#For now I just have little snippets here and there

[hyunsvngs]

𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚, 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 - han jisung x fem!reader

wc: 2.4k

a/n: pwp based off of two images i saw of jisung's boobs in concert and then i went haywire and wrote THIS... MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! 🎄🎅 please read the warnings! 18+ SMUT MDNI!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ROLEPLAY where jisung is santa for no particular reason, nipple play (m rec), oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (i’m having a white christmas!), dirty talk, overall kind of not extreme but maybe a bit of d/s dynamics (both switchy)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

you don’t know what game you’re playing tonight.

jisung’s due back home any minute now. he’s been gone a few hours, last minute christmas shopping with friends, and he claimed he had a surprise for you. you asked to go with, claiming you needed to get a few things too, but jisung had simply told you he had a plan. it’s unusual behaviour for him, but he’s always doing sweet things for you - this could just be another one of those times.

still, you’re bent underneath the tree placing presents in nothing but your nightie and some fuzzy socks. you’ve had to light the fireplace to warm yourself up, but jisung always likes it when it’s cozy anyway. you expect that he’ll arrive home tired, but wanting, from the infrequent texts he’d sent you about missing you. there’s nothing you like more than snuggling with your favourite person on your favourite holiday, even if he does get a little too warm too quickly and ends up being more of a human radiator than anything else. 

once you’ve finally found places for all of the gifts, you’re able to wriggle yourself outwards. with the multicoloured lights on and the fireplace lit, along with your many other trinkets… well, it may look like christmas has exploded in your living room. still, you’ve always loved christmas. you adjust a little santa ornament on your fireplace and allow yourself to lay on the couch, pulling a thick blanket over your body. it’s comfortable.

unfortunately it may be a little too comfortable. you appear to have dropped off, because when you wake up it’s a little darker outside. you hear the click of the lock, the sound of the door swinging open and heavy boots stomping in. you sit up, drowsy with sleep but ready to greet your boyfriend. 

a few hums are heard from the door, soft and melodic, and you smile. it’s nice. you push yourself up, padding over to the front door, and- oh. 

santa’s here.

sure, he looks a little different. under the fluffy white beard and velvet red costume you can catch glimpses of him. a snippet of black ink across honey toned skin when he moves, the sight of his chain dangling beneath the fabric - it’s him, your santa claus, you know it, and suddenly it all makes sense.

“santa!” you grin, walking over to wrap your arms around his middle. he lets out a small ‘ooph’, pretending he’s winded, but two toned arms wrap around your frame right back. “you’re here! early, too.”

“i had to be early for my favourite girl,” you feel the rumble of his chest when he speaks against your ear, and you nuzzle the fabric of his suit. over the time you’ve known your santa, you’ve learned he can be a little sleazy - you’re pretty sure he’s making his voice deeper on purpose, and his fingertips are already tugging up on your nightie to check if you have panties on. it doesn’t surprise you. “why don’t we go take a seat?”

you’re guided back over to your sleeping spot with a firm palm on your back, and you realise he’s got his gloves on too, black faux leather that you can feel even through your nightie. you stumble a little and santa catches you, using the position to sit down and pull you down with him.

one of those sinful gloved hands come up to push your hair out of your face. it feels a little fucked up you’re getting aroused over this, over fucking around with someone who isn’t really your boyfriend, but he meets your gaze with his own. the look in his eyes lets you know that it’s all intentional. “have you been nice this year, baby?”

“i’ve been so nice this year, santa,” you wiggle onto his lap, legs splaying over the side. you receive a gummy smile in return and the feeling of his hand moving up your thigh. it’s sleazy, and you’re slicking up already. it smears against your thighs. “don’t you remember? just last week, i fingered your asshole until-“

“al-right,” he stammers. “doing naughty things isn’t very nice, y’know?! it’s actually the polar opposite. hah, polar.”

his facade is cracking, and you giggle, letting your hands run over his chest. you can feel the muscles beneath his suit. “i thought it was nice, santa. you seemed to like it. a lot, actually, if the noises were telling at all.”

“u-um, you’re not- this isn’t how this is meant to go,” his eyes are wide and ever so brown, the multicoloured lights bouncing off of them. he looks so earnest, almost innocent - if you’re pretending you can’t feel his cock hardening underneath your ass. “i’m meant to- you’re- baby.”

you’re already moving, swinging your legs back over to kneel on the floor in front of him. despite his protesting, he’s letting you, always pliant. his arms fall to his sides and his knees kick apart. his boots make a heavy thud on the wooden floor, the same platform boots you thought he’d retired years ago, and you want to ask him about them but he’s moving your hands to his cock. 

while your santa is pliant, you are too, and you give in.

you pull his trousers down, letting the waistband snap just underneath his balls. the pressure pushes his cock upright for you, hard and plump and leaky, and you engulf it with your mouth without a further thought.

“this is why y-you’re my favourite,” he gasps shakily, thighs spreading further. with a flick of his hand, the red velvet jacket falls open, and you’re met with the tattooed honey skin you’ve been craving all along. he’s built, chest plump enough to make your mouth water, and he rubs his thumb over his nipple while you suckle on his cockhead. “that’s it, my sweet baby. suck santa’s cock, just like that.”

your jaw aches already, head reeling from how fast everything is going. you pull off with a wet pop, and with your spare hand you stroke the shaft erratically, your spit acting as lubricant. it’s all too wet for him and his hips buck upwards into your grip. a sharp whine leaves his lips, preceding the heavy breaths that he lets out. 

you can’t help but let your other hand move down to his balls, running over the taut skin there. his thighs shake, and you pump harder, squeezing deliberately to watch how precum forms on the head.

“come and kiss me,” he orders, pushing your hand away to replace it with his own. he looks the image of debauched, cockhead ruddy red and sensitive, and he pulls you upwards impatiently to his mouth. you’re laying over him like this, tits pressed against his through your nightie, and he finally leans up to press his lips against yours. immediately, the kiss is filthy, his tongue pressing into your mouth with the deep moans and muffled noises he lets out at the feeling of his own grip. 

it’s not long before he’s pushing the same gloved hand past your nightie again, wet from your spit and his precum, finding that you definitely are not wearing panties. he moans into your mouth again, digits finding where you’re wet and aching for him. his lips clack against yours messily as he pushes two fingers inside of you - it’s just a precaution, not meant to be anything more than a quick stretch. still, when your fingers scrabble for purchase on his chest and your nails dig into the plump flesh, he finally pulls away from the kiss and sinks a third finger inside of you. the faux leather is warm from his natural body heat, and you gasp, hips grinding into his palm rhythmically. 

“f-fuck, that’s- you’re stretching my pussy out so good, santa,” you keen, keeping your words filthy because you know how he likes it. as you expected, he groans, head tossing back against the sofa and causing his hat to slide onto one side. his cock aches, pressing against your thigh. you can’t help but rub against it just to be cheeky, and his thumb comes to your clit as a punishment. “o-oh! oh, santa, please, will you give- give me more? i want your cock, please!”

“yeah, of course, my baby, of course, just- get this off? get it off,” he’s impatient, gripping at your nightie and pulling it each and every way until you finally sit back and yank it off of your body. instead of wasting any time, your santa is shifting forward, letting his fingers slip from your soaked hole. 

he slides inside at the same time his pouty lips envelop your nipple. he’s always been engrossed with your chest, just as much as you are with his. while he’s letting you adjust, his hands move to your ass and squeeze the flesh, eyes fluttering shut as if he’s sated just being inside of you - you know him better than that, though. once you’ve readjusted the red hat on his head, you start to move your hips.

“oh, that’s it,” it’s muffled against your chest, but you hear it, along with the deep groan that leaves his chest. he tries to remain in control, hips moving against yours. “this fuckin’ pussy. been needin’ it all day, baby, you don’t even know.”

“that’s why you came early, santa, right?” you say shakily. the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit in a way that has your eyes watering, and you quicken the pace, pussy clenching down on his shaft. “needed your baby’s pussy too bad. it’s here now, santa, why don’t you just take it?” 

“fffuck,” he leans back on his forearms, nodding, eyes scrunched shut. you can tell he wants to take, to force your pussy to take his thick cock, but the feeling of it all is too pleasurable to think. he’s always been a bit too sensitive. you can tell it’s not going to be a long one already, and your hand snakes down to rub fast circles on your clit. “ah, it’s so- it’s so wet, baby, so wet around my cock.”

you moan, moving like a woman possessed, hips rutting into a fast bounce that has him pistoning in and out of you. it’s then that he takes a little more control, grip moving back to your ass to bounce you on top of him. his cock hits deeper like this when he’s pulling you back and forth, and your toes curl in your socks, nose scrunching at the wet sounds reverberating throughout the room. it really is so wet, and you only have your santa to blame.

your hand slaps over your clit just after he opens his eyes, and they narrow, fixating on your pussy. his chest is heaving, and then in a split move, he’s pushing you down flat onto the sofa.

“keep rubbing it, keep- keep going, i need to cum,” he babbles, shaking his head. he’s out of it, and both gloved hands pin your hips down so he can take it from you. his hips move erratically, balls slapping against your skin, and with one hand you do exactly as he said, rubbing the little bundle of nerves until you’re wailing into his neck. the other hand splays against his stomach, almost as if you’re pushing him back, but he’s too strong for that. “it’s- me, now baby, talk to me. talk to hannie, my baby, c’mon.”

“h-hannie,” you hiccup, tears biting at your eyes. “‘s so good, jisungie, baby. i think i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? why don’t you cum for me?” jisung questions. the white pom pom of his hat swings in front of his eyes, but jisung’s fed up by now, ripping the fabric from his head and tossing it to the side. it’s nice to see him properly, his face unobscured by taunting red fabric, and he gives you a gummy smile.

the sincerity of him, your boyfriend, your one true love is ultimately what does you in. your gummy walls clench around him, finally letting go, and your fingers slide messily across your clit until you’re finished crying through your orgasm. jisung isn’t far behind, and his lips come to kiss your forehead as he holds you close and pumps you full of his cum.

unceremoniously, jisung collapses with another ‘ooph’, sweaty chest pressing against yours. you know it’s intense for him to cum so quickly, and you run your nails up his back underneath the jacket to soothe him. he hums and wiggles his hips around in glee, as if he’s not still inside of you.

“so,” you yawn, letting your nails run down to scratch over his ass. jisung’s hips buck into you this time. “where did the santa idea come from?”

jisung leans back and rubs your nose with his, giggling. “no idea. it wasn’t even the original plan.”

“it wasn’t?” you gasp, attempting to sit up. “then what was it?”

“what was what?” jisung furrows his eyebrows. you groan.

“what was the original plan, jisungie?”

“oh, that!” he slides out of you, and you try not to giggle at the way he surges off of the sofa with his dick still out. “i’ll show you, just wait there!”

you really do giggle when he runs out of the door, tripping over his trouser legs. you think he’s going to return with the surprise, but then he pokes his head round the door, that same wide grin on his face. 

“merry christmas by the way, my baby. i love you.”

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

private collection

Summary: Dieter asks you, his PA turned girlfriend, to take a video of him to help promote the project of a friend of his. He makes sure to thank you for it afterwards.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.3k

Rating: E

Warnings: based on that damn instagram dancing snippet, flirting, dancing, established relationship, kissing, smut (unprotected sex; oral sex f receiving), cum play, making some private videos, sneak of a bj at the end

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A/N: look, I had to. Somebody stop this man keep going. Used @iamasaddie's gif as Inspo (hope that's okay! Tumblr apparently won't let me message anyone from this account some reason 🥲) cause I suck at all things graphic design. Merry Crisis!

Full Masterlist // Dieter Bravo Masterlist

The night was coming to an end and you were tired. 

Dieter had insisted you come with him to a get together with some of his friends who were in town to promote their newest projects. Of course all of them knew that you were much more than just the PA the outside world knows you as.

You had been dating on and off for around four years. What started as a… mutual quarantine friends with benefits kinda situation turned into something more throughout the last year. You had been with him through his final successful rehab and you couldn’t be prouder of him being sober for almost two years now. By now you were living together, but keeping it all lowkey. You were still working as his PA, but not for that much longer. 

You’d start working at Dieter’s new production company as an production assistant in the next year. You had always wanted to work in that field, being Dieter’s PA and the pandemic only delaying your goal by a bit.

Not that you were mad about it.

Sure, you would still technically work for Dieter, but not like you did now. You would work for the COO of the company and not for Dieter directly. 

„Come dance with my baby,“ he gave you one of those smiles he knew you couldn’t resist, his friends already on their feet, music loud in the background as Dieter held his hand out for you. Knowing you couldn’t say no to him you took his hand and let him pull you up and into the middle of the room. 

