#Research BETTER carry over next year

[halastar05]

I HAVE A PROCLAMATION TO MAKE

Now that the Christmas event is over (and I’ve officially failed to get Bobette-) my new goal is to achieve mastery on every toon (and get them all in the process-).

And to make this more fun, every time I master a toon I must make a fully fledged colored and digitalized doodle sheet of that toon.

This means that I already need to do Roger and Tisha doodle sheets.

Feel free to take up this challenge yourself if you want, I’d love to see a bunch of doodles :D

[superiorsturgeon]

out of curiosity, why do you like sturgeons so much?

A chance to info dump about my favorite fish…?!

I grew up in the Great Lakes area of North America, where fishing is pretty popular but everyone knows that fish populations aren’t anything like “the good old days” when people took out huge numbers of fish while messing up their spawning sites. I got pretty into fishing when I found out that I could catch bluegill in the surrounding farm ponds, and once in a while my family took me to an isolated fishing cabin for vacation, but for years I never encountered a wild fish bigger than a kilogram or two.

BUT THEN…

I found out about sturgeon! They were HUGE fish that had once lived in the rivers and lakes all around my home, and better yet, fish almost exactly like modern sturgeon had existed all the way back in the Cretaceous period alongside the dinosaurs, and they STILL EXIST TODAY!!! The fact that small numbers of these huge dinosaur fish still existed made them seem almost like a real-life lake monster/cryptid, except that we had proof of their existence!

Furthermore, there’s just nothing else like them. Sturgeon get big. Like, REALLY big. The record for the largest sturgeon was almost 11 meters/24 feet long, which is colossal for freshwater animals. They have armor plates of bone running down their sides, and at the same time they don’t have bony skeletons. They also have a crazy mouth structure, which allows them to actually pop their jaws out like a tube and suck up food. And on top of all of this, the adults are absolute tanks. I’ve seen skin nearly 8mm thick, and it’s so tough that people make leather out of it, and they occasionally lose fins or even entire gill plates and just keep on swimming! (I found out about that last one when I tried to wrestle a big female out of a river and my hand went straight into her gills. She didn’t seem that bothered by it!)

For a long time I filed sturgeon along with Alligator Gar, Giant Mekong catfish, and Yangtze paddlefish as a semi-legendary fish that may still exist, but I was never going to see except possibly in an aquarium, until I enrolled in graduate school. For those unfamiliar with grad school in the US, it typically involves both high-level classes as well as an independent research project the student designs and carries out with help from an experienced professor. When my mentor asked what kind of thing I wanted to study, I tossed out “sturgeon” as one such possibility, expecting to hear that I would probably have to limit myself to more common/accessible species.

I was blown away when she said “Actually, I think I know a guy…”

For the next several years, I got to ride along collecting wild adult sturgeon, gathering eggs, and raising the baby fish in a lab and in a hatchery. I was holding something that I had thought of as a semi-mythical lake/river monster in my own hands! I got to see a river choked with giants as big as 2 meters long, and I got to hold a 5-centimeters mottled baby whose armored scutes were still sharp and possessed the little arrowhead shape and big black pectoral fins that remind me of Mickey Mouse ears! In the video below you can even see a little heartbeat! (Don’t worry, this little guy was returned to the tank soon after to recover from his anesthesia!)

Sadly, I didn’t find anything super groundbreaking in my research, but my experience DID land me a job working in sturgeon aquaculture! If you’ve ever had caviar that wasn’t poached, it probably came from a sturgeon farm, and if you want to see a lot of big fish up close, this is a good place to do it! I probably personally handled more individual sturgeon than there are wild fish in several sturgeon species. In addition, while the wild broodstock I mentioned above might reach 2 meters and over 50kg, the sturgeon I dealt with at the farm would easily double that, and there were a LOT of them! I got to see sturgeon behavior that had never been recorded in field guides, and even a few crazy one-in-a-million mutations like the infamous “ghost” sturgeon!

I even got the opportunity to cook my own sturgeon meat (Yeah, I basically turned into the Touden siblings from Dungeon Meshi except for sturgeon instead of RPG monsters). I got pretty good at making smoked sturgeon, but the meat is also good on the grill or baked, and people have been cooking them in various ways for centuries.

My favorite part of the job was physically wrestling the big fish! Sturgeon are easier to grab than other fish with the right know-how, but a human-sized fish often has its own plans for the day and won’t always cooperate. I was pretty good at moving the adults by the time I left that job, but it was still a wild rodeo every time!

Even more exciting was how we spawned each new generation of sturgeon. In the wild, they form massive spawning runs in big rivers that in the past would be enough to tip small boats, but in a lab or farm we have to use other means. I’ll spare you the details, but I am one of a small number of people who have surgically extracted eggs from a live sturgeon and sutured them back up to swim another day.

The tldr of this essay is that sturgeon are a big, crazy-unique fish that have been around a long time, and I’ve spent a lot of my career handling and working with them. There’s just nothing like them for a fish nerd and they’re damn cool!

(Clip art not mine, I think @sturgeonposting drew or shared it!)

[usedpidemo]

Codependency (Ive Yujin)

On one side, there’s a mansion worthy portrait of you on the wall. On the other, wards and recognitions from numerous governing bodies with your name plastered in remembrance. The public knows more about the brand than the people behind it; that’s how business works. Unless your name happens to be Musk, Bezos, or Zuckerberg.

You’re nowhere near their level of wealth and influence—far from it—yet this entire building’s future rests on your shoulders. It’s not as easy as it looks.

You’ve always credited your guardian angel for keeping you from harm your entire life. It sounds religious, but from personal experience, it’s real. 

She’s guiding you from the secluded corner of your office.

—————

“And that’s how we’ll proceed with operations moving forward,” you say to the executives in the room—except they're not physically there. Their faces are projected on screen, joining from different countries, with some even joining from home. To be quite frank, you understand very little about your own presentation, and had your acting not been Oscar-worthy, there’s more that would appear absurd than believable. “Do we have any questions?”

For the most part, the top brass appear to be in unanimous agreement with everything that has been laid out. Not a single question, complaint, or rebuttal from anyone.

“Well done, officer. You seem to have a complete grasp and understanding of the situation,” says one of the chiefs, his ripe old age showing through his slow, strained tone. 

Another suit, much closer to your age—albeit barely (he’s in his mid-forties)—adds, “We expect an immediate turnaround, otherwise we may have to cut even more of our divisions off. Should this plan fail, we anticipate closure of even more of our departments, including yours.”

It’s not the most concerning thing you’ve heard this week, but it’s definitely up there–at least top three.

Nevertheless, you remain firm and bow to your superiors as you end the meeting. “Thank you sirs. We will do our best.”

As soon as the video call ends, you let out this deep sigh of relief that’s been repressed the entire time. Thank goodness you have an entire building floor and private office to yourself. 

“Well fuck me,” you mutter, seemingly speaking to the void, taking all the deep breaths you need, wiping the sweat across your head with some tissue. “Tell me I followed through on everything, right?”

“Yeah. Apart from mixing a few things, you mostly got it.” Yujin’s voice emerges from the far end of the room, covered in darkness, away from anyone’s view. The papers on your desk aren’t actually documents or paperwork. In reality, they’re pages of a manuscript with a few instructional, handwritten notes attached. It’s not even your own writing; they’re curated by none other than Yujin herself. “I’d say I wouldn’t have noticed, even if they were a little too obvious at times.”

“These conferences are fucking tiresome. Nauseating even,” you reply. Yujin opens up the blinds, and you stagger away from the immediate sunlight piercing through the room. Simply put, you just want to throw up after yapping all that incomprehensible jargon. “You know what—why don’t we switch places next time? I think you’d be better at this than me, like you already are with everything.”

An unusual comment for the director to make to his assistant, but it’s true. Yujin is so good in every department that it’s borderline farcical. She’s incredibly reliable to the point where you’ve basically deferred nearly every task to her, leaving you with the most boring parts of your job, which mostly comprises of company meetings and private calls. She’s a relatively new hire, having worked in your department for a little over a year, yet her rise up the ranks has been nothing short of absurd. 

“Please, let’s not get carried away,” she softly laughs, flashing a lovely smile you never grow tired of seeing—and you see her as soon as you walk into the building till you clock out.  “I’m fine with the research and paperwork. Regardless of what you want to believe, I think you sold it well.”

You slump back in your chair, somewhat bothered at just how unbothered Yujin is. How she’s able to take all your responsibilities that you should be doing, and without protest. One look at her features tells you all you need to know: that she’s happy to work for you. She could easily be in your position right now, putting you through this exact hell. She could be on that screen making those very threats on your job, in fact. Instead, she prefers to be your subordinate.

If that wasn’t enough of an example, she’s gathering the papers on your desk, putting them back together, good as new. Then she brings you a cup of water from the dispenser. She’s enumerating a list of other, just as unintelligible things that may or may not be important to your discussion earlier. Meanwhile, you’ve been sitting in that chair, your thoughts wandering aimlessly, thinking about anything that isn’t work. It’s almost noon, yet your mind just wants to check out for the rest of the day.

“Um—sir? You okay?” Yujin waves a hand right in your face, snapping you from your tired daze.

You tilt up to her gaze, eyes weary. “Yeah. I’m just—tired.”

“Do you want me to leave? I’ll go and sort out the upper management on your behalf if you’re not feeling well.”

“Don’t.” You rise from your seat, telling her, “I’ll take care of it. Go and have lunch,” as you point at your wristwatch, both hands closely pointed at the top.

“You sure? You should go have lunch too,” she replies, showing an alarming amount of concern that it’s almost comical. “Don’t worry about me.”

Shaking your head, you respond, flashing a light grin to reassure her, “I can talk to them at any time. T your break. I’ll call you when I need anything.” 

—————

Truth be told, you didn’t want to see her for the rest of the day, let alone seek her help. 

Yujin is only one call away. After all, she’s your assistant, down to working right outside your office. She’s working on whatever nonsense you’ve assigned her, showing no signs of slowing down. Meanwhile, you can barely call today productive; you’ve only completed two pages of a draft for next week’s presentation. In the time spent between slowly chopping away and stalking her from behind the door, her pretty profile a sight for sore eyes, she’s probably completed this week’s assignments and halfway through the next. She’s that efficient.

Hours pass, until the day finally ends at five. At exactly the top of the hour, she lets herself into your office, her pleasant attitude still in full bloom. “Already completed all the tasks for today. How about you?”

Yujin is not even trying to gloat—not in the slightest—yet it sounds like a punch to the gut. You can only slam your chin flat on the desk in despair, shooting a tired glare at her. She tries to muffle her chuckle, trying to keep herself professional, not realizing you’ve already seen through her facade.

“You want me to help you out? I don’t mind working an hour longer if you need it.” She’s peeking her head over the laptop display, examining for the proof of concept—or lack thereof. “Didn’t I tell you to leave this five plan strategy to me?”

This amount of confidence should leave you battered and deflated. And yet, there’s a sense of relief knowing Yujin will get the job done no matter what you ask of her. It’s enough to turn that frown into a faint, encouraging grin. 

“I guess so,” you tell her, putting down the screen. Getting up from your chair, you close the window blinds and block out the setting sun. “Maybe I’m just tired of deferring all my responsibilities to you, that’s all.”

Her smile looks innocent, demure even, it doesn’t make sense as to how irrevocably kind she is to you. As far as you know, your employees consider you as shrewd and as scummy as your superiors. Forget that you’ve been working here longer; they consider everyone that isn’t their fellow rank a corporate dirtbag who’d step over others the first opportunity they can. It’s a vicious cycle. To have someone like Yujin feels like an anomaly. 

“Don’t worry about it, that’s why I’m getting paid right?” she answers back, pressing her palms on your desk. “Just do what you can and I’ll handle the rest.”

You’re pouring an espresso into a cup, before offering the drink to her. “We should talk, Yujin,” you say, filling up a separate glass with your own. Your fourth shot. “You got a minute or two?” 

“Sure. I always have time for you.” Yujin sits up, taking the drink into her hand, crossing her leg. It’s nearly impossible to look anywhere else but on them. As if she couldn’t be any more perfect, in mind, character, and body. “Is there anything bothering you lately?”

Sitting across her with only a desk separating you, the words never come out. You’ve got plenty on your mind: the messy state of your department, the unreasonable expectations and demands of your superiors, the possibility of losing your job—and Yujin. She’s sitting right there, ready to hear you out, but you never find the conviction to confess your worries. The next few minutes are awkward silence, only broken by the occasional stir of teaspoon and the sip of coffee. It isn’t that she renders you speechless, though one would fairly assume as to why: she’s pleasant to look at, among other things. It also helps that her outfits have been getting skimpier over the past few weeks. Unsurprisingly, you let the flagrant violation of the dress code go unpunished. 

“Sir? Is everything okay?” Yujin leans her head forward, noticing that you’re lost in thought. She places her cup on the desk. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows instinctively rise. That glimmer of hope you showed moments ago disappears. What’s left is despair. “I think we might be fucked, Yujin.”

“Fucked? What do you mean by that?”

“We’re fucked. Like, we could be out of a job fucked.”

“Explain?” Yujin cannot comprehend it—then again, anyone else would react the same way. “Didn’t we give the board a five step plan earlier today?”

“We did,” you reply, finally mustering the strength to meet her eyes. “But here’s the thing: we don’t have the financial or human capacity to execute the plan. At least, in the time they demanded.”

“And? We did the research and even the hypotheticals!” You’ve never heard Yujin raise her voice even once—until now. “What could go wrong exactly?”

“They think we can course correct years worth of bad financial decisions in just a few months. That’s the problem. Either way, we’re fucked.”

“I don’t believe you.” Yujin forcefully rises from her seat, threatening to flip the desk. If she only had the strength. “After all the time I spent working on it, you want to wave the white flag and give up?”

You don’t really know how to answer her. At least, in a way that’s remotely graceful and easy to understand. 

“I’m sorry, Yuj, but no matter what—”

“I’m trying—so fucking hard—” she huffs, her fist clenching, trembling violently— “to carry your fucking ass so that we could keep our livelihoods. And not just me or you, but also the hundreds working for us! I know you fucking hate their guts because they’ve said nothing but terrible things about you, and even if none of that is true because I know you better than anyone else in this fucking building, at least have the decency to salvage whatever’s left instead of being a fucking coward for once!”

Yujin doesn’t notice that she’s been outright screaming into your face. You’re taken aback, utterly in disbelief at what she just aired out. If she wasn’t kindness incarnate, she likely would have pulled you by the shirt and choked you till you passed out. She blinks. The realization hits, and she begins to crumble.

“Sorry” is the only thing she can say, in quiet mumbles, slowly falling back onto her chair. Her hands cover the lower half of her face, completely mortified. Her eyes are on the verge of tears before giving out and crying waterfalls. Eventually, she lowers her head out of shame.

Even before entrusting her with such a demanding assignment, you knew there was nothing other than divine intervention that could save your job. This wasn’t what you signed up for, and neither did Yujin. For the most part, this was only to save face. Your face. The board of directors didn’t have any objections after all, and were mostly agreeable with every step of the plan. Either that or their old age is catching up and they hardly understood a thing at all. Like you.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t excuse you from criticism. This is on you, and you should be held accountable. Instead of rightfully performing your part, you weighed down someone else with your burden. It’s the wake-up call you need.

Yujin shouldn’t feel guilty saying all of this and having to apologize. She’s crying on your desk, still softly apologizing between tears, “Sorry—I’m really sorry—” and your heart fucking drops. 

It’s a terrible feeling.

“Yuj, please stop crying,” you mutter, caressing her shoulder. Seeing her look so defeated brings you more distress than anything, including the thought of losing your job. “I should be the one apologizing for putting you through all this. You’re right—”

“I’m so sorry.” She’s still asking for forgiveness, your words mostly going unnoticed. “I just wanted to—”

“You’re right, Yuj. I’m a coward. I’ll admit, I honestly wanted to resign the moment they brought this up. If they couldn’t do a damn thing about it, how else would I know? Seeing you figure out a way made me realize just how much I depend on you to save my ass. I should be the one saying sorry, not you Goddammit, Yuj. What would I do without you, honestly—”

She tilts her head up, her sniffling and sobbing unceasing, resting her head on your chest. “I’m sorry. What I said is still out of pocket and I wasn’t in the position to say—”

“Shush, Yuj. Stop apologizing for being right,” you reply, brushing her hair. “Look. We’ll go forward with your plan. You can write up the whole thing and I’ll present it your way. I won’t muck up in front of the directors, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’m not gonna quit.”

“Really?” She lifts up her eyes, doe-looking and glimmering.

“Yeah. Might as well go down with a sinking ship, so please stop crying,” you say, smiling. “You made me feel like shit and I don’t like it.”

Yujin laughs. Heartily.

—————

Even though that should havd been enough to appease Yujin, in your eyes, it wasn’t. You had to make it up to her in other ways.

“This place serves really good food,” you tell Yujin, digesting the sights and scents of the relatively small eatery. Meanwhile, Yujin sits beside you, eating to heart’s content without a care. “I can see why you love it.”

“How’d you know this was my favorite place to drop by after work?” she asks, chomping down on the last stick of her barbecue. 

“I have my sources,” you tell her, playfully grinning, unwilling to admit that you’ve been watching from behind your car’s windows for some time now. 

“Don’t tell me it’s Wonyoung, boss.” Yujin pouts, flustered and embarrassed. “I swear to God, I can’t trust anything with—”

“It isn’t her, don’t worry,” you chuckle, amused at her red-faced look. 

