#[ So again a very happy New Year to all of you! ]
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୨୧ BEWiTCHED ME : WHEN YOU WEAR GLASSES ╰——𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾
𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being very bad down TT 。。 ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞
DANi : wah happy new years, flueries~ ki's was so fun to write (> <)
𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 “woah, wait a second,” heeseung says, his voice low and teasing as he leans in, his nose almost brushing yours. “when did my baby start looking like the hottest nerd alive?” his hand gently cups your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek as he tilts your face up. you blink at him through the new glasses, flustered, but he’s clearly having the time of his life. “don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a smirk that makes your heart race. “you’re making it hard to concentrate when all i want to do is kiss you.” his fingers toy with the frame of your glasses, and he chuckles softly. “honestly, though, you’re too cute. these just make it unfair for the rest of us.” before you can even respond, he dips his head, lips brushing yours. “yep, definitely my favorite look on you.”
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 “baby,” jay breathes, as his eyes trace every inch of your face like he’s seeing you for the first time. “you’re… wow.” he steps closer, his hand coming up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “how do you keep getting prettier? is it even legal to look this good?” he chuckles softly, shaking his head in disbelief, but his gaze stays locked on you, completely mesmerized. his fingers lightly adjust the frame of your glasses. “seriously, you look like a dream, princess,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “i don’t know if i should stare at you all day or buy you every pair of glasses on the planet just to see this look again.” he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re perfect.”
𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 "angel, are you trying to kill me?" jake breathes out, eyes wide as they rake over your face, his fingers lifting to adjust the frames on your nose. “seriously, this? this should be illegal,” he mutters, his lips quirking into that signature smirk, but the way his ears flush gives him away. “jake, they’re just glasses—” you start, only for him to cut you off, pulling you closer by the waist. “just glasses? no, no, these are weapons of mass destruction, pretty girl,” he teases, leaning in till your noses almost touch. “honestly, how am i supposed to focus when you look this good? it’s distracting,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. when you swat at him, laughing, he just grins wider. “what? you want me to not tell my stunning girlfriend how perfect she is? sorry, can’t do that.”
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 it takes sunghoon a solid five minutes to notice, and even then, it’s only because you catch him squinting at you. “wait—hold on,” he starts, leaning closer, his head tilting slightly as his dark eyes narrow. “are you wearing… glasses?” he finally asks, blinking like he’s just uncovered the world’s biggest mystery. you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “wow, observant as ever, park sunghoon.” his lips curl into that boyish smile, the one that makes your heart trip over itself, as he reaches out to tug you closer by the wrist. “i mean, give me a break, princess. i was distracted by your face—glasses or not, it’s kind of unfair how good you look,��� he teases, his voice soft but teasing as his fingers brush along the side of your face.
𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 "baby, you look so cute, i can't even," sunoo whispers, his voice dripping with adoration as he tugs you closer by the waist, his fingers brushing over the glasses he helped you pick out. "i knew these frames were the one, but i didn't know they'd make me fall in love with you all over again." “don’t look at me like that,” you mumble, your own face heating up, but he just grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “like what? like you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen?” he teases, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. “sunoo!” you protest, but he just laughs, stealing a quick peck on your lips. “what? just speaking the truth, baby. you’re perfect.”
𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢�� "oh, you look so good," jungwon mutters, his eyes flickering between yours and the glasses perched on your nose, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. before you can respond, he’s already pushing the frames up to rest on top of your head, his hands slipping to cradle your face. “what are you—” your words are cut off as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, then another, and another, each one lingering a little longer. “jungwon!” you mumble against his mouth, trying not to smile, but he just hums, completely unbothered, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “sorry, couldn’t help it,” he says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes says otherwise. “you’re too pretty, baby. i need all the kisses right now.” his lips brush yours again, and you can’t even pretend to be annoyed when he’s holding you like this.
𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 “look at you, my little nerd,” riki snickers, leaning in way too close to your face just to get a reaction. “stop calling me that!” you whine, trying to shove him away, but he’s already smirking, his hands darting out to gently steal your glasses. “give those back, riki!” you protest, but he’s too quick, slipping them onto his face. “oh my god, how do you even see with these? are you blind or something?” he teases, squinting dramatically as he stumbles around the room for effect. “you’re such a loser,” he laughs, dodging your attempt to grab them back. “riki, i swear—” you start, but he cuts you off by peeking over the glasses with a cheeky grin. “okay, okay, you’re cute though,” he admits, handing them back with a wink. as you put them on, he kisses your cheek and murmurs, “but still a nerd. my hot nerd.”
#ʚ( ៸៸ ´ `) 𝑜𝑓 : 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ︐#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#heeseung#enhypen au#enha x reader#enhypen icons#park jongseong#enhypen jay#yang jungwon#jaeyun fluff#sunghoon fluff#park sunghoon angst#sunghoon angst#park jongseong angst#enhypen soft hour#sunghoon soft hours#enhypen soft hours#heeseung soft thoughts#sunghoon soft thoughts#jaeyun imagines#sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon imagines
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Happy New Year everyone!
I’m delighted to announce that Interact-IF is officially back in business! I (Allie @allieebobo) will be taking the reins as the new mod, and I’m very excited to get this blog up and running again!
First, a heartfelt thank-you to the original mod team for everything they’ve built. Interact-if has become such an invaluable resource and hub for interactive fiction fans and authors alike. It’s a tough act to follow, but I’ll do my best to keep the spirit of this wonderful space alive :)
A little bit more about me: I’m the author of two WIP interactive fiction games, @collegetennisoriginstory and @merrycrisis-if. Interact-if was one of the first blogs/places that I discovered almost three years ago now, and it led me to so many amazing stories, authors, and resources.
When I saw that the blog was going into archive mode, with a call for a new generation of mods, I wanted to do my best to help out. I reached out to the original mod team and worked out a gameplan for the future of Interact-if, which I’d like to share with all of you today.
P.S. If you would like to join me, I’d love to have you on the team! Scroll down to the section on ‘open call for mods’.
Without further ado, here’s the plan!
My goal is to focus on retaining the aspects that made Interact-IF so special: spotlighting diverse authors, and creating a warm, inclusive space to talk about and share wonderful games.
🟢 Active:
Game Updates & Intros: If you’re an author with a new game or demo update, or if you’re organizing a game jam or event you’d like to share with the community, simply tag @interact-if in your posts, and I’ll reblog them. It would also be helpful if you added tags stating the IF's genre (e.g. horror, romance), has a demo/no demo.
Themed Author Features: I’ll continue the tradition of spotlighting authors and games based on monthly themes (e.g. Pride Month, Disability Month). These interviews are such a great way of celebrating diversity and inclusivity in the IF community, and I’d love to keep these going! Stay tuned for a detailed post on this soon!
Community Spotlight: Once every quarter, I’ll also do a call for reader recs around certain categories/themes (e.g. Fave RO, Fave Worldbuilding/setting, Fave plot-twist etc.) and compile these recommendations to share. Think of it as a bulletin of crowdsourced faves and a way of sharing a little note about an IF you love!
🟡 Remain open/active, but not modded:
Game directory: The Interact-IF repository of games (excel) will remain open for authors to update/list their games and/or readers to discover their next read. (Feel free to continue to update/populate the repository, though do note it will remain completely crowd-sourced/author-updated).
Discord: The discord will remain open and active for discussions, resource sharing, and casual chats, though again, this will not be officially modded (though I, and some of the original mods like roast, may be active from time to time)
🔴 Not active:
Asks: I will not be answering asks except for specific submissions (e.g. for author features, reader recommendations etc.). If you would like to ask for specific game recommendations, or have questions/just wanna chat, the discord channel is a great place to do just that! :)
Keeping track of events/game updates: As mentioned, I’ll rely on authors / readers to tag me in updates posts and/or flag any games with questionable content/anything that might need my attention, as I won't be able to search out update posts or do any extensive vetting.
Open call for mods:
Finally, I’d love to have some company! If you’re interested in helping out—whether with reblogs, interviews, or brainstorming new features—please reach out. Having a small team would make this space even more vibrant!
Thank you for your support, your enthusiasm, and for being part of what makes Interact-IF such a special corner of the internet! :)
If you have any suggestions or ideas on how Interact-If can be improved, feel free also to drop the blog a direct message or an ask. I look forward to getting to know all of you better. Here's to an awesome year of interactive fiction (and many more!)
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Transcription: a series of tweets from The Mountain Goats (mountain_goats) on Jan 1 2022.
so I was washing potatoes last night when I got excited
it was just one of those moments, you know. I was getting dinner together and I looked at the ingredients coming together on the counter
and I thought to myself, and said aloud, "Hell yes, I have three potatoes"
living with me means having to develop a robust tolerance for hearing a guy occasionally cry out aloud: saying, for example, "Hell yes, I have three potatoes"
but over and above my everyday state of excitement about the ten trillion small things that ease the path a little -- colors, shades, sounds, flavors, sensations, moods, fleeting thoughts, moments of transcendence when you're very lucky --
I had one of those moments of gratitude to have food, and not just the food but a counter to prep it on and a stove for cooking
but it wasn't just the food and the kitchen and the comforts of home, either
it was me standing at the stove in a house where I'm safe. got here on my own two feet. had a lot of help, plenty of points where I wouldn't have bet on the outcome. now I have three potatoes, you know?
here's the thing
some of you reading this are in houses where you're not safe all the time, and I know it
some of you are day-to-day with any of a thousand different troubles and on any given day you feel like you might buckle
maybe you've felt like that a lot of times over the past couple years. A lot of people have. some people have felt that way who'd had some preparation, and some people have found themselves navigating scary, unfamiliar straits
but if you're reading this right now you managed to make it work. maybe it doesn't feel like it worked all that well, maybe you feel like you're coasting across the goal line with no fuel at all left in the tank,
but here you are
here you are.
having found some way to nourish yourself through it.
look at the calendar, look at the clock. you sustained yourself through this. maybe you got sick, maybe it was real bad. maybe some things got better and maybe they got worse. but give yourself the gift of a long look in the mirror
look at the person hard, uncertain times, in days of sickness everywhere, will see another year
that's the person who will do it again, and to that person, over and over, I say, lout enough for the neighbors to hear,
Hell yes, hell yes, hell yes, hell yes, hell yes
from all of us here at Mountain Goats Central Command a thank you for seeing us through 2021. it was so good to see you in the flesh again. stay safe. trust yourselves. we will see one another through to safe times
this year's New Year's Eve thread is dedicated to that one guy who's mad about people wishing one another happy new year: may he never know why people actually do it
and may the rest of us, collectively, defiantly, never forget it /thread
from 2 years ago, still hits. happy new year kids
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Such A Mystery - Part 7
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)
Summary:
Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.
Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.
The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.
Warnings:
Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen
Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Happy New Year! Chapter count is continuing to go up, because I need to halve this chapter after hitting 6k. Should be 10 parts. Hopefully.
Arthur did eventually show up with enough McDonald’s in tow to feed an army.
Fries, Nuggets and even including apology milkshakes.
“I am really sorry,” her little brother apologised to her, looking distraught.
Colette exhaled slowly, trying her hardest not to laugh at the sheepish look on Arthur's face.
"The next time, maybe you should think before you post. But then I clearly didn’t do that either,” she said drily.
“I mean, karma is the guy in the car coming straight home to me, did amuse me very much,” Vic said brightly.
Arthur blushed deeply, and ducked his head in embarrassment. He set down the bags of takeout on the counter, and then looked up to her to apologize again, his eyes wide like a puppy begging for forgiveness.
"Come here," Colette said with a sigh, holding out her arms for him. "I love you, ma petite puce."
"Colette!" Arthur complained with a grimace, but she just grinned.
"Oh you'll always be my little flea," she teased her younger brother.
"Oh god, don't call me that," Arthur complained, letting her pull him into a tight hug. He let out a long suffering sigh. "I said I was sorry!"
"I know you are," she said, patting the top of his brown hair, even when that meant that she needed to stand on her tiptoes to reach. "But the fact remains that you were an idiot before."
Arthur groaned in embarrassment and dropped his head to her shoulder in defeat.
"Eat your fries," his voice was muffled. "And please tell me you have some salad or something in the fridge so Max doesn't kill me for feeding you nothing but junk food."
"I do have some salad in the fridge," Colette said and ruffled his hair. "I'll eat lots of veggies, I promise. And I’ll even tell Maxie that I blackmailed you into getting me fries, if you want,” she suggested brightly.
Vic just snorted. "Let's just get that back in the living room and we can put on Sky News and bitch about the commentators."
"You guys are awful," Arthur protested, but he was already gathering their food and following along obediently. "The comments on Sky Sports are not nearly as bad as you make them out to be..."
Colette rolled her eyes and instead collapsed onto the couch, wriggling to get comfortable, because her back was still killing her.
Arthur was also very wrong. Danica Patricks definitively was that bad. Colette could just stare at the train wreck in front of her.
"Vic. Why in the world has Sky Jos on there to talk about Maxie's anger issues. What anger issues?" she demanded. Max didn’t have anger issues. Who in the world had come up with that? This was utterly ridiculous!
Victoria stared at her. "You don't know?!" she asked, sounding shocked.
"Know what?" Colette demanded. "Enzo deleted every social media app in existence from my phone. Why do people think that Max of all people has anger issues?!"
"George Russell," Arthur mumbled. "He said some...things."
Things. George Russell had said some things.
Colette sat up a little straight at that, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What things?" she demanded. "What did he say?"
Victoria and Arthur exchange a look.
"He may have said that he wouldn't want Max to date his sister because he is sure that his girlfriend is the one dealing with his anger issues?" Arthur offered.
"He. Said. What?" Colette bit out.
No wonder there had been this tone in Max's voice when they had talked this morning...No wonder he had sounded upset, when that George fucking Russell had pretty much accused him of hurting her. And of course, he hadn't wanted to worry her, so of course, he hadn't told her.
Victoria reached out and grasped her elbow, as if she worried Colette would jump up and attack the screen.
"You need to stay calm," Vic said firmly. "You can't get worked up, it's not good for you, and it's not good for the baby," she warned her.
"I will murder George Russell," Colette growled in response.
"No murder," Victoria said in a no-nonsense voice. "You can't kill him, he's not worth it. And you can't have this stress, for your health. And the baby."
Colette huffed but she was still seething.
Only to then have Danica Patrick pipe up from the TV Screen: "What are your thoughts on your son’s supposed anger issues?"
"He doesn't have anger issues!" Colette snapped. "I have anger issues right now! I am going to find George Russell and punch him in the face!"
Arthur stared at her with an ill-hidden combination of horror and fascination.
Victoria laughed again, but it was mostly out of surprise and disbelief. "Well, at least we know that your temper is firmly intact," she said dryly.
"I'm sure Max is going to loooove seeing you this worked up over this," Arthur grumbled.
Colette had a lot of problems with Max's father, but at least for once she actually agreed with him:
"On the circuit…as soon as Max lowers his visor, he turns into a lion. He is really motivated and the only thing that matters is winning. It was always in him. What I see in Max now, I saw in karting," Jos answered Danica's question. "But that’s not the same Max you see when he is at home. On the race track, he is a lion, but at home, he’s a teddy bear. He got that from Sophie. He’s very sweet, very gentle…Incredible protective of the people he cares about."
For the first time in recent history, Colette found herself agreeing wholeheartedly with Jos Verstappen.
"He is a teddy bear," she mumbled in agreement. "The sweetest thing on earth. And that bastard has no idea what he's talking about," she bit out.
"Of course Max is a lion on the track," Arthur said with a scoff. "We've witnessed that ourselves. Everyone in the paddock knows that Max is a machine when he's in his race car, but George has his head up his ass if he thinks that Max is aggressive off the circuit."
