laudna’s undead nature. It freaked him out long before he knew about the Sun Tree, and though he’s gotten used to it, he’s still hyperaware—we see this in his interaction with his sister in episode 66.

He defends Laudna sincerely, but he also seems self-conscious in a way that the transcript doesn’t fully capture. He knows Laudna is weird and he loves her despite it, not because of it. He still looks at her and sees a dead lady who happens to be Laudna, not Laudna who happens to be a dead lady.

There are other complicated elements to their relationship as well, of course. Swordgate, for instance, is indicative mostly of Orym’s (very human) tendency to act from his own trauma first before thinking about how it affects his friends, rather than anything specific to Laudna. But it did affect Laudna most of all. When he realized just how badly his taking up Otohan’s sword hurt Laudna, he vehemently threw it away—but not before he’d spent quite a while defending his right to bear it. Things had to really go south for him to stop and consider her experience. He loves Laudna, but he does not intuitively get her, and—even in better circumstances—he’s not always very good at stepping outside himself to try.

I thought it was interesting that Laudna wanted Orym specifically to be the one to kill her should the need arise. Obviously, this is most directly attributable to his status as the party member who “always does what’s right,” and on a secondary level it represents a meaningful shift in her relationship with Imogen: in episode 77, she’d asked Imogen to be the one to “make the right choice” if need be, but I think she now understands how impossible and torturous a request that is. Orym, though—Orym would be able to do it.

And he would. Not because he’s the infallible pillar of morality that the party thinks he is (which after all implies that killing Laudna to kill Delilah is the definitive “right” choice—something far more debatable than Laudna believes). Not just because he’s a soldier who follows orders even if they tear him apart inside. But because he’s able to see her as something other than herself. She’s his friend, but on some level, she’s still also the worst thing that ever happened to her. We even see this in the Delaudna battle itself—when he entreats Laudna to hear him and resurface, it’s by telling her that she’s suffered enough.

And for Laudna, being the worst thing that’s ever happened to her doesn’t mean being a symbol of someone else’s collateral damage. It means dying, and it means waking up with Delilah in her head. She thinks of herself as a person carrying around a monster, or on her worst days as inextricable from that monster or even as a monster herself. So if she senses that Orym can see her as something other than herself, surely he’s capable of seeing that, right?

Whether or not that’s true is debatable, and probably the subject of its own post. What’s important here is that Laudna knows Orym loves her but stands at a distance from her. That he’s able to see her as something other than a person in a way that Imogen never could. And whether that thing is a monster or a symbol of pain, that he sees her as something that has suffered enough to, if not kill out of righteousness, at least mercy kill.

So she lands on this. Surely he’ll do the right thing. He won’t want to. It might keep him up at night. But he will.

[mswyrr]

They spent the entire season showing the collapse of everything Alicent had invested meaning in and earning her final choice.

Things that came apart over the season:

-her father's role in all this; his approval (and fear of his disapproval) has driven her for her entire life! (bad move on multiple fronts, Aegon)

-her belief that she could do what this patriarchy promises and "influence" her sons toward a good direction (Aegon dismisses her but Aemond really drove the nail in with flagrantly slaughtering smallfolk and making his intent to force his sister to do it too clear)

-her belief that she had any allies and her skills in leadership and her track record of hard work actually meant anything to *anyone* (this was a cooperative effort by Aemond, Larys, and Criston - good work, fellas!)

-her belief that she could, if nothing else, at least protect her daughter (huge emotional pillar for her)

And if we look at her prior actions putting Aegon on the throne and protecting him with her life - both fit within those structures she had mentally and emotionally which this season ripped down.

I think the final one was the thing that took it over the edge, though -- the prospect of Helaena being used and hurt and destroyed as a person -- kind of like how degrading Aemond and his connection to his long-term sex worker was his final straw that made him want to kill and supplant his brother Aegon.

People keep pushing each other too far this season. Taking out the last thing that stands between them and a radical change. Pushing people until they're willing to lose things just to break the current dynamic.

Dae/mon pushes Rhaenyra too far, then the entire war does and she "breaks bad" in 2x07 (see my meta linked below for more on my pov on that); Aegon pushes Aemond too far; and the entire group of "green men" systematically pushes Alicent too far.

All the while, she had that offer from earlier in the season, when Rhaenyra risked everything to come speak to Alicent in her mind. She was mulling over it and thinking of what she could have said, should have said. At the same time, however, Rhaenyra was moving away from being that person [my meta argument on that here]. So the person she finally comes to make peace with isn't the same as she was in the Sept. And once again they tragically can't get on the same page. It does all fit together, even with issues in the writing.

And writing on Alicent's arc simply isn't as uneven as people are saying - the theme of people pushing each other too far and how they showed the pillars of Alicent's support crumbling were both clearly done.

And, yes - Alicent still has feelings for Rhaenyra and as all of this has been happening she's been having a midlife crisis and wishing she had just run away with her first love when they were girls. But that isn't her sole motivation!! It's just what comes spilling out of her because of the state she's in. It creates an appealing alternative to the hell she's living in at the Red Keep. But it wasn't THE single motivating factor.

On a show where fathers have behaved truly monstrously--up to and including their selfishness setting this civil war in motion to begin with--it's fascinating that people refuse to believe a mother can be pushed too far. That kinslaying and slaughtering whole cities and rejecting and humiliating her and threatening to mentally torture her daughter until she breaks wouldn't change her mind about her priorities.

The "green" side becomes owned by Aemond, a wilful (as far as she knows; I'm speaking of her pov here) kinslayer moral reprobate who is violent to his sister and wants to force her to do things that will break her mind. Alicent cannot expect that Aegon will be able to stop him. That's what the side is now, as far as she knows. And she thinks he's a monster who must be stopped, at any cost. That's why she told Rhaenyra "we both know what he is" about Aemond in the Sept. WHAT not who. Things like kinslaying and slaughtering smallfolk mean something to her. And her daughter is everything to her.

Team Green overall took her for granted and thought she'd always be their doormat, and Helaena too. And Alicent finally had enough. Again, given how monstrously the fathers on this show behave, I think they "showed their work" on her radical change of heart well. It's just some people believe nothing can ever justify a mother betraying her sons and I think that makes total sense, given everything.

Honestly, once Helaena was on the chopping block, it would have been out of character for Alicent *not* to do everything--destroy anything--to protect her daughter. She feels like protecting Helaena is the only good thing she's ever done in her life.

People can dislike the ending. It's always valid to dislike something in a story, it's fine. But disliking it doesn't mean it wasn't built up solidly, narratively speaking. The writers put a lot of work and narrative space into it, actually--this was one of the most developed parts of s2!--and weaving it into the season's larger theme of characters pushing each other to the breaking point.

[copepods]

the oc refs i made for artfight :) character descriptions below

Reluctant Abstinence:

A dedicated and curious iterator with a great interest with the physiology and neurology of scavengers. Her latest project heavily involves luring local scavengers into her structure and performing neural and behavioral experiments to see if she can make them more similar to her creators. Her primary experiment is The Student, a kidnapped elite scavenger who she’s trying to program with traits from the Ancients. She speaks to it often and tells it stories about her creation and upbringing.

She is close with her fellow local group members, but often forgets to check in with them in favor of her work. Prior to Mass Ascension, she was very close with her creators, and losing them hit her hard. She became much more withdrawn, and what before was a fascination with the fauna surrounding her superstructure quickly became an obsession. She’s quite difficult to contact if you don’t live nearby, so both Many Rocks Orbit and East-Facing Pillars keep Overseers in her can to get her attention if they need to.

She and East-Facing Pillars are romantically involved and used to be very close. Their shared respect for their creators and mutual dedication to the Great Problem brought them together, and she found EFP’s social nature to be a refreshing break from her work. Once they spend more time together, though, their differences began to grate on each other; EFP tolerates RA’s interest in scavengers, but doesn’t care much about it otherwise and finds it disrespectful to dedicate so much time to a task uninvolved with universal ascension. In turn, Abstinence regards Pillars as fickle and high-strung. She doesn’t bother to respond much to him anymore, in favor of her work.

She has a more positive relationship with Many Rocks Orbit, who tries to keep themself largely uninvolved in relationship drama. Orbit also dislikes her hobby, but would never say so to her face, so she finds it easier to converse with them about her work without facing constant judgement.

East-Facing Pillars:

Studious and dedicated to the Great Problem, although he is also nosy and easily distracted by interpersonal drama. He takes great pride in himself and his work, and views himself as the most competent and respected of his local group. He’s very close friends with Many Rocks Orbit, and often takes over tasks a group senior would do when MRO neglects them. He always has his nose poked in as many anonymous boards as he can, and the two of them spend a lot of time gossipping together.

EFP was also close with Reluctant Abstince, and the two are technically romantically involved, although RA is often reluctant to respond to any kind of messages these days, and while her interest in fauna used to be endearing to Pillars, it now seems annoying and somewhat embarrassing to him. He checks in on her still every so often, with increasing reluctance.