It was a small private bar in some fancy restaurant, the only people around his friends and one bartender. Crossing your arms behind his neck, feelings his arms, his hands on your back you let him sway you to the music, his chest against yours. 

„You look really pretty tonight,“ he hummed with a small smile, kissing your forehead. 

„Thank you. My man got this dress for me,“ you grinned softly, your fingers playing with the soft hair in the back of his neck. It was just a black sweater dress he had surprised you with the week before.

„He got good taste, your man,“ he grinned back and you nodded. 

„He got his moments,“ you teased and he chuckled, swaying your bodies to the song. 

„Thank you for coming with me tonight. I know you wanted to stay in. But it was nice having you here with me. And I promise we will stay in for the whole weekend and do whatever you want,“ he said and you smiled at him. 

„Love you,“ you smiled softly and he mumbled a love you too, before he kissed you softly. 

You continued to dance for another two songs, one slow song, and one where Dieter attempted to teach you how to actually dance to the beat, but you were a lost cause, you both ending in a fit of giggles before he tells you that he wants to head home. 

You agreed, wanting to use the restroom before.

„Baby, you gotta help us,“ he called out to you when you came back into the room. With a raised eyebrow and a small smile you walked towards Dieter and his three remaining friends. 

„With what?“ You asked.

„Wanna promote his movie and had an idea,“ Dieter said, nodding towards one of his friends.

„Okay?“ You nodded, a little confused. 

„But these suckers can’t stop laughing while filming so you gotta,“ he winked and now you were intrigued. 

„What exactly am I going to be filming?“ You playfully narrowed your eyes. 

„Just little old me, dancing towards the camera while this song play,“ he shrugged innocently but you could see his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

You actually listened to the song, lips parting as you recognised it. Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth you looked up at Dieter before you playfully rolled your eyes, holding your hand out for his phone. He kissed your nose softly before he walked back towards the other side of the room while someone put the song on repeat and turned it louder. 

„How slutty is this going to be?“ You asked with a small grin as you searched through his phone for the camera app. 

„Oh you know me, baby. Just the right amount,“ he winked at you and you chuckled before you straightened up, watching him with a smile as you pressed record. 

„Do your worst then, Bravo,“ you challenged and he danced towards you, smoulder full on, his eyes on you behind the phone as he moved his body, pulling his arms up, hands towards his face as he danced closer towards you. You bit your lip as you watched him, asking yourself how you got so lucky to get to call him yours when his lips twitched into a smile as he was close to you, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he kissed your cheek, your skin suddenly flushed at his little performance. You chuckled as you stopped the video before you tilted your chin up to kiss him softly. 

„Let’s get out of here?“ He asked and you nodded.

You used the way home to edit his social media posts, taking a little longer than usual to edit the clip of him dancing, cutting the last part of him kissing you out. 

„Gotta say this video hits different cause I get to experience just how well you can move your hips on an almost daily basis,“ you said with a small smile and felt Dieter look at you from the drivers seat. 

„Aren’t you a lucky girl?" He teased and you looked up at him. 

„Can’t argue with that,“ you sighed with a dreamy smile and felt his hand on your thigh the next moment. You were finished with editing by the time Dieter parked his car in his garage. 

„You wanna look or should I just post?“ You asked. 

„Just post it,“ he said. 

„You sure? Pretty sure that video could qualify as foreplay,“ you grinned and he chuckled. 

„Merry Christmas to everyone watching then,“ he winked before he got out of the car. As he rounded the car to open your door, you hit post, putting his phone into your purse as you let him help you out of the car. 

„How do you feel about some actual foreplay upstairs?“ He asked before he kissed you as soon as you were out of the car, your back leaning against the car door. 

„Pretty sure you could just fuck me right here from how wet it made me to watch this video two hundred times while editing,“ you mumbled against his lips, feeling his twitch into a smile. 

„While I’d love to do just that,“ he whispered, one of his hands tilting you head up, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek. 

„I really want you to sit on my face,“ he winked before he pulled you into his house.

„Oh my god, Dieter,“ you gasped, your fingers wrapped around the wooden headboard in front of you, Dieter’s arms wrapped around your thighs, his head between them as he ate you out. 

He really did not waste any time to get you to sit on his face as soon as you made it upstairs, stripping down himself then you quickly, before pulling you on top of him. 

His tongue was merciless, playing with your pussy like only he could, bringing you closer and closer towards your first orgasm. One of his arms let go of your thigh, his hand coming up to play with your tits, palm squeezing one of them softly. 

„Shit, baby. Right there, suck on my clit,“ you moaned, crying out when he did just that, your walls clenching around nothing seconds later as your orgasm washed over you, your lips parted with a satisfied smile, head thrown back as you rode it out, one of your hands coming down to slip into his hair as he continued to lick into you. 

Finally you looked down, finding his dark eyes already fixed on you and you slipped down his chest, his hands coming to rest on your hips as you straddled his, slowly rubbing your drenched pussy over his cock. 

„You’re so fucking sexy, baby,“ he said as he licked his lips and you grinned before you leaned down to meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

„Want you to ride my cock baby, please,“ he whined between kisses, as you continued to slip his cock through your wet folds. 

„Yeah?“ You teased against his lips. 

„Fuck, yes please,“ he whimpered, his hands kneading your ass as he helped you move on top of him. You loved how needy he got sometimes.

„What if I really want to suck your cock?“ You asked and he groaned. 

„Later. Wanna be inside you now,“ and you hadn’t it in you to tease him any longer, sitting yourself up and wrapping your hand around his cock to line him up. 

You both moaned when you sunk down on him, every inch of his thick cock stretching you perfectly just like it did since the first time you had fucked until you were sitting on top of him, cock deep inside of you. 

„Shit, your pussy is so fucking perfect,“ Dieter moaned and you smiled down at him. His eyes on your tits before he looked up into your eyes. 

„All of you is fucking perfect,“ he moved his hips beneath you and you gasped. With both of your hands on his chest you began to move on top of him, first rolling your hips before you slowly began to ride his cock.

„Feels so good, Dieter,“ you moaned softly, enjoying the way his cock was stretching you out. 

„Yeah?“ He asked, both of his hands on your tits, playing with them. You sucked your bottom lip in, nodding as you began to move faster, bouncing on his cock. He began to move too, thrusting up into you to meet you halfway, the sound of skin smacking against skin filling the room. 

„You close?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Good girl. Use my cock and make yourself cum. It’s yours,“ he groaned and you moaned. 

„Wanna fuck you from behind after you cum, shoot my cum all over your back,“ he said, his eyes on you as he fucked up into you harder. 

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned, arching your back as your second orgasm rushed through you, your hands covering Dieter’s that were still on your tits as you slowly rode it out. 

As you breathed deeply you looked down at Dieter with a fucked out smile on your lips. 

„Hands and knees baby,“ he winked up at you and you sighed before you got up from him and let Dieter help you get you on your hands and knees, still feeling a little wobbly from your second orgasm, his cock back inside of you within seconds. He grabbed his pillow, pushing it under your chest and you let yourself fall down even further, your ass up in the air as he fucked into you. 

„You good?“ He asked and you nodded. 

„Use me, baby,“ you said, the side of your head on the mattress, wiggling your ass playfully and he slapped it twice. 

„Tell me if it gets to much,“ he said and you nodded, crying out at the next moment as he began to fuck you with hard, deep thrusts. Somehow he felt even deeper like this and it was like you could feel him everywhere as he pumped himself into you, the bed squeaking beneath you with how hard he was fucking you. 

It felt so fucking good, Dieter knowing just how he had to touch you to make you feel good.

„Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,“ he groaned and you nodded desperately. 

„Cum for me baby,“ you whined, already feeling his cock twitching inside of you before he pulled out. You turned your head to look up at him, his hand jerking off his cock, a long groan escaping his lips before you felt the first rope of his cum on your back. His eyes were closed, head thrown back as he milked himself dry and you hummed with a tired smile, his eyes opening when he finished, finding yours. 

With a fucked out smile he looked down at you before he looked at the mess he made of you. Leaning down you gasped when you felt his tongue run up your spine, licking himself off before your felt one of his hand on your arm, finding yourself on your back moments later with him towering over you, his lips meeting you in a messy almost desperate kiss, both of you moaning as you shared the taste of his cum. 

„Your so fucking filthy,“ you mumbled against his lips with a grin. 

„You love it,“ he grinned back and you  kissed him again, your arms crossing behind his back and he landed on top of you with a surprised huff. 

„I really fucking do,“ you agreed with a laugh. 

The next morning, you were only wearing his shirt form last night, you sneakily filmed him in his kitchen as he made breakfast for you, wearing only some very low hanging grey sweatpants. 

You filmed him as he danced through the kitchen, Christmas lights hanging on his kitchen window as Wham’s „Last Christmas“ played in the background. Excited for the first Christmas you would spend as a couple.

And much later it was Dieter who filmed you, him with a Christmas hat on and you, with his cock down your throat. 

But those videos would remain private. 

For just you and him.

[shnowyfox]

Jollyformers AU (

so basically i turned the holiday themed au. i haven't had the time to flesh it out obviously. TFONE megop regardless of this au is Last Christmas by Wham!

lore! so instead of cogs they have sleigh bells! usually worn via a collar though harnesses are worn as well to hold more bells that are decorative only. Idk what im doing with transformation yet but i think either it's completely replaced by the bell's allowing flight, or, transformation into creatures to pull the sleigh (basically everyone has a beast alt, deer and ungulates being the most common) Optimus obviously being a reindeer, megatron (krampus) is a goat to fit with his krampus thing, b-127 (glee-127, Badassaclaus) is supposed to be elf like with his g1 style horns supposed to look like elf ears too but they can be seen as budding antlers as well, and elita I haven't drawn yet but she's either a reindeer too or gazelle. (also considering giraffe with that neck dayum girl)

"Prime" has been replaced with "Claus"

hats are just for jolly good fun. like this whole au. and a bit of religious healing. anything goes rlly.

and now a snippet of a rewrite I never was able to finish up. Some of this HAS been retconned. i'm still working at it. mainly the occupation and the backstory stuff. (Context: Bartholomeus is another name for Krampus i dont remember where or when but that's what Megatronus has been substituted with.)

Deer Trax: (chuckles) Okay, fellas! Thanks for the jolly start. You want to give me another one?

Sentry 1: You’re naughty!

Deer Trax: I’ll take that as a no.

Elf-16: (grunts) Hey! Watch where you’re going!

Sentry 1: Oh… What did you say, no-bell?

Elf-16: Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the elf who was behind you.

Sentry 2: What? Where’d he go?

Elf-16: The joyous red and blue elf? Has a big grin, merry cheer, gives off a yankee candle scent?

Sentry 1: Where is he?

Elf-16: He went that way.

Sentry 1: When I get my hands on that elf…

Elf-16: All right, all clear.

Deer Trax: Okay, D-16, I may be a little vanilla, but “Yankee ”? That is too far.

Elf-16: Let me guess. Chased out of the cookie jar?

Deer Trax: (laughs) Yeah. I had to jump out of a sleigh this time. Almost got an ouchie (laughs) It was wild.

Elf-16: And digging through fortune cookies is worth getting an ouchie?

Deer Trax: Yes, it is.

Elf-16: I need a new best friend.

Deer Trax: If there are clues in our recorded history that can help locate the North Star, they’re in the cookie jar.

Elf-16: Sentinelf Claus, the Sentinelf Claus, is up in the blizzard right now, risking his merriment for us in search of the Star.

Deer Trax: That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m trying to help him.

Elf-16: Yeah, okay. (laughs)

Deer Trax: The sooner cookies bake again, the sooner we won’t have to make toys ourselves. Don’t you want to choose your own path, do whatever you want?

Elf-16: We’re toy makers. We make toys, that’s all.

Deer Trax: No, there has got to be something more I can do. I can feel it. (Dentistry?)

Elf-16: Oh, yeah? Like the time you had a “feeling” you could fly without a bell?

Deer Trax: You said you were never gonna mention that again.

Elf-16: Took me three days to dig you out of the snow. Your feelings get you in trouble.

Deer Trax: Yeah, yeah.

Elf-16: Just trust in Sentinelf Claus.

Deer Trax: I do trust in him. Hey, if we did have bells…

Elf-16: I’d fly hooves first into your chest

Deer Trax: I don’t like how fast you answered that. But listen, if you did kick me, I couldn’t give you this awesome Bartholomeus Claus thing I have here. It’s cool. I’ll give it to someone else.

Elf-16: What Bartholomoeus Claus thing?

Deer Trax: Ah, it’s nothing. Just a, you know, mint-condition Bartholomeus Claus sweater, first edition.