“I really appreciate the offer,” she remarks, finishing the remaining half of her drink. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do for my hardworking assistant,” you reply, gesturing to the lone cook for the bill. The charges go up to the hundreds, with most orders belonging to her. While she’s chomping away at the end of a large meal, you secretly foot it on her behalf. How she maintains her figure while consuming this much food, you’ll never know. And when she calls for the tab, she’s told that it has already been paid in full.

“Now you’re just being extra,” she says, facing you, looking insulted by the kind gesture, but in a playful way. Appreciative regardless. “I already told you we’ll pay for what we each ordered.”

Looking at the stack of empty plates on her side—when compared to yours—some part of you believes that to be false. You don’t even have to say anything for her to realize she’s not one to fulfill her own word either.

“Okay—I would have paid 25 percent.”

You can’t place any blame on her. She laughs—at herself. She’s so charming, a pleasure to watch, that you would let her slide, had this not been your intention right from the start.

“Stop.” 

You end up laughing with her too.

—————

“Seriously. Don’t lie, you promise you won’t just suddenly quit on us?” Yujin asks, staring at you as you walk toward your parked vehicles outside the eatery. “This feels like a way to soften the blow.”

Both of you stop right in front of your cars. “Not at all,” you tell her, staring directly into her eyes. “What else do I have to do to prove that I’m not quitting?”

“I don’t know, sir. I mean—you, suddenly asking me to eat out—” she rolls her eyes away, skeptical— “You’ve never done that.”

The cold nighttime air sweeps all over you. Chilly, you rub your arms together, partially regretting the decision to cover Yujin with your coat. She’s relatively unfazed, warm in your garment; even more surprisingly, it fits her perfectly like a glove. 

“I wouldn’t leave if it means I lose you, Yujin.”

It’s not the words you wanted to say. Every part of that sentence leaves your lips effortlessly. A little too effortless.It’s an unconfessed confession, waiting for the right moment to be spoken. Sure, she may interpret it as merely you being codependent on her when it comes to work, but there’s no way there isn’t some kind of other, deeper meaning behind them.

“Lose me? What does that mean?” She asks, even more curious. Of course, Yujin isn’t the brain of your operations for nothing. It isn’t surprising when she figures you out. “You like me, don’t you?”

Just like that, the tables have turned. You can’t deny your feelings any longer.

You gently nod. Perhaps the killing blow could be softer if you find closure, right here, right now.

She leans forward, both of you unable to do anything other than to stare into each other’s deep, longing eyes. The tension between you is the only source of heat in the midst of a cold, lonely night. 

By all accounts, the relationship between you and Yujin is strictly professional. Apart from a few trips abroad, you keep all conversations business related. Mind-numbing, confusing agency jargon. It’s a helpful practice in keeping your space; no matter how attractive she may look and saccharine she may sound, no amount of pleasantry can make company discussion remotely close to entertaining. You’d rather play with the blinds in your office. She’s doing her part too: clock in at nine, clock out at five on the dot. It’s a healthy routine. After hour talks between you are rare. It’s common practice to maintain a firm working relationship. It’s also just common sense. Good organization begins at the top.

Moments like these are strong reminders on why you avoid crossing that line. Yet you don’t stop—not when she’s the one making the first move. 

You kiss. Your lips stay a little longer than they should. The taste lingers. 

You find solace in each other's warmth, in a comforting embrace. She rests her head on your chest, her hands gripping into your shirt tightly. Deep down, you both recognize you’re on borrowed time. Whether through your promotion or your release, you won’t be together for much long. Countless hours spent together, so many occasions—the opportunities are being handed to you on a silver platter, only for you not to take the chance.

Not anymore. You won’t make the same mistake again.

—————

Driving her home was easy; finding your way into your room was half the battle. 

“It took us this long to share a room, huh?” Yujin huffs against your face, finding and capturing your lips even in an erratic, volatile environment. She’s pushing you against the wall, her palms having an iron grip on your cheeks, pulling you close and wildly kissing you. The entire trip up to your apartment floor has been nothing but shaky kisses and clothes slowly scattering from the elevator to your front door.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” you manage to mutter, holding her face away for a brief respite to answer, only to be forced back in once again. Any semblance of professionalism between you is abandoned for fiery, passionate lovemaking, future relationships be damned. 

The most surprising thing is how it isn’t as messy as it may look. See, despite the bite marks on your skin, the wrinkles in your clothes, and the rather loud, unceremonious manner you enter your apartment, you’re still in the process slowly unraveling. There’s a conscious effort to make sure neither side comes out completely in ruins. A silent agreement between you. 

Her hands lay claim to your shirt, threatening to tear you apart if you don’t do the same to her. She lifts her head when you quickly peel through her long skirt; you dive in and make it yours. The crack in her voice as she mewls tickles your ears just right. Slowly spreading her legs wide, pulling the panties down her well defined thighs. In response, she tugs at your shirt, popping a few buttons loose. It isn’t as easy as it looks to have Yujin pinned against the wall; she’s actively fighting, trying to seize back control. If she can’t have her way with you, at the very least she can rein you in. Only now do you realize the danger your little escapede.

With her slender legs wrapped around your waist, you can only do so much. Yujin can’t stop kissing you, leading your gaze to anywhere but her pretty, lust-ridden expressions. She wants this more than you do. Against your desires, you end up in the kitchen, propping her on the bar counter as lipstick covers your entire face. The brief respite when she catches her breath gives you ample time to unbutton the rest of your shirt before tossing it aside—something you don’t give her the decency to finish.

While she’s still staggering, lost in her own thoughts, you take her by the shoulder and leave a fresh mark on her neck. A distraction. More importantly, your fingers feel their way around the back of her dress, find the touch of metal—and yank. The zipper follows, the lengthy garment gradually coming undone, until Yujin pushes the rest of it off her shoulders and to the floor. Your eyes gleam like starlight as her bra reveals itself, taking countless mental snapshots at that moment. 

Not even her attempts to redirect your attention can pull you away. 

You push her down on the marble surface. The bar is big enough to fit you both. Joining her atop the counter, your gaze wanders down her divine figure—and you don’t know where to start. Everything about Yujin is designed to be as perfect as humanly possible. No one should be flawless.

“How can you be any more perfect, Yuj,” you mutter, eyes roaming everywhere, soaking in the immaculate sight before you. “How did I not want you any sooner?”

Yujin’s hand traces down your arm. “You could have just asked. My previous employers did. It was a regular part of the job for me.”

You’re shaking your head. Imagine that—an employer taking advantage of their employee offering themselves without any restraint. You would never—except you already did. Your previous assistant can vouch.

“Don’t feel sorry. I want this just as much as you do,” she adds, pulling you towards her face for a soft kiss, clearing all doubt. “Besides, you’re not that much different from any of them. Why stop now?”

“Not that different? Were they just as codependent on you as I am?”

Nodding in agreement, she laughs. 

“God fucking dammit.” 

You sigh. Yujin continues laughing. What a momentum killer. And the worst part is, it’s self-inflicted and completely avoidable. You should have just kept going, kept her speechless.

Still, it’s not the end of the world. You’re on top of Yujin; she has no intention of leaving you anytime soon. Most importantly, she’s unhooking her bra while you’re caught up in your feelings. “But—there’s one difference: I actually love working for you. I wouldn’t mind letting you use me.”

“You love working for me? Why?”

She’s biting her lip, grabbing you by the back of your head. “You’ll find out yourself. You know what to do.”

“What? How?” The word comes out panicked, desperate.

Yujin shakes her head, the smirk on her lips twisting, wicked. “You know how.”

At first, finding what she means proves to be a struggle. After all, Yujin’s not the mysterious type. She always tells you everything straight, condenses complex conversations into digestible servings for easy consumption. It’s not in her character. Yet, one look at what’s in front of you—her naked frame casually lying beneath yours, her hands running all over your bare self—the realization hits you like lightning, and you’re mentally punching yourself for being so dangerously oblivious.

You kiss her on the lips again. You can’t get enough. You’d happily stay in this position all night long. Except that isn’t what she wants. She wants you to go further. 

So you sink further and further down. The closer you get, the more she opens up. A sloppy trail follows your lips, from her chin, to her collarbones, to her chest and navel, and everything else in between. She’s soft to the touch, so flexible and malleable—every part of her, you make yours. Then you get to her core, her inner thighs spreading, and watch as it unravels before you, quivering, soaked, needy. You look into each other’s eyes, hers anticipating. There’s a craze behind your irises, as if some repressed need is crawling back to the surface. It’s slowly driving you wild.

Your name drips on the edge of Yujin’s mouth—a sign of impatience—before suddenly cracking at the point of impact. She rolls her head back, her voice reduced to an airy sigh as your tongue licks up her slit, her entrance, in a slow upward motion. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to devolve into a hungry, primal mess. Her thighs close in and clamp you down, suffocating you while you become more familiar with the sensation and taste of her dripping cunt. 

If only you could hear the full extent of her moans, turning a pitch higher with each passing swipe and slurp. You’re humming into her core, satiated and fulfilled with the taste of her slick in your mouth. Yujin’s hands stretch out for help, for stability as pleasure gradually overwhelms her. Propped underneath her thighs, your hands dig under to reach places that your tongue can’t. She grows erratics, restless, moved by your presence inside her.

“Fuck!” The profanity escapes her lips instinctually, like it’s always been a part of her. She’s writhing, jaw slack, her back arched over the bar, her hands now grasping on your hair, then on the edges again. On your side, the pressure her thighs bring leave you suffocating. It’s too much. You should be begging for your life; instead, you’re enjoying every minute, slowing your pace every now and then to savor the feeling. 

Despite her state, she’s caught you by the wrists. They do little in stopping your tongue from consuming every inch of her, and you end up pushing her forward. You grip her by her thighs and spread her wide. She can’t resist. Fresh air has never felt more soothing to the lungs. By the way you have her legs dangled up in the air, you’re threatening to pull a nerve. She’s screaming, crying out in desperation, 

Still, it doesn’t change the outcome. Yujin finally loses herself completely and comes undone. She cums—blasts jets of slick all over your face and mouth. The counter pools with the aftermath of her orgasm, and you lick it all up, sanitation be damned. 

When you finally emerge from the depths of her tight, drenched cunt, she remains a mess, stamina completely drained, body still trembling from her massive climax. You’d think after that, she would be incapacitated for the night, until—

“Wait.” Yujin deeply exhales, pulls you by the wrist. You aren’t exactly going anywhere. As if struck by lightning, she suddenly rises up. A shit-eating grin forms on her lips, as if the damage wasn’t enough to take her down. There’s a familiar look in her eyes—the gaze of a woman who needs more.

She flicks a sample of her slick from the spot on the counter and laps it up, still eying you with unceasing lust. You remember her words, the question to ponder: “You’re gonna tell me now?”

Yujin blankly stares. The question lingers for a little while. “Tell you what?” she replies, the tone convincing enough to feign innocence.

“Why you love working for me.”

She smiles again, a teasing look. “You’re halfway there.”

“What does that mean?” As you try not to overreact, your assistant turned one night stand tries to stifle her laughter. It almost goes unnoticed, until— “Yuj, you’re really getting on my nerves with all this vaguery bullshit going on.”

“It’s part of the fun, is it not? Do you want me to give it straight?”

“Yes! Like always!” 

Yujin leans close. One hand reaches for your pants, the other still attached to your wrist. She appears like she’s going for yet another kiss, when she stops right next to your ear and whispers, “I want you to fuck me. Use me,” before drawing herself away.

On the surface, the stare you give her looks cold. Deep in your mind, the words resonate and ring louder and louder. Four words. “Fuck me—” “Use me—” The arousal bubbles up, manifests on your cheeks. The next few minutes can go so many ways, more than you can imagine. In your eyes, she’s still your assistant, a friendly, dependable worker whom you consider a close acquaintance more than anything. 

The thing is: you’ve already gone far past the point of no return. Her gaze is enticing—demanding—you to keep going. 

There’s no stopping now.

Yujin casually follows you to your bedroom, hand in tow. The rest of your clothes lie discarded in the kitchen—boxers, pants, and all. Gone are the nerves and hesitations; the attitude you have towards her is different. “Lay down,” you command her, voice steely, and she obliges, the bed flopping with the slight crash of her lithe figure. You won’t ever grow tired of staring at her naked body, regardless of it’s position. 

She lays flat on her tummy, observing you rummage through your large closet of suits, pulling a red tie from one of the drawers. “Not the first time I’ve had something wrapped around my neck,” she remarks, raising a curious eyebrow, crooked smile unyielding. “Stylish, just like you.”

“I wasn’t asking for your input.” You’re never this stern towards Yujin. You toss the necktie on the mattress before joining her atop the bed. “Turn around.”

Like the good girl she is, she obliges. That’s Yujin for you; she’ll always follow everything you tell her, no questions asked. On her fours, her plump ass glides face up, in complete view. Another temptation, another part of her to claim as yours. Regardless, you’re in no hurry; you’ve got the rest of the night.

With your erect cock in hand, you line the tip against her sopping cunt. She winces, moans at the contact. “Oh, fuck—” she whines, lifting her head up, her nails pressed into the sheets. As inviting as the call of her tight, wet pussy is to you, you make an organized effort to resist the immediate lull to fuck her hard.

Even holding her figure with your other hand proves to be a nightmare. Her body enraptures you in hypnotic ways. The arch of her back, the curve of her ass, the hourglass frame—it’s a feast for the eyes. You could take your sweet time and worship every little part of Yujin and she wouldn’t mind, but in the midst of your blinding daze, she’s calling to you. Again.

“Are you just gonna admire me or are you gonna shove that big cock in me?” She faces you with a mischievous grin. “I don’t mind both.”

Suddenly, you remember your position in this relationship. You grab her by the throat, face her away again. “Quiet. I don’t want to hear any more from you unless you’re taking this fucking cock.”

Showing a little resistance, she tries daring you, “Then f—fuck!”

Her jaw goes wide, frozen in place, her voice abruptly cutting as you undercut her with your cock. You’re no better; pleasure sets your muscles ablaze as you thrust into her inviting cunt. It shows in the deep groan spilling from your mouth. Little by little, you plunge ever so deep until you feel yourself buried to the hilt. That’s when you finally let out this breath of relief—but not for long. 

Her pussy clenches hard. Her heat proves to be suffocating beyond measure. If you don’t act quickly, she could end you in seconds. 

“O-oh God—”

You slowly, painstakingly pull back before throttling your hips into her. Taking these short breaths, every little move you make is precarious. It’s not that she’s resisting you—far from it—but it’s you resisting the urge to cum so soon. Your mind tries to think of anything other than what’s right in front, but even that proves to be nearly impossible. The ripple of her ass, the slight wobble of her breasts, the twisting grip of your hand on her otherwise soft skin—

“So fucking tight. Holy fuck, Yuj—” You manage to mutter before you’re reduced to groans again. 

All you can focus on is keeping yourself together while you’re slowly crumbing away. You find a rhythm in the midst of the madness, pounding away at your assistant’s cunt, your senses overrun by pleasure and the satisfying sound of your skin slapping skin. Elsewhere, your hands can’t seem to find solace in just one area. They’re everywhere; from her hair, to her throat, to the arch of her ass, to her hips, the imprints stay new, eventually creating a patterned sequence that immediately breaks.

You’re fucking these strained cries and prasies out of Yujin’s sweet lips, and it’s quite the mouthful. ’More,’ ‘harder,’ ‘so good—’ until it reaches the point where her voice is so worn from your chokehold that she can only speak in high pitched mewls. Another cycle you wish would never end. 

Slowing your pace, you reach for the necktie, gently tying it around her neck while preventing your rhythm from disrupting. “You’re such a fucking perfect woman, you know that?” you mutter in her ear, kissing the helix and indulging in the scent of her perfume mixed with sex and sweat. “Perfect listener, perfect assistant, perfect body—”

Pulling yourself away from her, you yank the tie along—your makeshift leash. Her body tilts all the way up, a sharp screech suddenly filling the bedroom. You’re not sure if its from the pull or just her moan. Either way, you have her in your grasp. Brushing her hair aside, you mumble, “Actually, I don’t know how to use a tie like that. I just wanted to remember what it’s like to be the boss. Your boss.”

It should have sounded flat, like all your other attempts at being convincing. And yet, she leans her ear backward, trying to recapture your lips. Teasing a little, your lips make what’s considered the most minimal of contacts, before you push her to her fours. You don’t intend to pull on the tie again, but you’re still holding on to it like your most prized possession—and it may as well be Yujin. 

“Of course,” are her first words uttered in a while that aren’t some combination of profanity and praise. 

Grabbing her by the midsection, the rhythm of your thrusts quickens. You feel it. The imminent collapse. And it’s not just the bed quaking and creaking from your sex. She’s pleading now; ’So close,’ she tells you, begs you to let her cum all over your cock. In any other scenario, you’d acquiesce. Here, with all the authority, you’re going to assert your power a little.

“Say it. Say it and I’ll let you cum all over me,” you demand, your hand climbing up to her chest, grabbing at her breast, folding her up slightly that her grip on the sheets transfers to the headboard. “I wanted you so fucking bad for so long.”

“Anything for you. Just let me cum!” she cries out, on the verge of falling apart. Dangerously close.

“Tell me I’m yours.”

“I’m yours!”

“You know what I meant. Say it again.”

“I’m yours! I’m yours!”

Hearing her declare that she belongs to you with such conviction almost upends you too. You almost give in, but narrowaly escape thanks to your utter resolve. The smirk on your face is priceless.

“Perfect. Now cum.”

Just like that, her body reacts at the drop of your command, as if it was hardwired into her. Yujin goes numb—fidgeting, cumming all over your cock—as you continue to pound into her cunt. A single word echoes, going quieter with every incantation: ‘Fuck,’ she whines, caught reeling in her orgasm and catching every breath possible. 