Many Rocks Orbit:

The senior of their local group, older than East-Facing Pillars and Reluctant Abstinence. They are quite negligent in their duties, as they find management work to be stressful, especially when it comes to resolving conflicts with others. Many of their work ends up offloaded onto East-Facing Pillars, who mostly doesn’t mind but occasionally objects to too much work shoved onto him at once. If he ever broaches the subject of Orbit handling their own affairs, they will stop responding to messages or steer the conversation elsewhere. They prefer to quietly iterate and converse with close friends, avoiding topics they regard as difficult. They are uncomfortable with many of the flora and fauna that have evolved in their creators’ absence, finding most animals disgusting, and they’ll use their inspectors to shoo out anything that finds its way into their structure. Despite their dislike of animals, they find unnecessary violence deplorable. They also think Reluctant Abstinence’s latest project is highly morally questionable, and have spent a great deal of time with Pillars complaining about it.

The Lure: A creation of Reluctant Abstinence, used to gather live creatures for her to experiment on or use as spare organic material. It’s become incredibly unpopular with the scavengers surrounding RA’s city. The Lure doesn’t seem to care much, though, and it takes joy in completing tasks for RA, who it sees as its mother. The Lure is intelligent and quite curious, and Reluctant Abstinence has begun on the side to teach it to crudely write glyphs in her language.

The Student: Reluctant Abstinence’s latest pet project. she’s observed the intelligence scavegers have, and believes they’re capable of becoming the next great civilization. The Student is a test run to see if she can imprint the ideals and behaviors of her progenitors onto a living scavenger. surely there will be no consequences from this?

The Student was once highly regarded in their pack as a great warrior. Nowadays, they have a shy and nervous disposition, and spend most of the time missing their family. They reside in a lab chamber that was formerly used by the Ancients as an interface to connect with Reluctant Abstinence.

(Shifting Towards Red is a newer iterator from a different group that i havent conceptualized much yet :,3 )

[likedovesinthewindd]

headcanons for atsv characters crying in front of the reader for the first time? (thanks in advance, i love reading your other hcs <3)

thank you, and you're very welcome 💕

Miles Morales:

miles felt so overwhelmed and under pressure; with his parents breathing down his neck about school, trying to juggle his spiderman duties with his schoolwork while also trying to have an active social life, as most teenagers wanted.

and he doesn't even notice how overwhelmed he's been until you're asking him if he's been okay, because you've noticed his recent scatterbrained and stressed demeanor.

and before he could even think of anything to say to try and reassure you, it's spilling out of him like word vomit.

he's telling you everything, about how much pressure he's been under and how hard he's been trying to keep everyone happy.

and it felt so good to finally get everything off his chest, that he had even shed a few stray tears in the process.

you were glad he trusted you enough to confide in you and assured him that he was doing a good job, and that it was okay to not do everything perfectly, because he was only human after all.

Gwen Stacy:

gwen crying in front of you was something that shocked you at first, but something you also expected at some point.

she's always been the type of person to assure you with an "I'm okay" or "It's nothing, really" and then sweeping whatever it was that was eating at her under the rug. she never really allowed you to see that vulnerable, unguided side of her, even when it was obvious she had a lot on both her plate and her mind.

so, when you asked her if she was alright, and the tears started to well up in her eyes, you were a little unsure about what do you.

and when you reached a hand out to rub at her back, you were even more surprised when she lunged into your arms.

nevertheless, you wrapped your arms around her, rubbing her back comfortingly.

you somehow knew she didn't need nor want you telling her it was going to be okay, or trying to get her to stop crying. your silent comfort was enough.

Hobie Brown:

hobie is such an expressive and tactile human being, and always so perfectly in tune with your emotions. over time, you've adapted the same ability, so you knew when he was not feeling his best.

it was so clear that whatever had happened today had shook him to his very core, had left the usually chatty young man at a complete loss for words.

and when you had asked him what happened, and he could only respond with an exasperated sigh and a shake of his head, you knew you weren't getting much out of him.

you simply offered him your presence, joining him as the both of you enjoyed the cool breeze sitting by the battered deck floor of his boat.

when you looked to your left where he sat you saw the small wet track the fresh tears had left on his cheeks, illuminated by the moonlight and quickly drying due the wind. you didn't say anything, not even when his hand found yours, placing it in an airtight grip. you knew he'd tell you when he was ready, he always did.

Pavitr Prabhakar:

pav's always been such an optimistic person, always knowing exactly what to say or do whenever you were down, so when the roles were reversed, you had no idea what to really do.

it was a little jarring to see pav, the person who more often had to comfort you, now on the verge of tears.

he was telling you about how he couldn't help someone today, how he was too late, and when you heard the slight unsteadiness in his voice, you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

and the way he clung to you, you'd believe he was sinking, and you were the only thing keeping him above water.

and as he clung to you, you quietly assured him, because you knew silence was probably the last thing he needed right now with an overactive mind trying to debase him.

Miguel O'Hara:

miguel's always been such a pillar of a man, always ready to offer his comfort in any way when he knew you needed it. but he never allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable, never wanted people to see him at a low point like that.

you knew that when miguel made himself scarce, he did it because he didn't want to be bothered. but against your better judgment, you decided to go and check him because you were worried about him. you didn't like him being alone when he got like this.

the state you found him in broke your heart. this mountain of a man looked so small and fragile, so absolutely heartbroken and sullen.

it was his daughter's birthday, another reminder of everything he had lost so quickly and unfairly. he never knew how to deal with these intense emotions, how to process them, so he'd just wait until they eventually died out and became somewhat bearable.

he didn't tell you what was wrong though, he didn't have to either. the bloodshot eyes and sullen face were enough to tell you it was something he'd either tell you about eventually, or never.

you simply made your way over to him quietly and offered him your comfort the way he always did for you. and when he wrapped himself around you and softly cried into the material of your sweater, you simply held him a little tighter.

Peter B. Parker:

the first time peter cried in front of you wasn't out of sadness or pain, but joy.

he had been gushing to you about his daughter, as he always did. she had recently said her first word, and he had managed to get it on recording. he showed it of course, along with a few dozen other pictures he had also captured, every photo complimented with an elaborate backstory.

he was in the middle of one of those stories when it seemingly hit him. mayday was getting older, learning new things every day. soon she'd be going to big girl school, and after that high school, and then she would have to leave the house and leave him and--

he hadn't even realized he had said all of that out loud until you were reassuringly rubbing between his shoulder blades, trying to ground him and calm him down.

and he hadn't even noticed he had shed a few tears until he heard you telling you it was okay, that mayday still had a bunch of years with him and that she would never really leave her "dada", as she put it.

[mamayan]

Humbly requesting Yobai with Giyuu (he goes to reader), a lil bit of yandere spice appreciated ✨👀

For you Desi? Anything ♡ This man makes me love the color blue~

★YOBAI☆

Giyuu Tomioka x Fem! Reader

tw: Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Oral (F) • Fingering (F) • Light Overstimulation • Rough Sex • Light Breath Play • Fluff/Humor

YOBAI Series: Kyojuro, Sanemi, Obanai/Mitsuri

Idea given by @rottmntrulesall and continuously inspired by @desi-the-blue-eyed-kakushi ♡

“I love you.”

He had been too stunned to reply, left frozen like a fool, unable to truly fathom those three simple words. He understood what they meant, but oddly his brain just couldn’t fathom how it factored in him.

You loved him? He wanted to ask you why first and foremost. It left him reeling, because did you mean you loved him like a friend? Did you only love him like family?

Did you love him like a man?

He was moving aimlessly, arms crossed as he stalked the residential streets near his home. His face set in its familiar stoic default, hiding his inner turmoil as his legs carry him down another set of homes.

He’s hardly paying any attention, only reacting to the voice which calls out in the quiet night.

“Tomioka-san? Are you out on a mission?” Colors clash as Giyuu comes face to face with the flame pillar Kyojuro Rengoku.

The man was dressed casually, holding what appeared to be confectioneries from a local shop boxed up in one hand. His gaze was friendly and curious as ever, smile as warm as its owner.

That’s right, Giyuu thought, the flame Hashira had gotten himself engaged had he not? He must have some sort of knowledge of this unfamiliar unfurling within his chest.

It was driving him nearly mad, the way your voice seemed to echo that single sentence on repeat.

“Rengoku-san… you’re experienced in love?” The water pillar’s question struck something weirdly familiar in Kyojuro, as Giyuu moved closer. The dark haired young man looked tired; which, coupled with his expressionless face only aided in aging his appearance.

“Haha! Yes! I am getting married soon!” His boisterous laugh grates on Giyuu’s ears, but he grits his teeth and endures for the sake of figuring all this out.