Elf-16: (gasps) What?

Deer Trax: If you don’t want it, I can just throw it away.

Elf-16: Throw it away? Don’t… That’s not funny. Let me see.

Deer Trax: Wait. Don’t grab. You’re gonna rip it.

Elf-16: You know, Sentinelf says Bartholomeus was the…

Deer Trax: The kindest Claus to ever live. I know, buddy. Looks good on you.

[tumblingxelian]

Just woke up, but I am going to throw my hat into the ring on this one and address the claims of one @rwbyuser24

I will start saying, well, isn't what the Wiki presents of her, truth? "Even then, his flaws are folded in to his (alleged) positive traits; he is not afraid, extremely loyal, and has genuinely good intentions, despite the fact that the show has now proven that Ironwood’s flaws greatly outweigh these."

Truth is a rather loaded term in this context, @faunusrights was highlighting that the framing of every trait and action Robyn has or takes is steeped in negative, hostile or inflammatory language. While in contrast, all of Ironwood's negative traits, which far and away are worse than anything Robyn displayed are downplayed to the point of nonexistence.

Hence opening the post by highlighting bias.

Let's consider that Ironwood have been for most of the part of show a hero. I guess that can influence. That and, isn't it truth what the wiki says about Ironwood? And even when his flaws end up outweighing his good traits, that was at the end of his life.

Robyn Hill was also a heroic figure from the moment of her introduction, this does not stop the steep bias against her.

I would also contest how much of a hero he was. Certainly he fought at the Fall of Beacon and that was heroic.

But he also used back-door politics to have Ozpin dismissed from his position. He was an ally to the already well established as villainous SDC. He then pulled out of Vale as soon as possible and when getting word of potential attacks on his allies (Mistral) withdrew all of his military support. & that's before we get into his blatant neglect and oppression, and exploitation of Mantle. All of which was on full display within the first episode of volume 7.

All compounded by the fact that Ironwood was a dictator the entire time.

"These writers love Robyn, and have explored and extrapolated on her character to marvellous degree. Yet, at no singular point have any of these flaws ever been written quite as strongly as the wiki implies they are, nor have I seen much evidence of them myself in the show." Well, I can think some works of fiction where Robyn shows negative traits. There was a rewrite by The-tired-bisexual-agenda who seems to be queer too. Anyway, the point is that since are fans, they probably are biased too. And about not seeing evidence of those traits in the show... Well, let's see about it!

You do a lot to remove the original post from its initial context, which makes hunting for what context surrounded these little snippets vexing. But to put it buntly, Faunusrights highlighted that the majority of creators in RWBY FNDM are women, or queer, or trans, and that she is by and large extremely popular in these circles.

Which is all true. One outlier doesn't actually amount to anything as a response and given "Rewrites" are easily the most creatively bereft, lifeless spittle of the HTDM, such a thing means even less.

As fuanusrights initially highlighted, there is a neutral voice that could be utilized to at least not blatantly misrepresent Robyn Hull while codding the dictator Ironwood, but they chose not to use it.

Now let's address the meat and potatoes of your post:

"Her brashness is blamed for the outcome, but in reality, this outcome could have been avoided together if Clover had not chosen to follow his orders and bring in an innocent man. " Well, Clover didn't initiate the fight. Clover said peacefully to Qrow that he was under arrest. And even Qrow said that they should wait till they arrive to Atlas to talk with Ironwood. Robyn initiated a fight in the manta. The problem isn't initiate the fight, the problem is the place. Is a closed space flying in the air. What if something end up happening and the ship falls? And even when it wasn't her fault, the fight end up resulting in the liberation of Tyrian. Again, she should have assumed that bad things were a risk. She could have wait till arriving to Atlas to talk to Ironwood or initiate the fight there instead of do that in a dangerous place.

You are blatantly and perhaps intentionally missing the point here that Clover is the most responsible for the fight by following a blatantly illegal and or immoral to arrest an innocent man.

Frankly, regardless of who "Started" the fight physically, by choosing to enact state violence on Qrow, Clover was 100% the person responsible for making things a fight.

He didn't need to obey a blatantly unreasonable or immoral order, he chose to, making a fight inevitable. & Qrow being willing to go along with it does not actually change that because, even if we ignore the fact letting someone walk themselves to the gallows on the assumption the judge will see reason is dumb.

The fact of the matter is Ironwood had just abandoned Robyn's city to die and was now arresting all opposition to his tyrannical and immoral reign. & Robyn is now trapped in an airship being flown to his fortress. This entire scenario is one of Ironwood and Clover's making, Robyn's not at fault for being stuck in a shit situation & trying to get out.

Talking to someone who just declared himself officially super dictator of Atlas, left her city to die, is arresting all opposition is an absurd stance. & beginning a fight on his island fortress surrounded by his military is somehow just as absurdly stupid.

I'm going to aside a little here with some insights from another essayist about this matter because there is something subtly sinister in your argument that you may not realize & I hope by outlining it, I will help:

How is arresting someone is somehow not a form of violence?

The answer is, it is a form of violence.

It’s merely considered an acceptable one because of the way it serves the state.

Whereas resisting arrest is considered an unacceptable form of violence, regardless of innocence.

In fact, overall, there is an acceptance in your post that state violence is natural and acceptable, regardless of circumstance or context.

That it is a neutral force, and not one enacted by choices.

I think this is the fundamental issue at play. It’s not necessarily about Robyn or Ironwood. It’s about whether the status quo is acceptable.

"Also, she didn’t crash the Manta! That was all Tyrian!" The article didn't say that she crashed the manta, it says that the fight initiated by her lead to that outcome.

Let's look at what the article said:

Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

Yeah no, I side with faunusrights here, this line treats Tyrian like some environmental factor, a force of nature, the culpability for the crash and its harm to Robyn is laid at her feet, despite her not being the one to crash the ship. Its rather like how left leaning people always get blamed for the actions of the right wing, evil is treated as a force of nature, rather than a personal choice these people make.

"Yet, the people who enjoy her and the Happy Huntresses often perceive those same flaws to a significantly lesser extent, or even see those flaws as actually being boons of her character; for instance, reading her alleged arrogance as passion." Again, also the fans are biased. About the arrogance, it's for celebrating her victory before time for example. She was so sure of her victory that she made a party, even Weiss and Ren point out how strange that was. There is also her saying: "Looks like he underestimated me. Again."

See, you acknowledge fan bias, but only in regards to Robyn while largely treating the far more baseless support for Ironwood's villainous actions as the reasonable stance across your essay.

Also you do know how elections work right? Like, literally, that is how they are always set up, all political parties in America and many other countries (My own included) do this. That's not arrogance, that's just how elections work. Add in that Jac had to cheat to win and she was right to be cocky.

... Ironwood chose to neglect Robyn in his arrest order, either forgetting her entirely, or assuming she'd obediently follow orders. So yes, he underestimated her.

"I have a suspicion it’s to do with her character at large; she’s a bold socialist politician who believes in equality and fairness for all, who refuses to stand for incompetence and obedience towards evil causes." Is she a socialist though? I mean, she believes in equality but I doubt she ever declared socialists ideals. I'm not sure either that the CRWBY is socialist, so I doubt that they wanted to present a socialist in such good focus.

Robyn Hills's exact political beliefs are admittedly not overtly stated. However she is very much presented as a counter culture, rebellious force against Atlas's hyper militaristic and capitalist system.

"Likely, I’d rephrase a lot of it to be less damaging to her character; she isn’t hostile, she holds people accountable." Except that she was willing to steal from the military truck even BEFORE losing the elections and Ironwood supposedly trying to kill her:

I like how you neglect the fact Ironwood was literally robbing Mantle. Those supplies were specifically for Mantle, as discussed by Robyn and confirmed by Clover in their discussion.

Robyn: Clover, I'm so glad you're here. Maybe you can help me understand why this truck that's supposed to be taking construction materials to fix Mantle's outer wall, is on its way to the middle of nowhere? Are you lost? Clover: (laughs) It's pretty easy to get turned around out here in the tundra, everything looks the same. Thanks for checking up on us though. We'll be on our way now.

If one wants to act like legality is the sum total of morality, then Robyn was actually in the right by trying to secure stolen goods and return them to their proper place, >:3c

"I think you've misjudged the situation. One way or another, these supplies are going to get where they're supposed to go - Mantle." And again, initiating a fight in the wrong place.

This is hardly the wrong place, the stolen supplies are right there and Mantle is in desperate need of them given Grimm are busting through the hole in the wall at all hours of the day and Ironwood has made it illegal for Mantle citizens to even own weapons to or defend themselves. As established in the opening of V7, even being an official Huntsmen does not allow one leniency in this.

"She isn’t quick to jump to conflict, she is familiar with how Atlas responds to anti-authority with violence. " That still doesn't mean that she isn't quick to jump to conflict. And how exactly was Atlas dealing to anti-authority with violence in the past? I mean, Atlas let opposition appear in both Atlas (Jacques) and Mantle (Robyn). All the people that were arrested were people responsible for crimes: Stealing a manta, throwing a brick to a military ship, initiating riots. It just now that Ironwood was arresting people who oppose him.

If Robyn were actually quick to jump to violence, then she'd have attacked despite Penny's presence, she'd have been outright hostile to Marrow, rather than mildly chiding, and she'd have started violent rebellion before the election even happened, which was something she explicitly discouraged her supporters from doing.

How is Atlas at responding to opposition? Oh right, makes it illegal for Mantle citizens to defend themselves, stomps all over democratic norms, steal private property and public goods, while leaving those same citizens out in the cold to be exposed to Grimm, while arresting them for defending themselves.

The Ace-Ops had zero idea RWBY and co stole the Manta because if they had actually known anything they'd have arrested Maria as well. They didn't it was just an excuse they came up with.

"She isn’t arrogant, she believes in the power of the people as being the right thing to fight for." Again, party and overestimating her capacities.

Again, that's how political parties & elections work, & Jac had to cheat to win. Its funny how you keep neglecting that second fact in particular. Almost like you believe it was a legitimate loss despite it being literally and canonically a stolen election.

"not a fan of Robyn not a fan of a new female character not a fan of a new female character in a position of power not a fan of a character with socialist/communist/antifa ideals all of the above and then some???" I guess that the first one. I mean, assume that someone doesn't like female characters due to the dislike to ONE female character... And again, when it was said that she is socialist/communist? And Antifa... maybe? I mean, Atlas was never fascist. Well, that would be all!

faunusrights was talking about the people who edit the wiki, the same people who slathered Ironwood's page in no end of debasing praise and re-framing of events to make them look good.

Their post was very specifically and explicitly talking about a blatant bias in the people who were in charge of the Wiki. People who had demonstrably been extremely biased against against Robyn, women, authority figures who were women that didn't genuflect to a male superior, and otherwise praised conservative and violent men like Ironwood.

So yeah, the opening line of faunusright's post remains apt:

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway?

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway? - an aside

As someone who uses the RWBY wiki with some degree of frequency - often because I’m looking for art references, or Semblance and weapon names - I’m used to… some amount of bias in the articles for different characters? Like, let’s be real, it’s not a perfect wiki! Community-maintained stuff isn’t easy to all keep on the same track! But, generally, it gives the facts well enough and doesn’t do too bad a job keeping all the balls in the air when it comes to new information from all four corners of this franchise.

Well, until you open the article for Robyn Hill, and realise it’s an absolute disaster. Like, really; the impartial voice just plain doesn’t exist for her, and almost all of her wiki is written in such a way that she reads as being an absolutely insufferable, hostile, hard-to-like character. Even if you aren’t a fan of Robyn personally, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen the show yourself, you might very well come away from her article presuming she’s a major antagonist of Volumes 7 and 8.

Like, for instance, let’s take a look at the first paragraph of her Personality section:

Robyn has a direct and confident personality, having no trouble being confrontational with Atlas personnel, including the Ace Operatives. Robyn also seems to suffer from overconfidence and arrogance, shown in her encounters with Ruby and celebrating her election victory before it was verified. She is aggressive and hostile in nature, quickly jumping to conflict without thinking through consequences. However, she is also shown to be reasonable when the situation calls for it.

And, for good measure, here’s another paragraph from the same section:

In “With Friends Like These” Robyn displayed a rather impulsive side of her personality, when upon hearing that James Ironwood’s plan to abandon Mantle and arrest those against him, she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen onboard a Manta with Tyrian Callows in custody. Despite the fact, there was no order or her arrest. Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

(Taken from Robyn’s RWBY Wiki page. Bolding is mine.)

Seguir leyendo

[multifandomfix]

Imagine Snape taking care of your daughter so you can sleep in.