Eventually, it comes to a standstill, the only thing left is for you to crash. Lucky for her, you’re not that far off. You’ve let go of the tie, holding onto her shoulders instead. So now it’s her opportunity to turn the tables on you again.

“Fucking give it to me—oh I need it now, oh God—” Yujin begs, barely keeping herself upright in the aftermath of her climax.

And you just crash down on her, slamming her deep into the sheets, turning her around as you fuck callously, clamping her neck, her moans ringing into your ear. She has a leg wrapped arond yours—as if you had any intention of pulling out. You’ve spent enough time away from her pretty face; now you want to watch her take all your load deep in her pussy.

Yujin’s mouth melds in the shape of a moan as the pressure finally overwhelms you. Burying yourself deep in her, you’re still pumping, fucking your cock as you blast thick load after thick load in her warm, creamy cunt. The sensation leaves you breathless, hanging onto her for dear life as you wait for the moment to pass. Though it may seem like a couple of minutes, the feeling lingers far longer than you can imagine. She milks you of all your worth, drawing every last drop from your throbbing cock until your body can’t move any longer.

Eventually, your bodies wind up together, limbs tangled, wrapped around each other in a warm embrace. The comfort you both needed after a long day.

—————

You gaze down at a tired Yujin. Hours ago, you were the one holding onto her; now she’s the clingy one, wrapping an arm over you. “I really need to know, Yuj.” 

She mumbles into your chest. “What is it?” You feel her soft lips leave lipstick marks on your skin.

You’re brushing away loose, dark strands of her hair to get a better look of her pristine, shiny face. “Why do you love working for me?”

After the passionate night you just had, you still have the gall to ask such a frivolous question. The answer should be obvious by now.

She looks up, smiling—a pleasant, friendly gleam, one you immediately recognize as soon as you walk through those office doors. “Because you’re the first boss I’ve ever worked for that isn’t a total asshole. Also, you’re good at everything.”

You raise an eyebrow and frown. “That’s not—”

“You know what I meant, boss.” The smiling turns into teasing. You realize, then you laugh.

You should be basking in the afterglow of sex, but daylight peeking through your curtain says otherwise. You’re so tired, you can’t move a muscle, let alone grab the phone from the living room to tell the time. All you know is that you should be at work by now, and so should Yujin.

The ring from your phone can be heard loud and clear, even a room and clothing pocket away. As you try to lift your head, Yujin meets you halfway, kissing you before laying you back down.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll write up your leave of absence. Besides, I could use some time off too,” she says, inching her face close to yours.

The notion frightens you. Yujin, your most reliable assistant, never missing a day that isn’t considered a holiday, not by your side when you need her. 

And you need her now more than ever.

“Time off? When?”

“From now. Until you say we’re done.”

—————

(A/N: :bsadcorner:)

(Missing IVE's first proper world tour will always be one of my K-pop low points, even if I already watched and even shared an interaction with them. Goddammit, I can already expect the prices and perks for their next tour will be even more expensive than it already is. Sigh. Anyway, I hope they get their well deserved time off. Thank you for reading!)

[azzibuckets]

Could you pleaseee rigjt a cute little fluff one shot of Paige and azzi on the bus to an away game like them cuddling up in their seats taking a nap and like Paige insisting on carrying all of azzis stuff and azzi has to remind Paige to zip up her jacket before she goes outside so she doesn’t catch a cold just cute domestic stuff

a little distraction [pazzi]

summary/an: got an insane amount of requests for azzi wearing the bueckers shirt but i honestly have no clue what to do with that so here’s some game day fluff ig

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

Paige doesn’t really know what she did to deserve Azzi Fudd. After the younger girl sprained her knee in the game against Louisville, the last thing Paige expected when they got back to the hotel room was for Azzi to say she was proud of her.

But as they set down their bags, Azzi hobbled over to Paige, hands curling around her neck and tilting her head down so she could press a gentle kiss on her temple. “You know how proud I am of you?”

“Baby.” Paige covers Azzi’s hands with her own, bringing their clasped hands between them and squeezing slightly. “What?”

Azzi laughs, brushing her lips against the curly blonde baby hairs above her ear. “I said I’m proud of you.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow. “You just injured yourself and all you can think about are my stupid ass shoes?”

“I never said it was about your shoes.” Azzi affectionately runs her hand through Paige’s hair, letting the ends twirl against her fingers. “Can’t someone just be proud of their girlfriend?” She holds Paige’s hand and presses a kiss to each of her fingertips, looking up at the blonde through her lashes. “Although having your own player exclusive helped.”

Paige looks down, a hot red blush spreading through her cheeks. “Stop thinking about me.”

“I deadass think about you all the time, so that’s not really possible.

“Stop it.” Paige gently pushes Azzi’s chest, only for the younger girl to catch her hand and pull her in tighter. “You’re being so corny.”

“You don’t like it?” Azzi’s eyes narrow.

“No, I love it,” Paige insists. “But are you good? How’s your knee?”

“Honestly, I’m just grateful right now.” Azzi looks down at her right leg, carefully grazing her fingertips against her slightly swollen knee. “Could’ve been a lot worse.”

“You scared the fuck out of me when you fell,” Paige admitted, leaning down to inspect Azzi’s knee as if she could do anything about it. Her touch is soft and featherlight against Azzi’s skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Little bit.”

Paige stands up, gently pushing Azzi’s hips against the bed so that she’s sitting down. Inserting a leg between hers, she hovers above Azzi’s lips with a smirk. “I can help you forget about it.”

“Mm.” Azzi’s eyes flutter shut as Paige’s thumb soothes her jawline. “A little distraction would be nice.”

•••••••••••••••

“Dude.” One moment, Azzi has her backpack and duffel bag in hand, and the next, they’re in Paige’s hands, being quickly rolled across the sidewalk until they’re in the trunk of the van.

“You shouldn’t be lifting too much weight,” Paige chastises, slamming the trunk of the car with a little too much force.

“It’s a sprain, not a broken leg, P,” Azzi grumbles.

Paige rolls her eyes, indicating for Azzi to get in so they can start driving. “Did you pack warm? Notre Dame’s colder than Storrs this time of year.”

“How do you even know that?”

“I did my research.” Paige taps her fingers against the wheel. “I brought your thermal leg warmer by the way. You forgot it.”

“Oh, shit.”

Paige sighs impatiently, and the way she’s restlessly fidgeting is an immediate tell. Azzi raises an eyebrow. “What’s with the attitude?”

“Ion know what you’re even talking about,” Paige mutters under her breath.

“You’re being weird as fuck.”

“Nothing.” Paige rolls her eyes, falling into silence before she suddenly decides that she should just say it. “I mean, I just think you should be taking better care of yourself.”

“What?” If anyone has known how hard Azzi has worked to get back to this point, it’s Paige, and her words are like daggers to her chest. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’m just saying, you’re a lil forgetful sometimes. I am too. But when you keep injuring yourself, you gotta be on top of it. Your knee gets sensitive in cold weather but you forget your thermal sleeve?”

“I take care of myself, Paige.” Azzi says. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Paige’s eyes close momentarily before she remembers she’s on the road. “Look, my bad. It came out wrong.” She glances over at Azzi, reaching for her hand. Azzi’s hand is limp at first, unwilling to touch Paige, but Paige forces her fingers around Azzi’s. “I just wish you would remember to treat yourself good, not just okay. If it were the other way around, you know you’d be getting at me for simple stuff like that. You wouldn’t let me open my own doors for months after my ACL surgery.”

Azzi’s posture relaxes a little, and her hand softens around Paige, but she still looks out the window, refusing to spare her girlfriend a glance. “I guess.”

“No I guess, okay? You need to feel great in order to be great and to do that you need to be extra kind to yourself.”

“You should get into motivational speaking.”

“Shut the hell up.” Paige brushes her thumb over Azzi’s knuckle, sneaking a glance to make sure the younger girl’s not mad anymore. “I love you.”

Azzi shakes her head, fighting back a blush as she looks down at her lap. “Love you more, idiot.”

Once they board the plane, Paige is bolting down the aisle, making sure no one’s taken the seat next to Azzi. CD had held her back for a conversation, and the entire time she’d spent thinking about how Azzi better have saved that seat for her.

Her shoulders relax as soon as she sees Azzi in an empty row. “Seat taken?” Paige jokes as she stuffs her suitcase in the overhead container.

“Yeah. Morgan’s in the bathroom,” Azzi says, barely looking up from her phone.

“Are you serious?” Paige hasn’t thrown a tantrum in 15 years, but she feels like stomping her foot now. She’s tired and hungry and doesn’t want to be on a 5 ton machine in the air and all she wants to do is cuddle with her girlfriend. “I need to have a talk with the freshmen.”

“Kidding.” Azzi slides her phone into her pocket. “Thought it’d be funny to see you mad.” Patting the seat next to her, she flashes Paige a blinding smile.

Miffed, Paige plops down next to her girlfriend, curling into her seat so not a single inch of her body is in contact with Azzi’s.

“Come onnnnn,” Azzi laughs, finding Paige’s annoyance funny. She pokes at her cheek. “Lighten up.”

“I will if you let me have the window seat.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Paige and Azzi turn around at the same time to face Aubrey. “Sorry,” they apologize in sync.

They stare ahead for a few moments, until Paige slightly turns her head.

“Yes.” She whispers.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I fucking hate y’all.” In a second, Aubrey is gone, making her way down a few rows to sit next to Morgan.

“You had the window seat on our LA flight,” Paige complains.

“Say one more thing about the window seat and I’m not letting you sleep on me.”

Paige immediately shuts up. Azzi stares at her for a second before heaving a sigh. “Oh my god, you big baby.” Azzi rolls her eyes and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Move.”

Paige’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“I’m not doing it for you, dumbass. I need extra space to stretch my leg.”

“Okay, whatever.” Paige stands up, and they switch spots. “Let me know if hurts. I’ll get ice.” Then she slides her hand over Azzi’s knee, gingerly but protectively, as if the weight of her hand will protect it from any other injury.

[o9sessions]

FRACTURED MASKS ── #1 | ◯ △ □

on the edge of desperation, a chance knocks,

offering salvation wrapped in a red envelope

MASTER | NEXT

wc ; 4.1k warnings ; violence (slapping), cursing

THE hum of the fluorescent lights in the lab was soothing, the faint echo of pens scribbling onto the versitile paper made from processed plant fibers filling the otherwise quiet space. You sat at a corner desk near the back wall away from the other students, bent over your notes; the pages filled with medical terminology and formulas, a language you knew well.

Frankly, it was all you had left—the work, the research, the dream of the future you were still so desperately clinging to, despite the storm brewing around you. You’d always known you were meant for something more, something great.

As a little girl, you’d sit in the back of the classroom in America, your home country, gazing out the window daydreaming about what your life would be like in years to come. The world had so much to offer, and you wanted to be part of the change, part of the movement that would make this world a better place. Studying medicine was your true calling, a everlasting dream to help those in need, just as the doctor who treated your parents had done.

Your grip on the pen nestled in your hand tightened at the thought of them, a heavy sadness weighing in on your heart. They were both hardworking people who fought through their own struggles, but they gave you everything they could—love, support, and dreams of a better future. Your mother had always been the one to say, “You’re going to do something great, something that will change the world.” Your father, though quiet, had always supported that belief, his pride evident whenever you made a small achievement. You were their only child, the only one to carry on their legacy, and they poured everything into your future.

But when they died, everything came crashing down.

It had happened so quickly. One moment, they were fine—healthy, full of life, planning for your future in medicine—and the next, they were gone. The cancer had come back, worse than before, it took both of them in the blink of an eye. You’d never really had the chance to grieve properly; instead you had to grow up in an instant, picking up the pieces of your shattered world.

You found yourself alone in a vast, cold world, with no one to turn to. The grief felt like a dark cloud, following you everywhere. No brothers, no sisters, no extended family—just you. The silence was suffocating. The weight of carrying on your family’s name and legacy felt heavier than anything you could ever imagine. Your parents’ absence was a constant, an unspoken ache carried with you every day.

But you had to keep going. They had invested so much in you. Their dreams had been your dreams, and you couldn’t just let that die. So you packed your bags, got on a plane, and moved across the world to Korea. You’d told herself it was for your future, for your studies, but deep down, you were running—running from the memories that clung to every corner of your childhood home.

Korea was a new beginning. The medical technology there was unmatched, the advancements in treatment and research were groundbreaking, and it was a place where you could finally make you mark. You would build a new life, one far removed from the painful memories of your parents. You threw herself into your studies, determined to not only make them proud but also to prove that their sacrifices meant something.

Your proficiency in Korean, a skill you’d honed since childhood, made the transition easier. You had taken classes since elementary school in preparation for the opportunity to study abroad. It had been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember, and now that dream was within your reach. You were going to be a doctor, someone who could heal the world.

You didn’t notice how lost in thought you were until the PA system crackled to life, breaking your concentration.

“Attention, Miss [name]. Please report to the Head Minister’s office immediately. I repeat, Miss [name], please report to the Head Minister’s office.”

You froze, pen still in hand, the words barely registering in your mind. Dozens of paris of eyes landed on you in an instant, butterflies swirled in your belly from the attention. The sudden, sharp jolt of anxiety hit your chest as you sat up straight, setting the pen down. With haste you began packing materials back onto your bag, quickly scurrying out of the study lab and into the hallway.

Your mind raced—you had no reason to think anything was wrong. You had been keeping up with your assignments, acing exams, staying focused on your studies. What could it be?

Each step echoed down the silent halls of the school. The walk to the Head Minister’s office felt like it took hours, and by the time you stood outside the door, your palms were clammy, stomach twisted in knots. With a shaky breath, you knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called from within.

You pushed the door open, the dim light inside casting long shadows across the room. The Head Minister, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, sat behind her desk, papers scattered before her. Her gaze flicked up when the door clicked shut behind you, but there was something in her expression that sent a shiver down your spine—something that made your pulse quicken.

“Miss [name], please, sit,” the Minister said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

You obeyed, feeling the weight of the room settle over the both of you like a cloak. The minister didn’t waste time.

“I’m afraid there’s some troubling news,” she began, her voice cool and detached, as though she had delivered this same message countless times before.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You instinctively clasped your hands in your lap, trying to still the nervous shaking that had overtaken them.

“Your financial status with the school has fallen into the negatives. There’s a significant amount of debt you have yet to clear, and unfortunately, it’s put your enrollment in jeopardy.” The Minister’s words landed like a punch, each one more suffocating than the last.

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been trying to ignore it, telling yourself it wasn’t that bad, that you’d find a way. But hearing the words spoken out loud, so matter-of-fact, shattered the fragile illusion you had been clinging to.

“Y-You’re saying I’m… not allowed to continue?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

The Minister’s expression softened for just a moment, but the coldness never fully left her eyes. “I’m afraid that’s the case. Until this debt is settled, we can’t allow you to continue your studies here. You’re being put on hold.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the room spinning as the weight of the situation settled into your bones. You had thought she could keep it together, that you could finish what your parents had started for you. But now—now it felt like the ground was slipping from under you.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you stammered, your throat tightening. “How did this happen? I thought my payments were on track.”

The Minister flicked through a few papers in front of her, her face impassive. “It appears the balance has been building for some time now, and the payments haven’t been made in full. There’s an outstanding amount that needs to be cleared immediately.”

Your hands picked harshly at your nails, leg bouncing in anticipation for the answer she would provide to your next question. “How much is the balance?”

The way she looked at you then, eyes flickering with a slight hint of pity was enough to confirm that it was something way out of your limits.

“60 Million Won.” ($41,120 USD)

Your mind raced, that was at least a years worth of tuition. You couldn’t afford this! Not now! Not when everything you had worked for—everything you had sacrificed—was on the line. Your dream of becoming a doctor, hope for a future that seemed just within your reach, was slipping away faster than you could grasp it.

“I-I can get the money,” you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. “I’ll figure something out. Just give me time, please.”

The Minister’s expression softened again, but only slightly. “I’m afraid time is no longer a luxury we can afford. Until your financial situation is resolved, I’m afraid we cannot allow you to remain enrolled.”

A lump formed in your throat, a hot rush of tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to scream, to beg, to plead for them to understand—but the words stuck, lodged somewhere deep inside you, where they couldn’t escape.

You weren’t used to being vulnerable, to letting anyone see how far the weight of everything was crushing you. But this—this was different. This was your future on the line, and there was nothing you could do.

“Take a few days to process everything, Miss [name],” the Minister continued, her tone unreadable. “We’ll be in touch once the situation has been resolved.”

You nodded, unable to form words, too numb to respond. You stood up, legs shaky, and vision blurring. The room seemed to close in around you as you turned and walked out, each step echoing in the hollow silence.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the reality of the situation crashed down on you with full force. You stood in the hallway for a long moment, not knowing what to do, where to go, or how to keep moving forward. Your entire future had just been ripped away from you, and all you had left was the suffocating weight of uncertainty.

The cold air of the train station bites at your skin, a sharp reminder of the emptiness around you. You sit hunched over on the worn bench, your bag at your feet, clutching your phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to the world. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the nearly deserted platform.

At this late hour, there are only a few scattered passengers—an old man reading a newspaper, a couple arguing in hushed tones, a woman sipping coffee to stay awake.

But none of them matter.

Your fingers tremble as you scroll through your phone, searching desperately for a contact, a message, anything that might lead you to him. Your sugar daddy—the one who promised to take care of you, who helped you get this far—was supposed to be your safety net. He had always reassured you, always provided. But now, every attempt to call him goes straight to voicemail. Every message the same, ‘not delivered’.