“Y/N said she loved me…” if Kyojuro hadn’t known the gloomy man for so many years, he might’ve thought Giyuu was scared in the admission.

The flame Hashira just wanted to go home and eat the sweets he bought with his fiancé, not have this conversation in front of his house. His lip twitched, but smile remained as he cautiously prodded further.

“And…?” His smile dropped at Giyuu’s blank face.

“What?” His eye twitched.

“Tomioka-san… did you say anything back?” Kyojuro felt a pang of pity for you as Giyuu shook his head, lips set in a firm line.

“So you just rejected her?” Giyuu’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t reject her…?”

“You did though Tomioka-san.”

Kyojuro wanted to go home, but a strange moral obligation kept him speaking, and for a moment he wondered if his family gave off matchmaker energy.

He’d speak with his father later, for now he focused on aiding his social awkward comrade as quickly as possible.

He felt further conflicted after speaking with Rengoku.

So he spent his free time following you, his thoughts consumed by you, fighting the pull he felt. This couldn’t possibly be healthy or normal, you shouldn’t haunt even his dreams. You respected his space, but every hopeful glance you sent his way sent him spiraling further.

Why did you need to be so lovely? So hard working and dedicated, you spent your days busy and helpful. Giyuu never truly realized how busy a Kakushi’s day could be, but it was possible it was just you.

Were you overworking yourself?

Did you eat breakfast this morning?

You sneeze cutely.

He likes how you laugh.

Your eyes glitter when you see the notes he begins anonymously leaving you, searching anywhere and everywhere, yet never seeing him from his perch in the trees. He likes the game he starts of cat and mouse, amusing himself watching you struggle to figure it out.

You’re quite the detective though, finally bringing out a simple note to show Kocho who recognizes his script.

He still doesn’t reveal himself, avoiding your growing awareness.

He enjoys spending his free time watching over you, dancing around your confession, until someone new appears in your little world.

A male demon slayer, around his own age, asking you on a date.

A romantic one. The sort which leads to engagement and marriage. He nearly pulled his blade, a boiling rage bubbling up and over his top, red flashing through his gaze.

You declined, polite and kind as always, but it didn’t matter. That man spoke to you because Giyuu hadn’t claimed you.

You were his weren’t you? You said you loved him.

Giyuu grit his teeth, face distorted even now as you returned to work and the day faded into night.

Even training was useless, his mind conjuring up images of you with someone else, smiling and directing that soft gaze on them.

His blade came down again, body covered in sweat as he huffs in exhaustion.

It still wasn’t enough. He was trembling from his own emotions attempting to claw through his chest.

He was tired of feeling regret.

The thought of “if I’d only been stronger, arrived sooner, said something” plaguing him until he stood outside your home.

In the middle of the night.

The moon hung as a crescent shining down, surrounded by a sea of stars.

He hadn’t changed out of his uniform, sword still attached to his hip as he moved forward. Gravel crunched under his sandals.

It seemed the closer he got to you, the more agitated he felt.

His hands shaking when he reached the front door, fist clenched and hand raised as if to knock. He froze, realization dawning on how this might look to any nosy neighbors who might be passing by. He slipped around back, away from sight and instead using a side entrance into your home that was left unlocked.

That fact made him uncomfortable as he moved forward on silent feet, his shoes left neatly by the door as he explored in search of your bedroom.

His chest continuing to itch with frustration until he slid the last shoji back to reveal a simple small room. A futon laid in the center where a bundle laid under the covers.

You looked serene, tucked sweetly away in bed and dreaming of something nice if the small smile on your lips was any indication.

He sighed, sitting down beside your bed with one foot propped up to lean on, looking down at you while you dozed.

Almost an hour passed before he grew impatient again, memories of today still on repeat as he tries to calm himself by just looking at you.

Except he didn’t just want to look anymore, he didn’t want to only observe and tease from afar. He wanted to hold you, speak to you, touch you.

He stood silently, taking off his sword and leaning it against your back wall, moving again to stand over your futon where you laid curled in the middle like a sleeping cat. Completely ignorant to his inner turmoil as he kneels before crawling completely over you.

That’s what you awake to, the figure of Giyuu Tomioka looming over you while you slept.

You startle, not immediately recognizing him in your half dreaming state, mouth opening to speak before a hand gently but firmly covers it.

“Don’t scream,” they weren’t very comforting words, your eyes widening fearfully and trying to adjust to the dark room, but it’s the voice which gives your panic pause.

“I just…” he didn’t know what he needed, because it clearly wasn’t just to see or merely touch you anymore. “I wanted to ask if you meant it… back then.” He was grateful the room was dark, his face feeling hot despite the cool air surrounding him.

You weren’t struggling or fighting him, seeming to have realized who he was already. Giyuu released his hold over your mouth, taking in your pretty features painted by dim moonlight with your eyes trained on him.

“I did mean it,” your voice cute and slurred as you sleepily answer, curious and less afraid now that you know who paid you a nightly visit.

Was he here for…? The thought seemed ridiculous, because Giyuu always struck you as a bit reserved, but why else would he be here in the middle of the night asking you about your confession?

You were still tired, but it helped dispel any nerves which might’ve been present had the sun been up. You let your arms raise slowly, as if it might scare the fearsome demon slayer, and wrapped them around his neck.

It pulled him in a little closer, and you could make out his features a little better like this.

His breath stuck in his throat, enamored by your close proximity, your soft sweet scent, and your words.

You meant it.

You wanted him, and while he was overcome with the urge to self-sabotage his happiness and remind you of his flaws, he was stopped by you leaning up.

Your kiss was feather light, just grazing his own for a split second before pulling away.

He chased you though, his own slotting against yours this time, but the force and pressure has you gasping so he could slip his tongue inside your mouth.

You whined but he devoured it as he pushed the hot muscle around with your own, lighting you with the same passion he was feeling.

He let some of his weight drop, pinning you to prevent you from wiggling away from him, letting his thigh spread your own so he could slot himself in between.

Your yukata was in disarray, so when Giyuu’s groin pressed against your own it was only his pants separating him from your sex.

The feeling of something hard and thick pressing against your slick heat had you moaning, fabric sliding and creating delicious friction against your hooded nub. Shocks of pleasure jolted up your skin, but it was Giyuu’s own groan and pause that disrupted the kiss.

He realized there was nothing beneath your sleepwear, your soft thighs naked up to your stomach, and his own body hiding your slit from his view.

You caught your breath, watching as Giyuu lifted up and moved down your body, fingers quickly digging into the plush flesh of your inner thighs when they tried to close.

“Keep them open.” His eyes are narrowed on the expression of arousal and embarrassment you wear, lips titling up a bit as he smooths his hands down to your ass. “Be good for me,” you nearly choke when he says the words, but you really do when his tongue flicks out right over your puffy clit. Fingers dig into the futon while your eyes lock with his own, ensnared by the lewd show he makes of flattening his tongue and dragging it up slowly through your folds, adding pressure when he feels your legs start to shake.

His languid licks grow more fervent by the minute, his own desperation hastening his movements to lap and suck at your clit, before dropping down to prod your entrance with the tip. Your hips jerk, back arching as you grind against his face, slick coating his lips and chin as he eats you like a man starved.

“G-Giyuu, fuck, please,” it takes him a a moment to realize you used his first name, but when he does he nearly swears aloud.

Grunting when he feels your fingers tangle in his dark hair, Giyuu moves his hand around to press a finger against your tight hole, his tongue not stopping his assault on your throbbing nub. He watches you as he sinks his middle finger inside, the way you twitch and whine, lips parted and eyes heavy lidded as you pant.

Giyuu moans as he sinks deeper inside you, the snug fit around even just one finger as your feverish gummy insides massaged it had his hips rutting into the futon below.

He can tell you’re close, it’s not difficult with the way you buck and pull him closer as he adds a second finger, beginning to stretch you out and pump now.

Giyuu curls his fingers, watching it light you up as you cry out, pretty cunt grinding down and trying to seek even more friction as you tremble and moan.

He’d be a liar if he said it didn’t boost his ego.

It’s when a third finger begins to squeeze into your snug walls that you jerk back, his hand wrapped around your thigh and anchoring your hip keeping you from going anywhere though.

He pauses his movements as you pant, looking at your scrunched features as you adjust to the tiny sting.

“You’re being so good for me,” he praises, slowly sinking three of his thick calloused fingers inside of you, “so lovely and all mine, aren’t you?” His voice has dropped an octave as he lazily pumps his digits, soaked by your arousal and sliding in easier and easier as you relax.

Only when your brows unfurl does he smirk and kiss your inner thigh, sticking his tongue out and dragging it against your skin back to the little bundle of nerves.

The feeling of being so full and his tongue just softly tracing over your clit sends you over the edge.

“I-I’m—hah,” your head falls back as the first wave washes over you, gentle but building. The wet squelching of Giyuu still licking and fucking his fingers into you getting louder, as you realize with a shaky inhale that he’s not stopping.