The room is still and quiet, wrapped in the soft shadows of early morning. You barely stir as the sound of the door creaks open, then shuts with careful precision. Somewhere in the haze of near wakefulness, you hear Severus’ deep, gravelly voice. Low, soothing, and unmistakably calm.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Your mummy is sleeping.”

Your toddler’s giggle follows, light as a bell, and you imagine her perched on his hip, her tiny fingers likely tugging on his hair or the edge of his robes. You keep your eyes closed, a rare opportunity to let yourself drift back into slumber without worry. Severus is here. He’ll handle her.

From the hallway, the muffled sounds of his footsteps retreat, and you catch snippets of his soft spoken commentary. “No, you may not chew on the hem of my robe. That’s hardly sanitary… Yes, you may have juice, but only after breakfast. That is non negotiable.”

You smile faintly into the pillow, but your body stays heavy, reluctant to break the spell of much needed rest.

Time slips by, and when you finally stir again, you realize the house is quiet. It takes a moment to push yourself upright, the lingering pull of exhaustion still clinging to you. Padding toward the living room, you find the two of them there, Severus seated in the armchair, your daughter nestled in his arms, clutching a soft, worn blanket as if it were her most prized possession.

He’s reading to her.

His voice is even, steady, and somehow softer than you ever thought possible for him. There’s no trace of the sharpness he wields so well in the classroom, no biting dry wit. Instead, his words are deliberate, gentle, as if the weight of his love for her exists in every syllable.

Your daughter shifts in his lap, leaning her cheek against his chest. He adjusts her automatically, one arm curling protectively around her, and continues reading without pause.

You lean against the doorframe, unnoticed, letting the moment sink into your heart. This is Severus Snape as only you and your daughter will ever know him —a man who softens when he thinks no one is looking, who allows himself to be vulnerable, just for her.

When he finally looks up and sees you, his expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something warm in his eyes. “You’re awake,” he says quietly, as if reluctant to disturb the peaceful scene he’s created.

“I am,” you reply, voice still husky from sleep. “Thank you.”

He nods once, returning his attention to the little girl now dozing in his arms. “I’ll let you handle the next tantrum,” he says dryly, but the corner of his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile.

You walk over and press a kiss to his temple, resting your hand briefly on your daughter’s soft curls. “Deal,” you whisper.

And in that moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

Forever Tag: @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Severus Snape: @brienneseveruscalaway, @darkthought15, @superninjapervert420, @meeksmusic83, @whither-the-wind-goes, @eternal-silvertongued-prince, @unexpected-character, @yourdailymemedelivery, @impulse-anchor, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @bloodinthedarksworld, @gothtrash6969, @music-bird, @severusish, @chaotic-mushroomz, @iciclesandsnow, @thenazwife, @phantomofclownery, @animeloverfreak310, @m-rae23, @asocialrandom, @beyondgaby, @scarlettmal, @icanotbelieve, @bibliosophie, @saranasr, @strawberrycakeblog, @wynt3rrr, @geekyandgay98, @pink-sunrise-56, @sweetyprincesschaos, @witchthewriter, @anarrowtotheknee, @thekirbishow, @lannister-apologist

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Christmas Snippet 2024

Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a present for you!

Villain was just about to open their next present when the doorbell rang. The chatter and laughter from the team died down. Who could that possibly be?

“Maybe it’s Christmas carolers?” Sidekick asked.

“At our base?” Supervillain asked, “unlikely.”

The doorbell rang again, followed by weak yet persistent knocking.

“I’ll get it,” Villain said, setting their parcel down.

They headed to the foyer and opened the front door. They stood frozen in shock for a few minutes.

“Well, Villain? Who is it?” Henchman called.

Villain took a minute to find the words. In front of them stood their very own nemesis, Hero, shaking in their hero suit and staring up at them with big, sad eyes.

“I um… I didn’t know where else to go,” Hero said quietly.

Villain blinked. They had never seen Hero like this before, all pathetic and so terribly small. And injured, they noted, as bloody patches on their suit grew wider and redder.

“Villain, come on,” Supervillain put a hand on their shoulder, “who is- oh!”

“S-sorry,” Hero chattered, “I can leave, I didn’t know you were having a party.”

Hero choked on a sob at that last part, as though the very idea of parties was traumatic to them.

“Come inside,” Supervillain said.

Villain opened the door wider for them, holding an arm out should Hero need steadying. It turned out that they did; they were just over the threshold when they collapsed into Villain.

Villain half-carried Hero inside, setting them down in their armchair that they had been sitting in just minutes before.

“I-I’m staining your furniture-” Hero protested.

“Meh, it adds to our aesthetic,” Sidekick said dismissively.

Henchman draped Hero in a blanket and handed them a mug of hot cocoa.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Villain asked gently.

Hero shook their head, tears forming in their eyes.

“It just, it hasn’t been a very good Christmas,” they said quietly.

They did start sobbing at that, their tears making little ripples in their drink. Supervillain took the mug and set it on the side table. After a while, Hero sniffled.

“Can you tell us who did this to you?” Henchman asked.

Hero wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze. Hesitantly, they nodded.

“My team,” they said.

The criminals exchanged quick, bewildered glances with each other.

“Your team?” Supervillain asked, “why would they-”

“Said I was making us look bad. Everyone else has impressive powers and then there’s me who’s only good for ‘whipping up homemade popsicles.’”

Villain’s hands curled into fists, but they tried to contain their anger for Hero’s sake.

“They d-did all this,” Hero gestured to their wounds, “then said not to come back.”

Hero put their head in their hands and started crying once more. Sidekick put a hand on their shoulder in an attempt to comfort them.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with their Christmas presents now,” Hero said.

“They don’t deserve-” Henchman started to growl.

Supervillain held a hand up.

“Well, you know, Christmas isn’t over yet,” they said, “would you like to celebrate with us?”

Hero looked up.

“We can have a room made up for you just how you like it,” Supervillain offered, “you won’t be alone, and you can stay indefinitely, or for however long as you feel comfortable.”

“But I’m not a-” Hero started, “I can’t do what you all- I’m not a villain.”

“So what?” Villain said, “we could all use a moral compass, you’d be our live-in hero!”

“You don’t have to answer right now,” Supervillain said, “how about we get you patched up and go from there?”

Hero looked taken aback, as though kindness from others had eluded them all their life.

“Yes please,” they said.

…

It was well into the evening when Hero started showing off their favorite party trick- making it snow indoors. Sidekick tried to catch snowflakes on their tongue while Henchman brought in a tray of cookies. Supervillain added a few flames to the fire with their powers.

“Where did Villain go? They’re missing the snow!” Sidekick said.

“Right here!” Villain answered, coming inside with a present.

They set it down on Hero’s lap. Hero blinked, then looked up at them with wide eyes.

“You didn’t have to do this!” they said.

“Oh I think I did,” Villain smiled.

Hero tore at the wrapping paper and opened the box underneath. They stared slack-jawed at the gift inside. A fleece, weighted blanket with snowflakes scattered across the fabric.

“I hope it’s okay I kinda ran with the superpower theme,” Villain said nervously, “but I know you get cold faster than anyone, and the weight helps with anxiety and- oh!”

Hero had jumped up and hugged Villain as tightly as their stitches would allow. Villain hugged them back.

“I love it, thank you,” Hero said, squeezing tighter.

“Yep,” Villain choked out, “can’t breathe.”

Hero finally released them, beaming widely.

“Hey, look!” Sidekick pointed to the ceiling.

The pair looked up at the mistletoe dangling over them.

“Oh, Villain, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

Hero was cut off by Villain’s lips pressing gently against theirs. Hero had never felt this close to melting before.

Henchman and Supervillain cooed, clapping soflty. Sidekick stuck their tongue out, regretting that they had pointed the plant out.

“Merry Christmas, Hero,” Villain said.

Hero smiled, the sparkle back in their eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Villain.”

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Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit @telltaletoad @bacillusinfection @noseyowes

[creweemmaeec11]

Just a Sense

This is my secret santa snippet I wrote for @chaoticgoodthief. Their Prompt was:  "how about the joke villain going ballistic when someone hurts their designated hero?"

I really hope you like it!!!

"Alright, party's over," Hero's voice echoed through the empty halls of the museum.

Villain didn't bother turning around immediately, continuing to admire the painting they were looking at before casually turning to face their guest, "I'd have to disagree," They mused, hopping down from the ledge, "Now that you're here, the party can finally start,"

The Hero grinned, pulling their dagger out and twirling it between their fingers, "Alright, if you're looking for a dance partner-"

"Awe, come on!" The criminal interrupted, "We haven't even gotten to enjoy the museum yet!" they twirled with their arms out to gesture to everything around them, "We have the place to ourselves tonight! We can even go past the guard ropes, don't worry, I won't tell,"

The Hero raised an amused eyebrow, "You don't think I have better things to do?"

The Villain shot them a cheshire, all too knowing smile, "I think we both know you do, and we both know that's exactly why you're here in the first place,"

It was a distraction, for both of them. A game of cat and mouse that repeated like clockwork, comforting in its predictability. They were both safe here, in a weird way. They knew each other, knew the stakes, knew it wasn't actually a fight to the death, that no matter what, Villain would slip away at the end of the night, so they could do it all over again.

The Hero blushed, but rolled their eyes, failing to keep the slight smile off their face, "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,"

"Put that butter knife away; we both know you're not actually going to stab me with it,"

"Oh yeah? I do have an actual job to do here, you know?" The Hero countered, crossing their arms.

"Oh my god, are you two done flirting yet?" A new voice cut in mockingly,  as a figure came out from behind one of the museum's pillar supports.

"Supervillain?!" both parties cried in unison.

Hero instinctively reached for their communicator, but Supervillain flicked a hand. The device shot out of Hero's grasp, shattering against the far wall.

"Now, now," Supervillain drawled, their voice cool and condescending, almost like disciplining a misbehaving child, "Calling for backup would ruin the whole point of me going through the effort of getting you alone, wouldn't it?"

"Supervillain, what are you doing here?" Villain asked, a cautious edge creeping into their usually carefree tone.

Supervillain glanced over to them, surprise flashing in their eyes, like they were shocked the Villain had even dared to speak to them.

"Leave." They commanded, "This doesn't concern you anymore," turning back toward the Hero, who was slowly backing away.

Villain saw the Hero glance at them, the fear, the silent plea for help in their eyes. They clenched their fists at their sides.

"Back off, I was here first,"

The Supervillain spun around at that, eyebrows fully raised, shock morphing into an almost... impressed expression.

"Oh, you're cute," they replied, lips curling into a smirk. "I don't believe we've met face to face, have we? Small fries don't usually cause much of a blip on my radar I'm afraid. But don't worry, tonight I'm actually doing you a favour,"

"A favour?" The Villain replied skeptically, narrowing their eyes.

"Well, I'm about to take this little nuisance behind us out of the way for you-"

Suddenly, the Hero behind them made a dash for it, but it was no use, as they were immediately flung backwards, crashing through a wall and an expensive painting along with it.

"Seriously, Hero? Running? You should know better by now."

"Get away from them!" Villain shot back, running toward the Hero who was struggling in the rubble.

"All right, your entertainment value has expired. I needed them without their backup, which they never need with you. You've served your purpose, now get out of my way," the Supervillain gestured at the Villain, as if to send them flying, but to their surprise, nothing happened, "what-"

Suddenly the Supervillain's world seemed to be spinning, running laps around their skull as they could no longer tell up from down. It was like vertigo from all directions at once. It was only then the horrifying realization hit them that their vision was fading.

"What the hell are you-!"

"Sensory manipulation," Villain said calmly, striding toward them, watching as the Supervillain came crashing down to the floor. "A little something I haven't had to use in a long time."

"You insolent little-!"

"Sense of sight, balance, motion... kind of hard to function when they suddenly get thrown into a blender huh? Proprioception really is a wonderful thing."

Supervillain was very quickly beginning to feel sick.

"Certain senses are more fun than others..." the Villain mused, crouching down next to them, "Nociception... the sense of pain... for example"

A gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, animalistic scream suddenly erupted from the Supervillain on the floor.

The pain only lasted for a second, but that was one second too long.

They were flailing, trying desperately to get away, to get a sense of anything. They couldn't tell where they were. Were they on the ground? Were they stuck to the ceiling? Were they floating in water? Even worse, they felt like they were losing a sense of not only where they were, but what and even who they were.

Supervillain didn't even realize they were shaking. They could feel panic flooding their system.

"Interoception is probably my favourite, though," Villain mused, their voice almost playful. "The sense of internal body states. Hunger, thirst.... panic... fear...." The Villain mused, tilting their head in thought, "How high do you think your heart rate can get before it gives out? Shall we find out?"