"We all know that Maxie is the gentlest, most generous person out there," Victoria agreed, shaking her head. "George Russell is clearly jealous and is making stuff up just to get attention."
Colette just huffed.
"So you don't think he has anger issues?" Danica Patrick pushed.
"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Colette grumbled in response, her shoulders taut with anger.
Arthur laughed and Victoria squeezed her arm.
"No," Jos answered flatly.
Danica Patrick, who was clearly fishing for a different reply, seemed a little thrown by the firm response. But she rallied quickly enough to pivot: "And what can you tell us about your son’s relationship with Colette Leclerc?"
"Oh, come on!" Colette snapped.
"They have been together for a very long time," Jos replied simply, his accent strong as ever. "…since back in Karting. I don’t think anybody believed that that relationship would last, but they did prove everybody wrong."
The answer was unexpectedly charming and sincere.
Colette found herself blinking at that, surprised at how fond he sounded when talking about her and Max. Even Arthur was gaping stupidly, and it looked like Victoria was struggling not to choke on her drink from surprise.
"I think the great thing about Colette is that she understands his life, his career. She has a brother who does the same job as Max, so she was always incredibly supportive of him," Jos continued. "She is there for him. She supports him completely, and she’s been there for him through the good times and the bad. I don’t think Max would be the man he is today without her."
Arthur and Victoria stared at the screen with dropped jaws, stunned into silence.
"Is that Jos actually giving a heartfelt compliment?" Arthur muttered in disbelief.
“I think he is?” Victoria responded questioningly. This was certainly a new experience for everyone.
On the screen, Jos continued: "I have been watching their relationship for over half of Max's life, and Max really did pick the right girl."
"Your son hasn’t talked a lot about his relationship," Danica said leadingly.
"Oh, you won’t get anything from him," Jos said with a snort. "He’s very protective over her, always has been. Especially with her in her current condition."
Colette’s eyes widened and she immediately put a hand over her stomach in a protective gesture.
"Fuck," Victoria cursed.
“Did he seriously just do that?” Arthur croaked. “Did he just tell all of F1 - no, all of the world - that Colette is pregnant?”
All three of them just gaped at the TV.
Danica Patricks looked like a vampire that had just tasted blood. "Her current condition?" she asked, her voice honeyed sweet.
"Yes," Jos confirmed simply. "The baby is supposed to come any day now. We’re all incredibly excited for the new addition to the family. I mean, it took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough."
He said like it was a joke. Like it hadn't taken them the better part of 3 years and 2 miscarriages.
Colette’s whole body had tensed, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as the words echoed in her mind: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough. Those words felt like a punch to the gut - like a mockery of all the pain and disappointment and suffering.
All the stress and anxiety and anguish that they had gone through. All the tears and the desperation and prayers for a miracle.
And all of it reduced to a cheap, dirty joke.
"I am going to throttle him," Victoria said, her voice shaking.
"Get in line," Arthur grumbled, looking equally enraged.
Colette just sat there staring fixedly at the screen, feeling like her whole mind had gone numb.
It was one thing when Jos made his snide little comments to them, but it was quite another when he decided to talk about that on international TV. He made it sound like their troubles to conceive had only been a matter of not trying hard enough.
It felt like a gut punch. Colette had always known that Jos had no idea how hard the last couple of years had been for them, but now, in light of his comment, it sounded like he somehow assumed it had all been their own fault.
They had kept both miscarriages quiet...had only shared it with a handful of people. She knew that Max had told Vic about it, but he had never told his father.
Her hands were shaking with anger. The urge to throw something - anything - was almost overwhelming as the words echoed in her head over and over: It took them long enough, they definitely practiced enough.
How could he have been so cruel? How could he go and announce it on international television and make it sound like it hadn’t been the hardest thing that either of them had ever been through?
It felt like a betrayal. Colette had never expected much out of Max’s father, but this? This felt like twisting the knife in a still-healing wound and pouring salt into it.
It felt like a stab to the back. Jos had no idea. No idea how hard it had been to keep the hope up. No idea how much it had hurt with every failed test and every lost dream. And no idea how much they both had longed for the baby that was growing within her.
And now he was just treating it like it had been a matter of not working hard enough, as if it had been an easy task and they had simply taken their sweet time to do something that came naturally to most people.
Her mind would have continued to turn into circles...if there hadn't been a sudden stabbing pain low in her abdomen.
Colette winced as the pain flared. It was a shock, and her hands immediately flew down to press against the source of the pain.
"Are you alright?" Victoria asked immediately. Colette clenched her teeth as the cramping pain seemed to grow even worse, before easing.
"Just...just a cramp," Colette managed to breathe out. "It's fine. It's fine. I just- it just startled me, that's all."
She tried to assure herself that it was nothing. Just Braxton Hicks - just the body preparing for the labor, the pain sometimes got intense. But something about it felt...off.
"Is that the first one today?" Victoria asked her. "You winced a few times this morning."
Colette thought back to this morning, recalling how she had woken up with a stabbing pain in her lower back. She hadn’t thought much of it then, since her muscles hadn’t been happy with her in a long time at this point - and it had passed pretty quickly after a few minutes.
"I'm not sure, I-" she started, her breath catching.
There was pain again, another stabbing contraction.
"Are they getting stronger?" Victoria asked, her voice sharpening.
The pain receded after a few seconds, and Colette had to force down the urge to curl up on the couch with her hands on her stomach as she tried to take deep breaths."It's nothing. I still have 4 weeks," Colette said with a shake of her head.
The words sounded like a prayer. Because she wasn’t due for at least another month, after all. This was just the Braxton Hicks contractions that her doctor had warned her about. The practice contractions that were supposed to help get her body ready for labor, nothing to worry about.
It was just her body preparing for the birth, that was all.
But the pain came back again, and this time, Colette couldn't quite suppress the gasp as she closed her eyes and tried to breathe through it.
"Colette," Victoria said, her voice sharp. "I don’t think they’re just practice contractions. The way you’re tensing and wincing...this is the real deal. I think you’re going into actual labor."
“No,” Colette said, her heart lurching in her chest. “No, no, I’m not…I’m not supposed to go into labor until January, this is- this is not supposed to happen.”
She had just hit her 36th week, and she was due at the start of January. It was far too early for the labor to start.
"I don't think the baby cares about that," Victoria said with a laugh. "Come on, we'll need to get you to the hospital."
"No, I can't be in labour. Max isn't here," she disagreed.
Colette felt a fresh wave of panic wash over her. The very last thing she wanted to do was start labor without Max there, and Max was currently in the middle of a race on the opposite end of the world.
“Where’s your hospital bag?“ Victoria asked her, all business. “Where’s are the car keys? Arthur is driving.“
“What, no!“ Arthur squeaked. Arthur clearly looked terrified, his eyes growing like saucers as he stared at them. "No - no, I don’t think I can-"
But Victoria was already rounding on him. "Oh yes, you can. Just get the keys and get the damn car ready. I‘ll help Colette get her things, and you'll drive us."
The authority in her voice was intimidating enough that Arthur didn’t dare to disagree with her, and he nodded mutely and hurried away to look for the car keys.
Colette was torn between laughing at her brother’s expression and panicking over the fact that her labor was actually starting.
Just like that, she felt frozen in place a few moments longer, before Victoria snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Hey, no freezing up. We need to get moving. We need to get to the hospital, and your kid doesn’t care that it still needs 4 more weeks. So come on, come on, get your things."
It snapped her out of her temporary daze, and she managed to focus back to the present again. "Right, yeah," Colette mumbled, and she quickly went to get her hospital bag.
She had already packed it, just in case - but she had definitely not expected to actually use it.
Her hands were shaking as she picked it up, the whole situation still not entirely sinking in yet. Max was not here. She was going to have her baby without him here - that wasn’t how it was supposed to be!
But the pain came back again, and her body seemed to agree that there was no time left to waste.
She winced through the contraction, and Vic’s face tensed as she saw it.
"How are you doing?" she asked, watching her worriedly. Colette had to take a deep breath, trying to keep breathing as the pain faded out again. "I’m-” she started, but that was the same second that Arthur appeared again with the keys.
"The car is ready," he said, sounding very much like he’d rather bolt.
"Right," Victoria said, and she looked at Colette. "We gotta go. You good to go?"
Colette felt a surge of panic as the truth of leaving to go to the hospital finally sank in - she felt very much like her entire body had seized up. But Arthur was already waiting at the door with an expectant look on his face that did not look at all reassuring, and Victoria had picked up her hospital bag and was ushering Colette’s towards the hallway.
The contractions didn’t seem to care about any of her feelings, anyway.
"Come on," Victoria told her quietly. "We're gonna go and have a beautiful birth, and when you're done, there’ll be a healthy baby in your arms, okay?"
Colette was sure that her face had gone pale, and her hands were shaking as she slowly made her way through the hallway. Victoria led her the entire time, supporting her as they moved.
She was more than grateful to slip into the backseat of the Audi and her hands could claw themselves into the buttery soft leather interior.
“Are you sure we can’t wait for an adult?“ Arthur asked weakly.
“You are an adult. You literally drive race cars for a living,“ Victoria snapped.
Colette would have laughed at Arthur’s terrified expression in any other situation, but at the moment, she really wasn’t up to find anything funny.
“Just drive the damn car, Arthur!“ Victoria snapped, and Arthur flinched, his eyes wide as saucers.
A whimper escaped Colette as another contraction gripped her, and she curled up in the back seat, both hands clawed in the seat as the wave of pain ebbed away again. Her breathing was ragged, and she felt like she was slowly coming apart at the seams.
"Keep breathing," Victoria’s sharp voice came from her left side, and she felt a cool, smooth hand on her forehead. "Just keep breathing. You're doing great."
The words managed to cut through the panic, and Colette managed to gasp out a shuddering breath. “I-” she choked out, “I can’t…I can’t do this without Max, I-”
"You are doing it," Victoria cut in, her voice steady and sharp like a blade. "You are doing it, and you are going to be fine. Max will be by your side the moment he can, but you will make it until then. Just keep breathing and keep talking, you’re doing great."
#max verstappen fanfiction#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#max verstappen fluff#mv1 fanfiction#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fake instagram#f1 smau#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen x reader#mv1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#mv1 fic#max verstappen x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fanfiction
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🌷Pick a Picture: 💐🌷Blessings Coming to You in 2025🌷💐
•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3
🪷Hello! I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year! I hope all your wishes come true this new year. I also want to thank every person that support me and my page this year, that took a little bit of their time to check into my blog🫶 From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much! I hope we can navigate this new year together again🪷 with love, Kat 🧡💐
✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!
🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸
💐Masterlist💐
🦚Pile 1: The Sun, The Empress, The Six of Cups.
This pile has a very vibrant and positive energy. If you've been waiting for a glow-up, this is your year! With The Sun, the blessings coming are of joy, success, and self-confidence. This card symbolizes the emergence of a new light in your life, both physically and emotionally. You may experience an external transformation that makes you feel more confident about yourself, whether through changes in your style, self-care, or a new energy that will attract people. This glow-up will likely also allow you to connect more with your passions and what truly makes you happy. In 2025, you may feel very connected to your self and your needs. This card also suggests a new love relationship or the deepening of an existing one, especially if you feel like you've been waiting for the right time to open your heart. There's a great chance of a nourishing relationship, based on mutual respect and admiration. If you're looking for love, 2025 could be the year you find someone who values you the same way you value yourself. Something from the past comes back to bring a sense of happiness or reconciliation. This could be a reunion with an important person, or perhaps something related to your childhood or happy memories that make you feel complete. It could be the perfect time to close cycles and heal old emotional wounds.
🦚Song:
🌸Pile 2: Death, The Chariot, The Three of Wands.
This pile has a transformative and powerful energy. The Death card, far from being something negative, speaks of a profound change that brings with it new beginnings. This shift could be related to a major emotional release, where you let go of old patterns, toxic relationships, or limiting beliefs that no longer serve you. You're ready for a new version of yourself, and this process could be liberating and healing. Through this transformation, you're likely to feel stronger and clearer about what you really want in your life. Once you make that shift, you'll take full control of your destiny. With The Chariot in your reading, you're in for a 2025 filled with determination and action. You could experience a major boost in your professional or personal life, where obstacles that once seemed unattainable now fade away at your will. The Chariot also symbolizes travel or commuting, so you could have the opportunity to move to a new place or even start a job that involves travel or expansion. If you're looking for a new job, this could be the year where you finally manage to move forward and obtain a position that offers you greater opportunities and growth. In your professional life, this could be a year where doors open for you, especially if you've been working on your long-term goals. The Three of Wands can also mean that the efforts you've been making are finally starting to bear fruit. You may also receive support from others who believe in your vision.
🌸Song:
🐬Pile 3: The Lovers, The Two of Cups, The Nine of Cups.
This pile is completely focused on love, relationships, and emotional fulfillment. If you've been looking for a meaningful relationship or a life partner, 2025 could be the year that everything falls into place. The Lovers indicates that a great love is about to enter your life, and it will not only be romantic, but also deeply meaningful. You may find someone with whom you share an intense and genuine connection, a relationship that makes you feel complete and happy. This could be the kind of relationship where you both support each other, grow together, and understand each other without words. If you are already in a relationship, this is an excellent time to strengthen that bond, deepening the relationship and sharing open and loving communication.
I feel like 2025 will be a year in which not only are your romantic desires fulfilled, but you will also feel fulfilled and satisfied with your life in general. You may finally achieve that balance between your personal desires and your achievements, feeling like you are in the right place both in love and in your personal development.
🐬Song:
#tarot witch#tarot spread#tarot reading#tarot cards#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#pac paid reading#pac reading#pac#paid readings#paid tarot reading#paid tarot readings#paid services#pick a picture#pic a card reading#pick a photo#pick a card#pick one#astrology placements#zodiac#astrology#astro blog#astro community#astro news#astro observations#pick a pile#pick an image#astrology moodboard#kpop tarot#astro notes
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Happy New Year.
masterlist || ask me anything <3
my blurb masterlist is here!
authors note - may 2025, bring everyone joy and happiness. 🎆🎇, here’s a little something from me to you.
word count - 700.
in which, this new years is the most different one that you and harry have ever spent together, instead of going out to a party, your both cuddled up on the sofa with your newborn fast asleep on there daddies chest.
The living room is quiet except for the soft hum of the television in the corner, where the countdown to midnight ticks away.
The lights are dim, and the Christmas tree in the corner still twinkles faintly, a reminder of how much life has changed in the past two weeks.
Harry sits on the couch, his chest bare, his hair tousled in that effortlessly messy way that makes your heart flutter.
Your baby boy is fast asleep on his chest, his tiny body rising and falling with Harry’s steady breaths.
A soft muslin cloth is draped over Harry’s shoulder—evidence of a just-in-case burp that never came.
You’re curled up beside him, your legs tucked beneath you, watching them both with a soft smile.
"Ten seconds," you whisper, glancing at the screen, the numbers counting down the last moments of 2024.
"Still feels weird, doesn't it?" Harry murmurs, his voice hushed, careful not to wake the baby. His fingers gently stroke the baby’s back, his touch so tender it makes your chest ache. "Not being out f’once, I don’t think we’ve ever stayed in f’new years eve."
You smile, reaching over to run your fingers through his curls. "I don’t think I’d rather be anywhere but here, with you, with him."
Harry looks down at the baby, his lips curving into the softest smile you’ve ever seen. "Neither can I.”
‘Eight…’
"Do you think he’ll be the kind of kid who loves fireworks?" you ask, tilting your head to watch Harry’s expression.
He shrugs, his dimples peeking out as he grins. "Depends. F’he’s like me, probably not. I was always the kid hiding under the kitchen table when they went off."