“Giyuu…!” He tightens his grip, brows furrowing as you break his concentration, intent on absolutely devouring you. You might’ve came but he’s not done with your swollen bud or leaking slit, his fingers leaving your entrance in favor of wiggling the powerful muscle in his mouth inside you. Your core spams around it, cries growing as you nearly rip strands of his hair out in your desperation for relief from his mouth. You can’t break his grip on you, the next orgasm striking you like a slap as you cum.

“Mhn—!” Your burning eyes finally blur as tears spill, the ache inside you releasing as pleasure clouds your mind into oblivion.

Giyuu only stops when your shaking subsides, lessening his ministrations as you come down from your second high.

He doesn’t realize it’s him shaking until your muscles go lax and limp in his hold, his hands trembling with restraint as he drags himself back up to look down at your blissed out face.

It’s so cute it nearly enrages him, his hands quickly taking off his haori and uniform, yanking at fabric aggressively as he tries to free his painfully hard cock from the confines of his clothes.

You’re still catching your breath, blinking your blurry vision away only to see Giyuu’s naked torso draping over you as he unties your belt and fully opens your yukata.

Your eyes have fully adjusted now, able to clearly see his toned pale skin on display. Scars littered his pretty skin, hard planes of muscle a testament to his devotion as a slayer, but his steely gaze isn’t cool like the water breathing he uses. Those dark blue pools are boiling as he looks at your soft nude figure, hands quick to grasp your hips and slide up to your chest.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this…” his solemn and possessive tone have goosebumps erupting on your skin. The feel of his hands are rough as they trail and dance across your breasts, two fingers coming together to pinch harshly at your nipple, pulling a huffed squeak from your lips as you pout up at him.

He smiles at you.

Not a half smirk or tiny twitch of his lip, but a warm smile filled with adoration, and it leaves you vulnerable for his next attack.

He plants one forearm just above your head, leaning close for a searing slow kiss that was downright filthy in how he lewdly moaned into your mouth. The deep sound reverberating into you as you melt further beneath him.

You’re distracted, boneless legs easily pried further open for his hips as he slides closer to you, his free hand letting the reddened soft tip of his cock brush through your soaked lower lips.

You jolt at the sensation, the heat of his body taking you by surprise, but his mouth follows when you pull back, biting down on your lower lip and licking the sting away when you whine.

Then you feel pressure, at first odd but not painful. Giyuu huffs against your mouth as your walls crush the tip of his cock as he pushes in.

“Relax for me, let me in,” he’s fighting hard not to just shove entirely inside you in one thrust. Your warm and soft body leaving his head muddled as he pulls out, before pushing in again, working himself deeper inch by inch.

Your clammy palms find his biceps, fingers digging into the hard muscle as you try to obey and relax for him, but you can’t help when you clamp down with the feeling of being invaded by his burning rod continually shoving into you. He wasn’t outright painfully thick, but his length far surpassed his fingers as his cock pushed your limits before he was fully seated inside, tip pushing up your cervix to fit completely while your legs trembled and tensed around him.

“Y/N,” you didn’t mean to close your eyes, just consumed with concentrating on getting used to him, when a large palm cupped your cheek and encouraged you to look up. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, flushed and heaving for breath just from feeling you squeeze around him, brows taunt as he gazes at you with those softening eyes.

“Am I hurting you?” You shake your head, because it didn’t hurt, he was just stretching you out so much it was leaving you reeling.

He seemed to understand as he chuckles, kissing your temple as his hips slowly drag out of you, each vein on his cock rubbing in his exit. Your nails bite deeper into his skin, your exhale of breath sharp before he shifted and nudged a new spot that made you moan.

“There?” He’s not actually asking you. Not when he sinks back in, watching your every expression while gauging where that spot was.

He brushes it with his tip, the spongey area making you clench and slacken in the same moment, toes curling as the thickness inside seems almost unbearable before feeling so good your own hips rock up to meet his thrust.

“You’re so tight,” his hair has come loose from the ponytail he keeps it in, thick strands tickling your collarbone where they drop, his shoulder muscles taunt with pent up energy as he begins a steady pace inside of you, letting your slick glide him into your narrow hole. His eyes flicking up and drinking in the almost drunk expression on your pretty face, adoring how you both seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces.

“G-Giyuu,” your panting little moans are speeding up with his thrusts, the room becoming sweltering as your bodies collide, his groin coming flush against your ass with each loud smack of his balls. His hand tangles in the blanket below, gripping the fabric as he concentrates on not filling you up carelessly. His free hand moves up your hip where he’d been holding you, brushing over your sensitive nipples teasingly before gently wrapping around your throat.

One of your hands wrap around his wrist, cautious and curious of why he was holding you like this, but not fighting when he lightly squeezes the sides of your throat.

“Oh,” you moan, voice a little hoarse and softer than usual as you feel your head go light and airy while the intense pleasure inside of you spikes. His cock spearing and bullying your insides as he groans, your pussy only becoming tighter as he restricts your blood flow lightly, watching your fucked out face in fascination. His own isn’t any better but you’re not paying attention, only caring about the bubble expanding inside your belly again, his cock threatening to pop it at any second, his lower half soaked in your slick as it slides down your ass and onto the futon.

“Are you going to cum for me?” His expression is nearly pained as he restraints himself, smirking as you senselessly babble something incoherent but your nails scrape sharply over his skin and help clear his mind. He shifts even closer, forcing himself to hunch over you while he releases your throat and grips under your knees.

You cry out as he lifts your legs up, pressing your knees almost to your collarbone while he drills your cunt, his feet digging into the futon below as he has you in a mating press. His nose nearly brushes yours, so close but far as he grunts and slams into you, the new angle increasing the tightness, your walls milking him while he fucks you stupid.

“Fuck—m’gonna cum, Giyuu!” Your eyes roll back, insides clamping down and seizing around him while you gush, cream forming around the base of his cock while he pants, teeth grit while he focuses on drawing out your release as long as he can. “N-no more, please!” You nearly wail as his cock overstimulates you, still brushing against that spot inside that has you seeing white.

He takes mercy this time, pulling out so quickly your hole is left gaping for a moment as he sits back and grips his cock and works himself fiercely over you, grunting and biting down on his lip while his balls draw up tight and he shoots ropes of hot cum over your dripping pussy and lower belly. Using his tip to smear it over your swollen lips as he groans.

You watch quietly, body still thrumming with euphoria from your orgasm as Giyuu finishes too, looking ruined as he finishes on you before nearly collapsing too.

He lets himself fall to his side, one arm reaching out and dragging you against him despite both your sweaty figures. He holds you tightly while you both calm, your heartbeat slowing as exhaustion takes hold and your eyes droop.

As a Hashira, he’s quick to recover, and while he could certainly stand to take you two or three more times, he instead relishes in the feel of holding you against him so intimately.

You’re asleep in minutes, breathing even as you doze against his chest.

He closes his eyes, letting his forehead drop against the crown of your head, whispering quietly what you fell asleep too quickly to hear.

“I love you too…” he’ll say it again when you wake.

“Thank you,” Kyojuro looks up from the training dummy he’d just destroyed, gaze landing with surprise on the water Hashira standing awkwardly before him, not looking at him.

Giyuu stood with his arms crossed staring off into the distance, reminding Kyojuro of an old man with the sort of serene gaze only the elderly possessed.

“Ah! You’re welcome haha! You took my advice?” His bright eyes widened, quite shocked in truth.

Giyuu merely nodded, turning to walk away having said his gratitude now.

Kyojuro didn’t stop him, still amazed his half-assed terrible advice had actually worked. Unlike his younger brother who was quite beloved and well known by the corps, Kyojuro could care less about Giyuu’s emotional constipation.

He’d told him to stop being a coward and act like a man.

You never did find out that Giyuu’s “night crawling” act was in fact just his strange way of coming to tell you his feelings before he could talk himself out of it and lose you to another.

Your kiss just initiated what he’d been holding back. ♡

Giyuu’s face whenever he sees that other slayer who tried to ask you out.

Post dividers/ @saradika

[genshin-side-piece]

I have a yandere Neuvillette concept that has been haunting me, especially in regard to how you write him cause I really loved your series on him :3c

So imagine a Neuvillette after he kidnapped darling. He understands why you're upset, and though he will not let you go he does feel a little guilty about keeping you with him. He justifies it by telling himself (and you) that it is for your own safety and protection.

BUUUUUUT imagine Neuvillette judging a trial where the defendant did the EXACT same thing. They kidnapped someone and help them against their will for several months. The defendant implores to him and the audience that they did it to protect the victim, they did it for love.

I think Neuvillette has overseen many trials where the defendant broke the law but still had a sympathetic reason to do so - like a person who killed in self defense or someone who stole to survive. Unfortunately, I don't think there is any canon material that explores this (as far as I know - hopefully I am wrong), but I think a non-yandere Neuvillette would not let his judgement be completely clouded by the defendant's motives. They still broke the law so off to Meropide they go, but he knows when to be lenient and understanding about it.