When you’d first moved to Korea, only 19 years old and barley out of high school, things had been manageable. You found yourself a place to stay in Seoul, a small but cozy apartment. You made school friends, and your studies were progressing well. Then came the sugar daddy—an older man who had a fondness for your ambition, an attraction to your foreignerness.

He offered to fund your education, promising to cover your tuition, rent, and even some living expenses. It was an unexpected stroke of luck. You didn’t feel right about it, but you told herself it was temporary—just until you got your footing, just until you could fully stand on your own.

At first, it had been easy to accept his help. You wasn’t using him, you told herself. He didn’t ask for anything beyond your company and very small sexual favors, a kiss here some oral sex there. You’d convinced yourself you could keep things strictly business. But you were wrong. You had fallen into his world, one of easy luxuries and comfort, and for a while, it felt like a dream.

But dreams are fragile, and sometimes, they shatter without warning.

You try his social media, hoping for some sign, but when you go to type in the filmilar username no profile pops up, you’re hit with the harsh realization—you’ve been blocked. Completely.

Your heart sinks further as you stare at the blank screen, the gnawing sense of abandonment tightening in your chest. You never knew his real name. He only ever used an alias, a charming façade that you thought was enough. But now you realize just how little you actually knew about him. No name. No address. No way to contact him outside of the platforms he controlled.

He’s gone.

Your mind begins to race, dozens of questions swirling your brain, yet left unanswered. How long ago had he cut off your expenses? Did he find someone else, someone younger maybe? Did he stop paying your rent aswell?

“Fuck.” The sudden thought caused the curse to slip from your quivering lips. Hopefully you wouldn’t come home to find an eviction notice tapped to your apartment door.

You know you’ve been distant this past year, canceling meetings at the last minute, pushing off wondering touches and kisses. Yet that was no excuse for him to cut you off and leave you completely in the dark. You’ve expressed to have been been stacked with work from your university, trying hard to make it through medical school.

A wave of hopelessness crashes over you, and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over. The train station around you feels colder, lonelier, as you sit there, unsure of what to do next. The weight of the debt—the 60 million won looming over your head—feels unbearable.

“You look troubled,” a smooth, unfamiliar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You look up sharply, your eyes meeting a man standing a few feet away. He’s dressed neatly, almost too neatly for this dingy train station, with a crisp suit and a polished demeanor that feels out of place. There’s something unsettling about the way he smiles at you—warm enough to seem kind, yet sharp enough to put you on edge.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” he continues, stepping closer, “you look like someone with a lot on their mind.”

You shift uncomfortably, hugging your bag tighter. “I’m fine,” you mutter, your voice unconvincing even to yourself.

“Are you?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. His tone is calm, almost soothing, but there’s a hint of something behind it—curiosity, perhaps, or calculation. “Sometimes, it helps to talk about it.”

You hesitate, unsure whether to brush him off or let the floodgates open. Against your better judgment, the words spill out before you can stop them. “I’m in debt,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how I’m going to pay it off. I’ve tried everything, but now…” You trail off, swallowing the lump in your throat, head bowed in shame.

The man nods slowly, as if he’s heard this all before. “A difficult situation, no doubt,” he says, his voice laced with an odd sympathy. “But perhaps there’s a way out.”

Your head snaps to him so quickly your surprised your neck is still attached to your shoulders. “What do you mean there’s still a way out?”

The man takes a step closer, his polished shoes echoing faintly in the nearly empty station. He sets the briefcase he’s been carrying on the bench beside you with a deliberate precision, the metallic click of the latches breaking the silence. Slowly, he opens it, revealing two neatly stacked piles of red and blue paper squares, along with a thick wad of cash.

You blink at the sight, your heart skipping a beat.

“Miss, would you be interested in a game of ddakji?”

“Ddakji?” you repeated, the name sounding unfamiliar on your tongue. Wasn’t this an old korean kids game? “What is this?” you ask, your voice hesitant as you glance between the vibrant paper and the man’s unreadable expression.

“A game,” he replies simply, his tone light yet oddly menacing. He picks up one of the blue squares and hands it to you. “It’s simple. You take this and try to flip over my red paper square by slamming it down. Every time you succeed, I’ll pay you 100,000 won.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the number, but suspicion quickly creeps in. “And if I lose?”

The man’s smile grows, sharp and knowing. “If you lose,” he says, almost casually, “You pay me the same amount.”

You freeze, your fingers tightening on the paper in your hands. “W-what..?”

He nods, unbothered by the disbelief in your voice. “That’s the risk. It’s only fair, don’t you think?”

Your gaze flickers to the money, then back to the man’s face. The desperation in your chest claws at you, urging you to agree. Sixty million won—the debt that looms over your head—flashes in your mind. Even if you win just a few rounds, it could make a difference.

“What happens if I say no?” you ask, your voice quiet.

“Then nothing,” he replies, his smile unfaltering. “You walk away, and your situation stays exactly as it is.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “But something tells me you won’t.”

You swallow hard, your hands trembling slightly as you look down at the paper square. Against your better judgment, you nod.

“Alright,” you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “Let’s play.”

The man’s grin sharpens, and he places a red square on the ground before taking a step back. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, gesturing for you to start.

You look down at his paper, gripping the blue square tightly. You take a deep breath, then slam it down as hard as you can. The sound echoes through the station, but the red square barely shifts.

The man clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. “Tough luck,” he says, stepping forward.

Your stomach sinks. “I don’t have the money to—”

“Relax,” he interrupts smoothly, raising a hand to cut you off. “You look like you’re about to cry. I’ll tell you what—we’ll change the terms.”

You blink, confused. “Change the terms?”

“Yes.” He crouches slightly so that he’s at eye level with you. His smile stretches wider, his gaze unrelenting. “Every time you lose, instead of paying me money, I’ll slap you.”

Your breath hitches, and you recoil slightly at the proposition. “Slap me?”

“It’s fair, isn’t it?” he says, his voice calm and composed as if he’s suggesting the most reasonable alternative. “And if you win, I’ll still pay you 100,000 won. No money owed. Just a little pain if you lose.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your ears. The desperation gnaws at you, urging you forward despite every instinct screaming at you to walk away. Slowly, reluctantly, you nod.

“Fine,” you say, your voice barely audible.

The man’s grin widens, and he gestures toward the red square on the ground. “Good. Let’s begin.”

You kneel down again, gripping the blue square tightly. This time, when you slam it down, the red square doesn’t even budge.

The man wastes no time. He steps forward, his hand swinging sharply. The slap rings out loud and clear, stinging like fire across your cheek.

You press a hand to your face, glaring up at him with watery eyes. “You didn’t have to hit so hard,” you mutter, more out of humiliation than anger.

He shrugs, unbothered. “That’s the game.”

You grit your teeth, determination flaring. You pick up the blue square again, readying yourself for another attempt. This time, when you slam it down, the red square flips over with a satisfying snap.

The man raises an eyebrow, mildly impressed. “Atta girl,” he says, pulling a crisp 100,000 won bill from the briefcase and handing it to you.

The money feels heavier than it should in your hand, like a tangible piece of hope. It ignites something in you, pushing you to keep going.

You play again. And again. And again.

The slaps come harder, the sting lingering longer, but every time you win, the money in your hand grows. By the end of it, your cheek is red and sore, your hand aching from the repeated impact of the paper. But you’ve amassed a small stack of cash—a temporary reprieve from the weight crushing your shoulders.

The man finally raises a hand, signaling the end of the game. “You’ve done well,” he says, his tone almost approving. “But if you’re truly interested in changing your life, there’s a bigger game you can join.”

Your heart sinks at the cryptic offer. “What do you mean?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black envelope, wrapped in a red bow. He holds it out to you, his expression unreadable, although for a second you swear you saw a flicker of uncertainty—guilt, in his eyes.

“Call the number on this card,” he says. “You’ll have the chance to win far more than what’s in your hands right now. Enough to erase your debt and start fresh.”

You hesitate, staring at the card as if it holds the answer to all your problems—and maybe it does. But there’s an edge to his words, a warning you can’t quite decipher.

“Think about it,” he adds, stepping away and closing the briefcase with a decisive snap. “But don’t take too long. Opportunities like this don’t come often.”

And just like that, he’s gone, leaving you alone in the station with the cash in your hands and the card weighing heavy in your pocket.

The familiar creak of the apartqment door echoes in the silence as you step inside, exhaustion pressing down on you like a physical weight. You shut the door behind you, the click of the lock strangely final. Kicking off your shoes, you shuffle toward the tiny kitchenette, your mind too scattered to bother with anything more than a pack of instant ramen.

The fluorescent light above flickers as you fill a cup with water and pour it into the noodles. You toss the packet into the microwave, pressing a few buttons with little thought. The soft hum fills the quiet space, but it does nothing to soothe the growing ache in your chest.

Leaning against the counter, you glance around the small apartment. The peeling wallpaper, the sagging couch, the pile of bills stacked on the coffee table—it all feels heavier now. Without the safety net of your sugar daddy, this place feels less like home and more like a trap.

You exhale shakily, running a hand through your hair. “What am I supposed to do now?” you mutter, the question hanging in the air.

The microwave beeps, but you don’t move right away. Instead, your gaze drops to your bag sitting on the floor by the door. You remember the card. That strange, cryptic envelope the man gave you at the station.

Pushing off the counter, you walk over and crouch down, pulling the card from the pocket of your bag. The glossy surface catches the dim light as you hold it up.

You pull the little envelope open, it’s a small brown card, your thumb traces over the circle, triangle, and square symbols printed on the front before flipping it, revealing the number written inside.

8650 4006

For a moment, you just stare at it, your mind racing with everything that happened today—the minister’s cold words, your sugar daddy’s abrupt betrayal, the stinging slaps, the small stack of cash you’d managed to scrape together.

Sixty million won. The number feels like a noose around your neck, tightening with every second that passes.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, clutching the card in your hand. Your other hand hovers over your phone, trembling as you consider what you’re about to do.

“This could be it,” you whisper, the words trembling on your lips. “My way out.”

Or your way into something worse.

But desperation drowns out caution. You dial the number, the ringing filling your ear like the ticking of a countdown.

On the third ring, someone answers. A calm, even voice greets you.

“Would like to participate in the games?”

You close your eyes, your breath hitching. “Yes,” you say softly, the word carrying the weight of everything you’ve endured.

“I want to play.”

And just like that, your fate is sealed.

a/n — omg guysss first chapter done, so excited to carry on this new story. don’t worry in-ho will be introduced in the 2nd or 3rd chapter i wanted to build up the reader’s background and give you guys an understanding of her thought process and life yk 😭 feel like everyone just rushes their story to get to the good parts 😣🙄 like where’s the build uppp ! hope yall enjoyeddd if you liked to be tagged in the next chapter comment down belowww

[fruitcoral]

GOOD LUCK CHARM

HSR || Aventurine x fem! Reader || smut

Synopsis: You are a pharmaceutical scientist who has been known as a walking good luck charm your entire life. Exhausted from working tirelessly and having to experience the bad luck of others, you decided to take a small vacation to Penacony, where you end up crossing paths with a certain gambler.

Since you've been young, you've been told you were a walking good luck charm.

But sadly, you only brought luck to others, not yourself.

You could remember all the times you've accidentally brought luck to others. Some are more appreciative than others. They, of course, never knew their bringer of luck was a random woman who had no other abilities.

The first time you brought luck to someone was your mother. You had scraped your knee one day while playing with some random children in one of the subareas of Central Starskiff Haven. Fat tears streamed down your cheeks as you threw your head back, wailing your little heart out until your mother scurried to your side in a panic. She comforted you, brushed away your tears, cleaned your wounds, and even placed a loving kiss on top of your bandaged knee. And just a few hours after that, she got the best news of her life. She got a promotion in her job that would pay her handsomely, securing both of you a comfortable life.

The second time was when you were comforting a new friend. They ranted to you about how they were on the verge of being homeless. As they bawled their little heart out, you pulled them into an awkward embrace and reassured them that everything was going to get better. Not even a day later, they arrived at your house with a toothy grin. Their eyes glimmered brightly as they relayed the good news to you. Their family had inherited a large sum of money, which not only paid off all of their debts but also left them with enough to last the next few years. After that, they disappeared, leaving nothing but a letter.

At first, you thought nothing of it and considered it to be a coincidence. But as strokes of luck continued to happen to people you had come in contact with, you realized it wasn't a coincidence, far from it, actually.

Sadly, you didn't have any luck to spare for yourself. It seemed like you took on everyone's stroke of bad luck. For with every stroke of good luck you experienced a horrendous amount of bad luck. For example, the last person you remember accidentally giving good luck too, you were almost crushed by a wooden crate that was carrying a heavy yet fragile item. It was honestly ironic and kind of funny.

Your mom constantly fretted over your well-being until she eventually moved. She got on the next airship and left for Herta's space station. Why? Well, not only was she offered a position to research her object of interest, but she also found it to be much safer than the Xianzhou Luofu. She also thought it was a great opportunity for you to build on your knowledge and possibly inspire you to research subjects relating to your ‘gift’.

Living on the space station was unique and did lead you to becoming a researcher of sorts. Although you didn't specialize in the subject of luck. Instead, you specialized in the topic of pharmaceutical medicine.

After getting injured after every stroke of good luck, you dedicated your time on that spaceship researching different types of medicine, their purpose, the benefits, the side effects, and the procedure on how certain medicine was created. You found it absolutely fascinating, far more fascinating than the conceptual research of good and bad luck.

After reaching adulthood, you left the spaceship under the guise of a pharmaceutical scientist. You have acquired the skills and knowledge. You spent days to months traveling from world to world, creating and distributing medicine for the ill, specifically for those who weren't as fortunate when it came to money. But, you also, as discreetly as possibly, gave them luck. You would remove your ivory gloves whenever handing them their medicine, making sure to graze their fingers with yours.

You worked tirelessly until you finally decided to take a small vacation. All the strokes of bad and good luck taking a toll on your body. You needed a break from being a walking good luck charm. So, with as much money as you could scrounge and with a fiery determination, you reserved a room in the Reverie Hotel months in advance.

The day you arrived at the hotel, you couldn't help but admire the many floors that stretched on for what seemed like miles. They were stacked upon one another until they practically touched the heavens. You admired the occupants, many dressed in clothing you couldn't afford. Even the staff was dressed nicely, which made you feel very underdressed.

You carefully approached the reception desk, making sure you didn't accidentally brush past someone, but it seemed luck wasn't on your side, which was pretty funny given your situation.

“Oh! I'm so sorry!” You apologized after accidentally bumping into a blonde who adorned extravagant yet colorful clothing. He was decked out in expensive jewelry that glimmered brightly underneath the large chandelier. The way he presented himself was similar to a peacock, especially since they were known for flashing their ethereal beauty in hopes of acquiring a mate. But in this man's case, it was probably to flaunt his status.

A wry smile enveloped his lips as he glanced down at you. He studied your form before averting his gaze. “It’s okay. It was just a mere accident.” He reassured with a wide smile. With a small dip of his hat, he excused himself, brushing past you and towards the elevator.

You watched him leave before shrugging and approaching the reception desk once more.

“Hello ma’am. Do you have a reservation with us today?”

You nervously responded, fidgeting, and you watched the attendant type your information into the system. You waited with bated breaths until the woman finally lifted her head with a professional smile. “Ah yes… Miss (Name), welcome to the Reverie Hotel. Here is your key, along with instructions on how to get to your room. If you have brought any more luggage, our bellhopper would gladly assist you in carrying them to your room.”

“No need.” You dismissed with a small smile before departing. You read the information on the small slip of paper while patiently waiting for the elevator. Once it arrived, you didn't hesitate to get on, press your floor number, and once again, wait for it to ascend to your desired floor.

After a few seconds, you finally arrived at your door and scanned the long extending hallways before deciding to go right. You checked each room number until you eventually found yours.

You didn't even waste a second in kicking off your shoe, dropping your luggage by the entrance and shrugging off your coat. You approached the dreampool, a large clam filled to the brim with glowing blue water. You hesitantly dipped a foot in, taking in the temperature. But, you were surprised to know that there was neither a heat nor a coldness that radiated from the liquid. You can feel it brushing against your skin, but it didn't even feel wet.

Ignoring any fear or doubt that surfaced, you lowered yourself into the liquid, allowing it to submerge your body in its watery tendrils. You made sure the back of your head was pressed against the shell and lifted above the water. You laid there until a soothing feminine voice echoed throughout your room. instructing you on what to do and guiding you into a peaceful slumber

When you opened your eyes, you were in front of a large building that greatly resembled the entrance of the Reverie Hotel. Your jaw dropped as you spun, admiring the sights. The beautiful bright colors, the vehicles, the stalls, the stores, and the people. It was absolutely breathtaking. You have never seen something like this before, and you were confident that you'll never see something that rivaled the dreamscape's beauty.

You wandered around aimlessly until you ended up in front of a casino. You knew that with your luck, you wouldn't win anything, but it wouldn't hurt to try! So, with a grin, you entered and were instantly greeted with a sickeningly sweet floral scent.

The loud sound of music drowning out the ecstatic cheers and howls of gamblers hurt your ears. But, it didn't deter you. You continued until you found a counter that exchanged money for chips. You only had a certain amount on you, but it was enough to last you a couple of games.

So, for what seemed like hours, you gambled all of your money away. Indulging in the delicious food and the addicting alcohol that traveled down your throat quite smoothly. It was sweet yet tangy with a little kick to it. With every drink, you could feel your mind becoming cloudy with every passing second. Your body became warm, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes hazy. You swayed with every step you took. Yet, you still retained some semblance of consciousness.