The Supervillain tried to speak, they really did, but it felt like the couldn't get enough oxygen into their lungs. They couldn't- hyperventilating- their body was-

It was like their body couldn't tell how fast their heart was already beating, yet it felt in desperate need to beat faster.

Then, like a sudden plunge into icy water, everything in their body seemed to balance. Their head was spinning, but they could see their vision beginning to come back. They could make out a blurry figure standing above them that was starting to move away.

"If I ever see you anywhere close to my hero again, I'll get the answer to my question," they warned as they went back over to the Hero in question.

There was a flash behind them, and the Supervillain vanished as they crouched down, "Are you okay?"

"What-.... what the hell was-..."

"Where does it hurt?" the Villain asked instead.

"Everywhere?" The hero huffed, dropping their head to the marble floor below.

The Villain closed their eyes for a moment, and suddenly, the hero could feel the pain melting away.

"Better?"

"How the hell did you-"

"Let's just say I always go easy on my favourite hero," they stood up, extending a hand down to the Hero, "Come on, I'll stop the heist if I get to take you out to dinner, on me,"

"Only if it comes with a side of explanations." The Hero rebuked.

"Deal,"

With that, the Villain helped the hero to their feet. They may have had a lot of explaining to do. But they also had a steak to order, and they had their priorities in order.

[parkitrighthere]

Hey , will we get an update on AOP ? If not you mentioned we could get a sneak peak . Could we get that ?

Heyyy sweet anon!! How’s it going?? I hope you’re having the BEST day ever and soaking in all the Christmas magic!! I’m so sorry I didn’t check my inbox earlier, and well… rest is history, right? But hey, better late than never, right?? Sooo, here’s a little sneak peek for you, I hope you like it!

Okay, quick heads up:

This is the beginning of chapter 3. I mean, it’s not super exciting or anything yet (shocker, right?), but I promise it’ll do for now. I’m still working on the chapter, so cut me some slack. Also, I’ve realized I have a ridiculous amount of love for Kenji right now… like, why did I just say that out loud? 🤷‍♀️ Oh well, I did. #KenjiIsLife

So, here’s a little snippet (under the cut, obviously because suspense and all that jazz). Please try your best to like it, even though my dialogue game is still under construction. I swear, I’m leveling up my writing skills (slowly but surely). 😅 And seriously, tell me what you think, I’m dying to know!

And... uh, forgive me? Or maybe not? But, like, please? 🙈

Alright, here it goes—enjoy!

(Jimin have nothing to do with it. I merely posted him to distract you from all the mess I've posted)

The darkness wrapped the sky in its velvet shroud, a blend of endless black and the faint glow of stars. The moon hung high, heavy and luminous, as if holding up the weight of the heavens. Its light spilled through the open window, brushing across the room in silvery streaks, making the shadows dance on the walls. The cold air slipped in, sharp and biting, rushing past your face. You inhaled deeply, your chest rising as the chill pricked your skin.

It was already midnight, and sleeping wasn't an option. Your fingers gripped the edge of the windowsill, as you leaned forward, staring into the stillness of the night. The coolness of the wood beneath your palm punished you, but your mind was far away, caught in a storm you couldn’t quite name

 You weren’t crying—there were no tears left to shed. You weren’t angry either. The fiery edge of rage had dulled long ago, leaving behind an ache too stubborn to fade.

You exhaled sharply, your breath mingling within the cold air. It wasn’t sadness—not anymore. You’d come to terms with it after talking to Elizabeth.

Your shoulders slumped, and you rubbed at your temples, trying to massage away the tension. It wasn’t about you. It never had been. Your reflection in the window—dull eyes and a tired face—stared back, and you nodded at it, a soft chuckle skipping past your lips. Acceptance wasn’t a choice; it was the only option left.

 You thought enough about it, and one thing you grew certain of was that it was, and never would be, about you. You were ready to accept the bond—it was always about him. You knew you couldn’t keep trying alone. You tilted your head back, the moonlight catching the wet shine in your eyes, though no tears fell. It wasn’t how it worked. It couldn’t be.

 Slowly, you pulled back from the window, the cold air chasing after you. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you let out a shaky breath. You wouldn’t beg—not for him, not for love. No.

You couldn’t deny it, not to yourself at least—you wanted to try. More than anything. Your chest ached with the thought, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress as if clutching at the hope you refused to voice. You didn’t know much about him, not really, except one undeniable truth: he was intense, passionate, extreme. And so were his emotions—wild, consuming, and impossibly bright. But he hid them, masked them behind a wall so impenetrable that even you, his mate, couldn’t see through it.

Your hands trembled as you ran them through your hair, the strands tangling between your fingers. The memory of his dark, shimmering boba eyes flashed in your mind. You’d imagined them so many nights—staring at you, full of the love and affection you so desperately wanted. No, deserved. Didn’t you? And even if you didn’t, a part of you insisted he should give it anyway. Because weren’t you his mate? Your lips pressed into a thin line, and your jaw clenched as bitterness bubbled in your chest.

You had the right to him, didn’t you? But fate, cruel and merciless as it always was, had turned your bond into a twisted game. Or maybe it wasn’t fate at all. Maybe it was him—your mate, the one who could ignite every nerve in your body with a single glance but chose instead to keep his distance.

Your shoulders sagged, and you leaned back against the wall, letting the cold surface seep through your dress. You didn’t know why he kept you at arm’s length, why his indifference cut so deep. A sharp breath escaped your lips, your chest tightening. Did you even want to know? That was the question that kept you awake at night, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

The air felt heavier now, as you straightened, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. You didn’t know the reason behind his indifference. But did you want to? That was a big question now. You wouldn’t beg. Not for a man’s attention, not for his love. You might crave him—God, you craved him with every fiber of your being. His presence, his touch, the way his voice seemed to echo in your mind long after he’d spoken. But you would cut yourself open before you begged.

You were just a low-ranking werewolf, a speck compared to the royal Lycan king. But rank didn’t matter now, not to you. You would not grovel—not for him or anyone. If he wanted you, he’d have to fight for you, just as fiercely as you’d once wanted to fight for him. And it wasn’t necessarily that bad here; at least you were being fed.

There was no point in thinking about it now.  As tired as your mind was, your body was weirdly energetic, yet you felt paradoxically weak—the lack of training and shifting in weeks was finally getting to you.

Your eyes darted around the room, taking in the too-familiar walls and furniture. Boredom surged like a wildfire, quick and consuming. You hated this place—its silence, its stillness. But if someone were to ask what you hated most, the answer came easily, almost reflexively. Him. Your mate. Jeon Jungkook.

You huffed, shaking your head as if trying to dislodge the thought. You stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, your arms hanging limply at your sides. Your chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. The night wrapped around you like a second skin, colder than it should’ve been. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly, even though you felt no sense of cold. There was something strange in the air tonight, though. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It clung to you, just out of reach, like a whisper you couldn’t fully hear.

You, once again, reached to the window, your fingertips brushing the edge of the curtain. The cold glass pressed against your palm as you stared out at the still, dark world. A frown tugged at your lips. It wasn’t delight you were feeling—not even close. It wasn’t contentment either. No, this was different, deeper.

Fulfillment. As if something had shifted back into place, something you hadn’t realized was missing.

But with it came fear. A cold, tearing fear that settled in your chest and refused to let go. Your hand pressed over your heart, feeling its unsteady rhythm thrum beneath your skin. Your throat tightened, and your eyes flicked toward the moonlit horizon, searching for something you couldn’t name.

You turned away from the window, pacing the room with quick, uneven steps. Your fingers ran through your hair, tugging at the strands as if the slight pain would ground you. It didn’t.

You paused mid-step, staring at your hands as they trembled. Was it the bond? You didn’t know, but your gut screamed that it was. Everything—the restlessness, the strange sense of completion, the fear—it all traced back to him.

You glanced out the window at the night sky—heavenly dark and ethereally calm—and a small smile tugged at your lips, unbidden. The moon was truly magnificent tonight; you thought nothing could ever match the quiet beauty of nature—especially the moon.

You drew in a long, deep breath, holding it in your chest before letting it out slowly. The weight against your ribs loosened, if only a little. Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers curling and uncurling as you bit your bottom lip in thought.

Without a second thought, you turned on your heel, your movements dogged but not rushed. You slipped out of your quarters and into the dimly lit hallway, pausing for a moment to glance around.

Where to go?

You tilted your head, brows knitting together as the question settled in your mind. You didn’t have an answer, you merely didn't want to sit in your quarters. With a small nod to yourself.

The guards stationed along the walls watched you with wary eyes, their expressions unreadable. You didn’t pay them any mind, your focus elsewhere. The coolness of the air pressed against your skin, seeping through your clothes like icy fingers. A shiver ran down your spine, but instead of recoiling, you welcomed it.

Winter was near. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through you, chasing away some of the cold. You’d always loved winter, the way the world transformed under a blanket of snow, quiet and pristine. In just a month, the first snowfall would come, covering everything in a soft, white hush.

A smile broke across your face, wide and genuine. Your fingers brushed against your arms as you imagined the crunch of snow beneath bare feet, or the feel of it against your fur in wolf form. She loved winter too.

And then there was the blue moon. Only three weeks away, a grand celebration waiting on the horizon. The thought made your chest swell with anticipation, and a quiet giggle escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Your steps quickened, your feet almost skipping as you moved through the halls. You practically bounced on your toes, the cold air swirling around you but unable to dampen your mood. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, something sparked inside you—something bright, something hopeful.

But happiness had always been a fleeting guest in your life, and tonight proved no exception. Your steps faltered, the soft rhythm of your bare feet on the cold floor coming to an abrupt halt. The smile that had warmed your lips vanished, leaving them pressed into a thin line as Jungkook’s voice tore through the stillness of the still night.

It was sharp, loud, booming even. The sound echoed around you, bouncing off the walls. Without realizing it, you had wandered near his quarters. Your chest tightened as frustration bubbled beneath your skin. No matter how much you tried, how much you willed yourself to stay away, you always found yourself here—drawn to him like a moth to flame. You hated it. You hated him.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. His voice rang out again, louder this time, filled with venom and a simmering rage that made your stomach churn.

“I’m not obligated to tell you anything. Anything.”

Your body flinched involuntarily at the sound, as if the force of his anger had reached out and struck you. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was instinct—your body recoiling from the raw, unfiltered aggression in his tone.

You turned your head slightly, your gaze shifting to the floor. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For a moment, you considered walking away, your feet itching to retreat. But you stayed rooted to the spot.

He was angry.

He was yelling.

But why? At who?

The questions spun relentlessly in your mind, but the answers evaded you. Your curiosity, though unwelcome, began clawing at your chest, demanding to be fed. A small voice whispered in the back of your head, urging you to move closer, to press your ear to the door and unravel the tension vibrating through the walls.

You shook your head, swallowing hard, forcing your feet to stay planted. Jungkook had made many things painfully clear on your first day here—one of them being that you were not to involve yourself in pack matters unless explicitly asked. His rules were ironclad, just like the wall he had built between the two of you.

Fine. If he didn’t respect or care for you, you wouldn’t care for him—or his pack. You took a slow, deliberate step forward, ready to walk past his quarters without so much as a glance.

But then you heard it.

Her voice.

Elizabeth.

The sound froze you mid-step, your body stiffening as if an invisible force had gripped you by the shoulders. She was in there, her voice carrying through the closed door—tenacious, loud, yet gentle. She was asking him something, and though his voice was lower now, you could still hear the anger simmering in every clipped word he threw back at her.

Your stomach twisted, curiosity roaring to life and twisting into something darker. Jealousy.

The fire of it ignited low in your chest, spreading quickly, burning hotter with every second you stood there. What were they talking about? Why was she here, in his quarters, this late? The questions pushed everything else from your mind, leaving only a sharp, all-consuming need to know.

Your jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as your breath came out shakier than you wanted to admit. Your chest heaved as you stared at the door, as if willing it to give up its secrets. The thought of her—of them—on the other side of it sent a cold, bitter shiver down your spine. You clenched your teeth harder, your body trembling with an emotion you didn’t want to name.

Still, your feet remained rooted, caught between storming forward and fleeing altogether. You told yourself you didn’t care, that whatever was happening in that room didn’t matter to you. But the fire raging inside you screamed otherwise.

"Jungkook, you can’t just run away from all you’ve done!" Elizabeth’s voice cut through the heavy, pregnant silence like a blade, shrill and demanding. Each word was laced with venom, her tone rising an octave with every syllable. "It’ll be the death of us all. Do you even have any idea what would happen if Jimin found out what you’ve done? Do you know how many vamp—"

“Leave!!”

Jungkook’s voice thundered through the air, slamming into you like a physical force. The raw power in his Alpha command made your breath hitch, your chest tightening painfully as if an unseen hand had wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you to bare it.