Back to yandere Neuvillette, this trial puts him between a rock and a hard place. This defendant did the exact same thing Neuvillette did to you, he understands their motives very well. If this is a post-Archon quest Fontaine then he has complete control over the defendant's fate. Should he judge this defendant fairly, as he had with millions of ever? If he sends the defendant to Meropide, then doesn't this mean Neuvillette is guilty in the eyes of the law as well? Deep down, does he secretly think he is above the law? That his darling's well being is more important than any legislation?

But if he declares the defendant not guilty then what will this mean for the future of Fontaine? Other criminals may see this and realize that doing things for "love" is a morally sound motive to the fair Iudex. Crime, especially kidnapping related ones, might increase! The people would question why the Chief Justice declared someone not guilty when they CLEARLY committed a heinous crime. Victims of similar crimes in Fontaine might not see Neuvillette has a pillar of justice, but of someone who undermines it (a harsh realization that you had to go through when he kidnapped you).

I imagine that whatever Neuvillette's decision is, he's a little shaken up after the trial. He goes home and seeks your (unwilling) comfort, pulling you into his arms for an embrace, even if you protest and try to slip away. He treats you a little differently afterwards; maybe he relaxes on the rules and regulations he enforced on you and gives you a bit more freedom, or maybe he doubles down on his decision to keep you and gets more frustrated when you fight back.

This made me so happy! TY for sending! 😊 I love to talk about this kind of stuff. I wish I got to do it more. I'm placing this under a cut, with warnings just to be safe.

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Neuvillette's grey area. It's my favorite thing about him.

Here's what makes him fun. He knows how to work the law(s) to his advantage. We see that with the traveler in 4.1. Neuvillette "invents" charges for the traveler to be sent to Meropide. He does so by getting them to commit a petty crime in the form of eating Furina's discarded cake. The traveler is unaware of said crime until they're sent to the actual fortress. Only then do they realize that Neuvillette pulled a harmless fast one on them. Later, we see him do it again when he goes behind Furina's back for the sake of the nation. I'm sure he felt horrible about it and tried to apologize afterwards, but he still went through with it because there was a greater good that needed to be fulfilled.

Same kind of principle applies here. Your safety is everything to him. Up until he finds you, he believes you to be in mortal danger. I imagine the moment of you just walking out all fine was a bit anticlimactic for him, but he would definitely take that over the alternative.

Through the power of his office, Neuvillette tricks the reader into coming with him vs taking them by force. The confinement portion gets a little stickier in terms of the laws. Neuvillette's reasons for taking you are sound. Those same reasons carry through to him keeping you. He was worried. He was concerned. As one of the leaders of Fontaine, he's merely performing his duty in protecting you. He can't guarantee your safety from the perceived threat if you go home. No, it's better if you stay with him until the threat passes, which could be never btw. Just because the serial k*ller has been caught, doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to do you harm. The mafia/cartels or even the fatui are still lurking. All it would take is one report that lists potential targets with a description that vaguely matches yours and he's set with his excuse.

Just as an aside, in my mind, Neuvillette carries some built in immunity. He has a sterling reputation. It’s not fully mentioned in the story, but even if he were accused of a crime, who would believe that person? He’s the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Someone who is purposefully written above reproach in the eyes of the population. He’s not infallible, but I feel like it would take a ton of convincing for anyone to believe Neuvillette had broken the law. Then there’s the matter of who judges him? Neuvillette is the judge. Who judges the judge in a nation with no archon?

In terms of the poor soul that has found their way before him, Neuvillette would 100% find that individual guilty regardless of his actions. Laws are laws and Neuvillette's main purpose in the story is uphold those laws. Where it gets iffy is how that person is sentenced. What is the appropriate level of justice for the crime? One could argue that the reader has already extracted a specific level of justice from Neuvillette based on how they treat him. How he feels about the trial afterwards is an interesting debate. Where Neuvillette and you start vs where you end in the series are two very different places. Since we’re talking specifically about the post-archon quest relationship between the two, I’m not sure how shaken he would be. The relationship is in a very different place from where the first story picks up. I can see him visiting his past feelings on the subject and briefly questioning specific things, but in the end it doesn’t matter to him based on how the series ends.  

Still, for the purpose of this though, I can see him going home and bringing you close. How willing you want to be is up to you. 😊

[nqueso-emergency]

https://www.tumblr.com/nqueso-emergency/760449608284553217/because-you-are-okay-with-us-rambling-a-bit-i-am

Glad to see you agree!

and also - yes, i’m so glad you mentioned how buck doesn’t go to eddie for moral advice. he talks to him, sure, but if you pay attention he does it so he can vent or sometimes ask for eddie’s opinion. but he doesn’t ask him what he should do or for any moral guidance. for that he has bobby and maddie. and hell, he’s happy to go to hen, too, and she talks to him in a way that clearly helps buck.

and also to go in a bit deeper on one of my points - it’s with things like this that their dismissal of maddie gets on my nerves. i’ve lost count of the amount of posts and even fanfics that put eddie and chris as being buck’s ’true family’ and that put maddie down consistently. even the ones that aren’t as bad has maddie acting as a distant relative instead of one of the main pillars in buck’s life.

my most hated take on this, actually, is when they always make a point of chris being buck’s anchor to reality or his reason to fight. and every time i see a scene of buck writing his will and leaving everything to chris, a fairy dies.

does he value eddie and chris? of course! but to say he loves and values them leagues above his sister, the person that raised him?? even when maddie left him, buck has shown to be deeply grateful for what she did for him.

maddie’s been his (platonic) person his whole life. and it’s so frustrating to see buddies denying or pushing down that relationship, as well as minimizing jee’s role in buck’s life as his niece.

maybe i am biased because the buckley siblings have my heart, but it gets on my nerves. they have one of the strongest bonds and whilst the series sometimes neglects to have scenes with them, it’s undeniable.

No you're so fucking right! I adore the Buckley siblings and I can't stand when people basically replace her with the Diaz family.

Look at everything Maddie has done for Buck and vice versa.

Maddie literally gave Buck his freedom while ultimately sacrificing her own. And then, instead of being resentful, she kept up with his postcards, and she even saved them. The most important thing imo that she did/does for Buck is that she never judges him or tells him he's stupid or dumb or anything to that degree. It's very similar to the way Athena approaches Buck as well.

Then we have Buck. Who always has his sister's back. When Doug found Maddie, Buck broke the law to take matters into his own hands to find his sister. Their bond is one I really hope we get to see more of because it's so important to showcase.

I really want a scene where they can both discuss how happy they both finally are, similar to that hamster wheel conversation.

[sublimetragedychopshop]

Submissive older! Yanderes who are just average business people, or a hot dilf or milf in your area! I mean 7+- 20+ years older than you and they are just the sweetest thing! Even though they are older than you they are still a little shy around you and other youngish people. Simply not getting with the times or newer things are confusing to them. The cute smile that accentuates the small crows feet on the edges of their eyes. Or the heavy blush that touches their face when you happen to wear something a little risqué around them (a top and shorts does the trick).

They can’t imagine that someone as beautiful and young as you would even amuse lil old them, but it doesn’t mean they’ll reject any contact with you! No no! Please! Come inside to their home! Share a glass of drink with them and maybe talk for a while. They would love the company! Don’t worry though they are too shy to even tamper with your drink! Nope! The most they’ll do is steal some clothing from your clothes like outside or sit in the same seat you sat in after leaving. If they imagine hard enough it’s almost like your their hugging them…

They try to be friendly, they try to be a good mentor, a pillar of high morals! An example of how one should lead a good life! But.. it’s just so hard! Ever since you came into the picture now all they want to do is fantasize about what it would be like to be yours! The cute vanilla fantasies that are drama worthy. Cute dates! Matching outfits! Kissing in the rain! Adopting a pet and living your days out together! Just tooth rotting stuff. Of course until night time comes and they’ve been pent up for too long. It feels so good to be alone and to take care of their needs.. even if the depravity of their fantasies is concerning. Scenarios of you making love to them, whispers and declarations of praise and love! It makes them so horny!! They know how bad to think about someone so PERFECT as you like that, but they can’t help it. Their only human! Even then it doesn’t end there! On some rare occasions they’ll delve into a more masochistic fantasy. More of how you would react to knowing your much older acquaintance is completely infatuated with you.

Would you look at them in disgust? Yell at them on how depraved they are being? Maybe even slap them or pull their hair to tell them how disgusting they are? How can someone like them like someone who is years younger?? They would beg you to not be mad at them. To not look at them like that, please! They promise that they would never harm you but they just need you! They want you. They’ll offer you the craziest things. Anything to keep you with them. And if you don’t take them they have no choice but to take you by FORCE. Either way now you have a new life, with a very devoted partner too! Anyone else who was in the picture doesn’t matter anymore because you’ll never see them again!