‘Seven…’
You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Not me. I loved them. Always wanted to be out in the middle of it all."
Harry tilts his head to rest against yours. "Maybe he’ll take after y’then. Brave little thing."
‘Six…’
The baby stirs slightly, his tiny hand flexing against Harry’s chest, and you both freeze. But he settles again, his soft breaths steady and warm.
"See? Told y’he was brave," Harry whispers, his eyes never leaving the baby.
‘Five…’
You reach out and trace the curve of your son’s cheek, marveling again at how perfect he is. "Can you believe we made him? Like... he’s real."
Harry chuckles softly, his laugh vibrating through the baby’s tiny body. "I know. I keep thinking someone’s gonna knock on the door and tell us s’been a mistake. Like, 'Sorry, y’not allowed to keep him—y’just two kids pretending t’be grown-ups.'"
‘Four…’
"Speak for yourself," you tease. "I’m very mature, thank you."
He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, really? Is that why you cried over the last chocolate biscuit yesterday?"
‘Three…’
"That was different," you huff, nudging him gently. "I’m postpartum. I’m allowed to cry over biscuits."
"Fair enough," he concedes, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.
‘Two…’
You both fall quiet, the weight of the moment settling over you.
The new year is seconds away, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something you’re rushing toward.
It feels... still.
Peaceful.
Like everything you’ve ever wanted is right here in this room.
‘One…’
Harry looks at you then, his green eyes warm and full of love.
"Happy New Year, m’love."
"Happy New Year," you whisper back, your voice catching slightly.
The television erupts into cheers and fireworks, but it feels distant. Harry leans in, kissing you softly, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.
The baby snores softly between you, oblivious to the world.
When you pull back, Harry grins. "Best New Year’s ever."
You nod, leaning against him and resting your hand over the baby’s back. "And it’s only just beginning."
#musicforastylesrestaurant#harry styles#harry styles angst#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles imagine#harry styles masterlist#harry styles fake ig#harry styles headcanon#harry styles x oc#harrystylesdrabble#harry styles fake social media#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harrystylesxreader#harry styles one shot#harry styles x yn#harry’s house#harrystylesxyn#dad!harry#dadrry
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Going for the whole list. Trying to make the most of my time before I head back to work!
48 fics. Holy cow! Then again, I love writing things in the 1000 - 5000 word range, which makes this sort of nonsense possible.
Something new... I can't say that there's much I did that's utterly new. I really stuck within my wheelhouse of angst, hurt/comfort, family feels and Dragon Age romance. I've also been at this ficcing thing for nearly 25 years, so it's getting a little hard to be entirely new with what I write. Unless you mean new things like new characters, which I certainly did, with dives on all the Batch and then exploring things like Lucanis and Spite's dynamic.
The Bad Batch has inspired the most work of the year, between awesome challenges like @summer-of-bad-batch and friends encouraging me. But, I know that Dragon Age is going to be a powerful engine for my creativity for the next several years if the previous games are anything to go off of, thanks to the magic of replayability and making new characters.
I wrote mainly for Jedi: Survivor, The Bad Batch, and Dragon Age: The Veilguard with a little dabbling in The Mandalorian.
Harding x Rook, though I was so dazzled by getting through the game I didn't get as deep in my feels as I might have. I might replay some parts of my first Rook just for that. Lucanis x Rook has really stolen my heart though. I'm nothing if not a sucker for a tortured man, especially one where the romance ends hopefully!
Cal Kestis, Crosshair, Omega, Tech, both of my Rooks, Lace Harding, Lucanis, really the Veilguard in general.
Yep! The Bad Batch was totally new, and we didn't get the Veilguard until Halloween.
Most meaningful fic for me to write.... a rain that sounds like home tackles sibling grief, recovery, and learning to accept help through a character who struggles with admitting he feels anything at all. Dragging Crosshair through his feelings for 8 chapters was a painful and meaningful joy.
Loved working on the waves flowing, the dawn blooming. Tears kept seeping out of my eyes as I wrote. It's full of a bittersweet pride and fierce family love that Hunter feels for Omega, with a side look at a Crosshair who's fully at peace.
What fic was most satisfying to finish: a sickness of the soul. 10 chapters when I don't often do chaptered fic (usually one every few years, but this year I had two!!), deep conversations between Cal and Merrin, Weird Force Shit, and a deep look at Cal's fears and hatreds. This was really fun even when it was difficult, and I still love rereading it.
a rain that sounds like home, hands down. I stewed over it for weeks, maybe months, before I got enough down to start to feel confident posting it. It was so hard to avoid the temptation to have Crosshair be a mess right away, when he's THE MOST emotionally unavailable character in the history of ever, and while I wanted my big messy breakdown I forced myself to take 30K to get there. Many things to @just-here-with-my-thoughts who listened to me beating my head against the wall on this.
the thing with feathers (it isn't hope.) was surprisingly fun and easy and I banged it out in a morning with very little editing needed. Spite and Lucanis figuring each other out with a healthy side of whump makes me happy.
Longest: a rain that sounds like home at 43,000 words. Shortest: Spite's Sight, where Spite sees something wrong with Rook but can't describe it, 119 words, almost a true drabble.
Oooh, fav writing songs. Twice by Little Dragon is a hypnotic, spare little piano song that helps me get into a groove easily; Tell My Lover by Kathryn Joseph is another deeply moody piano song that winds up on almost all of my shipping playlists when I need an angsty vibe. Barnacled Warship by Johnny Flynn was one I really loved for chipped Crosshair vibes. I loved Cinder Well's Two Heads, Grey Mare for Cal's grief when writing a sickness of the soul.
Hardest fic to title: the shorter they are, often the tougher they are to pull out a phrase for the title. Little drabbles often just get one or two interesting words to name them.
Oooooh, fav title. a sickness of the soul grabbed me immediately as Merrin's diagnosis for Cal's dark side leanings; but I think I just adore the take on Emily Dickinson's poem with the thing with feathers (it isn't hope). For a single word title, I really liked Senescence as a rather medical word applied to the Batch entering their twilight years, a callback to the Kaminoans' presence in their lives from birth until death.
Favorite opening line?? oh man. I'm really not that great at opener lines, they're not my favorite. My very first Bad Batch fic, Still, had a decent one: It’s a feeling every soldier knows instinctively: the unique prickle of the hairs on the back of the neck, the slight stiffening of the spine, the body’s realization coming a split second before the mind’s.
Favorite closing line is going to be much more difficult. I love closers. But upon review this year, I didn't have any that really bowled me over! I do like this one from ill-fitted, about Crosshair in The Solitary Clone: The shadows pool around him, and he waits to go and keep the peace.
Favorite piece of dialogue: I really liked this open moment from Hunter, set during Breaching the Wall when Crosshair isn't sure if he can recover. "Crosshair, you’re the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met.” Hunter’s voice was warm, affectionate. “If you decide to get better, you will. I know it. You just… you have to decide you deserve it.”
Funniest line might be this exchange between Tech and Phee in A New Fascination:
“We still need to get you back in one piece. I have a feeling your family would have strong words for me if I left you here for the birds.” “The gulls would not be interested in me unless I had already died,” Tech pointed out. “I am far too large to register as a prey item for this species.”
21. What surprised me while working on a story? I was quite surprised to go on a tangent in a rain that sounds like home and introduce Crosshair to a bunch of elderly characters on Pabu. Crosshair, darling of the elderly. It didn't change the whole story, but proved a great way to show him starting to weave himself into daily life on Pabu and start to form his own connections with the community separate from his relationships with his siblings.
22. Ugh, Google Docs because I can write from my big heavy gaming laptop at home or from my iPad Pro at a coffee shop. I know they're evil, yes, I know.
23. Finishing TWO chaptered fics with concepts that were difficult to wrangle, where both fics stymied me at multiple times, where both challenged me and I challenged them right back.
24. How do I celebrate finishing fics? Often by scampering off to my husband to chatter at him about how excited I was to finish it.
25. Go back to the source material, especially for Dragon Age. Going to dive right back in after this most likely.
26. Go check out my art blog at @doodlingfoolishness :-D All my art goes there. I also customized two droids and a puffer pig this year as part of my general Star Wars fandom, haha, and worked on multiple Batuu bounds/cosplay ideas.
27. Just Summer of Bad Batch and the upcoming Changed zine with a focus on Tech and Crosshair!
28. I would thank @stardustandash for hanging out in multiple fandoms with me, @mordororbust for patiently listening to me freak out even when we haven't had fandoms in common for years, @red-velvet-panda and @azertyrobaz for just being generally awesome (even if I got some very stupid Crosshair related nicknames on Discord from them), and @rederiswrites for being an awesome writer and also for sharing my love for Lucanis x Rook/cheering my writing on in general.
29. I wrote nearly 172,000 words this year!!!! Could I write 3000 more tonight to get to 175K??? Doubtful but I'm still extremely proud of this, it was my best year ever!
30. So. Much. Dragon Age. And we're heading back to the Severed Floor soon... there's going to be an awful lot to explore!
A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!
How many fics have you worked on since January?
What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
How many fandoms did you write for this year?
What ships captured your heart?
What characters captured your heart?
Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
What fic meant the most to you to write?
What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
What fic was the most difficult to write?
What fic was the easiest to write?
What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
What were your go-to writing songs?
What was the hardest fic to title?
What's your favorite title of the year?
Share your favorite opening line
Share your favorite ending line
Share your favorite piece of dialogue
Share your funniest line
What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
How did you recharge between fics?
Did you create fanworks other than fic?
How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
What would you like to write next year?
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ONLY MINE
Sophia Laforteza x reader
“the only thing that made the party interesting for Sophia, was you”
Genre – fluff Warnings – none (Request)
Now playing – Drinks or coffee, by ROSÉ
The party was on fire, loud music could be heard from afar, and people were dancing and drinking like crazy. With all the responsibilities weighing on her shoulders, Sophia had never been to a party again, but when her friends stepped up and threw an insane birthday/new year's party for her, Sophia couldn't say no.
Leaving the duties of leader for one night, all the Filipina wanted to do was have fun, she greeted everyone who was in her field of vision, hoping that each person she passed was a specific person. To tell you the truth, Sophia liked all people, but at that moment, she only wanted you.
You and Sophia studied together, when you both finished high school, Filipina went after her dreams, and you went after yours. When you met in Los Angeles, Sophia couldn't believe she was seeing you in front of her again. Talking to you, she found out that you followed your dream in music, and now you were simply Olivia Rodrigo's newest guitarist.
You came closer again, and it was as if nothing had changed. You were still the same clumsy nerd as always, while Sophia was still that focused and confident woman, as she always was. Sophia knew that you were not very fond of parties, preferring the company of musical instruments to anyone else. But she thought for her birthday it would be different, and you'd swallow the shame and social anxiety for her.
Sophia's friends spoke to her, they said that you would possibly not show up, not wanting to let the Filipina create false expectations. For a second, Sophia even wanted to believe it, but she couldn't, something inside her created hope that you would appear in the crowd, just because of her.
When you parked your car in front of the house where the party was taking place, you immediately saw several drunk people, having fun, some arguing and couples making out. When you entered the house, you could hear sighs and whispers, people were talking about you.
Tonight, you were feeling more confident, your head screaming that Sophia's birthday was too special an occasion for you to wear only sweatshirts. With that in mind, you wore a different outfit, still thinking about comfort, you just changed your hoodie for a black tank top, putting on jeans, your favorite sneakers and some accessories. The tattoos on your arm drew attention, and it was the first time people noticed you and your body.
Quickly walking past the people and trying to get rid of the stares everyone was giving you, you finally got close to Sophia. The Filipina also looked at you with a look that was hard to decipher, and for a moment you wondered if you should have really come to this party.
"Happy birthday, Laforteza!" You said, reaching over and making the shorter woman pull you into a tight hug.
"I thought you wouldn't come." The black-haired woman said, her face buried in your neck.
"Hey." You walked away, holding both of Sophia's hands. "I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything." Leaning in, you gave Sophia a kiss on the forehead.
Sophia enjoyed the moment with you before being interrupted by one of your friends, the man quickly approaching and stopping next to you.
"Wow, YN..." He looked you up and down. "I've never seen you so hot! You're getting everyone's attention at the party."
When he said that, something clicked in Sophia's head, looking around, she saw that it was true, you had caught the attention of the whole party, and now, half the girls there were looking at you in a way that Sophia didn't like at all.
"Sophia, who is your kitty friend?" One of Sophia's friends asked, getting close to more of you, according to Sophia.
"Oh, that's Yn. We went to high school together." Sophia says, coming closer to you and grabbing your biceps, to keep a distance between you and the girl.
"Well, they always say that the pretty ones end up in Los Angeles." Sophia's friend said, winking at you and bringing the bottle of beer to her mouth. "So, Yn. Are you with anyone?"
"Oh, I-"
Before you could answer, Sophia stepped in front, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away, only telling the woman who was trying to flirt with you that she would be back soon. Entering one of the rooms of the house, Sophia finally let go of your wrist, practically throwing her way in as she closed and locked the door.
"Sophia, are you okay?" You asked, genuinely concerned about the Filipino's strange attitude.
"I should ask you that, I mean, she was flirting with you shamelessly!" Sophia said, running her hands through her hair. It was as if the Filipina was nervous about something you didn't know.
"Oh, I didn't know she was flirting with me..." You say, looking at Sophia afterwards. "Does she have a girlfriend?" Sophia's eyes seem to turn red when you ask this question.
"Why do you want to know? Are you interested in her?" Sophia asks, by her tone of voice, if someone from the outside saw the two of you, they would be sure you were a couple of girlfriends fighting.
"No. But the way you're talking, it sounds like she was doing something very wrong in flirting with me..." You said, waiting for a response from the Filipina.
"She wasn't doing anything wrong." Sophia said, her voice getting lower and lower. "I just got jealous." Sophia said, raising her head and looking in your direction.
A little surprised by the words of the woman in front of you, you pointed to yourself, wanting to confirm that you had heard it right.
"You." Your finger pointed toward Sophia. "You're jealous" You continued. "Of me?!" Pointing to your chest you saw Sophia shake her head in confirmation.
You swore you would faint, your crush has always been saying that he was jealous of a girl flirting with you.
"I like you, Yn." Sophia said, coming closer to you and making your heart race. "Do you like me?"
Sophia had pithy eyes, she moved the back of your neck, caressing your hair. When you nodded, Sophia tilted her head to the left.
"Use words, baby..." Sophia said, her lower lip protruding forward, pouting.
"I like you too, Sophia." You said, putting your hands on her waist awkwardly.
"Good girl."
It was the only thing Sophia said before connecting her lips with yours. The kiss made you feel like you were in free fall, electricity passing through the bodies of the two of you. Sophia's lips were soft and you wanted to kiss her for the rest of your life.
Slowly moving away, Sophia left small kisses on your lips, until she moved away completely and admired your dirty mouth with her lipstick and lip gloss.
"Only mine."
Hello guys, I wanted to post something for Sophia's birthday, and since I was already writing this request, so here it is.
I haven't reviewed it yet, but I think I'll do it tomorrow. Sorry if I have typos, I'm sleepy and a little drunk.
HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS
xoxo, spider.
#katseye imagines#katseye x reader#kpop gg#sophia laforteza x reader#gxg#kpop fluff#katseye sophia x reader
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Lovestruck
Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader
Word Count: 4.2K
Summary: Little do you know, after being in the wrong place at the wrong time- that you've gotten yourself on the radar of some very bad men. Thankfully, you now have the protection of one very good man (and Steve, also good) but when Javi first lays eyes on you he knows he wants so much more than just to protect you.