Alluring eyes watched your every movement. They watched as your figure brushed past people and just a few seconds later said the person had a sudden stroke of luck. They watched in mild amusement as you leaned over someone hitting their head against the panel of the slot machine while crying their heart out. You tug off your ivory gloves and brush your hand against their arm, while whispering reassuring words into their ears. You persuaded them to try once more and not even a second later they hit a jackpot.

Before they could thank you, you already disappeared. Wandering through the casino before finding a spot at a roulette table with a glass of alcohol in hand. You giggled as you counted the chips you had remaining. Just as you had expected, you weren't lucky in your bets. You have lost quite a sum of money and have resorted to drowning your disappointment away with booze. Regardless of this fact, you continued to place one or two bets and then dip.

Just as you were about to place a few chips on your desired color and number, you were stopped by a young man. His gloved hands enveloped your wrist and guided your hand to place a bet on the opposite color than the one you were going to bet on. Your brows furrowed as you averted your gaze to the dirty blonde who had the audacity to grab you without your consent.

Just as you were about to complain, your words died on your tongue as you locked eyes with captivatingly beautiful eyes. Their color was unique yet so breathtaking.

A sly smile formed on the man's lips as he released your wrist. He moved his head to the side so that his ears could graze your ear with every word that left his lips. “It’s best if you bet on red during this round.” Was all he whispered to you as he leaned away and placed his own chips by your own.

You didn't utter a word in response. Instead, you remained silent as you studied him. The clothing he adorned was only familiar until it finally clicked. It was the man you had accidentally bumped into at the reception hall of the hotel. Although, currently, he wasn't adorning his hat or his sunglasses.

“Congratulations ma'am.”

“Huh..?” Shifting your gaze to the Croupier, you were shocked to see her sliding more chips in your direction with a smile. You blinked a couple of times, trying to process what had just happened before you let out a noise of surprise.

You glanced at the man beside you, wanting to thank him but he merely introduced himself with a smile before you had a chance to say anything.

“We have yet to introduce each other. My name is Aventurine, and what may your name be, beloved?”

“...(Name). Nice to meet you.”

For the rest of the game, he guided you on where to place your bet and every time you won. At one point, after many drinks, you decided you had made enough and were leaning against Aventurine.

You don't know when, but you had taken off your gloves and had one of your hands pressed against his chest. At the same time, he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you close to him.

With every win, he would tilt his head to the side and shower you with compliments, referring to you as his rabbit foot. His lucky charm. Each compliment was uttered in a sultry tone, sending chills down your spine. His hand ran up and down, his fingers occasionally dancing against your clothed waist.

This continued for hours until Aventurine decided he was satisfied with the sum of money he had won and had departed with you in his arms. He held you close to him, uttering words of praise that would cause you to bristle and your skin to grow warm. Your hands were clammy as you struggled to maintain your hold on him. You stumbled and swayed, occasional giggles leaving your lips when his hair grazed your cheeks.

Your ears rung, struggling to catch what Aventurine said to the nearest employee of the casino. All you could catch was “private room” and the rest was unintelligible.

With a wide smile, the dirty blonde guided your giggling figure to one of the many private rooms of the casino. Why? Well…he was curious to learn more about you and your gift. How have you managed to possess such an extravagant blessing? One that many wished to possess. Were you loved by the God's? Perhaps. Or were you just lucky? That could be another possibility.

Thanking the attendant who opened the door for them, he guided you to the nearest couch, helped you sit, before sitting down beside you. Maintaining one hand on your waist, he placed the other on your thigh, gently massaging the exposed skin with a sly smile. He leaned closer to your ear, relishing the expression that morphed on your face when his lips brushed against the shell of your ears once again. He whispered sweet nothings to you, buttering you up until you got comfortable. Until you were vulnerable and willing to answer his questions.

leaning back, Aventurine studied your form with a pleased look. He then proceeded to ask his questions. At first, you hesitated yet…with every question, you slowly started to open up more and more until you finally started to blabber. There were moments where your speech was somewhat unintelligible and was just dunk babble, but in other moments, your responses were unexpectedly detailed.

In the meantime, he continued his ministrations such as kneading your thighs, massaging your waist, and whispering into your ears. He kept going until he was pleased with the answers he got.

When he let go of you so that he could rise from his spot, he was caught off guard by the tight grip that enveloped his wrist. He couldn't even get a word in when he was suddenly pulled back and pinned against the couch.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering as he watched you straddle him, tightening your grip on his arm. You mumbled something underneath your breath as you lowered your head until it was pressed against his collarbone.

He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was caught off guard. Sure, he touched you in ways that could possibly cause the situation to escalate, but he really didn't expect someone who was far too lost in the euphoric haze to react.

“You…You can't leave yet. Y-You have to take respon…sibility.” You muttered as you raised your head, brows furrowed as you glared up at him. “I'm not as drunk as you think I am. Y-You've been…leading me on this entire time. So you…you have to take responsibility!” Your grip around his wrist loosened so that you could place your hands on his chest. You played with the edges of his chest window while simultaneously grinding against him.

Aventurine let out a small chuckle as he studied your figure before placing a hand on your waist. “Are you sure you want me to take responsibility?”

“Yes.” Was all you said before you pressed your lips against his. Your hands traveled down his body as you deepened the kiss. Your rear pressed against his crotch while you nibbled on his bottom lip.

At first, Aventurine hesitated before he softened into the kiss. He returned it with just as much fever and intensity. He returned the favor, biting down on your bottom lip.

A few minutes passed before the dirty blonde leaned back to regain his breath, but you didn't allow him to catch a break. You dove back into a case and slithered your tongue into his mouth, which caught him off guard. His eyes widened as his hands stiffened on your waist. He flinched when you guided his tongue to your lips before sucking on the muscular organ, eliciting a groan from him.

His breath hitched in his throat when you began grinding down on him once more. He could feel his body get warmer and his pants start to constrict, forming a tent around his bulge. Aventurine couldn't even say or do anything because the moment you noticed, you pulled back from the kiss and stared down at the bulge with a smirk.

Fumbling with the belt, you undid it, pulled down his pants and brushed your palm against the bulge.

Aventurine's body became rigid, his eyes wide as a small groan slipped past his trembling lips. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He just laid there, watching as you rubbed his bulge, pressing a sharp nail against the clothed tip.

Giggling to yourself, you continued to rub his bulge through his boxers, leaning forward so you could capture his lips into a kiss once more.

He struggled to maintain his composure or return the kiss. His lips trembled way too much, and he couldn't stop the moans that left his throat. Pleasured chills traveled down his spine when you massaged his tongue with your own. You greedily swallowed the noises he made.

A loud moan soon left his lips when you freed his dick from the tight confines of his boxers. “W-Wai-hngh!” Aventurine threw his head back with a loud moan when you enveloped your fingers around his shaft in a semi-tight hold. You pumped your fist, watching in mild amusement as the blonde haired man writhed underneath you. His shoulders trembled, and his lips quivered.

No matter how hard he bit down on his bottom lip or tongue, he couldn't restrain the loud noises that he made. And they merely got louder when you released your hold on his length and crawled back until your lips were hovering above his dick.

“I'm not r-ready…agh!” Aventurine groaned when you licked the slit, lapping up the salty precum that bubbled and spilled from his slit. You lapped it up like it was the most delicious thing in the world. Then, when he least expected it, you lowered your mouth onto the tip of his dick, sucking and twirling your tongue around it. After a few seconds, you lowered yourself further until the tip of your nose was pressed against his pelvis. The tip of his dick pressing against the back of your throat, causing it to restrict around his length, eliciting a loud gasp and groan from the blonde.

You stayed there for a few more painful seconds before you lifted your head until your lips enveloped only the tip. You lapped up his precum once more before you began bobbing your head. The noises that you made, the way your flattened tongue rubbed against his dick, and the way your throat constricted around him drove Aventurine absolutely wild.

One hand was draped over his eyes while the other positioned itself on the back of your head. He grasped at the back of your head for dear life while he bucked into your mouth. His moans and pleas grew in volume as he practically pistoned himself into your mouth, trying to chase his high.

And when his core was enveloped with an overwhelming warmth, his hips stuttered. Your throat constricted around him once more as he swelled and grew in length until finally, he released himself into your mouth. You, without missing a beat, swallowed his load in greedy gulps while leaning back, a hand positioned underneath your chin to catch any seven that managed to slip out of your mouth.

Aventurine couldn't bring himself to move. He was exhausted. His body twitched and trembled. He tried to process what had just happened, but you didn't allow him to.

Taking advantage of his temporary haze, you stripped yourself naked, kicking off your underwear and throwing your constricting bra to the floor. You shuddered at the cold wind that grazed your flushed skin.

“(N-Name)!” Aventurine gasped as he watched you wrap your fingers around his hardened length once more, pumping your hand while your free hand grazed your folds. He watched as you played with yourself, your hips bucking as moans spilled from your lips. When you tighten your grip around his dick, he can't help but gasp, thrusting into your hand.

At this point in time, he was far too lost in the pleasure and pain. The way you played with his sensitive dick drove him absolutely wild. It made his head cloudy and his knees weak. His hands shook as he tried to grab your arm, but he was only met with failure. Aventurine could just watch through bleary vision as you prepared yourself while simultaneously playing with him.

His voice died in his throat, his breath hitching in his throat as he watched you hover yourself over his throbbing dick, guiding it to your weeping entrance. Aventurine couldn't bring himself to protest, far too lost to even think of the consequences. But he did feel aggravated watching as you teased him with a smirk.

So, taking advantage of the fact that you were preoccupied, he lifted his quivering arms, grabbed your rear, and slammed you down onto him.

You let out a noise of surprise, falling onto the blonde in shock. Your knees quivered, and your lips parted. Slowly, the pleasure crept in, washing away the pain from the sudden penetration. You wanted to speak, but all that came out was unintelligible blabber. You splattered and moaned as Aventurine held you in place for a few more seconds before he started thrusting into you.

His thrusts were fast, yet they had no tempo. He merely moved with vigor, caring less if you felt pleasure in his movement. Aventurine dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks as he continued to thrust into you like a wild animal.

It hurt…but it was so good. The pleasure outweighs the pain. The way his dick slammed against your walls drove you wild and weak. You could hardly even think anymore. You couldn't process what was occurring and just laid there as Aventurine drilled into you.

Aventurine let out a moan as he felt a familiar warmth envelop his pelvic area. His core. And, treating it like an incentive, his pace increased along with the harshness of his thrust. The way your warm walls tightened around him caused him to grit his teeth and throw his head back. His nails dug into your skin, leaving crescent marks.

But, when he brushed past a certain area, you seemed to tighten more around him until you started to practically strangle his dick. He gasped in shock, his eyes widening in surprise before hissing. Tears bubbled in his eyes while he whispered from the pain and the pleasure, and yet he didn't let it deter him.

Aventurine continued to brush against your g-stop, causing your eyes to roll behind your head. Although, the moment he started to swell, that was when you truly felt bliss. His thrusts became sloppy, yet they still maintained their ferocity. And, by the way he swelled and the loud moans, you knew he was close.

The both of you soon threw your head backs, your moans loud enough that they could be heard by the others outside, but you could care less.

Your walls tightened around Aventurine's dick, spasming as you came, the heat in your core growing in intensity, practically scorching you from the inside. Aventurine soon joined you with a whimper, tears streaming down his as he held you in place, spilling his sperm into your pussy, which practically milked him.

While trying to catch your breath, you lifted yourself off of Aventurine, elbows shaking as they struggled to maintain your weight. You moved to get off of the blonde, but out of nowhere, he grabbed your waist and soon pinned you against the couch. Your eyes widened as you glanced up at Aventurine before your gaze slowly traveled down to stare at his dick, watching as it slowly came to life once more, growing in length.

Aventurine threw your legs over his shoulders and positioned himself to your entrance once more. His lips curled into a wide smile as he cupped the back of your neck. Lowering his head, his lips grazed yours as he spoke, “we're not done yet.”

[songbirdseung]

new year, same love / lee heeseung

going into 2025 with the man you have pined over for years now. hoping this year you won't have to admire him from afar no more.

there he goes again, strolling through the college hallways with his friends, laughing and talking about who knows what. all you know is that he looks effortlessly good while doing it. lee heeseung was gorgeous, so much so that you often wondered how someone could look better than most people you’ve seen in movies, let alone in real life. the way he carried himself—confident, assured, like he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted—made him impossible to ignore.

heeseung wasn’t just a pretty face; he was ambitious and determined, a man who knew how to chase after his goals without hesitation. but somehow, even with that drive, he managed to maintain a charm that made everyone gravitate toward him.

and you? you fell for him the moment you saw him during freshman year. back then, you thought it was just a harmless crush—something fleeting that you could brush off. but that illusion shattered the second he walked into your first class, sat beside you, and offered you the warmest smile.

"hi, i'm heeseung."

his voice was smooth, almost too comforting. you never thought you’d find someone’s voice so attractive, yet here you were, completely entranced by it.

over the next three years, you silently admired him from afar, never daring to cross the boundary of casual greetings or academic discussions. you convinced yourself there was no point. someone like heeseung, so confident and accomplished, wouldn’t look twice at someone like you—or so your insecurities told you.

but that didn’t stop you from stealing glances whenever he was in the same room or secretly melting every time he casually greeted you in passing. your friends, however, weren’t as content with your one-sided pining.

yeji and winter, your two best friends and self-proclaimed "love-life saviors," had been listening to your endless praises about heeseung for years. they were your biggest cheerleaders, hyping you up to approach him. but lately, they’d grown tired of your hesitation and decided to take matters into their own hands.

with senior year coming to an end, they knew time was running out. their plan? a harmless little scheme to push fate along—a small prank that would get you and heeseung stuck in the same room together.

the day of their so-called intervention began innocently enough. you were in the library, buried in research for your final project when yeji plopped into the chair across from you, her grin a little too wide to be genuine.

"hey, yn," she said, voice sweet but suspiciously scheming. "did you hear about the study rooms on the third floor? they just added soundproofing. perfect for concentration."

"uh, no," you replied absentmindedly, still typing away. "why?"

"oh, nothing. i just booked one for you. figured you'd need some peace and quiet."

you glanced up, suspicious. "since when are you so considerate?"

winter appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to yeji. "stop questioning and just go, yn. you'll thank us later."

reluctantly, you gathered your things and headed upstairs. the moment you entered the room, you froze.

there, sitting at the table, was lee heeseung.

"oh," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

he looked up from his laptop, surprise flickering across his features before he smiled. "hey, yn. didn’t expect to see you here."

your brain scrambled for a coherent response. "uh, yeah... same. must be a mix-up."

you turned to leave, but the door clicked shut behind you. you tried the handle. locked.

your heart sank as realization hit: yeji and winter had set you up.

"everything okay?" heeseung asked, standing up and walking toward you.

"uh, yeah, just... locked in," you said, forcing a laugh. "probably some glitch."

he chuckled, his voice warm. "guess we’re stuck then. might as well make the most of it."

he gestured to the chairs, and you hesitantly sat down, your pulse racing.

"so," he said, leaning forward with that signature confidence, "tell me about you. we’ve had so many classes together, but i feel like i barely know anything about you."

the casual question caught you off guard, but his genuine interest disarmed you. slowly, you began to talk, sharing snippets of your life, your interests, and even your favorite coffee spot on campus.

to your surprise, heeseung listened intently, asking questions and laughing at your stories. the initial awkwardness melted away, replaced by an unexpected ease.

an hour passed before you even realized it, and when the door finally unlocked (thanks to yeji's "mysterious" intervention), you almost felt disappointed.

"guess we're free now," he said, standing up and grabbing his bag.

"yeah," you murmured, feeling a strange mix of relief and longing.

he paused by the door, glancing back at you with a small smile. "you know, this was actually fun. we should do it again sometime—minus the locking part."

your eyes widened. "oh, uh, yeah. sure."

and just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

yeji and winter were definitely going to pay for this—but maybe, just maybe, you’d thank them later.

[cosmocup1d]

Notes : reader has no gender

'And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space'

After that weird strange book everyone seems to forgot what happened

Accept you

But you kept your mouth shut as you didn't wanted to be questioned as you felt so tired

Yet giddy at the same time

But they did wonder where you got the round black shaded glass

'But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved'

You and the group walk in the gates of night Raven collage with the main Street being decorated with pumpkins and candles

The colors of the pumpkin and the flame of the candle reminded you of his eyes

'Me and my husband'

"What! So many!?" A familiar voices gasp out making you and the group turn seeing the headmage with a... Huge package?

You just prayed to the seven it wasn't another task so that you could research him

'We're doing better'

"Could it be that were out together happily? What a miracle!" The headmaster said with his normal joyful tone "I just happened to meet everyone except for Trey outside" The dormleader of the heartslabyul cuts in

"Even if everyone was out together, there's no need to make a fuss about it" The dormleader of the pomfiore huffed "What's the headmage doing?" Epel said "he's carrying a huge package..." Epe pointed out

'It's always been just him and me, together'

"Oh, good you asked!" The headmage said "I found an old portrait while I was organized the storeroom..." He explained "This is it" The headmage then started to carefully tear the paper

'So I bet all I have on that'

"This person in the picture is from long before I came to Night Raven college" The headmage started to explain "He is a graduate of our school from hundreds of years ago" He carefully rip the paper as to not damage the package "halloween, which was a very minor event back then, was made known a over the world" As he continues to explain you felt a sense of deja vu

'Furrowed brow'

"It is said that he is the one who laid the foundation for the Halloween celebration that you enjoy every year..." As the headmage continue to rip the paper you saw a very familiar suit which made your heart skip a beat

Not from giddy no.. From nervousness

'And at least in this lifetime'

"His name..."