Your knees buckled slightly, your hand shooting out to the cold wall beside you to steady yourself. The sheer authority in his tone wasn’t just heard—it was felt, reverberating through your body, making your heart stutter and your skin break out in goosebumps.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your wide eyes staring blankly ahead as the weight of his words settled over you. But then something stirred deep within you.

Your wolf.

You hadn't felt her in days.

It was a faint ripple at first, a flicker of energy in the pit of your stomach. But it grew quickly, spreading like a wildfire through your veins. She was there—fully present in a way she hadn’t been in years. You could feel her strength, her defiance, her barely restrained anger.

Why was she angry?

It took you a moment to realize that you were feeling Jungkook’s emotions. It was the first time you had ever experienced them. His feelings were so intense that it was becoming hard to breathe. It felt as if a fire was burning in the centre of your chest.

Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, and your fingers gripped the wall as you tried to steady your racing heart. The connection was overwhelming, a storm of emotions flooding your senses: pride, fury, longing—all of it tangled together.

Oh! Moon goddess, it was overwhelming

Your head turned slightly, your gaze narrowing on the closed door as Elizabeth’s voice was abruptly silenced. The tension in the air was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and yet... you couldn’t move.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for. Maybe for Elizabeth to storm out, her face twisted with fury. Maybe for Jungkook to step into the hallway, his presence as commanding as his voice.

Or maybe, you were waiting for yourself—to decide whether you would stay or walk away, pretending none of this had ever happened.

"Move, Bee."

The whisper of your wolf echoed faintly in your mind, a nudge that left no room for argument. Before you could even process her words, your legs carried you away from the shadows where you stood rooted. Your feet moved on instinct, silent against the cold marble floor as you melted into the darkness of the hallway, just out of sight.

The door to Jungkook’s bedroom creaked open, and Elizabeth stepped out.

You stilled, your breath catching in your throat as your gaze locked on her. She looked… dreadful. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed, and her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. But it was her eyes that unsettled you most—they were wide, almost frantic, as if she’d seen something that had shaken her to her very core.

What is wrong?

Your fingers twitched at your sides, itching to reach out and grab her, demand answers to the storm of questions swirling in your mind. But before you could act, she stormed off, her hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

The silence that followed was deafening, and your chest ached with your unanswered questions.

You kept walking and without realizing it, you were outside. The icy wind bit at your skin, and your bare feet pressed into the damp grass of the royal garden. The once soothing serenity of the night now felt oppressive.

The soft rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of the night animals did little to calm the unease gnawing at you. The cold that had earlier been invigorating now seemed to seep into your very bones, chilling you from the inside out.

Your steps faltered, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, your fingers digging into the fabric of your sleeves as your mind raced.

What were they talking about?

Your thoughts spiralled, wild and rigid. The memory of Jungkook’s loud voice echoed in your head, and Elizabeth’s pale, distraught face lingered in your mind.

What was she doing in his room in the middle of the night?

"Bee, you’re thinking way too much," your wolf interjected with a bored sigh.

You couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped your lips, your breath fogging in the crisp night air.

'Thinking too much? That’s rich coming from you,' you muttered under your breath, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly.

Your wolf hummed in response, unbothered, as if this entire situation didn’t concern her in the slightest. She had made her grand reappearance only to take over your body, push you into the cold night, and now, she was defending him.

"Of course, you’d side with him," you said, shaking your head with a humourless smile. You paced aimlessly through the garden, your fingers brushing against the brittle leaves of the hedges as you walked.

"I’m not defending anyone, Bee. I only said you’re thinking too much," your wolf’s voice came again, calm and infuriatingly smug.

You huffed, dragging your hands through your hair in exasperation as you continued pacing. The cool breeze tugged at the strands, but it didn’t calm you—it only added to the storm brewing in your chest.

"You’ve said enough," you muttered aloud, a bitter chuckle slipping past your lips as you shook your head.

"Aww, Bee trying to be sassy? That’s new… and dumb," she quipped, her tone laced with amusement.

You froze mid-step, your jaw tightening as irritation rippled through you. Balling your fists, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your eyes narrowing at the empty garden ahead of you as if you could glare at her.

"I’m curious," you snapped, your voice low and laced with frustration.

"And jealous," she added with a shrug you could practically feel, the smugness in her tone igniting the fire in your chest.

You clenched your teeth, your fingers twitching at your sides as you turned on your heel and paced again. Was she always this difficult? you wondered, your steps now faster, heavier, as if walking harder would somehow silence her.

"You’re being impossible," you muttered, your voice clipped.

"Well… I’m trying," she retorted, her smirk audible in your mind.

You let out a low growl, a sound of pure frustration as you stopped in your tracks and threw your hands in the air. The cold bit at your skin, and the grass beneath your feet squished as you shifted your weight, trying to ground yourself.

"Why do you always do this?" you hissed through gritted teeth, pacing again, your movements acute and agitated.

Your wolf merely hummed, her silence somehow louder than her teasing had been. It was like she was sitting back, watching the chaos unfold, amused by your every reaction.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, your other hand on your hip, and let out a shaky breath. The night around you was still, the garden eerily quiet except for the rustle of leaves and your own unsteady breaths.

"Aren’t you curi—" you started, your voice harsh, ready to lash out at your wolf and her endless sass.

But the words died on your tongue when a hand landed on your shoulder, firm yet not harsh. The touch yanked you out of your spiralling thoughts, and for a moment, the world tilted. Your breath hitched, eyes flickering from their glowing yellow back to their usual shade as a startled scream tore from your lips.

Instinct kicked in as you twisted away, prying the hand off your shoulder with shaky fingers. Your movements were frantic, unsteady. In your rush to create distance, your foot slipped on the damp grass.

You stumbled backward, arms flailing uselessly to regain your balance, but gravity wasn’t forgiving tonight.

"No, no, no—!" The words barely left your lips before you felt it: an arm curling around your waist, warm and secure, trying to steady you. For a fleeting moment, you thought you’d be pulled back, saved from the inevitable fall.

But fate had other plans.

You went down, and so did he.

The icy water swallowed you both, shocking the air from your lungs as you hit its surface. The cold stabbed at your skin like a thousand tiny needles, and a gasp escaped you, only for the water to rush in through your mouth and nose.

Panic surged as your chest tightened, the burning need for air overwhelming your senses. Your limbs flailed in the dark water, your vision a blur of silvery moonlight and shifting shadows.

Just when the pressure in your lungs became unbearable, the same hand that had startled you moments ago was back, gripping your arm with unwavering strength. With a single pull, you were yanked upward, as if you weighed nothing.

You broke through the surface with a desperate gasp, coughing and sputtering as cold air filled your lungs. Your vision cleared just enough to make out the figure before you, drenched and dripping, his chest rising and falling as he caught his own breath.

You blinked rapidly, your body shivering violently from the cold. Water dripped down your face, tangling in your lashes and blurring your view, but you could still make out his piercing gaze locked onto yours.

"Stand still, Luna. It's not that deep," Kenji's voice broke through the haze in your mind, soft and distant. His words, though meant to calm you, barely registered in your brain. They felt like whispers, faint and without meaning, as your world rolled in the aftermath of the cold water.

You didn’t have the energy to respond. Everything felt numb, too much to process. You barely felt his hands as they gripped your body, pulling you out of the water, his strong arms steadying you. The cold air hit your skin like a slap, making your body tremble, but you didn’t care. Your clothes clung to your body, heavy and soaked, as if they were another layer of ice.

"Are you okay?" His voice, low and smooth, carried a tinge of concern, but you couldn’t answer him. You were too focused on your own ragged breathing, each gasp severe and painful as you tried to fill your lungs with air.

You nodded, still struggling to steady yourself, your knees weak beneath you. Kenji’s hands loosened their grip but remained close, as if afraid you might collapse. His eyes—green, intense, filled with raw worry—never left your face.

Your gaze flickered to him, taking in his drenched appearance. His black shirt clung to his frame, outlining the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen. Eight abs? You thought dazedly, momentarily distracted by the sharp, perfect definition of his body. His arms, thick with muscle, rippled as he shifted, veins prominent under his skin. His coat was missing, leaving only the damp shirt, trouser and boots that squeaked with every movement as water pooled around his feet.

For a moment, the world felt quieter, but the thudding of your pulse in your ears reminded you of the mess still swirling in your mind. Kenji’s eyes never left you, scanning you for any signs of distress, his worry plain in the furrow of his brows.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but a cough seized you, harsh and sudden, the water still making its presence known in your lungs. You doubled over, a sharp spasm running through your chest as your throat burned.

Cough, cough.

You wheezed, the water still clogging your chest. Kenji’s hand was warm on your back, patting gently as you tried to catch your breath. His touch was surprisingly comforting, but it couldn’t shake the rush of anger and embarrassment bubbling up inside you. When your breathing finally steadied, he brushed your wet hair behind your ear.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be this frightened," he murmured, his voice soft and apologetic, eyes scanning you with an unreadable expression.

"Really," You snapped, unable to hold back your frustration any longer, huffing sharply and turning your gaze away from him. "Of course, I’ll be frightened. You came out of nowhere!" You couldn’t help it. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, your heart racing in a way you didn’t understand. Your eyes darted around, desperately looking for something to focus on, when you caught sight of the lake.

"There’s a lake here. A lake." The words came out in disbelief as you took a step back, your mouth falling open as you stared at the calm water behind you. You couldn’t believe it. It was like you had stepped into another world, even though you were still in the Lycan palace.

Kenji was still beside you, and his puzzled gaze flickered between you and the lake. "Why do you seem so angry at the fact?" His voice was light, but there was confusion in his eyes.

"Because. I. Fell." The words came out sharp, punctuated with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, shivering from the cold water clinging to your clothes, which now felt like a second skin, heavy and soaked.

Kenji raised an eyebrow, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Valid," he said, almost too calmly, his eyes still filled with curiosity.

"Duh!" You huffed again, your arms tightening across your chest in annoyance. The cold bite of the air wasn’t helping, and the peaceful lake, which had once seemed serene, now only added to your growing frustration. Everything felt off now—strange and disorienting. You were unable to contemplate why were you feeling cold, you were a werewolf.

The anger, now mixed with frustration, flared up again. "Who has a lake behind their palace garden?" You shook your head, still in disbelief.

Kenji’s voice was full of pride as he spoke, "We do." The way he said it made you want to smack him, but you held yourself back, the urge bubbling up in your chest. It would be unladylike, un-queenly. No, you couldn’t afford to lose control like that. You sucked in a breath, steadying yourself. Elegance, composure—those were the things you had to focus on.

You forced a smile, one that felt far too wide, far too tight. "Kenji." Your voice was soft, almost sweet, and the smile that accompanied it was dripping with artificial sweetness. His eyes snapped to yours, widening for a moment, and you saw the exact second his face twisted into something almost grotesque.

"That’s so fake!" he blurted, his voice betraying the shock in his tone.

A gasp slipped past your lips, surprise flashing across your face before it quickly melted into something else. His eyes shot wide with horror, his skin paling as he stepped back slightly, as if you had just slapped him. "Oh! Moon goddess, forgive me, Luna. I—I…" His words faltered, stuttering, as if he could barely comprehend the mistake he had just made.

You blinked, confused. His reaction felt over the top, but there was a genuine fear in his eyes now, one that caught you off guard. You weren’t strong enough to fight him off, and you weren’t a queen yet—not in his eyes, not in anyone's eyes. The only one who might consider you his queen was Jungkook, and he barely acknowledged you as his mate.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, the cold air biting at your skin as you stared at Kenji, ignoring the tension that still hung between you. You couldn’t care less about his reaction to your earlier words, focusing instead on the question hanging in the air.

“What are you doing here at this time?” you asked, your tone sharper than you intended. His eyes flickered with surprise, his mouth opening, but then nothing. He pointed a finger toward you, lips moving, but no sound came out. It was almost comical, watching him struggle to form words.

“What?” you snapped, growing impatient.

He blinked, his brows furrowing, trying to process your response before mumbling, “You mean, pardon?”

“No, I mean what. Now start talking, will you?” you demanded, your patience wearing thin.

He blinked at you, bewildered. “That was my question.”

“I mean once again. What?” You were so done with his indecision, the confusion clear on your face.

“That was my question.”

A frustrated sigh slipped past your lips, your eyes narrowing as you crossed your arms tighter. “I heard it before. Explain.”

Kenji’s eyes hardened slightly, frustration creeping into his expression, but he didn’t back down. “What are you doing here?” he repeated, his voice finally steady, but it only made you more annoyed.

