#adapting the idea along with others

[alien-mil]

Royal! AU based on a dream I had. I’m making Slugs still canon

Eli is a rouge runaway (AKA SURFACE) and he has been invited to join a community gathering in the castle gardens in the Kingdom of Orientem (it’s google translate for east) Eli has heard about this Kingdom since he was able to talk and so when he is casted out from his own home he sets off to the gathering.

Walking through the gardens Eli meets a Troll, they make conversation. Kord explains how he became a knight. He is know in the Kingdom to be born from the best Blacksmiths, Kord was meant to follow in the family’s footsteps but as he was in training a customer had been attacked, Kord had fought off the attacker and saved who he soon find out was the Prince. Kord wasn’t any normal Knight he was the Prince’s first hand Knight. Eli not picking up that if Kord was there so is the Prince (he is too interested in Kord’s Story) The two talk about Slugs, Eli ask questions about Kord’s home as Eli is a new comer, Kord does the same, Eli ask what’s brings Kord to the gardens and Kord is brought to a realisation he needs to change the guards. Saying he’ll see Eli later at the festival.

Eli realising the Garden is bigger than expected because he is no where near halfway, he meets a second person well Mole person but details. This Pronto was the greatest explorer and traveler there is to know. He’s been to all corners of their globe. Monologue after monologue, Eli is finding that he enjoys it for some reason. As Eli ask Pronto what brings him to the gardens Pronto explains how this is his second home, his family live in the 99 Kingdom and has no way to go back. He explains how he is meant to be inline for the next Molanoid throne but he finds no interest. Explaining once he’s done his adventures he will return to rule and hasn’t been back since. Eli finds sadness about the story but Pronto assures him everything has been taken care of which brightens the mood. With that Pronto declares he will help Eli see the most he can around the garden and enjoy it.

After making it to the halfway point with his new companion Eli admires the white cherry blossom trees. Walking around to the biggest of the trees admiring how, compared to the others, is a bright pink and then he bumps into someone. The person who was previously standing over Eli helping him up and now talking to him was Trixie. She was a local of the Kingdom, a noble but she hates the title because she has to talk to suitors at the Royal balls. Trixie was great to talk to, her and Pronto got on like firecrackers which was kind of terrifying to witness. As Eli and Pronto moved on from the trees, Trixie did too, saying she was third wheeling her friends and wanted to talk to someone not from Orientem. And so Eli talked, probably the most in his whole life with Trixie and Pronto. Pronto breaking into monologue, Trixie butting in the question if Pronto actually did those things. It was great, if only Kord joined him. Then Eli asked Trixie what she’s doing in the garden, apart from third wheeling, she replied saying she wanted to see the Cherry Blossoms again. As the event is a once every decade experience.

The two realised they were needed for total seperate meetings. Trixie said her friends are panicking about where she is, and Pronto says that an apprentice needs help with cartography, both Trixie and Pronto leave to the right of the garden seemingly a shortcut out. So Eli accepts these reasonings with nothing but gratitude and good nature and continues to wonder. The rest of the gardens trail was absolutely beautiful, all the colours seemed the best by the end of the trail and more vibrant. Eli not realising for several minutes that no one is along the trail anymore. Even before running into the others there had been plenty of people walking around. This garden is that big, but now it’s just Eli…

And a man in a white and gold robe who is standing under a purple wisteria tree. The tree is gorgeous but Eli’s attention was on the man. He was lean and seemed to have some muscle on him, not as much as Kord, his dark hair was long and flowing in the wind. His eyes where dark brown like Eli could lose himself with in the darkness within them. But his face was pearly and sharp, covered in kindness. Eli had never seen a man like him. He introduces himself as Junjie, Eli is familiar but he’s not sure where from. Junjie says he’s been looking forward to meeting Eli, asking about what he means Junjie explains that whoever comes through the garden has potential to become the prince’s suitor if he so chooses. Eli then goes on in absolute shock that he’s got no idea who he is. It’s then Junjie’s turn to continue explaining. The whole reason for the garden is to show beauty, and look for it, but not the physical beauty. Junjie explains yes Eli is attractive but he’s also kind and curious. He was able to make friends along he garden and still gave them gratitude when they left. Junjie tells how they will be able to learn each other and become friends but at the moment Eli is a suitor for Junjie if he so wishes.

Eli explains how he wants to be friends first, or at least be able to trust each other and Junjie agrees disappointed but will try since Eli is the only suitor he has liked and maybe gets to love.

[gingermintpepper]

In my Zeus bag today so I'm just gonna put it out there that exactly none of the great Ancient Greek warrior-heroes stayed loyal and faithful and completely monogamous and yet none of them have their greatness questioned nor do we question why they had the cultural prominence that they did and still do.