They promise not to be a creep. To treat you right and all they ask is just your attention- good or bad. How can you deny them when they look at you like you hung the stars? Anything you do they’ll be amazed. Sure they get embarrassed when you gaze at them for too long thinking their fleeting youth is very unattractive but if you are open about your interest in them it’ll make them sooo happy!

(Idk what else to add to this but a recent manga inspired this post! Hopefully I get some brain juice soon)

[nochukoo97]

i will never not think about you

Pairing: Soccer Player!Jungkook x Reader

Summary: req: “May I request something, please? I'd like it to be a JK x reader enemies to lovers fic, when he hears you defending him when someone badmouths about him” alsoo JK PLAYS THE GUITAR HERE for reader 🥺🥺

Word Count: 1.3k+

a/n: this was a request sent to me and i turned out to really like it so i made it a fic to put on my main masterlist HAHAHA ❤️

You and Jungkook were notoriously known for despising each other, he often found ways to pick at you and annoy you, to which you retaliate back twice the amount.

Everytime he would see you, Jungkook always had something irritating to say, the type that would make you roll your eyes at his endless teasing.

But yet Jungkook seemed too perfect for you to find anything to tease him about, he was the school’s star soccer player, had top grades, and he had his values and morals straight. The only downside to this boy was that he could not leave you alone for the life of him.

As much as you “hated” him and envied his perfect conduct, there was this small feeling inside that you constantly pushed away: The sparks you felt in your chest when Jungkook was around you.

You would never let yourself even begin to think about that. It didn’t make sense to you, both you and Jungkook despised each other, so you pushed away those feelings, embarrassed that they had even come about.

———————————————

The canteen is bustling with noise and chaos as students walk into the area, rushing to reserve their seats and buying their food.

Luckily for you and Chaeyong, you had been dismissed early from class and managed to get there before the huge crowd appeared.

You listen to the conversations being carried out at the table with Chaeyong and some of her other friends, of which you weren’t too familiar with, but you gave you input here and there, finding their gossip quite hilarious.

“Oh my gosh~” Mina says, “And then she literally- wait shit that’s Jungkook coming this way!” She squeals as you internally cringe at her reaction.

Another thing about Jungkook was that he was popular amongst the girls, which was what you assumed gave him his ego.

“Hi ___” Jungkook sends you a boyish grin as he slides into the empty seat next to you. You frown at him as you also hear Chaeyong’s friends squeal amongst themselves.

“What?” You grumble as you look back at your plate of food, not in the mood to put up with a fight with him.

But you don’t have time to react when Jungkook slides out of the seat, grabbing his tray, but also using his chopsticks to grab a piece of meat from your plate.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You shout as he walks away grinning from ear to ear with his tray, heading to another table where his teammates sat. You groan as Chaeyong attempts to console you.

“___ why do you even bother to interact with him? He’s such a douchebag and I’m pretty sure he’s a dick, I don’t even think he’s that good at soccer and honestly he’s only popular because of his looks, nothing else,” One of Chaeyong’s friends, Jisu, mocks.

You immediately frown at her words, upset at what she had blatantly just said. “First of all, who are you to say that? Jungkook is literally the top player of our school’s soccer team and he obviously has the skill. If he heard you say that I can guarantee he will not be happy,” You say back at her.

Jisu isn’t quite the happiest at your response either, “Well my boyfriend, Chanyeol, can easily pick a fight with him if he dares to do anything, Jungkook won’t stand a chance,” She scoffs, clearly agitated.

“I can tell you one thing, Jungkook will not lose a fight with anyone here, he’s so strong your boyfriend won’t even be able to stand if they got into a fight, don’t try to use you boyfriend to defend yourself because it’ll never work,” And with that you stand up and take your tray to another table, not wanting to be around Jisu anymore.

Little did you know Jungkook had been standing behind the pillar next to your table and listening to every word you had said.

————————————————

Fast forward a week later, you find yourself stuck with being partners with guess who? Jeon Jungkook.

Your chemistry teacher must have played a sick prank on you both for pairing the two of you up for a project.

So that’s how you’re currently sitting on the floor of Jungkook’s bedroom, as he furiously types away on his laptop.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare into blank space or actually help me over here?” Jungkook looks up at you from his laptop, frowning slightly.

“You play guitar?” You ignore his question as you point to the guitar sitting on a stand in the corner of his room.

“Yeah, okay now back to the project,” Jungkook hastily replies, pushing your laptop towards you in hopes of getting you back on track.

Instead you frown as you push the laptop back, clearly uninterested in the project at the moment.

“Can you play a song for me?” You softly ask, not recognising your own voice. It was as if your underlying feelings for him had suddenly taken over your consciousness.

Jungkook slightly raises his eyebrow, surprised at your tone and your request but complies, as he puts his laptop aside and walks to get the guitar.

“What song do you want me to play?” Jungkook asks, after he expertly tunes the guitar.

“Never Not by Lauv, that’s my favourite,” You giggle as Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes, knowing that he’s heard the same song so many times before.

When Jungkook starts to strum and sing the song, you begin to gaze at him with admiration, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you listen to his honey-like voice ring throughout the room.

And when he finishes, your eyes light up as you praise him, “Oh my gosh that was so good Gguk, thank god you’re at least good at one thing,” You tease him towards the end, not noticing the pet name slipping out of your mouth.

Jungkook looks at you in amusement, not commenting how your “Gguk” made his heart almost explode in his chest.

“I’m pretty good at other things you know, Miss ‘Jungkook is good at soccer and he can beat your boyfriend up’ ” Jungkook laughs, seeing your shocked face.

“I- How- Wait! How do you-” You stutter through words as your jaw drops, “And that’s not what I said anyways!” You whine as you slap his arm.

“Well I just rephrased whatever you said because it seemed like you had a lot of good things to say about me,” Jungkook smirks at you as he puts down the guitar and walks towards your seated figure.

He approaches you and closes the gap between you two, causing you to panic and inch back further, only to be restricted by his bed behind you.

Now the only thing you could feel was Jungkook’s bed frame against your back and his whispering in your ear,

“Didn’t know Miss ‘I hate Jungkook’ loved me so much, hmm?” His breath hits your ear as he whispers, your cheeks turning to a horrible shade of red, breathing staggered.

Jungkook pulls back to stare at your reaction, but you can’t bring yourself to even look at him, letting your gaze fall to your fidgeting hands on your lap.

But the boy has other plans, when he lifts your chin with his fingers, connecting your lips together as you gasp at the sudden move.

“Relax baby,” Jungkook mumbles through the kiss, taking your hands and bringing them up to wrap around his neck.

You slowly began to relax into the kiss, unable to process how unimaginable this was.

When Jungkook breaks away from the kiss, you both look at each other, slightly panting.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Jungkook coos as he laughs when you frown and slap his chest.

“Okay now sit here,” He pats the ground next to him, “I need to teach my girlfriend how to play my guitar”

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list. I've only been in the fandom for six months or so. I have biases and favorites and limited time. I hope to update this list periodically, and if you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@angelnoodlesoup: she/her

Sophie is just one of the sweetest David stans that's ever existed who writes, like, the sweetest things about him. Her posts are just going to make you feel warm, fluffy, soft things in your heart area; give into the sweetness. Highlights: Sophie writes this adorable timestamp series of vignettes exploring Davey and Angel's day, but I'm particularly attacked to their David/Angel neighbors to lovers AU~

@arrowfleur

I was actually going to put Max in the visual content portion of this post, because they post delightful Redacted edits on Tiktok (under the same username, highly recommend~), but then they made a uquiz that gave me an existential crisis, so here we are. Highlights: This quiz sent my whole server for a loop and has made me reconsider my relationship with Lovely as a character and kin; it's a great time.

@batch-of-pengwings: robin/bird, she/her

Robin, an absolute sweetheart who makes all the fun ask games that keep the community interconnected and thinking and talking which is just really sweet and fun in the best way. Highlights: The Winter Wonderland game is the one who went around most recently, and it’s so fun to engage with the fandom and discuss who we think is stupid enough to get their tongues stuck on a telephone poll~

@bicyclepainting: they/them

Clover, the fandom's resident Smartass, doing the lord's work and reminding us all how fucking smoochable Aaron is on a regular basis on top of being the coolest astrology nerd don't give them your birth chart you will be perceived /lh Highlights: No one is doing Aaron/Smartass like they are; like, read and absorb the delicious, domestic delight that is them. I also recommend their deep dives into the Redacted bois signs, if you're into that; they're very thorough and fun to read!