'Please don't tell me it's him.. Please..' You thought to yourself as your mouth felt dry "Is Skully J. Graves"

'We're sticking together'

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. Everything felt so dizzy at the point you block out everyone voice

'Me and my husband'

Dead. He's dead. For hundred of years. Yet you didn't let your tears slip. You took out the round black shaded glasses and putting then on

'We're sticking together'

The world was- no IS cruel. Especially to you. You couldn't focus on anything but lucky there was no classes as it was Halloween

You yawned as you lift up the glasses to rub your eyes as it was getting late

'Me and my husband'

You enter the ramshackle dorm as the ghosts greeted you kindly as usual but they were curious about the glasses which you replied

"Someone gave them to me" It wasn't true but it wasn't a lie either

They just nod as they disappear into thin air leaving you alone. You yawn again as you get ready for bed

'We're doing better'

You layed on the old bed as grim sleep next to you like always

You took off the glasses and carefully putting them on your nightstand as you yawn and turning off your lamp

It took a few minutes but you fell asleep but not before seeing the silhouette of your beloved king of Halloween

[eisforeidolon]

Question: You guys have been so close for so long, what would you say each other's greatest character trait is and why?

Jared: As people? And I have to say this in front of him?

[Jensen theatrically turns to Jared, crosses his leg, and props his chin on his hand to listen]

Jared: I mean, where do I start, honestly? But I'd say one of the things that has been abundantly obvious to me, and I relied on for almost the last twenty years? Is he doesn't give up. He doesn't give up - not on a project, not on a person. He just goes, like, alright, one step at a time, let's do it. Not that he doesn't get down, I mean, we're all humans, we have good days and bad days [Jensen nods]. But when the shit hits the fan, he's - I always said he'd be a good, like, Navy Seal or something. 'Cause he's just like, okay, what's next? I can't change that, what are we doing? Like, didn't you just hear, the camera broke, the stage is on fire. And he's like, alright, well, can we get something from tomorrow's work? Like, he's just sort of like, alright - he goes. And that, that - I don't want to say it's confidence, because it doesn't come from a place of arrogance, or some ego? It just comes from alright then what can we do? And so it's infectious to go like, well, that guy over there, Jensen, he's still ready to get after it, even though everything went wrong and everything broke and everything's on fire, he's still ready to carry on. To borrow the name of an episode. So I think that that permeates a lot of his life, whether things are great or things are not great? He just goes, like, okay, cool, what's next? I can't change that, so what can I do, what can we do? And he doesn't put - he's not one of those drill sergeant, hey, I'm ready to do it, you better do it. But you see him doing and well, if he can do it, then maybe I can, too. So it's a very hopeful attitude, that I really appreciated. [Jensen pats Jared's leg, Jared pats his back]

Jensen: There are many, so I will pick one. And one that I admire and I, you know, wish I had more of is his appetite for knowledge in the things he becomes even remotely interested in. He can take a subject, any topic, and wonder about it. And he doesn't continue to wonder very long. I just kind of sit in that wonderment for a while, oh, that's - I wish I knew more about that. Oh well. Jared dives deep. And almost in just an insatiable appetite way of wanting to know more and that zest for knowledge and life is - it's inspiring? But it's just so unique and powerful for somebody to have that and have that drive to wanna know so much more about so many different - I mean the guy is insanely intelligent in a way that - I always knew he was smart, I always knew he had a really great head on his shoulder, but. Shoulders. Two just stunningly muscular shoulders. But he gets an interest in something and he just digs in so, like, amazingly. And any subject - if it's academics, if it's wanting to know about - like I'm always like, hey Jared, what supplements should I be on? Because I know he knows all about it. Or hey man, I'm looking for a book right now, what are your recommendations? And he'll give me thirteen, fourteen recommendations. He just has - his brain works in just such a brilliant way that I've always been in awe of how he's able to do that and do it consistently. You know he doesn't burn out, he doesn't tire out with the zest that he has for wanting to know more about life, and it too is infectious. And I was it was more infectious, I wish I would be infected with it completely. But I get a little bit of it and it's inspiring for me to wanna just know more and learn more and have that desire for knowledge the way he does. It's really really impressive and I think it's had an amazing impact on his life and the way that he can relate to so many different - you put him in a room with anybody and he will have a researched knowledgeable way of communicating with just about anybody and everybody on almost any topic. And that to me is just incredible, so. And again, that's one of many things that I could say, but that one just popped to the front. [Jared squeezes Jensen's knee and then puts his hand on his back]

[softpascalito]

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter XIV - The Cage

Summary: Set before and during Gladiator II. General Acacius finds himself entranced by a highly valued priestess of Rome – A Vestal Virgin. But you both have taken vows that make sure your paths may never cross. Until they do.

Aka a fix-it fanfic where Acacius survives the Colosseum.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 41k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), Injury, Kissing, Historical Inaccuracy, (Attempted) Sexual Harassment, Smut, First Time, Oral Sex (f receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Semi-Public Sex, More tags to be added

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist // Ko-Fi

notes: hello you wonderful people. i am so excited for the next few chapters and to show you all where we are heading. i know this chapter is a bit on the sadder side but i promise if you stick with me, it will pay off. i've been doing a lot of research and i believe i've found some very cool things to include in this fice hehe. smooches! ♡

carpentum - closed carriage centurion - high-ranking army official

Chapter XIV - The Cage

Acacius doesn't feel like staying in his tent. He goes over the route for the next day three more times before folding the map and heading out of the makeshift door. He makes his rounds, greeting some of the soldiers and centurions alike, even stopping at one point to taste the wine one of them offers him. He trails in between tents, all of them neatly organized, built for the night like a temporary, small town. His horse neighs when he nears the animals that are tied to a large wooden post and Acacius smiles in spite of himself, stepping forward and greeting the stallion. 

The andalusian is the only gold spent that he does not feel guilty about, having been his trustworthy companion for several years now. He reaches out, tracing his hand over the side of the horse's head and onto its neck, gently patting it. “You are not sleepy either, are you? Did we not tire you out with today?”

It shakes his head as if to decline and Acacius sighs, allowing his horse a few more pats before retreating. He gets in another round around the camp before forcing himself to wander back into the direction of his own tent. A third round would raise brows, no doubt.

He does feel a bit better, having scoured the perimeter and knowing that you are merely feet away, that he would wake immediately if anything happened so close to him. Not that he hoped he would need to.

But he still catches himself straining his ears when he has retired to bed, trying to gauge if you are still awake or if sleep has already taken you. He briefly wonders if you are the same as him, laying awake and staring at the ceiling. Then again, you don't carry the kind of regret that he does so sleep in general might come easier to you.

Acacius groans as he turns in his bed and brings his hands onto his stomach, staring down at them in his horizontal position. The green stone surrounded by gold stares back at him and with a sigh, he takes the ring off, twisting it between his fingers. The inscription is the same it was when Lucilla first gave it to him.

Marcus • Aurelius • Maximus

The three men Lucilla has loved, one as a father, two as lovers. He is still not quite sure he deserves the engraving to the left of Aurelius that she had added for him when she asked him to wear it. The fact that her father and himself share a first name only makes him feel less equal, like he can never live up to those that came before him.

With a small groan, Acacius sits again, slipping the ring back on his finger and he reaches for his quill. The letter to Lucilla is rather short. He can never mention details, nothing of where they are or where exactly they are headed, just in case it falls into wrong hands. But he can tell her that he misses her, that he wishes he were back in Rome. So he does precisely that.

He hands it to the next courier they meet.

For about a week, things settle into an unsteady normality. They ride and march during the day, Acacius paying extra attention to the formations they decide on, making sure that he and at least one other capable soldier are always close to your carriage. You have started to obey him when he asks something of you and neither of you are openly hostile towards the other. But he can tell that you are unhappy or, at the very least, disappointed in what the world behind the walls of Rome has had to offer so far. He catches glimpses of you glancing out the window of your carriage when he is riding behind you, taking in the hills and forests that you pass. But the winter is still all around you, even as you get further south, and the frozen over ponds and leafless trees make the campaign feel even more hopeless.

You retire early each night, excusing yourself politely and heading back to your tent. Often, you say that you have to perform prayers but he’s not sure whether or not to believe that. And the one evening he does think further, imagining you on your knees in the tent beside his, he has to muffle his moans with his pillow.

The night before you are to reach Beneventum, an excuse to see you opens up before him like the sea when one passes the last hill before Ostia.

“My lady?” He pats the outside of the tent to imitate a knock. “May I come in?”

“Yes,” you call from inside and Acacius slips through the entrance, finding you sitting on your bed. He hasn't been in here since the night he spoke to you but it still looks much the same. Thick curtains that are bunched up and tied to the side around your bed, more pillows lining it than he cares to count. They've even laid out a rug for you and somehow, the soft and warm interior fits you.

“How have you been?” – “Is everything alright?” You speak at the same time. Your voice is slightly panicked while his is awfully polite and he tries to ignore the small stab in his chest at the realization that you think something must be wrong for him to come and speak to you.

“No. No, everything is fine. I merely wanted to let you know that we will be arriving in Beneventum tomorrow, around mid afternoon. We will rest there for two nights, allow the men to catch their breath,” he explains, tapping his fingers against his thigh. The silence that follows his words feel unbearable. “It is a nice town. Small, but nice. Kind people. They will let us restock on what we need.”

“Good,” you answer quietly and why is it suddenly so hard to talk to you? Before, you both never hit a spell of silence. Even during Bona Dea, he found that he preferred talking to you over sleep, over anything. Now, the conversation just feels heavy.

“Very well. I will get out of your hair then.” He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he turns his back on you and leaves.

***

The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky when you notice riders falling away to the side, leading the men that march behind them onto the fields beside the Via Appia. Your carriage doesn't get steered off course however, continuing on the small road. Then, two riders appear beside you, one on each side and it takes you a moment to understand that they are there for your protection.

And then you see it. Up on a small hill before you sits a small town, the road leading straight through it. The caravan slows down as you reach the outer perimeter, the riders now staying close beside you. You catch a glimpse of an arch as you pass through it. Stone looms above you for a few moments and you think you spot a relief of Trajan in passing. Then you reenter the sunlight and with it, spot Acacius in front of you, his head held high, his white horse proudly stepping through the town. You can't quite place the feeling that builds in your stomach at the sight.

You watch as storefronts pass your window, an array of spices, colored fabrics, painted pots and vases flying by. It's much too fast to look at the items properly so you make a mental note to come back tomorrow and browse around. Unlike a lot of other women, Vestals do get paid so you have more than enough gold to spend.

Eventually, the houses retreat and you pass through a small gate, one so narrow that the riders beside you finally fall behind and then well-kept gardens appear around you. There are statues placed along the path, several small fountains further away. None of it is nearly as large or tall as in Rome but they’re impressive nonetheless. Eventually, the carriage comes to a halt and you feel the soldier in the front jump down from his seat. A moment later, he appears through the curtain and offers you a hand.

You smooth down your coat and glance up at the villa that you have come to a stop in front of, its grounds looming over the town below. Acacius has already dismounted his horse and is talking to a man and a woman animatedly. You are led to join them, smiling awkwardly as you come to stand beside the General.

“Ah, there she is. May I introduce you–” He gestures from you to the couple. “To Sir and Lady Orbilius. They are kind enough to host us during our time in Beneventum.” You greet both of them, even if not quite as enthusiastically as they greet you.

The brown-haired woman, probably in her late forties, bows down a bit too low and reaches for you. “May I take your hand?” You nod quickly, holding it out for her. She places a kiss on the back of it and you can feel Acacius shift beside you. “I cannot tell you what an honor it is to have you under our roof. Of course–” She turns toward Acacius. “Having the General is a big honor in itself. But a Priestess of Vesta, by the gods–”

Tears glisten in her eyes when she straightens again. For a split moment, you think you have somehow offended her and worry seeps into your chest. But then she smiles and you realize that they are in fact tears of happiness or gratefulness or something of the like. 

They show you through the atrium and a terrasse that overlooks the gardens, speaking highly of the hot summer days here. Eventually, the lady of the house leads you upstairs, shows you to what will be your bedroom for the next two nights and then allows you some peace and quiet before changing for the evening meal they have insisted on sharing with you. You find your wooden chest already sitting in the corner and open it to admire your options. Now that you are not sleeping and dining in a tent, you do not need to wear a coat over each of your stolas.

The red one is packed near the bottom and you consider whether or not you should wear it at all. The intention you purchased it with does not hold up anymore. But why not dress up a little? Especially for a woman who was so thankful to meet you she almost cried? You tell yourself that is the only reason why you carefully drape the red fabric over your body, the gold details glistening in the equally golden rays of sunshine filtering in through the curtains. The evening light gives the small room an orange glow. And the view out the window is near picturesque, the small town below you, complete with a temple, fields and woods stretching behind the perimeter. Your hands unconsciously roam over your body, smoothing down the small wrinkles in the soft fabric as you take a deep breath.

***

This has to be a special kind of torture. Watching you lie down beside him, the red and gold fabric of your stola draped over your body and try one food after another without a care in the world. Like your body is not so close to his, like you can't feel the invisible connection that is flickering in the air between you.

Acacius has been tortured before, when he was held captive for what luckily turned out to only be a few days. But this? It's worse.

Your hosts have taken the lower couch, eager to keep the appropriate customs. No doubt hoping for a favor or two, or at least a good word from his lips directed at the Emperors when needed. He wouldn't care so much if it didn't mean sharing the higher of the couches with you, all of you stretched out around the table so laden with food and wine that Acacius is surprised it has not yet given in under the weight.

He tries to recall if your stolas were always this tight, if they always hugged your form so well, highlighting your body in all the right places. Or, maybe, it just seems like it because he now knows what is underneath the fabric, because he has kissed your legs and shoulders and chest and tastes you on his lips, felt inner parts that no other man has ever got to feel. Acacius swallows another bite of his food, adjusting his own toga in a way that he hopes is inconspicuous.

“General Acacius, would you care to join us for a walk in the gardens before you retire?” He barely even noticed the others getting up, expectant eyes now resting on him. He agrees quickly enough, standing as well, thankful that his toga is not one of the thin ones he wears during the summer. Sir Orblilius’s attention turns onto you. “Will you be joining us as well?”

Acacius’s gaze flies around and he can immediately tell that you do not look eager, the hesitation clear in the way you hold yourself. “Well, maybe we should let the lady go on upstairs. Our travels can make one weary.”

The man laughs heartedly at that. “I hope you have not worn her out, General.” It is clear that he’s joking, unaware of any implication beyond a lighthearted comment. But Acacius can immediately see the blush creeping up onto your cheeks.

“I shall join you. I would love to see the gardens,” you respond politely, avoiding Acacius’s gaze. He follows suit as you are both led over to the terrasse and begin to descend the stairs that lead to the rich plants and trees below. He pretends to listen to the couple speaking of their statues and rare fruits, pretends to be impressed by a tree that supposedly never withers. Here or there, he throws in a question or thoughtful nod to keep the conversation afloat, his real focus all the while on you. He does not wish to learn more about your respective hosts but he has things he’d like to ask you. Like how his soldiers have been treating you. If you are comfortable on this journey. If you already regret taking it.

But such is not the kind of small talk expected by the couple beside him. And so he doesn't.

When your small group has completed the lap around the house and he once again finds himself at the bottom of the stone steps, Sir Orbilius gives Acacius a polite smile. “If you would excuse me now, General. I would like to take my wife upstairs.” He pauses for a moment like he is waiting for an invitation to stay a bit longer. When none comes, he continues. “Now that I am thinking about it, I believe it is best if I too retire. We will see you at the ‘morrow?”

“Yes. Of course.” Acacius nods politely. “Thank you for the meal and for showing us around. You really do have a beautiful collection.” He’s become so good at playing a game he doesn't even enjoy.

“Well, my lady Vestal, you may want to retire too.” The woman of the house joins you, having walked side by side with you and she holds her arm out for her husband to take. He does so with a well-rehearsed motion. And Acacius’s gaze is once more drawn towards you rather than anything else. Your polite smile reminds him of his own. A priestess certainly understands the rules of the game well, maybe better than he does. Maybe that is why your answer comes as a surprise to him.

“Not quite yet. I like walking among the stars–well, under them.” You trip slightly over your words and he has to hold back a chuckle, finding it rather adoring. “Sitting in my carriage all day makes my legs feel funny so I enjoy small walks in the evenings.”

Acacius nods along, pretending not to understand the small snide you are sending his way. Because he has been insistent that you stay in your carriage rather than ride or, gods forbid, walk. He simply feels it to be safer that way. It is not unlike the house on Palatine Hill that Lucilla will be sitting in right now, guards always stationed at its gates. He will lock those he loves in a cage if it only means keeping them safe from the world.

Not that he loves you. He just cares for you. For your safety.  Or something of the like.

The others bid you both good night and without speaking, you begin to walk again, taking one of the less-treaded paths that lead straight through the gardens and towards the edge of the property. Acacius trails slightly behind you, hoping that his presence won’t bother you but also unable to let you roam around all by yourself.

He watches the way your hips move and how your stola trails behind you and when he begins to feel sick with himself for abusing his position like this, he focuses on your footprints instead. Which is why he almost runs into you when you come to a halt.