Author's Note: Again, I apologize for deleting this post a second time. The tags are just not cooperating. I really hope things work this time! Thank you again to those who gave me notes, hope you can enjoy again! No reason for more Javi other than I can't seem to get over him and I don't want to so yay! He's been on my mind extra lately. Wishing you all a very happy New Year filled with love, health and happiness! Thank you for all the support and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: lots of tension and flirting, some soft sweetness too, Javi is forward but not in a bad way, he saves the day in more ways than one and might be in a little over his head (which he's not used to), fingering, smut (unprotected p in v- but just for fanfic folks lol)
Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist
“Keep staring like that and you’re gonna blow our cover man.”
Steve’s comment goes unnoticed as Javi continues to do just that. Stare.
You’re standing against the bar, drink in hand and talking with your friend, unaware of the pair of dark chocolate eyes glued to you.
“Hey,” Steve says again.
Javi tears his eyes away from you and pins Steve with a glare.
“What?”
Steve gives him an exasperated look. “You’re not supposed to fuck her. Just protect her.”
Javi grunts before finishing off his drink, his eyes sliding back to you as you saunter over to the juke box.
He’s been watching you for days now, his infatuation only growing the more he learns the little nuances of your body and the brightness of your smile. Barely conscious of his feet moving and Steve’s disgruntled objections, he starts toward you, unsure of his intention but at this point, unable to stop himself.
You shuffle through the songs on the screen, chewing your lip with indecision. His teeth sink into his own bottom lip in response, wishing it were yours. As he gets closer, your startled gaze flies up to meet his.
Lightning rockets through his system. If he thought you were beautiful in the photos and from across the room, it’s nothing compared to what he sees standing in front of him now.
He takes a step closer. Talking to women is like second nature to him, yet he finds himself stranded in silence, second-guessing everything that pops into his head.
And if he doesn’t speak soon, his closeness will begin to alarm you. Exactly the opposite of what he should be doing.
“I can’t let you do that,” he blurts out.
“Can’t let me do what, exactly?” you retort, turning to face him with a raised brow.
Your voice slides like silk across his skin and it takes him a minute to recapture his train of thought. He tilts his head toward the song on the screen of the juke box.
“Not that song.”
You smirk. “Elaborate.”
“Everyone picks that song. Aren’t you tired of it?”
You peek up at him, a laugh flirting around the edges of your mouth.
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Of course,” he replies. He tries not to stare at your lips. “I like to dance so for me, something like…”
He leans in and starts to scroll through the song list, his warmth and scent sweeping over you in a magnetic wave.
He stops on a song you don’t recognize but when it begins to play the beat is lively and makes you want to move.
Your eyes meet his once more, humor lurking in their depths. “I like it.”
“Oh yeah?”
You nod and with a sultry smile over your shoulder you head back toward the bar and your friend, an extra sway to your hips that matches the music.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve says when Javi returns with a smug grin. “You could blow our cover.”
“How?” Javi asks before he motions for the bartender.
“I’m surprised you let a woman get to you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Are you just going to answer all my questions with more questions?”
The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts with his last string of words and he waits as Javi just looks at him blankly.
When the song ends Javi turns his attention back to you and he finds you watching him. Without a second thought he walks over.
He smiles at your friend then asks you, “what did you think?”
“I liked it,” you tell him. “I’ve never heard it before.”
“I should definitely play another one then. And you should dance with me.”
He catches your sharp intake of breath and realizes you might be waiting for a significant other. He feels a sharp jolt of jealousy that surprises him.
“Are you here with someone?” he asks.
Your brow quirks at his growled-out question, but you answer anyway.
“Just my friend here,” and you motion to Samantha.
Relief washes over his expression.
“So why not dance with me?”
“I’m here to spend time with Sam,” you explain, even though you can tell she wants you to go dance with him.
“She can hang out with Steve,” Javi says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in Steve’s direction. “He’s loads of fun.”
“He’s cute,” Sam chimes in, giving Steve a little wave.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Javi says, earning a chuckle from both you and Sam.
“So, is that a yes?”
You look incredulous. “No. The only thing I know about you is that you like to dance.”
“What would you like to know about me?” he shoots back as he leans against the bar, looking more than comfortable.
“Nothing. I’m not dancing with you. In fact, how do I know you’re not some creep trying to abduct me.”
At your unintentionally keen words Javi gives up the battle with a smile. “I’ll get you dancing sweetheart.”
“We’ll see about that…”
“Javi,” he finishes and holds out his hand. “Javier Peña”
You hesitate a moment but then hold out your hand and give him your name-even though he already knows it.
“Pleasure,” he croons as he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.
Warmth tingles up your arm and down your spine, rendering you speechless for a moment. Samantha pulls you from your stupor when she nudges you in the side.
“Enjoy your night ladies,” he says but not before looking you straight in the eye and adding, “I’ll be seeing you again.”
When Javi is back at Steve’s side he sighs.
“What happened? She tell you to fuck off?”
Javi practically rolls his eyes. “Not exactly.”
“Well, hope you didn’t freak her out too much because we have a job to do.”
As the night goes on you catch Javi looking your way more than once and you find it hard not to look back. He doesn’t approach you again though and the disappointment you feel is unexpected.
By eleven pm Sam is ready to go so you say goodbye and go to use the restroom before heading out. The night air is damp with impending rain, and you jog quickly to your car, hopping in and setting your bag down on the seat.
You put the key in the ignition and turn it. Nothing happens. No lights. No sound. Nothing.
“SHIT!” you shout and hit the steering wheel. Is it your battery? A faulty starter?
You’re just about to dial Sam when you hear a light rap at your window. You jump but quickly see that it’s Javi and let out a relieved breath.
You press the button to roll down the window.
“Problem?” he asks with a sideways smile.
“My car won’t start,” you sigh.
His lips turn downward. “Shit.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I can try to jump it if you want,” Javi offers.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Javi pulls his car up close and starts to fiddle around in the trunk for the cables. Once he has everything ready you meet him by the hood.
“How come you were out here anyway?” you ask, watching as his long fingers make easy work of the clamps and wires.
“Just a feeling,” he says nonchalantly.
After following his directions and trying to start your car again you realize it must be more than the battery and let out a string of curses.
“Sorry sweetheart,” Javi says. “I’ll give you a ride home and you can deal with in the daylight.”
“I can just call Samantha.”
“You can, but it’s after midnight,” Javi says, looking at his watch. “I’m already here.”
You study him. His strong jaw, the dark hair that falls boyishly over his forehead, and the way the open collar of his shirt frames his long neck, the tempting hint of collarbone peeking out just enough to make you want to kiss it.
“Ok,” you say without further thought.
He opens your door and helps you out then waits for you to lock it before he opens the passenger door to his car.
“What about Steve?” you ask suddenly.
“Steve?” Javi repeats. “Oh, yeah. He’s fine. Has his own car.”
When he pulls up to your building he frowns when you don’t wait for him to open your door. You ride up the elevator in silence, the atmosphere between you feels charged.
You’d been more than willing to go up to your apartment yourself, but Javi insisted on walking you.
So, when the elevator opens you breeze out and past him, taking quick steps to your door.
“This is me,” you say without turning around.
You unlock the door and open it, stepping inside and setting your bag down. When you turn, Javi is filling the doorway, one hand on his hip and the other casually resting above his head on the frame like he owns the place.
“I don’t live far. If you need anything…” He holds out a card, his name and number printed on it under the Police Department symbol.
“You’re a cop? You could have told me this earlier. I would have been less worried about you murdering me.”
“DEA agent,” he corrects. “And that was never my intention.”
Your eyes meet and you feel a frisson of heat at the intensity there.
“Well, thank you for the ride.”
“Anytime sweetheart. I’ll see you around.”
He throws you a wink and pushes away from the doorframe, his long legs taking him easily down the hall before he rounds the corner and disappears.
The next morning you drag yourself out of bed and get ready to go about your day. Your thoughts are mostly occupied by Javi, and you’re almost done with your coffee before your brain registers the rest of the night and how your car failed to start.
“Shit,” you grit out. “Ughhhh.”
You think about calling Javi and asking him to take you back to the bar to get your car but then you think it might be asking too much after what he did last night. Instead, you call Sam, who is happy to come get you.
Your car is just where you left it and so is an unmarked cop car, parked right next to yours.
Javi steps out into the sunshine, a sleek pair of aviators perched on his nose and a smile on his face.
“There you are sunshine. I was wondering when you’d be back to get your car.”
He walks close and nods a greeting to Samantha.
You stand there like a fish out of water, your mouth hanging open in shock.
“What are you doing here?” you finally ask.
He shrugs with a devious grin. “Working.”
“The bar is closed.”
Ignoring your comment he continues with, “you have someone to fix this?”
“You mean like a mechanic?”
“Yeah sweetheart.”
“I was just going to call the closest shop.”
He shakes his head, clearly not liking your idea. “I got a guy. Come on.”
Samantha leaves you with Javi and he takes you to the shop, helping you settle everything and getting you a good price.
“I hope it doesn’t take too long to fix,” you sigh. “But thank you for helping me out.”
“Anytime gorgeous…now how about that dance?”
“You’re still hung up on that?”
He raises his brows with a tilt of his head, his smile devious.
“Fine, but how am I getting back to the bar tonight. No car. Remember.”
“I’ll pick you up. Seven.”
With that he pulls up to your place and practically jumps out of the car before it stops, rushing around the hood to get your door before you can open it.
You step out and he reaches over you to shut it, trapping you against the car.
“Thanks again,” you whisper as you lean into him.
He dips his head, but you can’t see his eyes, so you reach up to pull the sunglasses off his face. He smiles, lifting his eyes from your mouth to meet your gaze.
You hang them on his shirt, the collar open like it always seems to be, and smooth your hand down his chest. He watches you intently, one hand sliding off the car to settle on your waist. He tugs you forward, lining your body up with his using his other hand to cup your cheek and brush a calloused thumb across your soft skin.
“I told you sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Anytime.”
With one final glance at your lips he slowly moves away and you’re thankful for the strong metal of the car at your back, keeping you upright.
With a steadying breath you peel yourself away and head toward your building, looking over your shoulder to find him leaning against the car, long legs crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed along his chest.
His glasses are still hanging from his shirt, and his hair is slightly messy from the breeze. Your eyes linger and he smiles, pointing his long finger in your direction when he says, “you’re mine tonight.”
The knock at your door makes your breath catch in your throat.
“Be right there,” you shout.
You open the door and his hot gaze sweeps over you from head to toe.
“Hi Javi…”
Before the words are completely out of your mouth, he has you spun around and backed against the wall.
“Did you get all dressed up for me sweetheart?”
Biting your lip, you nod, loving the way your answer makes his eyelids lower; his breath quicken.
He dips his head and runs his nose along your neck with a deep inhale, then places a soft kiss just under your ear. His lips move across your cheek and stop just above your mouth.
“Ready to dance?”
Your knees nearly buckle underneath you, but his weight keeps you upright and you manage a nod.
The bar is crowded but you and Javi find yourself an open space at the bar and order drinks. He stays close. A hand always at your back or on your waist and when he sits on the stool, placing his feet on the bottom bar, he pulls you between his spread legs.
Your hands land on his thighs and you dig your nails in.
He growls into your ear and smooths his hand up your spine, grabbing the back of your neck to drag your face closer.
Right when you think he’s going to kiss you, he stands and pulls you toward the juke box, scrolling through the songs until he finds the one he wants. He presses play and holds his hand out.
You place your fingers in his palm, and he closes his hand around yours. With an ease that steals your breath he tucks you against him as the music starts, slow and sultry. The way he moves his hips so sensually borders on inappropriate, but you can’t find it in you to care.
Instead, you lose yourself in the way he moves and the way he feels. It’s the best kind of foreplay and when the song ends you cling to him, wishing the music could go on forever.
You tuck your head against his chest, but he presses two fingers under your chin, lifting your face to his. He’s grinning, and the way it exaggerates the lines around his eyes and softens the angles of his face makes a flutter erupt in your stomach.
A haze of electricity settles around you and you’re unable to look away. His eyes drop to your mouth and his warm breath fans your cheek as he bends, brushing his lips lightly across yours.
His moustache is soft but still tickles your skin and you want nothing more than to feel it along every inch of your body. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, and you whisper his name just before your lips meet.
But then his mouth is gone, and a rush of cool air fills the space between your bodies.
“Steve,” you say with confusion.
Steve stands next to you with a tight grip on Javi’s arm.
“We have to go. Now,” Steve says.
“Javi?” Your stomach is fluttering for a whole different reason now, nervousness and fear taking over.
“I’m sorry sunshine,” he says, wrapping you up in his arms. “I need you to go home. Right now.”
“But…” you start, clinging to him.
“Please,” he begs. “Just trust me. I’ll come to you as soon as I can.”
“I don’t have a car,” you sputter out.
“Here,” he says and reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his keys before dropping them into your hand. “Right home ok?”
“Ok,” you say while nodding your head vigorously. “But I don’t understand…”
“I know,” he says, grabbing your face with his hands. “I promise I’ll explain later.”
He stares at you, clearly torn between wanting to kiss you and having to leave. You make the decision for him and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering long enough that when you pull away his eyes are still closed.
“Be careful,” you whisper.
“You too,” he says before jogging off with Steve, but not without looking back one last time.
Back at your apartment you wait and pace the floor. There isn’t much more you can do and it’s driving you nuts.
By the time you hear the knock on your door it’s past midnight and you’ve fallen asleep on the couch. You wake with a start and stand on shaky legs. Thankfully, you have enough sense to check the peephole before opening the door.
On the other side stands Javi. His leather jacket hangs open and his hair is messy and hanging loosely in front of his forehead. He looks tired but otherwise ok.
“It’s me sweetheart,” he says quietly.
Your door flies open, and you throw yourself at him. He catches you and lets out a huffed laugh that quickly dies off when you slide down his body and move back, a clear invitation.
His eyes rake down your body, lingering on the way your dress is rumpled and sitting high on your hips, exposing the soft skin of your legs. With an audible swallow he takes a step inside, and you shut the door with a definitive slam.
“Are you ok?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Are you?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
You can’t blink away from his steady gaze and your blood seems to vibrate. After a calming breath you point to the couch.
“I want to know what’s going on.”
He moves past you and takes your hand in his, tugging you toward the couch before he sits. You stand at the edge, waiting.
His head drops and he presses the palm of his hand to his forehead.
“I…you already know I’m a DEA agent.”
You nod.
“And Steve and I work together…we’ve been trying to bust this drug trafficking group for a while now and somehow you got on their list…”
“List?” you repeat, feeling your palms sweat.
He stands again and takes a tentative step closer.
“Yeah, wrong place wrong time type of thing and it got you on their radar. We got tipped off from one of our informants and Steve and I were put in place for protection.”
“So, all the flirting, the dancing…you’re only here because you’re protecting me? Not because…”
He holds up a hand to stop you.
“No sweetheart,” he says. “Well, I mean yes initially that’s all it was but then I saw you and like a dick couldn’t stay away and…I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
He looks up at you with pleading brown eyes.
“Actually, that’s a lie. I wanted to take you home from the moment I first saw you and it took everything in me not to.”
You can see he’s starting to ramble, and you soften at the way he seems desperate to make you understand.
“I promise this has nothing to do with work…I want to be here…”
“Javi.”
“And you’re safe. I promise that too. I’ll keep you safe.”
“Javi.”
He opens his mouth to speak again but you press a firm finger to his lips. He goes silent and with your gentle push falls to the couch again.
Slowly, you climb over him, settling in his lap on top of his thighs. He stares at you, eyes shadowed, and adjusts his posture to set two large hands on your waist, warm and strong.