@cashandprizes: she/they

My Lexi, my queerplatonic soulmate… She is on a quest to dissect and critique fandom brick by philosophical brick, and I both love her and fear her in equal measure. (That’s a lie, I love her infinitely, more than anything, but she is in fact incredibly intelligent and intimidating.) Highlights: Come for the scathing insights into gray-morality and DD:DNE’s place in fiction, stay for the stripper!Gavin fic they’re working on and their sequel to Lasko’s SexTember audio because she really wanted to make him cry

@ejunkiet: she/her

EJ, the very first of my Redacted loves~ Not only is EJ an endless well of kindness and positivity, but she also writes fucking bomb ass everything. You get angst, you get smut, you get fluff- We stan a multitalented, ace queen. (She also writes really cute CastleAudios fanfiction and original stuff as a cherry on top.) Highlights: EJ writes just some of my favorite David/Angel smut; she captures Angel's little shit nature perfectly. She's also written the sweetest thing of Damien meeting Huxley's moms that I can't get enough of~

@dominimoonbeam: she/her

Domini, truly one of the pillars of the fandom. I don't know what'd we'd be without her fantastic fics or her original novellas or her fantastic, beautiful, rarepair-creating brain. Highlights: God, there's too many to choose from! There's the Sam/Darlin fake dating AU that has us all gripped by the proverbial balls. There's the David/Darlin tattoo shop AU that has me frothing at the mouth because tattoo artists are stinkin hot. That's not even getting into their Cam/William fic, because god, that is such a good rarepair. We love two immortals finding love with one another, we really do. My personal favorite has got to be their Huxley/Darlin piece though, because Darlin gets to be cute and awkward and so, so loved in it.

@frenchiefitzhere: she/her

Frenchie, the fandom's unofficial (but basically official) Marie Greer, not only a gorgeous writer but also the creator of the most fantastical and unique fansongs (who makes original audio content to boot~) Highlights: We would be nowhere as a fandom without the Marie/Colm greer backstory and saga or her audios as the Greer Matriarch herself, but personally? Her Imperium!Lasko/Adam fic kind of changed my life, I'm kind of obsessed with it.

@friendlyfaded: he/him

Miles, the king and professor of the rarepairs! Beware, you will leave his blog wishing for fics for a ship that doesn’t actually exist yet. It’s unavoidable when you read the careful, creative, thoughtful way he considers seemingly silly pairings and makes them gorgeous. Highlights: I recommend his whole rarepairs with prof tag for a snack and his Sweetheart/Lasko/Milo fic for a whole meal~

@gingerbreadmonsters: she/her

Ginger, literally one of the sweetest, friendliest people in the entire Internet. I cannot adequately describe the absolute magnificent poetry of Ginger's prose, so you just have to read it for yourself. You will not be disappointed. Highlights: Ginger's Milo/Sweetheart series is for if you're feeling sweet, and her Vincent/Lovely/Gavin/Freelancer foursome fic is if you're feeling spicy~ Or if you're like me and are longing for an character we'll never see again, you can read her gorgeous, Doctor Who-inspired look in Marcus's mind.

@glassbearclock: she/her

Beans, also known as the best Milo/Sweetheart writer in the game. Their banter is taken from the mouth of god and first name Erik last name Redacted himself, and you could not convince me otherwise. Highlights: I’m a big fan of her sweet, wholesome, Jewish!Milo sick fic, but aYO her Milo/Sweetheart first date fic is so good y’all like goddamn Sweetheart phases through their door and makes Milo faceplant it on accident man that shit is so good

@horrorscoupes: they/he

My beautiful, darling Lotus, my gloriously deranged brother in arms (affectionate). The way they write each and every d(a)emons is just so -chef kiss-. Highlights: I think about their Regulus/Doll fic, like, literally every day, it's just yummy and depraved. Though, for a true taste of genius, for a galaxy brain treat, you've got to read his Shark!Vega/Pet masterpiece.

@k9rage: he/xi

My beloved Calico, our helpful Image Description fairy. He is just so cool and writes the most glorious smut like the world has ever seen. As of publishing, he's writing a Vega/Lasko street racing AU that's gonna be just smoke ash cinder fire hot. Highlights: You need to read his Damien/Gavin waxplay fic; like, this changed my life, I think about it daily. Ooh, AND his Aaron/SmartAss/Gavin threesome fic, because he didn't do all that thinking and imagining for us to not appreciate it. I'm also reccing @calicostorms, his other blog and spotify, so you can get at his stellar Redacted character playlists!

@lovelylonerliterature: 

Lovely, absolute stand-out writer in the fandom! Would you believe they have a whole (as of posting) 95 works for the RedactedASMR fandom on AO3? There’s <2000 fics, which makes Lovely a whole five percent of the fanfiction on their own. That’s wild and so hella cool. Highlights: Literally everything they write. Explore their extremely well done masterlist, it’s beautifully put together, and you’ll find something you love. (I’m particularly fond of the Darlin/Vega fic they wrote based off of one of FriendlyFaded’s posts~)

@romirola: she/her

Dr. Romi, the one and the only and one of the legitimate sweetest goddamn people that has ever existed. You've never met a more polite, darling person in all your days. How did she write all these thousands of words of art while getting a doctorate? God, I wish I knew... if only we could also be so beautiful and wonderful and accomplished. Highlights: You haven't existed until you've read her Milo/Sweetheart Tangled AU; like, what are you doing here? GO. (I also deeply recommend her found family Shaw Pack + Sam fic, if you're looking for something that's still ongoing!)

@sealriously-sealrious: they/them

Chrys who writes- no contest I think we can all agree- the best Huxley that this fandom has ever seen. He is just so well-explored and so multifaceted, just the top-tier himbo content we all need and deserve. Highlights: Huxley and Freelancer at the aquarium, Huxley and Freelancer going camping, sfw, nsfw, whatever you want, we've GOT. (There's even some imperium!Huxley, if you're so inclined >:))

@starlitangels: she/her

Starlit, another absolute powerhouse of the fandom. Just look at this masterlist, I think there’s something here for literally every character. That’s what babes call RANGE. Highlights: The way they explore the Shaw pack is so fun; I’d highly recommend her fic exploring Gabe and his backstory or her fic exploring the Shaw’s future pups~!

@taelonsamada: she/her

A pillar- or should I say fence post?- of the fandom and just an utter peach. Always has a nice word to say and says the best nice words about Sam and Darlin- Highlights: Her nsfw Geordi/Cutie fic holds a special place in my heart (the blindfold? the gag? Be still my beating heart), but you haven’t lived until you’ve read her Shaw-centric Ranch AU~!

@teasandcardigans: she/her

Mads, another lovely creator that could be in either section of this post- that's how talented she is! Not only is she a lovely writer but she also designs the most fun Redacted stickers! Also, she's got the only Redacted fan tiktok that Erik has confirmed seen and liked, can't not mention that it's so cool Highlights: Honestly, there's too many to mention! A really popular of hers is a "What If" echo-esque reimagining of everyone's stories which is so fun, and my personal, biased favorite is her Alexis & Gavin fic hear me OUT-

@the-sugar-crash

Cait, out here doing the most and the best. They’ve run the Redacted Winter Gift Exchange for the past two years, connecting blogs who might have never spoken to each other, inspiring creativity, and spreading holiday cheer~ Highlights: I recommend taking a look-see through the “Redacted 2022 Winter Gift Exchange” tag- much thanks to Cait for making it possible- to consider if you’d like to join next year! Until then, there’s a compilation of their cute headcanon posts to inspire you!

@zozo-01: she/her

Zo, one of the sweetest people in the fandom~ Not only is she a fantastic writer, but she is also one of the friendliest people in the space! Constantly excited and supportive and positive and a joy to follow and befriend. Highlights: Her Sam/Darlin Deity AU is going to change the world and break some hearts, I just know it. (Just like her Alexis and Darlin meeting fic broke mine-) If you're not up to getting your heart broken and just want a friend, I recommend asking her about her Powerpoint of Bollywood scenes that could be Sam/Darlin moments~!

Fanart:

@andr0leda: she/they

Androleda’s art is so gorgeous in that most of them are uncolored or working with a smaller palette, and it just makes those colors stand out and the line work all the more elegant. Highlights: Their wolf!Darlin piece got so popular, and you can see why! It looks like the cover of a really cool YA fantasy novel. Also, her Sam/Darlin art just melts the heart- the gentle hand, the key around the neck-!

@artbykays

Kays, a fantastic artist who plays around with the prettiest, brightest colors and has the prettiest (hottest) fem listeners. They also have super fun Redacted playlists! Highlights: Their Sweetheart, Valentina, is kind of smokin hot, I mean look at her, but also good lord, have you seen their Warden like lock me up anytime hello-

@belovedbow

Bow’s art just makes me so soft and gooey inside I dunno. Their art is so pretty, and they always have the most expressive faces. Not to mention the colors- like, Bow uses the simplest but most emotionally evocative shades of pinks and blues that make me inexplicably feel things, and I love it. Highlights: Literally all their Davey/Angel is the sweetest, but I also have this deep fondness for their imp!FL and Vindemiator pieces, because look at these deep, mournful blues, they’re beautiful!