***

You feel Acacius’s hand reaching for your shoulder as he steadies himself and you give him just a few moments before slipping out of his touch. The path has led you to a small, round pavilion, the slightly angled roof looking a few years past its prime. But its position at this side of the garden is high enough to overlook the houses below and the hills in the distance. There is light spilling onto the street from a few windows still, some bright like the fire of Vesta, some stemming from just one or two candles on a windowsill. But behind the houses, the fields and hills lie in the dark. Acacius’s troops must be on the other side of the town, to the north.

“It is so dark,” you whisper quietly, absent-mindedly running your fingers over the column beside you. The stone is cold to the touch. “It is never this dark in Rome.”

Acacius nods quietly, stepping beside you with a few, slow motions and you listen to the sounds of his toga rustling as he moves. His voice is only a whisper. “Rome is a very special place, my lady.”

His hand brushes over the red fabric of your stola, the one you have wrapped tightly around your body to fight off the cold. You can feel his thumb tracing one of the golden lines, his touch as light as ever. If you moved just an inch to the side, you are certain he would drop his hand immediately.

You both stay silent for a while, staring out into the ever growing darkness as one or two more windows below you lose their light. It must take minutes for you to gather up enough courage to look at him.

His eyes are soft, a little glazed-over from the amount of wine he was practically forced to taste at dinner. And the way he looks at you? It is like the difference between day and night, between light and dark, the way he looks at you so differently when you're alone like this. You've seen him give commands with a mere look. But the brown eyes that rest on yours in this moment are not those of a General. They are just those of a man.

“I am sorry my men gave you trouble that first day.” He says quietly, bowing his head slightly, though his eyes never leave your face.

“It is not your fault,” you whisper back, shaking your head. Then, maybe because you hope to lessen the worry in his eyes, you add; “They have been good to me. Many of them are kind.”

Acacius nods. But he doesn't respond. So you fall back into silence. A dog barks somewhere below you. You turn towards the sound, your eyes finding the small street you passed through earlier, the one with the many shops side by side.

“Oh, I meant to ask. May I use the day tomorrow to head down to the stores? I would like to look at a few things, I promised a friend I would bring her back something and…” You trail off, your eyes still on the now abandoned street.

“No.”

And there he is again. The cold, uncaring General who does not give a damn about what you do or do not want. “What?”

“No. Absolutely not. The streets are narrow and will be filled with people, both our own and the townsfolk, not to speak of the travellers. We are not the only ones travelling Via Appia.” Acacius states, his voice already letting you know that he will not put this decision up for discussion.

The anger you would have felt a few days ago now only manifests itself in the form of resignation. Your shoulders slump slightly and a sigh leaves your lips. “Of course. What a silly idea. I forgot you are to lock me up in either a carriage or one of these rooms for the entirety of the trip.”

“I will keep you safe the entire trip,” Acacius mutters. His hand has disappeared from your side. “It is getting late. I will escort you back to the villa. Come.”

You stand like one of the statues around the garden, frozen to the spot. The way he switches up so fast, like he becomes one person and then another–it’s exhausting you. “Acacius?”

“What?” You can tell he sounds slightly on edge, like he’s itching to get away. From you or the conversation or both.

“Could you just–could you just be a little bit kind to me?” Your voice trembles slightly and your head stays bowed. You can’t make out his face in the darkness. His shoulders shift as he gives a weak nod.

“Let me be kind and take you to your room.”

If the last week has taught you one thing about Acacius, it is that he will not allow you to change his mind quite so easily. And with the chances of success so slim, you find that you don’t have it in you to try. Maybe the light-hearted joke earlier tonight held more truth than either of you would have liked. Maybe travel, and Acacius, have truly worn you out. You let your gaze roam over the town below you once more. Then, you turn and obey him without another word.

[wowbright]

Anderson’s Guide to the Birds of North America, Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Summary: Fourteen scenes from the lives of Blaine Anderson, grad student and avid birder, and Kurt Hummel, clothing designer and Vogue writer, from before their first meeting in the spring of 2020 through falling in love.

Note: Back during the COVID lockdowns I wrote a couple hundred words of Klaine lockdown meet-cute. I thought I would write more, but I guess I didn't feel like writing about the COVID lockdown during the COVID lockdown, so I never did and I never posted the tiny bit I had written. Thanks to Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2025, I’m finally doing the thing! I'm trying to keep each chapter to around 500 words. Thanks @spaceorphan!