You lean in but he meets you halfway, crashing his lips to yours. His mouth is soft but commanding and he tilts his head, coming at you better somehow, and deeper, his lips parting, one hand wrapping around your hip to pull you flush against him, the other sliding up your neck, cupping your face.
You’re undone by the way his breath shakes against your lips and the quiet groans he strangles down when you sweep your tongue across his.
You roll your hips against him, but instead of bringing relief it only makes you wilder. His mouth chases your kiss, swallowing the sound you make when he rocks up, the thick line of his cock pressing exactly where you need him.
His hand roams up your back, around your ribs, cupping your breast while the other drags you down again, pinning you to his body. You’re rewarded with another groan, and another when you grind against him.
He doesn’t stop you as you reach for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders before going for his shirt, one by one undoing the buttons until you feel the warmth of his skin along your palms.
His mouth is on your neck, his fingers curling around the strap of your dress, dragging it down your shoulder and lower, until your bra goes with it, and you’re bare to his mouth. He sucks and kisses and your fingers find purchase in his soft hair, pulling and tugging when he continues and his lips close around your nipple in a delicate bite.
With soft grunts into your skin, he encourages you to pull harder, moving with the gesture to where you want him. Rough and desperate hands sneak under your dress to slide your panties down.
“Sweetheart?” he asks into your neck, and you nod, because frankly, he has permission to do whatever he wants.
Long fingers wrap imposingly around your thighs and his palm slides back up, teasingly slow, his kiss still rough, and then his fingertips graze over you, slippery and hot for him. His mouth goes soft and overcome against yours before he pulls away a fraction, watching your face as he fucks you with one finger, and then two, achingly slow.
And you stare at his mouth, the way it shapes the groaned curses and then tilts upward in a smug grin when he presses a thumb to your clit, and you let out a low moan.
Under your impatient fingers, his pants are soon loose and down his hips and you slide yourself over him, coating him and teasing you both until you’re a fevered mess, kisses sloppy and biting, the head of him pressing into you.
It’s a slow, perfect torture. His focus is on your expression and the sounds you’re making. But then it goes from careful to starving the second he’s all the way inside you. His grip on you is bruising, the sharp, rhythmic gasps he makes making you feel out of control.
He stares down between your bodies, slowing to watch, moving to touch you, his thumb stroking.
“That’s it gorgeous,” he murmurs. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
You want to hold back, make it last forever, but it’s too good. The pleasure hits you in a wave, his name falling from your parted lips and your body clenching around him until he captures your mouth and finishes with a lewd groan, slowing and holding you against his chest.
Your face falls to his sweaty neck and your fingers curl around his open shirt. After catching your breath, he gently brings your face to his, pressing his lips softly to the corner of your mouth and then running the pad of his thumb across your lower lip.
He lifts you off him, reaching for the tissues on the side table and helping you clean up. His actions are careful and gentle and once you’re settled he takes the blanket off the couch and drapes it over you before he wraps you in his arms and lays down.
You tuck yourself closer and kiss his neck.
“Javi?” you whisper.
“Yeah sunshine.”
“Will you stay?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, kissing your cheek.
His lips tease along your jaw and you shift to give him better access, feeling his cock stir against your stomach. When his mouth reaches your ear he tugs on the soft flesh, running a hand along the curve of your spine to pull you closer and whisper, “I didn’t even get to use my tongue on you. I hate not knowing how you taste.”
Your little gasp makes him smile and his kisses continue.
“But lucky for me,” he murmurs with a brush of his lips, “we have all night.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal narcos#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña smut#javier peña fanfiction#sebastian stan#javier peña x you#javier pena smut#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal characters#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier peña x f!reader#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Extramarital Escape pt 3
Summary - Being Nyx's nanny came with many perks. You just didn't expect an affair to be one of them.
Warnings - fxf smut and all the glory that comes with it, mentions of pregnancy bodies (in a good way), paint play, mess play, slightly fluffy, fated mates, slight manipulation, loose editing *if you see a mistake, no you didn't*
A/N - Happy New Year! I only have one more part planned for this, but it is the 3some you all have been waiting for.
✨️Extramarital Escape - Pt 1 Pt 2✨️
✨️Master Masterlist✨️
Feyre was thrilled when you offered to spend the day with her. Rhysand had taken Nyx to Windhaven, showing off the sweet baby illyrian to the camp leaders. He had bragged about it being a statement, something you didn't fully understand, having never left the safety of Velaris. Azriel and Cassian were beaming as you helped Rhysand get Nyx into his little flight carrier, though. They had been beyond excited for the heir’s early morning adventure.
Rhysand had taken a moment alone with you, a soft kiss on your forehead reminding you to be his good girl. And good you had been.
You had woken the High Lady up to breakfast in bed, her favorite casual painting outfit set out and ready for her. Anything Feyre asked for, you handled, giving Nuala and Cerridwen a much deserved day off, and more importantly, leaving you and Feyre home alone.
Perhaps that was why the very air seemed to cackle around you with electricity as you two worked in laying out and flattening a large canvas. She had lesrned of a new abstract painting method, one that involved losely throwing paint on a canvas without a true end goal. “Self expression and emotions,” she had smiled so brightly as she described it to you.
Every so often as you two crawled carefully along the canvas, your hands would brush, sparking nerves and heat through both of you that was well hidden with neutral faces. Feyre wasn't the first female you'd ever found yourself so attracted to, but she was the first who held a magnetic pull over your heart, tugging at ribcage without you even knowing how or why.
“Thank you for helping me,” Feyre broke the silence, hand reaching for yours. “Truly. This is such a huge canvas. It would have taken me hours by myself.”
You could only smile, “Anything for you.”
She didn't miss the flirtatious way that message rolled off your tongue, once again tugging that precious 3 way mating bond to see if you secretly knew. She saw you blinked as she tugged, eyes lighting up when she realized you felt it, just didn't realize what it was. She purposely brushed her hand against yours again, yearning for the contact only Rhysand had been spoiled enough to have.
She didn't resent her husband for having you first, only for sending him the images of you below him, the sounds of you crying out for him, and for kissing her afterwards, only letting her have the lingering faint taste of you instead of the real thing. They had hoped you experiencing him would have been enough to pull you to them naturally, but you were a fighter.
She could remember the shame you'd accidentally sent down the bond, having assumed you were just her husband's mistress. You were more, though. That third missing piece. That last part of the void in their hearts. You didn't know this yet, but Feyre was in love with you. Every freckle, every scar, every inch you criticized in the mirror, she had memorized and sketched into her drawing book that stayed on her bedside table.
Having you so close was becoming torture. The way your hair fell from its braid, strands loose in your face, the way the sun hit your cheekbones, the way it glittered in your hair, you were art. The very muse she had been chasing.
Feyre then made the first move, lacing her fingers into your own and pulling you closer to her, “You smell good.”
You felt your face heat and flush, “Thank - thank you.” Your body reacted to her touch so naturally, fingers lacing into her as your body leaned into her pull. Her scent had mixed with Rhysand's perminately, lilac and sea salt mingling with the lingering scent of the expensive paints she used daily.
A heartbeat.
A breath.
One blink.
And the dam broke.
Feyre was on you, pushing you back and lips crashing onto yours like wave eager to come back home to shore. Both of her soft hands moved to your face as she shut her end of the bond down, refusing to let Rhysand know she had broken their deal of approach you together. Refusing to admit to the weakness she felt around only two fae. Rhysand and you.
Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of the bitter tea and sweet honey you had brought to her before this project started. Her kiss was eager, hungry, aching. Feyre made sure you felt her with each movement. It should have been no surprise. The High Lady found peace in passion. She thrived off expressing it, out of letting passion flow through every movement, and kissing you would be no exception.
Her hands tangled into your hair, the two of you finally fully falling on the canvas, spilling over a near by container of purple paint. As your shirt came off a light blue one fell. Then red as you eagerly removed her soft wool sweater. One by one containers spilled over, medium meeting material as hands began to touch and truly feel soft skin.
Neither of you noticed how covered you were. How could you as she took control, nipping softly on your neck as her kisses moved lower and lower. She bit down on your collarbones, licking over each bite tenderly, murmuring a soft apology into your skin as the bruises began. Her hands held yours at your sides, “Above your head,” her eyes were glossy, drunk on the feeling of having control. “Don't move them unless I say so.” The way you wordlessly obeyed a sigh letting your mouth as you did.
She controlled her pace like her life was in the balance, taking her time to savor you instead of rushing. Each kiss seemed to follow a pattern only she knew. You gasped as her tongue swirled your left nipple before her lips wrapped around it, a hum coming from her at the sounds you were already making. Her hand went to your other breast, dragging along you as it did, covering your skin in a mix of blue and deep green paint. Every movement began to reflect on the canvas as you two slowly became covered in the think material, but she never stopped to care, worshipping your left breast then the right. She didn't want to miss a single in of skin, not when you whimpered in a way that reminded her of music.
She understood how Rhysand had become so addicted to you so quickly. The male you two shared in that rare 3 way mating bond had a love language that was fulfilled through praise. Your sighs, your moans, every noise as she shot waves of pleasure down your spine was praise. She had never been happier as she finally settled between your thighs, forcing your legs apart a little more before only tossing one over a shoulder.
That first lick was fire. The second ice. The third wave heaven. Feyre's control had gone out the window at the taste of you. It was her first time doing this, but she was a natural. She thought back Rhysand between her legs, those silent selfish desires she wanted that went unanswered. She refused to allow that to be you as she licked and sucked at every part of your core.
Her left had had been spared paint, a single finger sliding home inside of you. you felt your walls twitch instantly, “Feyre.” She hummed against you, hazy blue eyes looking up towaras your flushed face. “Please don't stop.”
“Never,” she whispered back. “Never.”
With her tongue and fingers working in time, you felt your stomach tightening, a high you normally had to beg for rushing and just seemed to arrive. Feyre knew your body in her first introduction. She knew your wants, the needs. She hummed around your clit again, a second finger gently pushing in and immediately finding your gspot.
Her pace picked up then, fingers curling up hard, tongue tracing soft half moons over then under your clit over and over teasing you. When that contact came, that first gentle push of that swollen bundle, you fell apart. She didn't stop, knowing what it felt like to finally reach your high and have your partner stop what they were doing instead of easing you back down. She slowed her movements as your walls slowed their spasms before pulling away.
“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” she smiled up at you, her voice like cool silks against heated skin.
She moved back up your body, keeping thay raised leg against her chest before settling her own heat against yours.
You were both so wet, the first roll of her hips came with ease. It tested the waters, the two of you holding eye contact to see if the simple act of her core kissing yours was enough.
And Gods it was. She wasted no time setting a pace and watching as your back arched, hands still trapped where she wanted them. You felt every bump of her clit against yours, heard every slick noise. Feyre's moans were harmony to your own. The two of you had fallen into such a sync that you wondered how you had denied yourself this for so long.
Her right hand came to rest on your wrists, her strong abdominal core allowing her to keep that rhythm she had while she leaned down, long blonde hair following around the two of you like a privacy curtain.
To was truly like it was only you and her in the world. There was no one else you could imagine having this with, no other female you've ever want to share a bed, or canvas with. Rhysand was that male for you. Feyre that female.
You flipped her over when you noticed her beginning to struggle, taking over control and spreading her legs to continue the motions she had started.
Feyre had been gorgeous in her pregnancy body, but something about her faded stretch marks, her wider hips, it made your mind spin. No female should have been allowed to be so attractive. Yet, here she was, a mantra falling from her lips of your name as you worked to take her mind from this plane and to the stars.
Your own high was building, “Finish with me,” you commanded, surprised by your own tone. “Show me how good I'm making you feel.” A choked sob of bliss left her throat as your hand found it, squeezing that vital area just enough to give Feyre a rush.
And it happened.
Like the final domino falling, the High Lady of Night came below you, your own orgasm rushing over you like a wave. You forced yourself to focus on her, on that scream, on the curve of her breasts, on the panting of her chest. When you both came back down, you got off of her, pulling her to her side and into another deep kiss.
Her brand new canvas was ruined, signs of what had happened written into every fiber. Mixtures of contrasting and complimenting colors were spread, some areas loosely reflecting your bodies. It was movement. It was passion. It was what Feyre had wanted for this canvas. When you two stood, you were giggling as you looked at it, but Feyre had an unreadable expression, glancing at that drying paint even as she took you to her bathroom to bathe.
Feyre returned to her art room alone once you were asleep, once Rhysand was asleep. She worked meticulously, cutting out the exact piece of canvas she wanted and stretching it over the wooden framing she had picked.
The piece of a sign of the love she held for you, the mating bond burning bright as she smiled one last time at the final product. "Love and paint," the name much different from her realistic pieces to match the different artistry style.
She was going to give it to Rhysand, already smirking as she began to play out every possible way her husband would react.. To you, it was innocent. For her and Rhysand, it would trigger another memory, one you had never been filled in on, and Feyre could not wait to see his face.
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HUGS YOU <33 I have so much fun with our conversations, love you pooks. happy new year
note: everyone mentioned in this post deserves the world
@bees-official FRIEND!! @themongosianhorse FRIEND!! @udnergecko FRIEND!! I love you all <33
@ilikeunicornsactually hi cheese. honestly I cannot tell you enough how awesome it is to have you in my life. I love infodumping about my space gays to you but even more I love talking to you in general. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had and you helped me to learn to be happy again. Our virtual hugs have been one of the highlights of my year. 🫂
@the-peculiarity-of-anonymity adoptive sibling!! You’re like. REALLY awesome. You give good advice and thou art very wise. It’s amazing to have you as my sibling <3
@0dditie hey. we haven’t talked much since you being grounded, and I don’t know how much you’re back on tumblr (or if you’ll see this) but you’re a wonderful friend. you have this amazing ability to spread joy to everyone around you. happy 2025 <3
@badluck990 I don’t think I even have to say much. I promise to continue arguing with you this year
and a special shoutout to one of my best friends, roughdraftchild, whose account is deactivated. You won’t see this, but I wanted to say this. You are such an amazing person. I’m really sorry we lost touch after you lost your account, but it was in no way because of you. I love you a lot, and you made my world a better place. You’re extraordinary, rough draft. I miss you and I hope your 2025 is everything you deserve (which. you deserve wonderful things).
@ollie-arts67 @thebritishdragon @lemonboywriter @daydreamnightshade @monsterartt @ashmeertheimp @bl0si @oddlyvoid @echofall @lemonboywriter @lost-terrorzz @psychoaddison @dynamicsimp @pittdpeaches @keykittygirl @kyri45 @peasantflour @all my moots :3
Idc if I dropped this in your ask box yet :3
#I would steal the stars and give them to all of these people if it were in my power#you all mean so much to me
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Obsidian | 1 | (myg)
☾ Summary: You’ve never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.
☾ Word Count: 7,979
☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut
☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, mentions of death and previous suffering, mentions of withdrawal like symptoms and sickness, on screen murder and death, depictions of gore (people literally get exploded I’m so sorry), mentions of power and wealth disparity between glasses, general warnings associated with gang/criminal empires, recreational drinking, explicit language… I think that’s it (she says, knowing there is a ton of blood in this).
☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is an improved version. This chapter has the bones of its predecessor, but is a lot heavier and is very different from the first chapter in the original fic. I don’t pull punches on the gore/murder here because it is very… I do it this way for a reason, I swear. This is shorter than the original, but I hope you like it nonetheless and I’m excited to share more with you.
☾ A/N 2: Happy New Year! I hope your 2025 goes better than readers lmfao.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
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Market Town is a writing mass of snakes. At least, that’s what it feels like when you get pushed and shoved in the street, trying to find a single flow of people going the direction you need. The press of bodies is so close you can smell the sweat of people as they pass by, feel the slick of their skin as biceps press by yours.
It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and slither away somewhere dark and cool.