“Walking?” you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You tilted your head, locking eyes with him. Your voice was dismissive, but the corners of your lips lifted in something close to a smirk.

“At this time?"

"When I walk, I don’t care about time. Walking is good.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your gaze challenging him to argue. His expression faltered for a moment, his mouth falling open as he stared at you, as if you’d grown two heads. You didn’t care.

“What? I can walk. It keeps you fit,” you added, eyes narrowing into a defiant glare, daring him to question you further.

Kenji stood tall, as he spoke, his gaze intense as if daring you to question him further. “We are. No. You are a werewolf. We have high metabolism. We stay fit anyway without walking,” he countered, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You arched an eyebrow, not even bothered by his words. “And?” you shot back, your voice laced with indifference. You still didn’t have a reason for being here, but you weren’t about to back down.

He sighed, clearly growing tired. “What are you doing here?” you asked again, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

His gaze flicked to you, and before you could even bink, the words reached your ear. “Patrolling.” He said it with such ease, as if it were a routine task. His shoulders shifted, a casual shrug, as he waited for you to process. His eyes never left yours, a slight raise of his brow as if daring you to argue.

“Why?” you asked, your confusion evident. You could already feel the answer forming in his mind, but you were far too frustrated to wait for it. “I mean, why you?” you continued, gesturing at his strong frame. “You’re a warrior. A strong one. You have different duties. The guards who patrol are different.”

Kenji’s lips curled into a grin, and he stepped forward, looking down at you with pride. “First of all, I’m not a strong warrior. I’m the strongest.” His chest puffed out even more, his chin tilting upwards as if the very idea of being anything less than the best was an insult. The smirk on his face deepened as he caught your eye. “And don’t you know we were attacked yesterday? One of our warriors almost died?”

His words hit you like a slap. You blinked in disbelief, the words barely registering in your mind. “What?” The harshness in your voice made Kenji wince, his hand instinctively going to his ear as if to shield it from the sound. He stepped back, his face contorting in discomfort, eyes wide with surprise.

“You don’t know? Nobody told you?” His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain, and you shook your head in response. His brow furrowed, confusion turning to something else—something closer to curiosity. “Why?” he asked, a tinge of disbelief still hanging in his voice.

“I was ordered by Jungkook to stay away from pack business and so was told others not to tell me anything,” you explained, the words coming out flat, detached. You didn’t expect his reaction—his face drained of colour, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. His throat bobbed, and a heavy gulp escaped him, loud and clear. There was panic in his eyes now.

“Kenji?” You walked closer, your gaze softening as his body trembled slightly. You put your arm on his shoulder, trying to offer some form of comfort.

But what you didn’t expect was the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders hunched as if the weight of something far heavier rested on them.

“Are you crying?” you asked in disbelief, your voice almost a whisper.

“I don’t want to die.” He whispered, his voice small and muted. The words hung in the air, heavy and confusing.

“I still want to find my mate and impregnate her.” His confession was quiet, the last part barely audible.

You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Okay, now I’m just here nervously waiting for your thoughts! Please go easy on me, I promise I’m trying my best! 😬

[teavocationmagic]

working on a longer gale fic (gale x rogue!reader, enemies to lovers but also very tender and lots of anti-lorroakan propaganda lmao) but here is a steamy lil snippet, happy holidays everyone 🥰🥰 (edit: first part of the gale fic is here!!!)

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy it when I’m being . . . mean.”

You try to laugh, a violent little sound, and turn to shuffle past him to the door. “Yeah, okay.”

But Gale places a hand on the small of your back, his palm a warm whisper through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. You move towards the wall on instinct but he doesn’t follow; you can feel his hand hovering there still, the offer of an embrace just an inch or two away.

“So, you don’t?” It comes out of him as a murmur, and it reaches you as sure as a physical touch.

“That’s . . .” Your throat works around the word, trying to conjure up more, but magic has always been his forte, not yours. “You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s not an answer to my question.” You can feel him lean forward, probably to hear more of whatever whispers you’re trying to pass off as casually as you can - and hearing you fail miserably. “If it truly bothers you, then I will stop. Just say the word.”

And the sound that that draws out of you is more embarrassing than any he’s managed before: breathy, startled, enamoured. Somewhere between a sigh of exasperation and a plea for mercy.

Somehow you pull yourself together long enough to reply, and it’s clipped and unsteady. “I’m not so delicate that - when you . . . you being a condescending asshole isn’t going to break me, Dekarios.”

“Good,” and now he’s closer, and his hand is trailing up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, firm and burning hot - or maybe that’s just you, the fire spreading through you, radiating from the site of his touch. “I don’t want to break you, starlight. I want to take care of you.”

“And you know how to take care of me?”

He laughs and your cheeks warm. You want to wear that sound, tuck it in a locket and skim its golden edges with your fingertips after a good fight. Your head droops and your forehead presses to the wallpaper. The battle’s only just started, but you’ve already surrendered.

“Yes, I believe I do. You just have to pay attention,” his mouth brushes the shell of your ear and he laughs again when he feels you shiver, “and do as I ask. Not your strong suit, I know, but I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion, won’t you?”

“I -“ You scrabble for dignity, for steel, for fire, even just for language, as he presses you closer to the wall, your head turned to squish your cheek against it. His gentle gaze gleams in your periphery.

“Hm? Sorry, my darling, I didn’t quite catch that.”

You swear and Gale laughs before his teeth catch on the edge of your earlobe, and you promise yourself that you’ll do something about your lost dignity later.

“I can follow fucking instructions, Dekarios.”

“Wonderful.” His hands shift to press against the backs of yours, fingers laced through yours like they were moulded and cast together, and raises them up to rest against the wall on either side of your head. “You’re already doing so well.”

[piastrw]

this was supposed to be out on christmas as a gift, but i couldn’t finish it in time. so, here’s a snippet 🤲🏻

(carcar | omegaverse | pwp)

-

Oscar’s thoughts are a tangled, messy knot, slipping out of his control and spiraling into something uncomfortably raw.

He doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know how to breathe properly with Carlos like this in front of him—shirtless, tousled hair, tanned skin.

The hair. It’s everywhere—dusting his chest, thicker down the defined ridges of his stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

It’s almost too much, Oscar thinks, his breath hitching as his eyes dart lower. He’s trying not to stare, but his gaze catches on the flex of Carlos’s arms as they shift.

The way his hands—big, rough, just as hairy—press into Oscar’s thighs, squeezing, leaving behind faint pink blooms where they grip too tight.

It sends a spark of something sharp and electric straight through Oscar’s nerves, and he swallows hard, throat dry.

He doesn’t know when this obsession started. This itch. This constant pull toward Carlos that’s lodged itself under his skin and refuses to leave him alone.

He thinks about Carlos’s hands more than he should, about how it feels to have them gripping his hips, his wrists, his neck. He thinks about how it’s been a while since they’ve been—

Well.

Not together-together.

They’re fucking. Exclusively, sure, but without any real label. Just sex. At least that’s what they’ve been telling themselves.

His mum would have a field day if she knew. Probably sit him down for one of her classic lectures about what a proper omega should do—courting, dates, a respectable bonding ceremony.

Oscar was raised to do things the right way. He used to believe in that. But Carlos makes him reckless. Carlos makes him stupid. Carlos makes him feel like his head’s full of static and his body’s not his own anymore.

Carlos shifts again, pulling him from his thoughts. His hands tighten on Oscar’s thighs, thumbs brushing up the sensitive inside, and Oscar shudders.

Can’t stop staring at the way Carlos looks like this—half-wild, all heat, and so comfortable in his own skin it makes Oscar dizzy.

Carlos catches him staring, of course he does, because Oscar has never been subtle a day in his life. A knowing smirk curls at the corner of his mouth.

“You like what you see, cariño?” Carlos asks, teasing. His accent wraps around the words, making Oscar’s stomach twist.

Oscar flushes, his cheeks burning a deep pink. He looks away, embarrassed, but Carlos doesn’t let him. One of those big hands grips his jaw tilting his face back so their eyes meet.

“Don’t get shy now,” Carlos murmurs. He leans in, his breath warm against Oscar’s cheek, his other hand sliding higher up Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar whines and Carlos grins, sitting back on his heels.

It’s always like this.

Oscar gets too caught up in his head, too worked up, all hot skin and trembling limbs. Carlos loves it. Loves the way the omega comes undone so easily under his hands, lets himself melt into a puddle for him. Let Carlos take care of everything. Of him. It makes Carlos’ Alpha swell with pride.

Carlos’s fingers trace the waistband of Oscar’s panties, making Oscar squirm. The little white lace number is soft under his fingers, all delicate edges and a tiny bow at the center.

And that’s another thing Carlos loves about Oscar. He goes around dressed like such a boy—those awful shorts, plain team shirts that don’t fit quite right. No sense of style to speak of.

But underneath, Oscar always likes to be pretty.

Carlos bites back a groan, his thumb brushing over the lace. He adores this—peeling back those unremarkable layers to find something so sweet and delicate hidden underneath. It’s like unwrapping a gift every time.

But there’s something that makes it even prettier—the wet patch of slick, dripping out of Oscar and darkening the fabric.

“So wet,�� Carlos murmurs, his thumb pressing down against the damp spot.

Oscar whimpers, squirming. “Your fault,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?” Carlos taunts, dragging his thumb down the lace. “Can’t help it, huh? You smell me, and suddenly you’re dripping for me.” He punctuates the words with a light slap to Oscar’s thigh.

Oscar doesn’t think he can get any redder than he already is. His face burns, heat pooling low in his stomach, and he wishes he could say something back, something biting, but nothing comes out.

Carlos shifts, leaning over Oscar’s face now, his body caging him in. He kisses him and Oscar melts instantly, his hands tangling in Carlos’s thick, soft hair.

Carlos’s hands find their place on Oscar’s waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his skin, drifting lower to brush over his tummy.

Oscar is pliant, boneless beneath him, completely overtaken by the way Carlos fills every one of his senses.

All he can think of is Carlos, Carlos, Carlos.

…

[tsams-and-co-memes]

Ok, so

V1 Eclipse was able to take control over Sun originally because he made Bloodmoon, and Bloodmoon was The Thing that broke through whatever the barrier was that was keeping Eclipse locked away (whenever Eclipse tried touching it, it hurt him, and he needed something that was strong enough to withstand that pain, so it could break it for him. Hence Bloodmoon, being created from an unholy mixture of the killcode/Eclipse's code, and from what I've heard, Sun's code)

In practice, I realize it'd be a horrible horrible god awful idea, but. Maybe V4 Eclipse could just,,, do that, but be extra careful about it

Like.... instead of using Sun's code for any of it this time, Eclipse would have to use a snippet of the Mimic's code, and he'd have to blend it with the killcode that makes up his own code

Mimic + literal homicide code = absolute nightmare fuel, and the actual form of evil incarnate

So what I'm thinking here is,, make a discount Bloodmoon, but put more restrictions in place, and maybe set a timer or remote control of sorts, so the abomination will sort of self-destruct when it's done serving its purpose. With its purpose being to lock Mimic away (even just temporarily), so Eclipse can take over and at least tell Puppet what's been going on, and possibly look into ways to shut down Mimic. Worst comes to worst, Eclipse abandons the body that Mimic is in right now, and has enough time to safely transfer himself into a backup body

I know what I'm suggesting is basically "create a new character and then immediately kill them when their job is done." And I know that is,,, not a very great idea, morally speaking. But this is the part where we have to remember that this isn't real life, and these aren't real people. These are fictional characters. If it was real life, I'd be much more inclined to be as careful and considerate as possible, but no. This is fiction, so I'm allowed to be a little unethical from time to time

[maethologies]

you already knew this was coming LOL but i’d love to see healer!violet or a hockey au for the ask game if you’re down!!

healer au... hockey au... tough decision but have some healer!vi

a snippet from their first meeting:

He scratches his shoulder, inked in swirls and flames. “Your mother never taught you not to stare? It’s rude.“ 

So he’d noticed her staring at his mark. No use in denying it, then. She should have felt shame, maybe, but her curiosity was stronger. “I’m not a liar,“ she says, before asking something she’s been dying to ask: “Did it hurt?“  

“That,“ he says, leaning into her space, “is none of your business, Healer.“ His voice is deep, tense; a warning. Violet has no doubt he could kill her at any time, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it, either. 

She sighs, letting it go, and looks down at his wound. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches,“ she says. “Wait here– I’m going to find someone to do it.“ 

His hand finds her wrist again. “You can’t do it?“ He asks. His hair is a little longer than most riders; it falls over his forehead, over his raised brow. 