AO3

~~~

Chapter 1: Lover Boy

Blaine was going to go insane.

He knew he should be grateful. He had it better than a lot of other people. He didn't have to worry about where his next paycheck was coming from, because he didn't get a paycheck, because he was an idiot who had, for some reason, decided his fascination with birds was enough to carry him through another five years of school at minimum after completing college. More to the point, he received monthly distributions from a trust fund his grandparents had set up for him in their wills, and though it didn't make him filthy rich, it gave him enough to live on without having to worry about finances.

But he never would have moved in with Cooper if he’d known they'd be locked up together for weeks (or would it be months?) on end. He loved his brother, but his brother was a lot. At least they had separate bedrooms, plus Cooper had the recording studio and was staying fairly busy with audiobook work. Unfortunately, Cooper did not keep all of his acting and voice exercises to the studio. Nor did he keep his opinions to himself, no matter how many times Blaine said, “I'm not changing what I'm making for dinner,” and “This is what I choose to wear and your opinion has no bearing on the matter,” and “I'm sorry you can't go to the gym, but no, you do not have my permission to use me as a dumbbell for bench presses.”

Blaine was spending increasing amounts of time shut in his bedroom with ear plugs and noise canceling headphones on, working on compiling and coding his field research notes and, when that became too tiresome, checking recently submitted species sightings on ebird.org for potential errors.

Today, he was listening to his Upbeat Sexy With a Twist of Romance playlist—the one he used to listen to while getting dressed for a night out on the town. Oh, what a different time that had been. Now instead of gelling his hair while crooning along to Freddie Mercury singing Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy, whatcha doin’ tonight?  while hoping to get laid or better yet find love, he was bobbing along to the song while entering numbers into a spreadsheet.

But that could be good, too. The rhythm of the music combined with the spreadsheet sent him into a near hypnotic trance that made him forget time and boredom and COVID. It was as close as Blaine got to heaven these days.

A sudden weight on his shoulder jarred him out of his trance.

His brother period of course. Just when Blaine’s mind had found some semblance of peace, Cooper had to disturb it.

He removed his headphones and one ear plug. “What is it, Coop?”

“New lockdown project: I’m going to turbocharge my manscaping routine. I need waxing tips.”

“You interrupted my work for that?”

Cooper waved at the computer screen dismissively. “You should be thanking me. That must be incredibly boring. What do all those numbers even mean?”

Blaine looked at his brother. He looked at the numbers. He looked at his brother again. “I mean this with all due respect, but I seriously want to kill you right now.” He closed his eyes. He took a breath. “I'm going for a walk.”

Blaine had already been for a walk that morning. It was the migratory season, so of course he had. He’d gone out with his binoculars as soon as the sun started twinkling over the horizon. He’d ticked off twenty-seven species, including his first American redstart of the season along with plenty of palm and yellow-rumped warblers, but apparently two hours of birding in the morning wasn't enough to keep him sane.

He jumped from his chair, pulled on a jacket, and grabbed his binoculars. “I'm going to walk until I no longer feel murderous. Love you!” The door slammed behind him.

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: food tags: no upside au, rockstar eddie, steddie as dads, long distance Christmas dinners, homesickness word count: 927

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "alone"

-

On the list of the top ten things in Eddie’s life that sounded better on paper, a winter tour through Scandinavia ranked pretty high. On paper, it sounded absolutely, mind-blowingly amazing. Their metal music was on a level Eddie couldn’t even aspire to yet, he was so not worthy. Or that's what he thought. The two-week tour sold out in a fair amount of cities. They were even asked to add extra dates. A total dream come true.

In reality, it was the first Christmas Eddie would be away from home. Ever. Not since he moved in for good had Eddie missed Christmas morning with Wayne. Even now, with a husband and two kids, Eddie dragged them all out to Wayne’s place Christmas Eve so everyone could spend the following morning eating Wayne’s trademark burnt pancakes and live the Norman Rockwell painting life.

Not to be too cheesy but Christmas was supposed to be spent with family. And It took him embarrassingly long to realize this tour got in the way of that. Eddie was so stoked to play in some of these clubs he’d been reading about for years that he forgot about traditions, family, and obligations.

No one brought him down to Earth either. Not one person pointed it out because they knew what this meant. They weren't going to stand in the way of Eddie’s dreams. So when the frantic call came in on the third night, somewhere in Denmark, Steve was armed and ready with a plan. He was always one step ahead.

While Eddie was buzzing with excitement, Steve had arranged everything. He roped Wayne in, did an ungodly amount of research, and (as always) eased every worry in Eddie’s head before he could voice it. This was an important opportunity, Steve understood. Still, he was going to make this Christmas as special as he could.

It started with a show of solidarity. Since they couldn’t all be together, everyone would be alone. As alone as Steve was willing to leave their kids, of course. But he wouldn’t take them out to Wayne’s until Eddie got back and they held Christmas part two.

Eddie wasn’t sure how he felt about his uncle being left alone but he also knew Steve would take the kids out there fifty times over winter break so it was one less trip, not abandonment. Plus he made Wayne promise to pop in and check on Steve.

As if the logic of it wasn’t enough, Steve went on to explain they’d all get on zoom. Which he would make sure Wayne was set up for. That wasn’t going to go smoothly, Steve was going to spend three solid days out there trying to explain how to turn the laptop on. Eddie made a mental note to call Dustin next, send in reinforcements.

Next was a menu that Steve curated with ingredients available in both places. The meal was a little off and not traditional but they’d never been a honey-baked ham family anyway. Erica and Max had apparently helped with this. They’d send over all the info on where to buy what as soon as Steve told them to.

All of this would build an individual dinner to be had in front of a screen. Something about being alone together. Which had Eddie wanting to invent something greater than marriage because it wasn’t commitment enough for him to be married to this man anymore. Anyone could get married.

With plans sorted, the tour carried on. It was everything Eddie wanted it to be and more. Something he was grateful for because missing Christmas and having the tour suck would have been too many pills to swallow.

Eddie begged, pleaded, and traded everything he had to get a room to himself. They had the day off so he spent it following Erica’s itinerary. A great itinerary but Eddie was pumped to call her and tell her she was off by an hour on the time difference. Thankfully, he paid attention enough to catch it.

He’d set up a festive backdrop, cooked his assigned meal, and sat in the zoom waiting room, ready for Steve to let him in. Of course, it happened while he made a mad dash to get his drink but Steve was smart enough to not let anyone else in yet.

“Having fun?” Steve asked, that same disgusting look of admiration he always had when Eddie was away.

“A little less today but you were ready for that.”

“I’m going to let the kids in before they come down here and click the button for me.”

It took a few seconds but a new square popped up and there sat their kids, both in the frame and giggling like they were up to something.

“What are you guys doing in the treehouse?” Eddie asked.

“Dad said we can’t be together for Christmas, that’s why we’re doing this,” their youngest said.

The older added, “And he wouldn’t let us go any farther.”

“Smart. Your dad is a smart man. What do you say we get gramps in here?”

The kids cheered and Steve must have been hovering over the button because Wayne’s square came in twice as fast as the kids. Dustin’s face took up most of the screen as he frantically waved but then disappeared.

Thousands of miles shrunk bit by bit as they listened to the kids tell stories about school and Wayne complained about his neighbors. The normalcy was almost better than the effort.

Each of them in an empty room but not alone.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Celestial Christmas

(Merry Christmas darling @amymaleneart , I am your Secret Santa!!!! Here is some cozy cuteness for you to enjoy, all of your celestial boys celebrating the holiday with you. I wish you all the best and merriest of Christmases, all the love, the softest and nicest things, and the best New Year of 2025)

You were sitting on a nest of cushions, observing as the giant Cosmodian beings were comically running around and making a rather splendid rendition of a Christmas gathering.

Little harpy chicks Sun and Moon were nesting next to you, wearing cozy Christmas sweaters and watching the aliens curiously. It was all rather silly, and they would look at each other each time their alien counterparts would trip over a wayward decoration on the floor.

Dr. Sun spoke in a cheerful manner, waving his tail happily as he tried to get your official stamp of approval for his actions.

"Sweetheart! We can always add more lights if needed, we truly wish to provide the most authentic experience."

You giggled, unable to hide your mirth at the whole situation.

"Well, it seems mostly in order. You boys seem to be getting better at this!"

Dr. Moon appeared, carrying a few more boxes of presents and placing them under the Christmas tree.

"Dearest, we would love to hear more of your input. It is so exciting to engage in these interesting human customs. I believe we have most items on the list all checked off."

Seeing these majestic and fluffy Cosmodian beings go to such lengths to create this special moment for you was very heartwarming. It was your first Christmas to celebrate together with all of your celestial creations, and the boys were quite serious about making everything absolutely perfect.

Dr. Sun had even managed to convince his brothers to learn how to knit the very same sweaters that the baby harpy chicks were currently wearing. It was rather silly seeing the three of them make their way through the treacherous realm of knitting with their claws.

You smiled at the memory.

Just then, Captain Eclipse had entered the room, wearing a giant version of a chef uniform and pushing a cart that contained a small feast. Roast turkey, potatoes, freshly baked bread. His tail was also comically wrapped around an entire bag full of files. "I had done extensive research on the holiday and human cuisine. We shall make this the best Christmas ever for you, our starlight!"

You could not help but laugh "I am truly surprised and I appreciate all of this, my dear Captain. I thank you very much."

He made an elegant bow "all for our esteemed and beautiful starlight."

The harpy chicks seemed both confused and amused with the whole thing, but they made themselves comfy in your arms. You held them close, loving the warmth of their soft feathers.

"See, little ones? Look how sweet your counterparts are being." The harpy chicks chirped and nuzzled you to show their love. They also wondered when they could snatch some of the treats that were waiting on the table.

Dr. Moon winked at you "we have another little surprise for you. Another one of us shall be coming shortly, he is the most recent addition to your creations and he has a special show ready for you."

You tilted your head in surprise "Oh? My, my, I am looking forward to see what more you all have in store for me!"

You had to hold your tears back. It was all so beautiful, so magnificent. There was warmth, a promise of care and softness. Perhaps in this tiny stolen moment you could find peace.

The tree was marvelously decorated, so many celestial ornaments, but also hand-crafted decorations that the boys had made. Even little letters with messages of love and adoration. You couldn't wait to open all of the presents that were underneath the tree, the wrappings with patterns of suns and crescent moons.

You could allow yourself to feel loved and safe in this one moment, completely devoid of past and future, one comfortable moment in the present where you could allow yourself to relax and breathe.

Sweet scents. Lemon meringue pie and chai. Lavender and blueberry. Freshly roasted feast. Marvellous, marvellous.

You were suddenly distracted from your thoughts as the fluffy Cosmodians sat next to you, cuddling close.

"It is beginning, it is beggining! He is here!"

You blinked at them in confusion "hmm?"

The lights turned off, leaving all in darkness, save for the sparkly Christmas lights on the tree and along the walls. The ceiling suddenly was bathed in stars, as if to mimic the night sky. A few moments passed and a spotlight appeared right next to the Christmas tree, almost akin to a Broadway show or a similar stage performance.

An elegant Eclipse animatronic stood there, wearing a magnificently tailored suit, far more elaborate and gaudy than the ones he would have in the speakeasy. He was grinning at you, his golden eyes holding pure adoration and desire.

He held the microphone close, winking at you, making your cheeks burn and blush. His voice was deep and gravelly, almost sinful, and yet with such a beauty that was rare to find.

"I dedicate this one to my most dazzling sweetheart, heart of my heart, my fiery darling."

Music played, echoing across the entire area, reminiscing an era long gone, an era of ladies and gentlemen in Art Deco dance halls and speakeasies. As charming as Frank Sinatra, Eclipse was singing softly, swaying, moving closer to the audience.

The Cosmodians gently hummed in unison, enjoying the display. The harpy chicks were fascinated and made happy noises, amused with all of this wonder and lovelines they had been experiencing for the first time in their young lives.

It was so perfect, so cozy. You could not contain your joy anymore and you allowed tears to flow as Eclipse reached for your hand, kneeling before you and singing.

He invited you to stand up and gently dance with him, as he wrapped one arm around you, holding the microphone with his other hand still. This Eclipse was indeed rather villainous in your stories, but you could not deny how lovely it was to hear him sing for you. Tender, so tender.

"And have yourself a merry little Christmas now..."

You closed your eyes as he leaned to press a kiss to your cheek and your forehead.

What else could be appropriate for you to do now?

Perhaps make a wish?

Your wish.

A wish that may only be heard by the stars, but you needed to make it anyway.

May this moment never truly end, and may the beauty of this perfect second follow you for eternity, no matter the universe, no matter the world. You are safe and adored. You were happy.

Merry Christmas to all.

[tragedy-of-commons]

trips and falls and lands in your inbox. hello. how are you? such a nice day outside, isn't it? anyway, i'm here to make it worse. kaveh + FORGET-ME-NOT + lacuna + saudade? please please?

FORGET-ME-NOT:  it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. 

saudade —  an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

lacuna  —  a gap or absence in understanding.

tw: grief, character death, angst.

One moment he was here, and the next, he wasn’t.

It’s such a simple notion, your brain supplies to you idly. Even for a man of Kaveh’s status, his pride and his passion, he was not impervious to life’s cyclical whims.

Was. Past tense.

Are you moving on already? Is that callous? You don’t know. Does it even matter, when you are so alone now?

No, you can’t be healing just yet - the days are bleeding together into a stagnant picture. The composition is so grainy and ugly. You’d tell Kaveh that, if he were here. You’d ask “How do I fix this drab scene? I need your magic touch,” and he’d lend a hand (he’d always been the expert), then things would go on as they always have.

But you are not in denial. Kaveh is not here.

Some nebulous days after the funeral, you’d gone home, dragged your feet past the worn doormat, and sat down to research. Grief is a subject that’s been turned back and forth in the hands of countless individuals over countless years. You’d gleaned every word of potential advice from your modest collection of books. Namely, one excerpt jumped out at you:

“After he lost her, he was plagued by phantom pains. But even in the throes of nightmares, numbness, and a heart too big, he had hope. He had hope that one day, he would reunite with his love. Similarly, a martyred thought wept upon his conscience: it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”

You’d snapped the book closed after your tears started to damage the page. For the first time since Kaveh had passed, you cried. You cried and thought about how stupid the prose was, how stupid you were for seeking comfort in a brainless romance novel.

(That title in particular was a guilty pleasure more than anything else. And if you were in a better mindset then, you wouldn’t have denounced its worth. After all, you were the one who had bought it. You were the one who accepted and digested the story for what it was. You enjoyed it until you lost the person closest to you.)

A lot of things in your life changed in that way. Food doesn’t taste the same, outside isn’t as beautiful, and life wrongly continues. It’s confusing and unfair, this new norm that’s been shoved down your throat by invisible, frustratingly intangible hands. There is no one to blame. There is no anger to carry you forward.

You’re so caught up in your head these days that everyone’s given up on trying to hold conversation with you. That’s okay. They care, so they’re letting you figure things out on your own. They all, on some level, know that you won’t let them in, even if their grief matches yours in intensity. 

“I miss him. I don’t think I’ll… ever stop, uh, doing that.” 

You watch the syllables drip off your tongue, watch as your lips shape to form the words. Verbalizing it will help, it has to. It has to, because you need to be able to stand in the same bathroom where you still keep his old toothbrush; you need to make more progress. Getting used to sleeping in bed without him, knowing he was not coming back late in the night, was the hardest.

So this must be easier, right? 

(There are two stray blond hairs on the counter.)

“No, definitely not,” you choke out a laugh. This sucks. “I’ll never stop missing h—you, Kaveh.”

Predictably, there’s no answer. Although it’d be more concerning if there was one, your admission rings hollow against granite tile in a way that doesn’t exactly scream things are okay now. 

Dragging yourself away from the mirror and out of the room, you have no destination in mind. Your feet take you outside - outside where hundreds of stars are visible, sewn to the night sky like sequins on a dark gown. They shine and tell you nothing of what is to come.

“I’m so selfish.” Your voice is distant, unrecognizable. It’s like that because you’re stating a fact, spouting not some self-deprecating joke. “Because… because I’d rather feel good than feel bad. I wish I’d never met you,” you snivel, choking up at the view. “You were too wonderful - too fucking impactful - to l-leave me in one piece. Why did you have to go?”

Silence. 

What a sick joke it is, to love.

event post here. network members only!

[luboy7rt]

What Animal Team Ghosts Would Randomly Bring Home To You (GN - Headcanons)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?) (GN Reader) (Elias, Hesh, Logan, Keegan, Merrick, and Kick)

Elias Walker: 

-  Elias has.. habits. He brings home a lot of different animals throughout the years, Riley being the permanent house/military dog.

- Elias has definitely brought home any animal he thinks needs rescuing, one day it will be a cat, the next a little bird, then next a little mouse that needed saving from a mousetrap. You cannot stop this man, he has a mission in just rescuing animals as a unsuspecting side gig to being a literal military commander. (I like to think he's a animal lover, even if it's a ‘secret’)

- You point out a stray dog or cat? That's his now, (if the animal will allow it and wants to come with), Hesh and Logan have gotten used to their father bringing home random animals “...Can we even keep that, Dad?” Hesh would ask every time if it was a random animal that shouldn't be a pet. “Why Not.” Would be Elias's answer every. Damn. Time. 

- Elias would also ensure to tell you, Hesh, Logan, to not touch the more aggressive or ‘spicy’ animals he brings home, basically makes sure you all respect the animals and ensure the animals wouldn't hurt you three.

- If any of the animals he brings home are ‘unfit’ To be around kids (yes, he still calls Hesh and Logan kids, and maybe even you too if you have that type of relationship) he would find a good animal shelter, sanctuary or a good home for the animal.

- Why do Hesh and Riley have a good relationship? Elias taught Hesh how to train Riley, ensuring that Hesh would always know Riley has his back, having Riley around brought a sense of security to Elias as he felt like his boys could be cared for by Riley even if he wasn't around.

- Elias would give a deep chuckle with a half smile as he walks through the front door, spotting you as he carried a small bird in his hands, he would offer a hello, and show you the small baby bird he was now keeping due to finding it injured in the driveway. 

- Basically most people go to this man when they find a random animal, because somehow Elias is always good at knowing what animal, the species and what the hell is wrong If there is something wrong. Everytime Elias is asked about his knowledge, “Documentaries are nice, you should watch them. Maybe then you can learn something for once” He would respond by accidentally being brutal. 

- “Do you feel comfortable? Or should I find a better home for this little guy?” Elias Would ask you, Hesh, and Logan every time he brings home a new random animal, the house has become a farm at this point. You want an animal? As long as you know how to care for it and it wants to or can be around? fine by Elias, do your research and show him you can care for it, and he'll make it happen.

- Yes, you have random animals cuddling up to you in the middle of the night, is it one of the cats? Or could it be the tortoise that Elias has had for years? Or maybe it was just Riley, you'll be in for a surprise if you left your door open.

David 'Hesh' Walker: 

- Hesh would bring home lizards, just imagine him coming home with a few baby lizards in his arms, Riley having one on his snout with wide eyes.. the dog was very steady in slowly creeping behind Hesh as to not drop the little lizard across his snout and head.

- “Oh, Hey..! didn't realize you were home” Hesh would sheepishly admit, as he adjusted the lizards in his arms, trying to get them to stop climbing everywhere. “...Surprise..? No welcome home..? Alright”

- If you don't like the lizards? He'll put them back outside, leave a little bowl of water incase they need it.. Poor Riley would waddle after Hesh, having lizards all over him, trying to walk but being so careful not to hurt any of them.. Riley ends up bringing the lizards in the house, Hesh laughing if you freak out.

- If you do like lizards? He'll put one on your shoulder or head, bonk. There you go, you got your own little guy.

- Your house gets taken over by lizards, Hesh doesn't find it funny after he found one in the washroom at 2AM the next morning, if you have a fear of lizards? Good luck, you scream? Hesh will come to save you, but Riley likes the damn lizards and keeps bringing them inside accidently and it becomes a big mess. Hesh apologizes about fifty times for it.

- “..This might be a little problem” Hesh would mutter as you smack or elbow his stomach, he would wince a bit and be grumbley he couldn't ‘tame’ wild lizards like his father could, awkwardly rubbing his hair as he would pat your shoulder and promise to deal with it.

- It took three weeks. Three weeks to get all the lizards out of the house, and Hesh only kept one bigger lizard, which he built a cage for and now cares for as it had a small injury.

- He gives a soft smile, and a tilt of the head, like a 'I did it' face, in the end, you both are relieved that the lizards are no longer all over your home.

Logan Walker: 

- Logan brought home a large frog, well like a large overweight bullfrog, No questions asked, No answers given as he just plopped it in front of you. Like a silent, I brought you this.

- If you like the bullfrog? You can keep it, Logan would buy a big enclosure for her, and silently look proud of his work, he would feed, care and love this frog like it's his damn firstborn. Even takes photos to send to you, Elias, and Hesh. ‘Look at my frog. ignore she's a bit big, we are working on it'. Texts little updates about this frog every week.

- If he can't care for it? He’ll expect you to, please care for this man’s frog. You don't have to pick it up if you don't want to but feed her for him when he's away if you are still around the house.

- Logan would randomly just plop the frog on you (if you don't mind), frog on your head, frog on your shoulder, frog in your hands, frog on your stomach.. He would just randomly plop her on you, and smile. 

- If you don't like the frog, he will give her to Elias for safe keeping, willing to just visit his frog but wanting to keep the peace between you two.

- Logan likes frogs, if he finds one interesting enough he will just catch it to show it off to you, a rare smile playing on his lips as he lets the frog poke their head out of his hand to show you. Like Logan is quietly and silently asking if you love the frog as much as he does. If you don't, that's alright, he'll find something else to randomly bring you as presents.. Logan always gently puts the frogs he catches back where he finds them.

- Frog catching was definitely a hobby, one Hesh got him into when they were young children. Hesh may have 'forgotten' about the competition about frog catching between them but Logan would never. 

- Logan actually tries to start this competition with you, who could catch the most frogs? If you don't want to? That's alright, he'll show off the frogs from a decent way away. If you do? Get prepared to get dirty, this is war, mud was on both of your clothes, as you two had looked for frogs for hours and who do you think would win?

Keegan P. Russ:

- Keegan isn’t scared of many things in life, so when he brings home a large snake? Wrapped around his neck like it wouldn't hurt him, as he causally walks into the apartment, a wild snake around his neck.. You might be a bit hesitant as it's about 3AM, and Keegan just got home.. with a random big snake.

- Keegan gives a head nod as he put the snake down on the couch.. Like it wouldn't just slither off around the apartment, Keegan puts his hands on his hips, and glances at you before glancing back at the snake. “I have a pet.”

- Yeah, that's all he said to you, do you like snakes? If you are chill with it, Keegan's chill, Keegan will buy a large enclosure for the big guy and ensure he's well fed. 

- If you don't like snakes..? Or are scared of them, Keegan will ensure the snake is kept in a large enclosure, and wouldn't take him out around you. But he does keep him, and nurses the snake up to full health again.

- Keegan would slowly get the snake used to his and your presence, feeding him well so there was no accidents, slowly getting the snake used to you both and making sure to do a tad bit of research about this species to ensure he doesn't fuck up.

- “Put this on” Keegan would say with a straight face and a quiet chuckle as he put the large snake around your neck, his hand not leaving but staying between you and the snake's head, and would tease you if you were scared.. but if you got to scared he would take the snake back and keep him away from you. Keegan wouldn't apologize but would make it up to you for scaring you.

- You always see Keegan with this snake, attempting to scare either Logan or Hesh, whoever was closest to him, maybe even put the snake in Kick's bed, having had ensured the other man had no weapons to hurt Keegan's beloved snake... But also giving Kick the scare of his life.

Thomas A. Merrick: 

- Merrick brings home a small baby squirrel, holding her in his gloved palm, as she was covered in dirty rainwater, and oil. Merrick had just returned from a long mission, still wearing his gear as he accidentally woke you up at around 4AM.

- He would apologize quietly as if trying to make up for the fact he woke you up and asks you to start a little bath in the sink for the little squirrel.

- Merrick was a bit quieter in the morning, as he sat by the kitchen sink, not even taking off his gear, you both would gently clean off this baby squirrel.

- If you don't want to keep her, Merrick would be alright with that, very understanding as he would end up bringing her to a vet for them to figure out what to do.

- If you do want to keep her, Merrick would nod and do his best to ensure the squirrel would be happy and cared for. Merrick would pat your shoulder or head as a thank you, and find a nice spot to put the little squirrel, ends up just making a small bed in an old shoe box.

- Merrick ends up training the squirrel to bring him any amount of dollar bills, Merrick would grin when the squirrel would pass him a five dollar bill and give her lots of headsets and snacks. Merrick would give You a smug I told you I could do it look.

- You two end up having this squirrel for a long while, oh you're cooking something? Watch out Ms.Squirrelly might run past and try to steal your ingredients, you want five minutes alone in the shower, Squirrelly is outside the shower waiting for you, you leave the groceries out? Guess who ate them already. 

- Ms. Squirrelly is very loved by all, even if she does steal money. She's a little thief, but Merrick adores her, and yes he keeps that money to buy you or Ms.Squirrelly a nice gift. 

Kick: 

- When Kick walks Into the house carrying a goat, what do you do when it screams bloody murder when she sees you? Kick was very straight faced as he looked at you, holding her up as if to show you nothing bad happened.

- Kick stole a goat. Who knows where he got the poor girl from, Kick wouldn't give You any details, he just walks into the house and puts the goat down in the kitchen, asking her to shut up as he put a plate of fruit in front of her.

- When you ask what the hell, or why he just shrugged as explains he found her alone while doing a test fly with a helicopter, claiming he just found her and took her home.. He basically just kidnapped a goat from who knows where.

- Kick and the goat don't even get along, she will follow him and you around, but the moment shes alone with Kick? she screams, she just makes the worse screeching noises around him, like he hates this man.. But she doesn't leave even if You give her the chance to. 

- Yeah, the goat vibes with you, but it seems like Kick and her just despise each other, like if one of them are in a room, and the other walks in? One of them will end up leaving.

- Kick regretted taking the goat in, he dislikes loud things.. and this goat is loud, she hates him, and she makes sure to ‘tell’ Kick. Kick will look at you with a straight face.. every time, it just makes it funnier.

- You don’t really have much of a choice, unless it is necessary this goat won’t leave, Kick has tried. She just randomly pops back up in the backyard and you both have to keep her. 

- The only time Kick and this goat get along is when Kick gives her food or ‘fights’ her, play fighting a goat, basically Kick has ran out of ideas but it makes the goat shut up for a while.

[bettsfic]

Do you have any preferred notebooks? Anything better than Moleskine which I don't think would be hard (!!??)... The ink bleeding through to the page behind is so distracting. Random question but I figured you'd be perfect to ask!! Thank you

i've been waiting my entire tumblrlife for this, anon. stationery is one of my most persevering special interests.

just to caveat, i still use a moleskine for my personal journal, but i only write in it once or twice a month so they tend to last years. i bought my current journal in 2017 before enshittification and so i haven't had a problem with the paper. i use a felt-tip pen on it mostly, but even the few times i've tried fountain pens, i haven't had any bleed-through. it's really unfortunate they've gone downhill.

and i mean, for context, i beat the shit out of my moleskines. and look how they've held up!

the one on the left i used from 2011 to 2017. it went all around the world with me and i carried it everywhere for 6 years. i taped every stupid scrap of paper i came across into it and that's why it's so beefy. the elastic band has stretched too far is all; i need to find something sturdier to keep it shut.

the one on the right i started in 2017 and i'm about 2/3rds through it. i tape some stuff in but not as much as i used to. at one point it was in my backpack in the overhead compartment of a plane and some guy's water bottle spilled all over it. i was devastated. but it slurped that shit up and kept trucking. you can't even tell it's waterlogged anymore.

my mom bought me a special edition van gogh moleskine for my birthday last year that i was planning to use for my next journal. i just tested the paper against the 2017 journal using a kaweco sport bold tip, and the van gogh paper does indeed bleed significantly more than the 2017 paper. a real shame. i'm probably still going to use it though, because i've kept the proud tradition of "use notebooks people buy me for my birthday as my next journal" since i was 14. also, i'll probably end up starting it when i'm 37, the age van gogh died.

last august marked my 20th anniversary of my journaling habit, btw. i was going to write a newsletter about it but it started spiraling into a whole-ass book and i had to set it down.

a close and higher quality alternative to moleskine, much beloved by bullet journalers, is leuchtturm. their A5 hardcover is very similar to the classic moleskine pictured above. i don't use one because i have no use for lie-flat notebooks for anything other than a personal journal (which is covered for the next decade or so), but i love buying them as gifts.

my commonplace notebook is the A4 rhodia top spiral, which i've mentioned in my newsletter before. there is something truly magical about this notebook. when i bought it, i carried it around with me everywhere even though i had no idea what to write in it. i started commonplacing before i even knew what that was, simply because the tactile and aesthetic sensation of filling each page was so satisfying. i go through 1-2 per year.

this isn't a notebook proper, but my research binders are B5 maruman clartes with their corresponding loose leaf paper. again, like the rhodia A4 top spiral, the sensation of writing on the paper and organizing the binder is very satisfying and so it encourages me to take a lot of notes.

maruman also makes the famously amazing mnemosyne series of notebooks. i haven't used one before but i really like them, and as soon as i need a high quality top spiral notebook that the A4 rhodia can't fulfill, that's what i'll be moving to.

my purse notebook is a field notes reporter's notebook. these are new so they haven't stood the test of time the way the others have, but i love the size and the binding, and afaik field notes is one of the few american stationery brands that hasn't fallen prey to a quality drop in paper. i also love field notes classic pocket notebook but have never been able to make a pocket notebook habit stick. it took me a long time to realize tiny notebooks don't encourage me to write in them, because a lot of my notebooking is about the thrill and aesthetic pleasure of seeing an overwhelming amount of text on a page.

my planner is a hobonichi techo weeks, which is the same size as the reporter's notebook and also goes in my purse. this is my first year using a hobonichi planner and i really love it. like the others, its quality encourages me to use it. i've found hobonichi overall is a really good notebook brand.

my sketchbook (which i don't use very much) is a strathmore 500 series mixed media softcover. i bought it before i realized how deterring i find lie-flat books and i think i would be more motivated to draw by investing in one of their wirebound ones, even though all the artists i follow on youtube tell you not to do that. i keep meaning to change it into a collage notebook instead, i just haven't had the time or desk space to do it.

and an honorable mention: before the pandemic, back when i did things and went places, i used a grand voyageur traveler's notebook from paper republic. i'm actually very sad i don't have much of a use for it anymore, but maybe one day i'll do stuff again and return to it. it's weird that i don't see paper republic mentioned often (ever) in bujo spheres, when i think their products are better than traveler's company (although i haven't tested one for a significant period of time; people swear by them though).

hopefully one or two of these stand out to you!