Someone with sickly sweet perfume goes by. You scrunch your nose, blowing air harshly out your nostrils to try and dispel the scent. Perfume doesn’t do much to cover the stench of bodies and the grime-slicked streets, but it doesn’t stop from the general population pumping it on, creating a cacophony of smells.
At least it isn’t raining - the smell is worse when it rains.
Vendors shout prices from a variety of stands - some crooked, some well-built, some nothing more than a table, some three tables long. There are carts everywhere, some in the middle of the road with the bodies of people breaking around them like water on rock, some in permanent storefronts beneath the towering wall of apartments above, others on rolling carts knocking people over as vendors hawk their wares.
Taking a left turn, you breathe in as the crowd thins. Most of the population of Market Town exists on the single, wide street that carves through the middle of the Lower District. Alleyways offer less crowded offshoots to businesses who don’t exist on the main thoroughfare
Metal ladders and staircases line the sides of the alleyway like intricate spider webs. You narrowly step to the left, sensing the spill of liquid from above just before it hits the pavement in a splash. Glancing upward, you see the window closing - whoever threw the liquid out the window didn’t care whether it hit you or not, and from the smell of it, it isn’t water.
Multiple flickers of energy radiate somewhere in the hundred something windows of apartments. You ignore it as you walk down the street, hands tucked into your pocket and eyes forward. You sense them like lights on a heat map, each one different, some brighter than others.
Head down, you push onward, keeping to yourself and moving swiftly. Market Town isn’t always dangerous - you’re not close enough to Gwishin territory to worry about your affiliation being a problem - but it’s not exactly safe either.
You take another turn, skirting the back of an apartment building. Here, the dumpsters are overflowing into the street and cats hiss at you as you pass by. You hiss back, flashing your teeth to make them scurry off. You don’t have to radiate for them to know you’re a danger to them - a lot of people are not above catching and cooking the cats in Market Town, especially during winter.
Cutting down an alley, you come to a dead end with a chain link fence. You climb it easily, the wire bending beneath your feet as you do. Scaling and hopping over the other side, you land with a splash. You grimace, not wanting to know what your jeans are wet with as you jog to the mouth of the alleyway and back into the main street of Market Town.
The crowd isn’t as compact here. Sun beats down, just past its zenith as it crawls toward early afternoon. You head right toward Namjoon’s massive stall, a crooked structure with rusty nails that leans dangerously close to Margot’s fruit stand.
No matter how many times Margot has asked Namjoon to fix the leaning stand, he never does, despite the fact that Namjoon can fix almost anything in the city. He likes electronics, though, which is why you approach him as he leans over a tiny watch, goggles on with a soldering tool in hand.
On the other side of Namjoon is Len’s stand. The old man is vacant from it for the time being, leaving his crystals and tarot cards to the empty wind. His stand is just a simple piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks with an always-wet and stained purple tapestry across the top. He suddenly appears, as though your presence has manifested him.
“The world is ending,” Len warns you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.”
“Hi, Len,” you greet, making Namjoon look up at the sound of your voice. “Thank you for the warning.”
Len warns you of a variety of different things whenever you visit. His gnarled finger points to you, hands liver spotted and shaking when he makes his predictions. You don’t know of any Radiants that are able to predict the future, but you know Len is Radiant. You can feel the pulse of his energy underneath his skin, stronger than most people in Market Town. He wears no jewels, but there’s a single, opal tucked into the pocket of his shirt.
Just like there’s a rose quartz hidden in Namjoon’s shoe. He doesn’t know you know, of course. Namjoon doesn’t know much about you, but he does know that he should keep his jewels to himself. People like to murder and steal jewels all over the city, but particularly in Market Town where they can vanish into thick crowds and get away with it.
“I have your repair for you,” Namjoon says, lifting up his goggles and putting down his soldering tool. “A fascinating piece of technology. Kind of dangerous though, no?”
“For some people, maybe.” You cross your arms over your chest as he ducks under his table, sliding open multiple drawers as he tries to find the object he fixed for you. “Not me.”
It is dangerous to you, actually. Using it nearly incapacitates you, but he doesn’t need to know that. Namjoon doesn’t know you’re a Radiant. He’s too light on the Jewel Caste to tell, and most Radiants can’t sense other Radiants without detecting the jewels they wear anyway.
Namjoon lets out a soft ah ha and sits up in his chair, placing a bracelet on the table. It’s nondescript and silver with a single, circular charm on it. Namjoon slides it over to you, leaning over it to assess it again. His eyes are glittering as he runs a finger over it.
“I fixed the soldering on the inside of the charm. It was damaged due to a melted wire. Fascinating how small the tech in this thing is. It emits high pitched frequencies, right?”
“Mhmm.” You pick up the bracelet, easily clasping it on your wrist. “How much?”
“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Aren’t these illegal?”
“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”
His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?”
You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.”
“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.”
Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly.
He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them, which is all you need to know that places like Market Town are not where Namjoon was raised.
Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more. Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction.
“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.”
“That sounds lovely, Len.”
You predict the next words. You’ve heard him say prepare for the end dozens of times. Instead, he says, “Obsidian.”
You blink in surprise. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck.
You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart.
This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over the tee, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.
Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not at first glance… No, that's not right. It feels like you have to blink several times to perceive him, like there’s something about him interfering with your vision the first time you look at him, but when you really look, it’s like piercing through a veil to see the truth.
He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again.
Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency on him, which means he doesn’t have jewels, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.
Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz when they get close to you. If they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to - no, need to scratch. Jewels pull in Radiants like flowers attract bees. It is an instinct for a Radiant to want to use a jewel, which is part of what makes being a Radiant so dangerous. Jewels always have the potential to corrupt the user, especially the darker the jewel.
When the strange man gets a few yards away, the sensation begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again. It’s a tangerine. You watch him toss and catch the object a few times, the skin of the fruit supple, the sunlight glinting off its ripe skin. It’s definitely one of Margot’s - he has the only ripe fruit in all of Market Town, thanks to his hidden jewels.
Which means this stranger stole it.
It puzzles you. He hadn’t walked directly by Margot’s cart. From the moment you turned around, he had kept a wide berth, walking a few yards away. And yet the tangerine is in his hand, ripe and round, the perfect shade of orange.
Something about him makes you step toward him. A breeze comes down the street, lifting the ends of your shirt and carrying the smell of sizzling meat and grease, accompanied by the sweet fruit from Margot’s cart. Sound fades to the background, your focus on the man so singular that everything else becomes secondary.
The man keeps walking, tossing the fruit up into the air and catching it easily. He starts to round the corner of a block, but pauses, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks right at you, cat-eyes zeroing in with uncanny precision.
It’s like the world fades away to leave the two of you in an impenetrable bubble. You see no one else but him and those feline eyes, his head cocking to the side as he drinks you in. It makes you nervous the way he looks at you, like he sees you just as clearly as you see him.
You don’t like that, used to the shadows and being unseen.
He grins once and winks before turning and vanishing down the alleyway, fruit in hand.
Sound comes back to you, the spell broken. You snap your head toward Len’s cart, where he is breathing heavily, hands clutching his table while he looks at you, eyes wild. Namjoon tries to gently pry Len’s hands from the table, but the man tears away from him, pointing a finger at you.
“The world will end in midnight and obsidian.”
-
Cool air breathes against the back of your neck as you walk to work. A flock of crows startle in an alleyway as you pass them, squawking angrily and hopping away from the dead carcass of something - or someone - until you’re gone and passed, no longer a threat.
The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is totally devoid of cars. No one in the Lower District drives vehicles. They can’t afford them, so the Armory leaves all of the roads to disrepair, letting the pavement cave in and crack with time.
You keep your eye on the other side of the street as you walk. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Jiangshi, the ghoulish symbol of the organization painted on doors and signs. They aren’t an enemy of the Yong organization - no one technically is an enemy on paper - but you keep your wits about you regardless, never trusting anyone that doesn’t bear the green dragon of the Park family.
The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of the Civ District just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset.
Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization.
You’d been a god once. It hadn’t worked out so well.
A group of Yong members pour out of the door of the Jade Dragon and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ District to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in the Jade Dragon, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in with one of the liquor shipments from the Salt District.
Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.
The Jade Dragon is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Yong organization, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Yong operations, but he fixed it up a bit.
As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.
So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much.
Entering the manager’s office, you’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect your manager is down the block wasted in the Green Garter and throwing nil at women dancing on the bar tops.
After leaving your belongings in the manager's office - might as well be your office - you start helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour and finding things to do to pass time.
Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray, and most of all useful.
Useful is important to Jimin. He doesn’t bring people into the Yong fold unless they’re of some use to him, no matter how much it might seem like he’s doing them a favor. There are no such things as favors in this world, and you know that better than anyone.
Even without jewels, Jungkook is a threat. He’s tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street.
Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors, maybe opal or selenite. It’s hard to tell because he never wears jewels - you’ve never even seen him use jewels. You don’t know if he ever has, just that he has the potential to, his frequency buzzing somewhere on the light end of the Jewel Caste.
“Where’s Burro?” you ask Jungkook, tossing glasses into the dishwasher and slamming the front shut with your hip.
“Who knows. Haven’t seen him since I got here.”
“Was the bar just… empty when you came in?”
“Yep.”
Gritting your teeth, you remain silent. Jungkook already knows you hate the manager - so does Jimin. There isn’t a customer who frequents the Jade Dragon who doesn’t know your distaste for the drunkard idiot who runs this place under Jimin’s banner, except perhaps the drunken idiot himself.
How Burro manages to carry fluorite is beyond you. He shouldn’t even be able to radiate with the colors on the light end of the Jewel Caste, much less the mid colors. You suspect it’s the only reason Jimin lets him pretend to manage the bar at all. That, and because Burro’s father is someone important to the Yong organizational structure.
Not like you. You’re a nobody among nobodies right beside Jungkook, two Radiants who don’t carry jewels working in a shitty bar and serving the Radiants who wear their jewels proudly.
The Radiants of the Yong organization don’t know that, naturally.
As far as a majority of them are aware, you and Jungkook are two Nulls - people who can’t radiate with any of the gems on the Jewel Caste. Only a few of the elite members at the top are sensitive enough to frequency to pick up that either of you register on the Radiant-scale, and those members of the Yong organization don’t come to places like the Green Dragon.
A group of lower level members swing through the door. They’re already drunk on low grain wash, an alcohol that’s so unfiltered it makes some people go blind. You smell it on them as they stumble over to the bar, laughing about some Jiangshi they fucked over at the card table across the street.
You eye them as Jungkook nudges you out of the way to deal with them, his instinct to put himself between you and any group of men. It’s sweet. Jungkook hasn’t the slightest idea that you could kill the group of five without blinking, even without jewels.
Fingering the charm on your bracelet, you let Jungkook take their order and start pulling out cups. You wander over to the corner under the guise of cleaning bottles, eyeing the group. You recognize three of them as regulars.
Loro isn’t so bad, but he has a habit of chatting your ear off. He sits down closest to you, focused on telling the others a story, his crooked teeth visible every time he opens his mouth. He has a crooked nose, beak-like and prone to honking when he laughs at his own jokes. He waves his hand for effect as he tells his story, red spinel rings catching the light.
Chanda sits next to him, his total opposite. In the year she’s been coming to the Jade Dragon, you don’t think you’ve heard Chanda speak. She ignores Loro’s story telling, staring straight forward, her jade eyes unfocused. You know she’s not as unaware as she seems, the pulse of her rubies reaching you from where she sits.
Among the familiar faces, it’s Daniil you don’t like. He stands a head taller than Jungkook but is just as wide. His flint eyes glare at Jungkook as he slams down the cup he just emptied in a few gulps, asking for another. Jungkook is already filling it with wash before Daniil can finish the question, which pleases Daniil, his crooked smile slashing across his face. You see the flash of sapphire in his teeth, drilled in and hard to steal, a common practice among brutes belonging to the families that make up the Armory.
Daniil doesn’t deserve sapphire. Jewels are powerful things, especially the darker they are on the Jewel Caste. Even the most practiced Radiants can’t wield dark colors well or with precision, and Daniil is far from skilled or efficient. Seeing him with a sapphire irks you, the gem in his tooth calling to you every time enters the bar.
Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me.
The other two men with him, you don’t recognize. You can sense the shorter one radiating at jasper and the taller one at peridot, making them the least powerful Radiants in the room. It’s always like that around Daniil, Radiants on the lighter side of the Caste following around in his shadow, making him feel big and powerful.
Daniil is never around anyone who has a darker color.
“Stupid fucking Jiangshi don’t know how to play cards,” Daniil laughs, throwing back another glass of wash. He doesn’t look like he needs more, eyes red and posture swaying with drink. Being a Radiant will burn away at the alcohol faster, but it seems he’s had plenty. “No wonder those stupid fucks are losing territory to the Kaiju.”
The mention of the Kaiju organization strikes a nerve. You remain reactionless on the surface, but you feel yourself inwardly flinch. No matter how many times you hear them mentioned, you can’t get rid of that internal cringe, that instinct to react.
What Daniil says about the Kaiju eating up more Jiangshi territory is true, but it has nothing to do with the way people under the black and white banner of the Salib family play cards. Kim Juwon, the head of the Kaiju organization, is entirely the reason for his family’s growth and prosperity. You can think of no one more ruthless and singularly focused on city domination than Kim Juwon.
Except his son, perhaps.
The Kim family had been wealthy before the Armory was even a thought. They’d long been one of the most powerful Radiant families in Diade, and the most resistant to the construction of the Armory to balance the radical powers in the city. Of the five families making up the city’s governing body, they are by far the strongest, especially since the collapse of the Haechi organization over a dozen years ago.
Jimin’s family are powerful as well, the leaders of the Yong organization. The Parks aren’t as strong as the Kims in jewel distribution, but they’re nearly as wealthy. Wealth matters just as much as having strong Radiants under your control, opening up access to exert their influence over the city by purchasing high grade jewels and businesses.
The Jade Dragon is not one of those businesses used to impress the powers that be in the city. It is a place for you to sit and watch the Salib family across the street, and serve as a lowkey meeting space when Jimin feels like using it, which is almost never.
And, you suppose, to entertain the lowest level of the Yong organization's goons, some of which are now loudly yelling at Jungkook who’s reminded them to pay their tab.
“The fuck you mean pay the tab?” Daniil asks, slurring over his words. “We don’t have a tab.”
Jungkook is unfettered. “You do, and it’s unpaid for the last month. Mr. Park has reminded me to collect your payment at your earliest convenience.”
“Where the fuck is Burro? We don’t have a tab, you fucking Null.”
Sighing, you throw down the rag in your hand. A pulse of energy ripples from Daniil. Jungkook glares at the man, his eyes darkening. You know he feels Daniil’s power too, and if the Radiants sitting at the bar weren’t piss drunk or useless, they might notice that Jungkook can feel their energy surging as they get annoyed with him.
“Sit down,” you snap at Daniil, walking behind Jungkook and glaring at the others. “I’ll get Burro.”
The door swings open at the front, causing everyone to swivel. At first, you think it might be Burro finally arriving to manage the bar. Instead, you see a man dressed in the black and white of the Jiangshi. The markings on his arms confirm it, skin covered in the monstrous creature the organization is named after. If his enraged expression didn’t put you on edge, the hidden sapphires on him would, the jewels throbbing as he seethes, staring at the group in front of you.
Trepidation tingles on your skin. You reach out and grab Jungkook by the arm, tugging him lightly. He lets you move him, taking a few steps back to stand next to you and not behind you like you originally intended. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of an angry Radiant with sapphires.
“Ay,” Daniil grunts. “Come to piss your money away at more card games?”
Ah.
“Call Jimin,” you mutter to Jungkook, shoving him toward the backroom.