Jason, the brilliant leader of the Argo, got cold feet when it came to Medea - already put off by some of her magic and then exiled from his birthland because of her political ploys, he took Creusa to bed and fully intended on marrying her despite not properly dissolving things with Medea.

Theseus was a fierce warrior and an incredibly talented king but he had a horrible temper and was almost fatally weak to women. This is the man who got imprisoned in the Underworld for trying to get a friend laid, the man who started the whole Attic War because he couldn't keep his legs closed.

And we cannot at all forget Heracles for whom a not inconsiderable amount of his joy in life was loving people then losing the people around him that he loved. Wives, children, serving boys, mentors, Heracles had a list of lovers - male and female - long enough to rival some gods and even after completing his labours and coming down to the end of his life, he did not have one wife but three.

And y'know what, just because he's a cultural darling, I'll put Achilles up here too because that man was a Theseus type where he was fantastic at the thing he was born to do (that is, fight whereas Theseus' was to rule) but that was not enough to eclipse his horrid temper and his weakness to young pretty things. This is the man that killed two of Apollo's sons because they wouldn't let him hit - Tenes because he refused to let Achilles have his sister and Troilus who refused Achilles so vehemently that he ran into Apollo's temple to avoid him and still couldn't escape.

All four of these men are still celebrated as great heroes and men. All four of these men are given the dignity of nuance, of having their flaws treated as just that, flaws which enrich their character and can be used to discuss the wider cultural point of what truly makes a hero heroic. All four of these men still have their legacies respected.

Why can that same mindset not be applied to Zeus? Zeus, who was a warrior-king raised in seclusion apart from his family. Zeus who must have learned to embrace the violence of thunder for every time he cried as a babe, the Corybantes would bang their shields to hide the sound. Zeus learned to be great because being good would not see the universe's affairs in its order.

The wonderful thing about sympathy is that we never run out of it. There's no rule stopping us from being sympathetic to multiple plights at once, there's no law that necessitate things always exist on the good-evil binary. Yes, Zeus sentenced Prometheus to sufferation in Tartarus for what (to us) seems like a cruel reason. Prometheus only wanted to help humans! But when you think about Prometheus' actions from a king's perspective, the narrative is completely different: Prometheus stole divine knowledge and gifted it to humans after Zeus explicitly told him not to. And this was after Prometheus cheated all the gods out of a huge portion of wealth by having humans keep the best part of a sacrifice's meat while the gods must delight themselves with bones, fat and skin. Yes, Zeus gave Persephone away to Hades without consulting Demeter but what king consults a woman who is not his wife about the arrangement of his daughter's marriage to another king? Yes, Zeus breaks the marriage vows he set with Hera despite his love of her but what is the Master of Fate if not its staunchest slave?

The nuance is there. Even in his most bizarre actions, the nuance and logic and reason is there. The Ancient Greeks weren't a daft people, they worshipped Zeus as their primary god for a reason and they did not associate him with half the vices modern audiences take issue with. Zeus was a father, a visitor, a protector, a fair judge of character, a guide for the lost, the arbiter of revenge for those that had been wronged, a pillar of strength for those who needed it and a shield to protect those who made their home among the biting snakes. His children were reflections of him, extensions of his will who acted both as his mercy and as his retribution, his brothers and sisters deferred to him because he was wise as well as powerful. Zeus didn't become king by accident and it is a damn shame he does not get more respect.

[spotaus]

Hi guys, this is usually what a doodle page ends up looking like <3 (oh, and @ancha-aus thought you might like this! Not writing but certainly fuel to my fire lol-)

This one is New Age filled!!! (Close-ups abd Lore beneath the cut!)

1) Night and Cross!

Night is actually very clingy once he's a teen. He doesn't usually realize it, but around the castle he'll snake to be closer to his Knights so long as there's no one he needs to keep his composure infront of is nearby. Cross is the one who's not used to physical touch (when it's not Ink ofc) so Night in his personal bubble makes his heart melt but also scares tf out of him <3

2) Error and Night's Meeting!

Error was carrying his whole life on his back and trying not to get arrested for unintentional property damage at this point, so when he saw the chance to get back at his brother and prove he was strong enough? Yeah, he got that on chance instantly. And was VERY smug when Nightmare chose him. (Also, Error is wearing gloves, so less Haphephobia)

3) Dream and Blue designs!

I think these are good tentative designs! Dream probably has a more regal fit, but he likes to play up that rugged exile look- He's inspired by Archers, while Blue takes on that classic Knightly-vibe. Their equipment is mostly stolen from Night's troops or brought with them from Blue's home kingdom.

Also, Dream is approx Killer's height at this point, shorter than Cross and *much* shorter than Apple!Nightmare. (Hc that Skeletons tend to be tinier in stature thanks to weird monster beauty standards. Horror and Geno's fam are outliers.)