Violet snatches her hand back. “I can,“ she says, gathering the bowl of now-pink water and the stained cotton, “but I’m not allowed—first years need a superior’s permission.“ 

The rider groans. “You’re a first year?“ He asks, incredulous. “A newbie. Fucking great.“ 

He sighs and leans back against the wall again, shaking his head. 

“I’m at the top of my year,“ Violet says tersely. She spins around to look for Winifred, but she’s busy tending to someone whose arm is currently more blood than skin. She’ll have to ask someone lower in the chain of command, then. 

“Top of first year,“ he says. Even with her back to him, Violet can practically see the way his mouth twists around the word first. It makes her blood boil. 

“I am still a healer,“ she snaps at him. From the corner of her eye she sees Nick, one of the third-years in charge of supervising the rest of them. She gestures at him. “And I’m damned good at my job.“ 

“You’ve been here for less than three months,“ he points out dryly. “What do you know about doing a good job?“

a scene that takes place a few? weeks later?:

He hums. “You remember, don’t you?” Xaden takes the sandwich, and the shadows vanish, hiding away. “I said I’d keep you alive if you kept healing me. A deal, of sorts.” 

Xaden’s lips twitch once more. Violet’s glad one of them finds humor in this; personally, she’d like not to be threatened with death anymore. She’d gone to the Healer’s Quadrant to avoid exactly this kind of situation, after all. 

He offers her the sandwich. Violet eyes it with disgust. “I’m not eating that,” she says immediately, her lips curling. “And besides, I can’t heal you today.” 

“Oh?” Xaden raises a brow at her. He tilts his head, considering her. “So eager to die, then, Sorrengail?” 

His shadows shiver below him. 

“No,” Violet says, though the words come out of her mouth a little too quickly, a little too urgently. “I just—I can’t. Not today. Go see someone else, or wait until tomorrow.” 

Xaden’s eyes narrow at her. He rocks forward on his feet, bringing his head closer to hers. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Violet huffs. “Go away, now.” 

His expression sharpens, somehow; he’s more alert, the amusement wiped from his face, and his eyes flicker all over her body, taking her in, studying her to try and find whatever’s wrong with her. 

“Tell me,” he says. His voice has become steel, sharp and commanding at once. Violet wonders if this is his Wingleader voice, if the stare he’s currently sending her is the one he uses on first year cadets.

It’s ridiculously effective. She’d opened her mouth to protest, to refuse him, but the look he sends her has Violet saying, “My joints. My hands. They’re—sometimes they hurt.”

Xaden’s eyes drop to her hands. She has to fight the urge to put them behind her back, to hide them from him. 

incomplete scene: a visit in the middle of the night!

“Violence?”

Xaden. Violet’s heart slowly comes back to its normal pace. Xaden, at her door, in the middle of the night.

She’s out of her bed and rushing towards his voice before she even has the time to think about her actions. It’s only when she yanks the door open that Violet remembers the short black nightgown she’s wearing.

Xaden’s eyes sweep over her and down her body, stopping at the sight of her hair, unbound and messy, at the hem of her nightgown; already Violet feels more alert, a wave of heat rising within her.

[...] 

He pauses to look at her. “You were sleeping,” he says, surprise coloring his voice. His brow is furrowed. If Violet didn’t know any better, she’d think he looks pained at that fact.

“That’s how it works, usually,” Violet huffs. “People work or study during the day, and at night, they sleep.” 

Xaden continues to stare at her. Something about him—Violet feels herself getting yanked out of sleep and into reality. Her focus sharpens, and she narrows her eyes at him. 

“You usually stay up to study,” he points out. “And your Anatomy exam is in two days.”

Violet’s heart plummets and soars, all at once. “You remembered?”

It's his turn to huff. "Of course I did," he says, but he crosses his arms and looks away from her as he speaks.

[letters-from-an-introvert]

Not me spending 3 hours on a dnd map and heraldry generator doing worldbuilding for a fic I have nothing but a Tumblr moodboard and no plot.

[cybershock24601]

Date Night

Rook had to check Maps three times to be sure she had the right address but the imposing wrought iron gates in front of her were apparently the right place even if Rook couldn’t even see a house behind them. Well, only one way to find out for sure, Rook thought as she leaned out the window to punch in the gate code Lucanis had texted her and thankfully it worked.

As Rook drove Bianca down the long cobblestone driveway she came to the firm conclusion that Lucanis definitely lived here and this sort of elegant opulence was exactly the sort of home she would expect a guy with the sort of firm opinions on artisanal coffee and proper thread count sheets to come from. Also that the landscaping here was absolutely immaculate. The hydrangeas were the just the perfect shade of blue and Rook knew from Harding’s trouble with them that it was tricky thing to do.

Finally, Rook reached what must have been Lucanis’ house which was less a house and more of a mansion and less of a mansion more of an actual fucking castle. Oh yeah, this place was explaining a whole lot about Lucanis’ odder idiosyncrasies.

Not that Rook cared too much about that as she put Bianca in park and hopped out of the car with the giant bouquet she dragged Harding with her to pick out. Rook had thought about getting something more original than some red roses but Lucanis appreciated the classics so two dozen red roses it was.

With a skip in her step and the accompanying jingle from the chains hanging off her belt, Rook approached the imposing carved wood double doors and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Rook didn’t even have time to start getting nervous standing outside in her scuffed up Docs and second hand outfit in front of such an imposing manor before the door was wrenched open to reveal Lucanis.

With Lucanis all dressed up with his hair slicked back, beard trimmed, and in a suit that did amazing things to his figure, Rook thought she could be forgiven for panicking and thrusting the bouquet right into his chest with a high pitched, “For you!”

Lucanis let out a soft little oof but took the roses with delicate care and looked at them with the softest, sappiest smile Rook had ever seen him wear before he looked right back at Rook with those lethally big, beautiful brown eyes of his eyes as he said in a gentle, quiet voice dripping with barely contained joy, “Rook, you shouldn’t have.”

Rook barely stopped herself from doing a little fist pump at Lucanis’ reaction because she clearly knocked it out of the park with the bouquet as she watched Lucanis gently stroke the petals of the roses. Instead of doing anything to embarrass herself, Rook managed to play it cool and say “Of course I should have. Would this have really been a proper date without flowers?”

Rook’s cheeky little grin disappeared quickly as Lucanis pulled Rook into a gentle kiss that had her closing her eyes and leaning into it as much as she could without crushing the flowers between them. It was far from their first kiss but it still tasted just as sweet, like honey and lavender cream.

Rook broke the kiss with a sweet little giggle and brought her hand up to Lucanis’ chest and ran a finger down the soft fabric of his suit, “You’re looking sharp tonight.”

“And yet I still don’t look nearly as radiant as you, mi vida.” Lucanis said as he took Rook’s hand in his own and brought the back of it up to his lips for a gentle kiss. Rook could only let out another lovesick giggle.

In one smooth motion, Lucanis transferred the roses to hold in the crook of his elbow, hooked his other arm with Rook’ own, and pulled the door closed with his foot before rushing them both out to the car, “I think it’s time we got out of here.”

Rook followed along easily as Lucanis lead them back to the car but couldn’t help teasing Lucanis, “What’s the rush? Are you just that excited to get me all alone?”

“Of course, Rook. However it would also be best if we got out of here before my family decides to make an appearance.” Lucanis said as he opened the side passenger door.

“What? Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of them?” Rook asked teasingly as she walked around the front of the car to get to the driver side.

“No.” Lucanis said vehemently as if the idea of ever being embarrassed by Rook was anathema. “I just don’t want them scaring you off.”

“Lucky for you then I don’t scare easily,” Rook said with a wide grin as she plopped down in the drivers seat and stuck the key back into ignition. Do not embarrass me now, Bianca, Rook thought as she willed the worn down car to start as she turned the key. Luckily Bianca had her back and started up on the first try.

“You have not met my grandmother, Rook. She’s a scary woman.” Lucanis said as he settled into his seat, still softly clutching the roses to his chest. He probably should have put them right in a vase but he wasn’t willing to risk the chance of his family showing up by taking the time to do that.

“But you have met me, and trust me, it would take a whole hell of a lot more then one scary old lady to make me leave your side.” Rook said as she took Lucanis’ hand and laced their fingers together. She met Lucanis eyes with a brilliantly bright grin and gave their hands a squeeze before detangling their fingers to put her hand on gear shift. “So, are you ready to hit the town?”

Lucanis just let out a joyous laugh and said, “Yes. I am just hoping this place has a good selection.”

“It’s a wine bar. I feel like it should have something to satisfy even a wine snob like yourself.” Rook said as she started driving back down the cobblestone driveway.

“I am not a snob. I simply have high standards.” Lucanis said with an imperious sniff, “However seeing as Emmrich recommenced the place I am willing to give it the benefit of doubt.”

Rook only laughed and the two of them set off into the night.

--------

Meanwhile, the third floor music room of the Villa Dellamorte was completely silent except for two quiet clinks as its two inhabitants set down their opera glasses at the same time and shared a Look between themselves. The entryway of the house might have blocked their view of the door but they still got a clear look at Lucanis’ mysterious sweetheart and the... atrocity she rode around in.

No words were exchanged as the two stewed in silence at the scene they had just witnessed. Finally Illario simply could not take the silence and exclaimed, “What was that? Did Lucanis really put on Armani to ride around in some clunker that should have found it’s home in a junk yard a decade ago?”

“And that outfit! Who needs that many bracelets? I could practically hear the jingling from up here! And what sort of freak walks around wearing that many skulls on them? Mierda!” Illario said as he jumped up out of his chair to pace around the room, muttering under his breath all the while at every fashion faux pas and crime Rook committed in the less then five minutes he was saw them for.

“Oh my poor boy, where did I go wrong?” Caterina asked softly as she put her hand to her forehead and bemoaned her grandson’s taste. She had introduced him to so many well mannered and well bred boys and girls over the years and he went and picked one right out of a Hot Topic dumpster. Caterina just thought that Lucanis had high standards but it turned out he just had bade taste.

“And the car! Did you see those bumper stickers? Who slaps on a sticker that says ‘I eat sand’ on their car? I think I saw about six coexist bumper stickers on that thing!” Illario said as he whipped back around to Caterina to keep complaining. If Illario ever cared to ask Rook about that, she’d be able to tell him the very long story Varric told her about how Bianca ended up with covered with so many coexist stickers that involved at least two trips to the hospital over the span of six months, but Rook had no excuse for the I EAT SAND one, that one was all Rook.

Caterina held up a hand to halt Illario’s ranting mid stream and said, “We must do something about this. Do you know if Viago’s cousin is still single?”

“The fuck up? I would have to ask.” Illario said, a bit confused as he was sure Caterina could not stand the kid.

“Do so. Anyone would be better than that one for Lucanis.” Caterina said with finality as she stood up to retire to her room with what would likely be an entire bottle of wine to help her cope with the night’s revelations.

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[monstrsball]

Iwaizumi doesn't know what to think when he finds his boyfriend in the entry way of their apartment, soaked from head to toe and clutching his jacket to his chest.

"I'm home." Suga says with a sheepish grin while he clumsily tries to get his shoes off without using his hands.

“You’re soaked,” Iwaizumi frowns, pushing his wet bangs back out of his face and eyeing the barely noticeable trembling of his shoulders. “Why aren’t you-”

Suga’s jacket meows.

Suga frowns down at the jacket in his arms. “You were supposed to let me do the talking first.” He says lightheartedly, his words are met with another slightly more indignant meow.

“Koushi, we talked about this.” Iwaizumi says.

“It’s raining, Hajime. The poor thing was soaked, I couldn’t just leave her out there.” Suga says, his tone soft. “Can we just keep her here for tonight? Until it stops raining? And then I’ll take her to the shelter.”

Iwaizumi wants to stand firm but his resolve slowly melts away when he looks at the cat again. She’s shivering just as much as Suga, the now soaked jacket likely not helping her keep warm. She’s nuzzling into his chest in search of warmth and it tugs at Iwaizumi’s heartstrings. 

He glances back at the door to the balcony. Still raining. 

“Okay,” Iwaizumi relents. “She can stay for tonight. Until it stops raining.” 

He has a nagging feeling that ‘for tonight’ is going to turn into indefinitely but the pure joy lighting up Suga’s face distracts him from this fleeting thought. 

“Yeah, yeah. You need to get out of those clothes.” Iwaizumi reaches out to take the cat from Suga’s arms. She's oddly compliant for a stray. “I’ll dry her off and get her some food and water. I think we have some canned tuna in the cabinet.”

“Ooh,” Suga whistles, gently depositing the little tabby into Iwaizumi’s open arms. “You hear that, baby? He’s spoiling you.” He coos. 

“It’s the only thing we have,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, readjusting his grip once he has the cat safely in his arms. She nuzzles into the newfound warmth immediately.