“You call Jimin. I’m not leaving you alone.”
“I will be fine, kid. Do what I say.”
Jungkook looks like he wants to argue, but the Jiangshi man takes a firm step into the room, jabbing a finger at the group of Yong sitting at the bar. “You cheated.”
“He’s wearing sapphire,” you whisper to Jungkook, nudging him.
“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, turning quickly. “I’ll call Jimin.”
As Jungkook vanishes into the back, a ripple of energy goes through the room. The group of Yong members stand up, all of them swaying with drink/ They begin to radiate, the jewels on their persons making you itch. You shiver under the feeling, fingers twitching as you circle the edge of the bar to put some distance between you and them.
You don’t know who the Jiangshi man is. You’ve never seen him among the few of his organization that come into the Jade Dragon. He seems to be sound of mind, unlike the Yong members, and despite being outnumbered, the Jiangshi man carries one of the darkest jewels on the Caste, capable of destructive, severe psychic attacks, and shadow manipulation if he’s strong enough.
Daniil uses sapphire too, but you know based on observation he only knows how to use it for brute force, incapable of developing his skillset to the finer uses of the jewel. And he’s piss drunk, wavering as he stares down at his opponent as though he can intimidate him, his sapphire power flickering in comparison to the Jianghi’s pulsing.
“We didn’t do anything,” Loro practically whines. “You’re just useless at cards. Why don’t you go back to your side of the street, ghoul.”
“I want the money you stole from me.”
The stranger takes a few more steps into the bar and you feel him take a deep breath. You react faster than any of the other Radiants in the bar, dropping to the floor as a blast of energy erupts from him. Wood cracks and furniture goes flying, blown out in every direction. You hear the shriek and shatter of glass as someone tumbles over the top of the bar behind you.
You turn to see Loro groaning on the floor, covered in glass and alcohol. His arm is at an odd angle as he attempts to roll and remove the weight from it. As someone who uses a red jewel, you know he’ll be fine. Radiants who use red jewels can heal faster as well as move faster, but not only is Loro’s reaction time affected by how drunk he is, his spinel jewel is significantly lighter on the Jewel Caste in comparison to sapphire.
More energy slams into the bar, making it rattle and splinter. You’re not in the Jiangshi’s line of sight, so whatever wave of destruction is pouring from him misses you. Chanda lets out a feral scream, hot anger licking through the room like flame. Like Loro, her jewel sits on the red spectrum, her ruby making her stronger and faster but also feral in battle, a warlord in her own right.
It doesn’t matter, though. Ruby is still a medium color on the Jewel Caste, too light to take on a sapphire Radiant in their right mind. She joins Loro in being tossed over the counter, landing half on top of him and making him yell out as his wounded arm snaps again. You grimace.
You don’t dare look around the corner, ducking further and covering your head when something takes a chunk out of the bar just above you. Water sprays you, the handle of a soda gun hitting your shoulder as it goes flying. Liquid pools around your feet alongside glass and wood chips.
“Fuckers,” you hiss. “Stop destroying my bar!”
It isn’t technically your bar, but you’re the only one who cares enough to oversee it. Now, you let it get torn apart as the Jiangshii and Daniil go at it, their sapphire energy slamming into everything around you. You feel their jewels throw with power, begging you to take them, to rip them off the men’s bodies and make them your own.
Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me.
There’s a guttural yell followed by something wet spraying over the bar. It hits your skin, warm. You don’t need to look to know it’s blood, frowning as the room falls into utter silence.
There’s only one sapphire signature pulsing in the bar now a few yards away from you - not Daniil, you surmise. You don’t sense either of the stranger’s that had been with Daniil in his friends, their light colors stomped out on the first blast of energy from the Jiangshi.
Heavy boots thud against concrete, moving in your direction. Fuck. Sapphire energy makes the air quiver as he moves closer, rounding the bar in front of you. You uncover your head and look up. The Jiangshi is covered in blood and the fleshy remains of someone - you don’t know who. His pupils are dilated, hungry, wild as the power of his jewels race through him, making him feel like a god.
Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me.
The man lifts a hand and you feel the energy shiver around him for his killing blow. You click the charm on your bracelet and the world shatters.
A high-pitched screech erupts in the Jade Dragon. The man yells, dropping to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. It won’t help him drown out the sound of the high-frequency screaming coming from your bracelet, interrupting his ability to radiate.
You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. The noise is unbearable, your eyes watering and your blood screaming. It feels like you’re being torn apart, your natural frequency being shredded as the bracelet continues to scream.
Your vision is blurry but you reach for a broken shard of glass. It cuts into your palm, the sting far outweighed by the pain of your wailing bracelet. The Jiangshi man tries to reach for you, the veins in his neck bulging, eyes wide and blood red as his frequency scatters, energy frantic and unsure where to go.
Pain is the one thing most Radiants can’t stand. The world is handed to them on a silver platter, wealth and opportunities given to them simply because they can access a power that most people in the world can’t. They cannot fathom a world full of suffering and agony, because they’ve never had to endure to survive.
It is their greatest weakness and your biggest strength.
Gripping the shard of glass tight, you drive it through the man’s neck. It’s messy, the artery exploding under the sharp edge of the weapon. You cringe, letting it go as the blood floods his neck. He gurgles, wavering under the onslaught of the sound coming from your bracelet as he tries to grip the piece of glass and remove it.
He doesn’t, choking until he loses the strength to remain on his knees, falling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. You watch, shivering as your mind nearly splits at the sound before his fingers twitch a final time. Only then do you press the charm on your bracelet again.
Silence sweeps over the bar. You fall backward, panting and dizzy from the sound. Your entire body shakes. It feels like a knife has carved its way through your skull, rendering you useless and half alive. Everything hurts, the pain throbbing with every breath you take.
But you work is not done.
You nearly vomit when you roll over. The after effects of having a shatterwave used on you are worse than a hangover or drug withdrawal. Your hands are clammy and slippery with blood when you manage to get on all fours, nearly falling with the fresh wave of pain that slams you.
The sapphires on the Jiangshi’s body call to you like a drug. You feel their pulse, a siren song that you cannot resist as you crawl toward him, hands sliding against the wet concrete. Alcohol mixes with blood, turning the ground pink as you near him.
Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me.
Hands shaking, you defile the Jiangshi’s body by ripping his shirt open to reveal the necklace hanging against his sweaty, bloody body, a single pendant with a sapphire set into a cushion of smaller, false sapphires. It is soaked in blood but it doesn’t matter. A jewel is a jewel, and by law, any jewel on his body is yours to take now, so you yank it, popping the chain as you do.
Power fills you. It immediately overcomes you, knocking you sideways as the world vanishes and there’s nothing but sapphire. Blood rushes through you faster, stronger. A tremor of elation and terror goes through you, leaving you twitching and panting against the dead body of the man whose sapphire you just stole.
Gritting your teeth, you tamp down on the power. It takes all of your effort, breathing in deeply through your nose and out with your mouth. You taste iron and salt, blood blooming in your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t even feel it, the power of the sapphire masking your pain.
Stomach roiling, you slip and stumble up to your feet. Darkness pulses at the edge of your vision, the room tilting as you lose your balance and stumble against the bartop. Glass bites into your hands, sinking deep into your palm as you fight the sapphire for control as it threatens to overwhelm you and eat you up from the inside out.
Finally, you gain control. The trembling starts to peter out and the sickness starts to fade as you acclimate to the sapphire, finally calm after a terrifying moment of raging storm.
Placated, you turn to face the two remaining members of the Jade Dragon twitching on the floor as they try to recover from the shatterwave. They’re both staring at you, eyes bulging both as a result of having suffered from the shatterwave and at seeing you hold and resonate with sapphire without immediately being scored with power.
They can’t know.
Chanda tries to react as you sigh. You feel her gather the energy of her rubies but you’re already acting, radiating with the sapphire and striking out toward her with a sharp and precise blow. You don’t even lift your hand to do it, feeling the shape and the size of your slice of energy as it cuts through the air and hits them both.
It is far messier than you intend. You’d wanted a clean slice through them both - efficient, easy to deal with, not gruesome. But you haven’t used jewels in years, and the blow lands on them like an explosive, blasting the two of them backward the same way the Jiangshi killed Daniil.
You blanch as parts of them both go flying. It’s gory and wet, the perfect picture of what an untrained Radiant can do with a dark jewel. You’re not untrained but you’re certainly out of practice, splattering the two of them the same way a child might paint on a canvas.
Gore decorates the room, bits of organs and bone covering the walls with blood. A lot of blood.
It gets the job done, despite not being what you wanted. With extreme effort, you turn around and chuck the sapphire back toward the dead Jiangshi. You immediately feel the need to crawl after it, your skin itching, nervous system turning in on itself as it craves the energy.
Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me.
Fighting nausea, you lean on the bar, pulling the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face. Your fingers are slick with blood, bits of glass embedded in your skin. Small annoyances, in comparison to the way the sapphire screams at you to pick it back up, calls to you, begs you, sings to you-
“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice makes you look up at him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes.
You have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Under the influence of sapphire, you’d become totally unaware of him, which shames you to no end. You used to be better - needed to be better. Had your old master known you’d barely managed to use sapphire and forgotten about Jungkook, you’d have been punished with being stripped of your jewels and shut in a room for a week with them just out of reach, just enough to make you go through withdrawal while they were right there.
Jungkook takes a step away from you and you see it. The fear, the trepidation. You shake your head, itching at your arm - the need to itch isn’t real, but the withdrawal from the sapphire is already there, gnawing at you.
“Not gonna kill you,” your words are a little slurred. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“You’re a Radiant.”
“You are too.”
He opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected that. “You can use sapphire,” he points out, as though that makes you worse, somehow. Maybe it does.
“Yeah, well. Shut your mouth about it. Don’t tell Jimin you know.”
“Jimin knows?”
“‘Course he does.” You push off the bar. “Tell him you don’t know what happened out here because of the shatterwave. He’ll know it was me.”
“I…” Jungkook hesitates. “Alright.” He surveys the bodies - lack there of - face paling. “What now?”
Outside, a car door shuts. Almost no one drives a car down to this part of the Lower District, and only one person would be doing it directly to the door of the Jade Dragon.
You turn to Jungkook, pointing at the backroom. “Go in the office,” you whisper. “Tell him the shatterwave kept you incapacitated. Whatever you do, do not tell him you know I can radiate, Jungkook.”
As Jungkook vanishes to the back, you step in front of the swinging door, breaking the line of vision from the front just as the entrance opens. Jimin steps into the bar, the air turning heavy with his emerald energy as he does.
Park Jimin looks out of place. He always looks out of place in the dingy light and crooked setting of the Jade Dragon, but now with furniture fractured and strewn across the room, painted in blood and various bits of sinew, the contrast is severe.
Jimin is dressed in a crisp, white suit, not a spec of dirt or dust on him. His blonde hair is slicked back and pristine as his attire. Emerald earrings glitter in his hair, matching the emerald brooch in the shape of a dragon on his suit pocket and the emerald rings on four of his fingers.
He is the epitome of Armory families, his jewels on display without fear of someone taking them, flexing his wealth and access to the fingest gems in his city. He’s also painfully beautiful, with full lips that usually require cosmetic alteration to achieve and high, rounded cheekbones. His eyes are sharp and intense with unending darkness, a siren gaze, some say.
Jimin embodies the Yong organization perfectly: regal, proud and elegant as the dragon. Just as deadly.
Taking a single step into the bar, Jimin’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the carnage before landing on you standing in the middle of it. You do and say nothing, waiting under the pressure of his emerald aura. The emerald screams at you less than the sapphire, more of an annoyance than it is a demand to take it.
“Well,” Jimin announces, his voice soft as silk. “This is going to be expensive.”
“Just buy more shitty furniture. It wasn’t pretty before.”
He gives you a warning glare before walking further into the room, picking his way through the carnage. “Your handy work?”
“Not at first.”
“I see, let me rephrase the question - what’s yours?”
“Behind the bar.”
“Hmm.”
The sound of his boots clicking feels like he’s loading a gun, each step a bullet sliding into place as he decides whether or not he’s going to fire it. You watch as he drifts toward the bar, stopping when he gets to the dead Jiangshi first. He hums as though he’s impressed, eyes following the blood trail until he gets to the pièce de résistance behind you.
“Explain.”
“They saw.”
“So you exploded them?”
You wince. “I’m not used to sapphire.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply and letting it out. You can feel his emerald energy like a waterfall, all roaring power but contained. “You have fucked up.”
“No,” you correct. “I am not the manager of this bar.”
Jimin considers this and then shrugs. “Well you’re not wrong. Where is that jackass?”
“Probably face deep in tits.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, jeweled fingers tapping his elbow. Then he points at the dead Jiangshi. “Said Daniil and the others cheated him out of cards. He decided killing them wasn’t enough, so I used a shatterwave.”
“Ah.” He flickers his eyes toward the entrance where you hear the door open behind you. “Ah, Agust, I forgot we had an appointment. As you can see, I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.”
Strange, crackling energy radiates behind you. Frowning, you look over your shoulder and freeze.
Standing in the doorway is the man from Market Town that stole a tangerine from Margot’s fruit cart. He’s dressed in the same scuffed and ripped jeans and white t-shirt under a floral shirt. His cat eyes are glittering when they settle on you, his mouth curving wickedly.
I see you, this smile seems to say, making you squirm.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the tangerine thief - Agust - answers. “It was a bit dull in here.” His dark eyes trail to where Loro and Chanda paint the wall. “That work of art is particularly interesting.”
“Yes, we’re certainly good at redecorating.” Jimin’s gaze is hard when he looks at you before he turns back to Agust and softens. “Do you mind rescheduling our appointment? It seems I need to get some things in order.”
Agust looks at Jimin directly in the eyes, like an equal. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority. Jimin also doesn’t hide the fact that the mess belongs to you. Interesting, considering he’s so adamant on hiding your Radiant.
Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Viboras, the Salibs, the Achilleos and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet he has an appointment with Jimin, who is one of the highest running members of the Yong organization.
The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn respect, especially from Jimin.
Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Yong’s well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in the Jade Dragon with tight, if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as is law, they are particularly fond of the Park family.
But no, you’ve never seen him with White Fang, so it can’t be them.
There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Though it’s technically illegal for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain, and being protected by Juwon and his son Seokjin have its strengths.
You shove the thought of Kim Seokjin away violently.
“Of course.” Agust finally says, eyes flickering from Jimin to you, dark and knowing. “Just give me a call whenever. I’m eager to do business with the Yong organization.”
Turning to leave, you watch Agust with predatory stillness. You still can’t get a read on him for where he belongs on the Jewel Caste and that doesn’t sit well with you. He opens the door and exits, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a wink like before and then he’s gone.
For some reason, Len’s warning from earlier comes back to you: The world will end in midnight and obsidian.
THE JEWEL CASTE
*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.
Lights
Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite
Mids
Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel →Ruby
Darks
Turquoise → Azurite → SapphireTourmaline → Jet → Onyx
Corrosives
Emerald→Garnet →Midnight →Obsidian
JEWEL ATTRIBUTES
*A non-exhaustive list of skills associated with specific gem colors.
White Gems: Useful for basic tasks like illumination, minor telekinesis, or small barriers and warding etc. Pink Gems: Generate light-based energy, minor protection, some elemental influence, and weak energy attacks. Green Gems: Medium protection and warding, decent energy attacks, influence healing, and elemental control. Red Gems: Destructive energy and weapons/fighting mastery, manipulation over emotions and give superior senses. Blue: Powers include destructive energy, shadow manipulation, and mental influence. Black Gems: Capable of bending reality, manipulating snatches of time, strong mental influence, creation and destruction of energy.