@cascadiiing: they/them

Atlas creates the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable characters on top of being the most beautiful, squishable, smoochable (platonic) sweetie in existence~ they’re so sweet and friendly on top of being so talented at such a young age, and I would protect them with my life. Highlights: Their Sam kind of makes me so lovesick, I could barf- he’s just that pretty. Their Alexis/Christian art is fanart of my own fic, I’ll grant you, but it’s also so fucking pretty look at the dreamy colors and it MOVES-

@claracatlady

Where would we be without Clara, like honestly- What really stands out about their art is- other than the overwhelming talent- the obvious thought and joy that went into designing the outfits. Only the best from our resident fashion design student! Highlights: literally everything. If I must be specific, the David design pinned to their blog is utterly ahdhkakshdjsk, and I am particularly partial to their Alexis design, because I love my beautiful, possibly complex lady okay-

@fregget-frou : he/they

Mal has the prettiest Listeners; I’m lowkey in love with all of them~ I love the way he does such fluffy, voluminous hair, and I dunno, all their listener OC’s have this fashion model-esque glamour and posture about them that’s really attractive. Highlights: Of their listeners, Mal’s Angel has got to be my favorite. Look at this fluffy-haired cutie! Look at this menace! I would also propose to them, they’re gorgeous!

@gwenifred: she/her

Gwen draws the most gorgeous, swoon-worthy Huxleys and is just a big sweetpea to boot. Her and Pali sharing OC’s and art trades here and on Twitter is a testament to how friendly and sweet the fandom can be! Highlights: Everything she draws is gorgeous, but you haven’t lived until you’ve seen her animation work!

@ice-palace-art: They/It/He/Dae

Darby has some of the most beautiful designs, I can hardly stand it. He creates the most gorgeous, realistically proportioned characters and listeners, and they’re just really smoochable okay let me live- Highlights: It has this one piece of Gavin and Lasko having a sleepover that fills me with the warm fuzzies every time I see it, and their Aaron design fills me with longing I am hopelessly in love with their dad-bodded Aaron.

@itsdaifuku: she/her

Y’all don’t even know the little happy stim storm Fuku’s art sets me on; like, all her art is so cute and joyful and somehow colorful even when it’s in black and white? It just gives the vibe of life and vibrancy constantly? How does she do that? Highlights: Literally, everything she draws is gorgeous and sweet, though her designs for the Shaws and their mates are so S-tier and so cute. (I’m also particularly fond of her designs for Love and Alexis, my favorite characters, I’m biased, sue me)

@mr-laveau: he/they

Laveau, my favorite Milo kinnie~ (Yeah, I said it out loud; I’m callin you out.) Charming, thoughtful, friendly, much more talented than they have any right to be when they’re also so funny and sweet, AND also writing at their other blog @bratty-telepath. You’ve never seen such a double threat. Highlights: Literally, everything he makes. All his designs are colorful and gorgeous and filled to the brim with deliberate, intentional details (though I am incredibly partial to their Alexis and Darlin designs and the parallels he included between them.)

@nais-doodles

Nai is a fucking blessing unto this fandom, and we are not worthy. You haven’t really lived, haven’t experienced all the pure, positive silliness that this hellsite has to offer until you experience Nai’s Redacted Actor AU. It’s pure serotonin, and we’re all here listening to Boyfriend ASMR, I know we could use it. Highlights: Other than said AU posts (which really are so fuckin good), have you seen their drawing of Vincent and Sam’s Monarchal ball? Ooh, and if you go to their tiktok under the same username, you can see some of the really cool dating sim they’re working on!

@nanowatzophina: any pronouns

Na’no is not only a must follow on tumblr, but I also highly recommend their tiktok if you wish to wade through the horrid cesspool of that app (I say with tiktok as one of my top social media sites- we have a codependent relationship) Their art is super cute and expressive, and I get massive gender envy from the way he draws hair and teeth. Highlights: Her aspec Freelancer is just so close to my heart; I adore Avery so deeply. Also, the way they draw imperium!Vega and Pet makes my heart fucking melt and want to jump out my chest- the size difference, my god

@obsessivedino: they/them

Mint’s contribution to the fandom cannot possibly be overstated. Their art style is just so clean and neat and with the cutest expressions, and I love their designs so much, especially for the d(a)emon bois I just ahhhhh Highlights: If you’ve joined the official unofficial Redacted Discord server, you’ve seen their adorable stickers reminding you to kick that ass or hydrate unless you want to die-drate, and you haven’t truly embraced life unless you’ve seen their two-year anniversary masterpiece. Ooh, or pocket caelum!

@palilious: she/her

There is no Redacted fandom or fandom list without Pali, and we’ve all accepted that. Her style is so uniquely and instantaneously recognizable as hers, and everyone adores it, including but not limited to GBA, Nomad, and Cardlin! Highlights: Literally everyone she draws is so pretty, though I have a soft spot for her Vincent or her Nomad drawings if you’re looking for more VAs to listen to!

@pearl-kite: she/they

Kirehn has the most huggable humans and the most awe-inspiring d(a)emons. The way she draws the d(a)emons with constellations worked into the designs and color palettes is just so gorgeous and purposeful and thoughtful. Highlights: Their Vega is so frightening but beautiful, you just can’t look away from him. I’m also particularly in love with their Darlin!

@queendread

Do y’all ever do this thing when you see an ethereally beautiful person and you have no words, all you can do is giggle like a vapid schoolgirl(gn)? That’s me with all of Anna’s paintings: no words, just awe. Highlights: I don’t even really like Gavin, okay, he’s not my type, but lord above, Anna’s Gavin is something else. Their Sam also has those Captain America, boy next door good looks I imagined, it’s like they took him right out of my daydreams.

@ryokoaoi : they/them

Ryo has the absolute cutest, most adorable art style, one can barely handle it! Everything they draw is just so pretty and so colorful and detailed and sweet. (Except the sad things, those are less sweet but gosh they’re still so pretty.) They also have this Magic Swap AU that they design that is so fun to read about! Highlights: Their swapped! Gavin and Avior designs are so fun, I adore them deeply, and if you need something to cheer you up, you can always depend on their DAMN pieces that always include a little invisible Caelum to bring you joy~!

@slushrottweiler: she-they

There is nothing like seeing Slush’s signature blue linework on your dashboard, it’s such a sweet treat- or spicy. There are also very good, very spicy treats. Her blog is a magnificent roulette wheel of blue surprises. Highlights: I love their Sam/Darlin stuff, especially this one because wowee them shoulderblades, but their HuxDami BA piece takes the cake.

@spookybeandoodle

Spooky has my whole heart and wallet and my other heart if I had one I fell in love with their rich color palettes and shading and Alexis right away and had to commission them. Could not recommend enough, they were a treasure to work with~ Highlights: I’m not biased- okay yes I am but not now their Alexis is fuckin smoking hot but also their Cam might be my favorite Cam look at that smile-!

@sri-rachaa: she/her

Rae is such a treasure to this fandom, we hardly deserve her. Her art is so ethereally pretty and delicate? The way she draws hair and noses and silhouettes- her line work is just phenomenal. Everything she creates is just a delight to look at. Highlights: The Southern Siblings AU is a gift, a treasure, a boon that cannot be ignored. I’m also a big fan of her Lovely OC who is ridiculously pretty~

@tankwolf : she/her

June has been posting fanart for only two months, but I’m already absolutely obsessed. I just find her monochrome character portraits so visually engaging and interesting. I would love so badly to be friends with her listener OC’s… Highlights: …or more than friends, because her Sweetheart is something else good lord. I would just love it if June could stop putting the hot people in crop tops please (but also don’t cause whoa)

@terrazaurio

All the fanart Terra creates is so bright and vivid and colorful and expressive, they’re really such a treat to see and experience. I’m a sucker for the colors they use, cause it makes my lizard brain all happy and go “shiny pretty happy.” Highlights: Everything they draw with the Shaw Pack is pure dopamine, like this one of the bois and their mates hanging by the pool. I am particularly attached to this piece from Milo’s HBS, because they’re so fucking in love, your honor, I love them.

@thefablefoxart : she/her

Angelina’s Redacted couple series is one of the truest delights of the fandom; like, they’re so colorful and cute and just adorably designed. I’m also deeply in love with the way she does hair. Everyone just has really fucking good looking hair, and I can’t get over it-Highlights: On top of the aforementioned couple series, I just want to bring attention to this adorable chibi Sam that she drew- it brings me so much serotonin- and their Darlin, Kai who I wish would just give me a shot okay I have a Southern accent too-

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

again playing around with the formatting please stop hurting me tumblr I’m trying to be nice

If you can see this, I love you, and you’re watching me try to format this post so tumblr doesn’t cut off the bottom of it please ignore the Android behind the emerald curtain go about your day