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The beauty
And pain
Of remember
A person always has one or several memories that they keep with them no matter how time passes. It’s a universal experience that we have all experienced at some point in our lives, it doesn't matter if the memory fades as the days go by bc they are not perfect, in the end they are narratives in construction that in some way marked us as people.
Remember something can be both a beautiful experience and a painful feeling.
Remember helps us to better appreciate things and to understand both our values and past experiences, whether those are moments with family or friends or simply having a good time. They are moments that we adore and keep in our minds with affection but these can also be transformed into a feeling of sadness, a part of us that was taken away from us, a piece of our identity away from us for who knows how long or even forever.
Many times “remember” makes us feel empty bc of what we no longer have and it is because emotional pain doesn't follow a specific script and cannot even be explain only in physiological terms, it’s something more complex and irrational and looking for a specific reason would be like looking for water in the middle of the desert. It hurts us emotionally to have to remember those people who are no longer with us or those happy moments that will never be repeated. Although within that same pain you can find beauty, it is still something irrational and meaningless bc yes, you remember with love and affection but you still feel pain bc of what those people or those moments represented for you and they are simply no longer there.
A memory can appear in many ways, whether it be from a song, a simple word or… Flowers.
Sunflowers are beautiful and radiant flowers that always seem to catch the eye, they are a small reminder that Eurylochus keeps of his home while he resided in Olympus, bright and so cheerful they were the only respite that Eury kept from his already distant home, he took care of them and adore them for the love and nostalgia that they transmitte to him at those moments from which he was separate. Little by little his appreciation turned into pain, a sweet memory of his home transformed into sadness and guilt.
He refused to go back to his flowers, remember his home only made him feel worse about himself. How could he long for something that he did not deserve? The pain stopped being just that and turned into guilt. He did not deserve those flowers, he did not deserve those seconds of escapism and as he did with anything that caused him pain he just turn away and ignored it thinking that everything would be fine if he did not think about it.
As the weeks went by, Eurylochus needed a moment to himself again and he remember his flowers. He wasn't in his best moment and he needed to try to feel again that peace that he felt the first time he saw his sunflowers, but it was too late... His flowers were already dead, he felt distressed bc the only memory of his home was withered before his eyes. He felt pain, but not only because his flowers died. That pain is not going to heal by simply planting others and then as if he hadn't let them die. That pain is about what those flowers represented for him and how he let them go in the face of that pain that made him feel inferior.
Pain is irrational. They may seem like just some flowers, but for Eurylochus they represented much more than that, and it’s in the memory of what he lost that he appreciate and love what gave him calm at the time. His flowers are dead, he let them die but he loves them for the peace of mind they gave him, even though the pain and nostalgia of his far away home is still with him at least he can appreciate it a little more even though he feels sad for remember those good times.
.
.
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I feel like I'm VERY annoying with the ClosureAU (mostly on Twitter) and I apologize for that again, a new year started and I felt like I needed to do something decent, something meaningful not just a doodle or a funny video. No idea came to mind until I watched some videos of my fav youtubers again and this idea came up. I'm sorry if I'm being so annoying with all the angst I'll try to make not so sad content of the AU I promise. Happy new year to everyone I wish you all the best and thank you for supporting me at all times, I love you all so much 💚
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Thinking about the reader being Focalors/Furina's grandchild. What if they adopted a child, and let's say that the kid could have been transported between worlds, they end up in Gotham, taken in by Martha and Thomas Wayne.
Now, after a couple of years, readers mom ends up with Bruce. He takes in Dick, then Jason, after your mom gets pregnant, and during childbirth, she dies. Instead of Bruce neglecting the reader because "They were the reason why my love is dead." type of neglect (っ- ‸ - ""), which is always pretty stupid if you ask me,
He can't look at the reader because you look like a mix of both the two women he has truly loved in his life. His mother, the one who sang him bedtime songs, the one who brought him to his love, your mother. The one who accepted him for his faults, the one who was there during rough times, the one who gave him the greatest gift of all time— you.
But instead of treasuring the precious diamond he was given, Bruce ends up throwing you away. A shame, really, after all, how can he look at you without being reminded of them? How can he look into your eyes, which took the shape of his mother, and held those (e/c) eyes that used to look at him with so much love?
Dick would also have a hard time acknowledging you. After all, you were sort of the reason why his mother had died (reader's mom), but you were her child too. You can't experience what he and Jason got from her, bedtime stories and all.
But at the same time, he can't help but look a little closer, enamoured by the same eyes that saw him, acknowledged him, loved him. He really doesn't know what to do, so he avoids you when he has the chance.
Now, Jason— he's a good child before he died. He's definitely your best friend before he died. How can he not love you? The child of his parents, how could he possibly turn away from you? So imagine his surprise and disappointment when both Bruce and Dick actively ignore you.
Oh, he is angry. How dare they! He argues with them during meal times, but they shut him down! Let's time skip a few years now, Jason is dead, then he turns up alive, apparently?
You try to approach him, hoping he was still that big brother you once knew, even though he looks a bit scary and big right now! He avoids you like the plague, you don't recognise your big brother anymore...
When Tim was taken in by Bruce, you hoped that you'd form a bond with your new brother, and he's very smart too! You hope he can help you with homework, but he says that you're not really worth his time. That stung a bit!
Then Cassandra, Barbara, and Stephanie are in the picture. You still had a bit of hope that you'd bond with your sisters! They might be different from your brothers! Ah— it's the same thing over again.
Finally, Damian, he's your younger brother. Clinging on to your last hope, you approach him, hoping— but to no one's surprise, he rejects you. He hates you so much. He hates that you were so weak, how, although he is strong, forced to cater to his mother and grandfather's wishes, robbed of the childhood he dreamed of, you ended up with a peaceful childhood, the one thing he always wanted. (He didn't know you were robbed, too.)
It's honestly your last straw, so after packing your bags, you head to your mother's home— Fontaine, and it's a hell lot more nicer than Gotham. The fresh breeze of the sea, cute adorable sea creatures, and a whole lot more things you could explore!
Your grandfather, Neuvillette, adored you, both of your grandmothers who loved you so much, the friends you made in Fontaine, even adventures you went off to. It's no surprise that you didn't want to go back. Yeah, Alfred would miss you a lot— but you're sure he'd be happy to know that you're in a better place, safe from the crime-filled-gotham!
Now, enjoy the last days in Teyvat because they want you back. How could they not? Bruce and Dick never hated you— no. They'd kill themselves before that. It's just that it hurt too much to see you! But, they've realised their mistakes now, they'll make it up to you, don't worry! Bruce will throw you lavish parties anytime you want! He has deep pockets, after all, and that old room of yours? Your new room will be next to him, to make sure you're safe.
Dick will be there for you. Even though he wasn't there before, he'll be next to you every step of the way this time and make no mistakes. He won't let you out of his sight, not anymore. You can count on the best big brother in Gotham to make sure you'll be safe. With a little help from Tim, who'll place trackers on you when you get home. It's for safety precautions, you'll understand.
Jason blew when he realised you've been missing for weeks— and none of them have noticed! He was the best big brother to you, right? Won't you come back home to him? He knows you, and both of you could bond by the things you guys used to love, right? You probably still like the colour (f/c) you don't anymore. He'll cook your favourite food with you, and all you have to do right now is to come back home.
Casandra, although a perceptive person, she never realised the small figure that trailed behind her grew up, not to be seen in weeks. She knew something was missing. The small figure that she'd see in the kitchen during ungodly hours, who'd leave her little notes of praise time-to-time, was not there anymore.
Every time Barbara and Tim had migraines, you'd be there, handing a tray with two cups and medication. They wondered where those always came from, and then it suddenly stopped. To think it was their sweet baby sibling all along! Those little hints that you were there weren't really noticed, but they appreciated you and the small actions you did for them. They want to repay the favour, don't you wanna play games with Tim? Or get ice cream with big sis Babs?
Damian will demand attention from you. How dare you give your love to those good for nothing children of lower breeding, he's your blood brother! Sure, he said he hates you— but he really didn't mean it! He didn't know you were robbed of the same childhood as him. And without his older sibling, how can you expect a complete family? You don't have to worry about being weak. He'll protect you. He's strong enough for both of you.
Neuvillette is having trouble closing the multiple portals they tried to create. With the help of the Justice league, of course. Don't worry they'll get you back sooner or later.
#batfam#yandere batfam#yandere bruce wayne#yandere tim drake#yandere dick grayson#yandere stephanie brown#yandere cassandra cain#yandere barbara gordon#yandere damian wayne#batfam x you#batfam x reader#yandere batfam x neglected reader#genshin impact#genshin x reader#neuvillette#focalors#furina#𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 ๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑๋࣭ ⭑࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒𝕬 𝕱𝖆𝖊'𝖘 𝖂𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ
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You’re beautiful
──────・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
Relationship: Rio Vidal x Reader
Summary: Rio shows you her true form for the first time.
Warning: i don’t think there’s any. Just angst and fluff.
A/n: i’m drunk. Happy new year. Not proofread. Who cares it’s bad anyway.
──────・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
“Ready?”
“Y-yeah? Ummm no hold on…” Rio said shakily. You’d been dating for a few months now but had yet to see her true form. You knew she was lady death. Rio had been very honest with you about who she was and what she did but this was different. She didn’t want you to be scared of her. People often looked at her with fear and she understood why. Rio just didn’t want you to ever look at her that way. Look at her and see her for what she was so often called, a monster.
“Can i open my eyes yet? Please?” You asked innocently rocking back and forth on the heals of your feet. You loved Rio, the moment you saw her making flowers grow in the park you fell in love. You didn’t care she was the literal physical incarnation of death, she was your literal physical incarnation of death. Her death form was something you were aware of but she would never let you see it, despite how much you asked, that was until today. Rio had finally agreed to show you but from her nervous voice you could tell she was second guessing this whole thing.
“My love it’s okay, you don’t have to-“
“No, no, just…” Rio interrupted, she took a deep breath, “okay. Ready you can look.”
As soon as she spoke the air went cold causing the hairs on your arms to stand up. You opened your eyes slowly the room seeming much darker than when you closed them. As you adjusted to the dim light you focused on Rio who stood turned away from you, hood up concealing her face. Softly walking forward you worm your arms around her, pulling her into a hug.
“Can i see?” You plead, gently rocking your love side to side. Rio slowly begins to turn around. Hesitation in every move. You take a step back to allow yourself to see her fully. She’s beautiful. The skeletal face and chest gave her an ethereal beauty you thought only existed in fantasy novels. You stood with a blank expression taking it in, unsure what to say. The silence from you made Rio uneasy. If only she could read your mind right now.
“I’m a monster…” Rio’s sunken eyes began to fill with tears and she started to turn away from you. This snapped you out of your trance.
“No, my love.” You pull her back towards you. Stroking her boney jaw with your hand, enjoying how smooth and cold it was. “You’re beautiful.”
Rio finally let her eyes meet your gaze. She didn’t see fear. She saw love. The same love and admiration you always look at her with. The same look Rio feels she’s done nothing to earn but that you know she never had to earn. She deserves it. Simply by existing and learning to let herself be loved by you.
“You aren’t scared?”
“No, my love.” You lean forward and place a soft kiss onto her teeth. An unorthodox place for a kiss you know but without lips or cheeks there was no where else to put it. The whole thing made you giggle. Made Rio giggle too, so you did it again. “I understand why you care so much about dental hygiene now.” You both laughed, Rio pulled you in even closer snuggling her skull into your neck.
“Thank you… for not being scared”
“Rio, i could never be scared of you.” You rubbed her back and played with her hair. “I love you too much.”
You didn’t know it but your words meant so much to Rio. All her eternal existence she’d been something to fear, to hate, warned to avoid. People only looked at her with fear in their eyes and souls. Now she had you, someone who smiled at her, asked about her day, cared about her. You wanted her, someone wanted her. She never wanted you to look at her like that and now she knew no matter how she looked you wouldn’t.
“I love you too.”
#rio vidal#agatha all along#rio vidal x reader#rio vidal fluff#rio vidal angst#rio vidal x you#rio vidal x y/n#lady death#lady death x reader#lesbian#wlw#aubrey plaza#aubrey plaza x reader#marvel x reader#marvel#marvel wlw
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Wanted to request something to festive so I had an idea of having the first kiss of the new year with our love scummy scara. Not sure how to elaborate but I just needed to share ✨
scaramouche x fem!reader. kissing. very light smut. grinding. scummy scara. scara with a tongue piercing.
a little smutty cause it's scummy scara. bear with me, i still don't feel the best🥺
scaramouche looks at the clock for the uptenth time that night, restless with anticipation. it is very close to midnight on new year's eve.
to everyone else around the world, midnight meant the coming of a new year. but to him, midnight meant so much more.
it means starting off the new year in a best possible way: kissing you. kissing you would lead to other kisses, several kisses. deep, open mouth kisses. those kisses would lead to fingers tangled in hair, his mouth swallowing your soft moans while his tongue devours your mouth.
which in turn would lead to all kinds of little goodies for him. his hands wandering up your shirt and between your legs while he pins you down on the couch..
"it's almost midnight."
your voice drew scaramouche out of his thoughts. "hm," his hum was uninterested as he put his arm around you. everything has to be in place perfectly. he glanced at the clock again. three more minutes that were quite frankly dragging to him.
he rolls the ball of his tongue piercing around on the roof of his mouth in anticipation. could he distract you enough to get up and change the time on the clock himself? hmm...
"look, the ball is rising up to drop," you said as you rest your head on his chest.
"you wanna know that looks like to me?" scaramouche asked, glancing at the clock again. "people are dropping the ball on their year already," he snickered. what he meant by dropping the ball was fucking up.
"scara! it's supposed to be positive," you chide, though the smile on your face told him that you found what he said funny. look at you, sharing in his sense of humor while telling him what's what.
five, four..
scaramouche was delighted to see that the countdown has begun. "what? isn't it a positive thing for them to realize they are fucking up already?" he counters, curling his finger under your chin to tilt your head a little.
you sigh, giving him a look that said you couldn't really argue with him. though he knew you could.
three, two, one!
he is already leaning in to kiss you before one is even chanted. it didn't take long for his kiss to turn needy, pushing his pierced tongue giddily into your mouth. the ball of his tongue piercing grazes the roof of your mouth, making you shiver and moan softly into his mouth.
one hand wanders up your shirt, groping the soft, squishy flesh of your breast outside your bra. he tingle of excitement shot through him feeling you slightly move your chest into his hand. "happy new year," you murmur, pulling away to breathe for a few moments.
"mhm," his lips are back on yours again within moments. he wasn't interested in talking, the growing erection in jeans as his hand slips into your bra told him there are other important things right now.
his kiss is deep, open mouthed and sensual. his tongues glides against yours, devouring your mouth as he wrestled your tongue into oh so willing submission. you whimper at the sudden pleasure of your nipple rolling and hardening under the pads of his fingers.
he groans as you reach down to cup and rub his cock outside his jeans. rutting into your hand, he pinched your nipple before pushing you down onto the couch. your moans are the first music of the new year to his ears.
his teeth nip at your lips as he spreads your legs, slotting himself between them. "these are in the way," he sighed, frustrated as he ruts between your legs. goosebumps rose in the wake of his fingers on skin as he pushed your shirt up over your bra.
scaramouche hastily moved the cups of your bra down off your breasts, feasting his eyes on them before moving his head down to flick the ball of his tongue piercing around your nipple.
kisses always led to other things. he always, always counted on that. whether it was right here on the couch downstairs, or upstairs in his bed, he was going to ruin you. starting with a kiss.
#genshin impact#genshin smut#fem!reader#genshin imagines#scaramouche#scaramouche smut#scummy scara#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche x you
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