4) Horror and Dust designs!

Horror is naturally a very *large* monster. He's very malnourished when Nightmare meets him, but by the time he's a Knight Nightmare has made sure that's no longer the case. He actually loves comfy, simple clothes, but to play up the whole 'strong mysterious' bit he wears a more barbaric Knight's garb. He doesn't mind acting scary, it's more fun that way :]. Dust is very very small, and envies horror sometimes for his size, but his tiny stature let's him control his body and move a lot quicker. He's very much based on a rogue, and usually covers the lower part of his face w/ a black cloth, and the upper part w/ his hood or mask. Dust only removes both to bathe, eat, or relax in a safe location. (Ignore that I can't draw the stupid gaster blaster lmao-)

These last two were space-fillers, but Cross and his Borzoi (Windmill, otherwise known as Milly (Killer named her-)) and really bad first wips of Ccino! I think Ccino was a chubby, happy toddler, but lost a lot of 'weight' (bone mass? Magic?) due to stress and pressure and bad eating habits. So it isn't until a while after the Coronation that he starts to relax abd feel safe enough to eat normal meals (Nightmare used to guilt him into eating snacks together, but as his boss (and younger brother) he can encourage it more often). By the time Killer shows he's still not quite healthy, but he's better. As more weight is lifted off his shoulders, the better he is. (That 'beauty' most people saw was a more stereotypical slimness, but Killer never stopped seeing Ccino as beautiful-) I think he never looked traditionally underweight, so no one noticed, and it was only much later that Night processed it. (And maybe it's why Dream hardly recognized him later on-)

[sibillascribbles08]

NGL I hate the feeling of being in a fandom and having a hc that you implement in a lot of your fan works, and then another artist has a very similar concept to what you're doing (which is 100% fine) but this artist is far more popular and you just know in your gut everyone is going to talk like they invented the thing while you've already been using it for three years.

[thenervebible]

CONNIE PANZARINO at a pride march in Boston circa 1990

[ID: Connie is marching along in her sip 'n' puff (SNP) wheelchair. She is wearing a patterned poncho and sporting a green felt party crown on her head. She styles a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with her slicked back hair. She is smiling. Attached to the back of her wheelchair is a large green cardboard poster that reads "Trached Dykes Eat Pussy Without Comin' Up For Air!" followed by a pink upside-down triangle with a stick figure person in a wheelchair at the centre (a symbol for disabled women)].

the cyborg & the crip by Alison Kafer

[ID: “Trached dykes eat pussy without coming up for air.” Connie Panzarino, a longtime disability activist and out lesbian, would attach this sign to her wheelchair during Pride marches in Boston in the early 1990s. Shockingly explicit, her sign refuses to cast technology as cold, distancing, or disembodied/disembodying, presenting it instead as a source and site of embodied pleasure. “Trach” is an abbreviation of tracheotomy, a medical procedure in which a breathing tube is inserted directly into the trachea, bypassing the mouth and nose. Someone with a trach, then, can, in effect, breathe through her throat, freeing her mouth for other activities (another version of this sign is “Trached dykes french kiss without coming up for air”). From a cyborgian perspective, this sign is brilliantly provocative and productive. It draws on the pervasive idea that adaptive technologies grant superior abilities,not merely replacing a lost capacity but enhancing it, yet it does so in a highly subversive way. The message here isn’t about blending in, about passing as normal or hypernormal, but about publicly announcing the viability of a queer disabled location. It’s disnormalizing, adamantly refusing compulsory heterosexuality, compulsory able bodiedness, and homonormativity. As Corbett O’Toole argues, it challenges the perceived passivity of disabled women, presenting them as actively pleasuring their partners, thereby graphically refuting stereotypes linking physical disability with nonsexuality.]

[luna-azzurra]

Ideas to Get Rid of Writer's Block Inspo

Have a character uncover a family secret that changes everything. Write about how this revelation affects their relationships and choices.

Force two characters who dislike each other to team up for a common goal. Explore how their dynamic changes over time.

Introduce a flashback that explains a character’s motivation. This can provide depth and context to their current actions.

Reveal that a character has been on a secret mission all along. How do the others react when they find out?

Introduce a mystery illness that affects one of your main characters. Explore the emotional and physical toll it takes.

Allow a character to travel back in time to a pivotal moment in their life. Do they change anything? What are the repercussions?

Develop a story around two characters who fall in love but are from feuding families or groups. How do they navigate their relationship?

Have an unlikely character step up as the hero in a crisis. What drives them to take this role?

Create a plot around a valuable object that goes missing. Who took it, and why is it important?

Introduce a character haunted by their past mistakes. How do they seek redemption or closure?

Write a chapter from a different character’s point of view. How does this shift change the story?

Have a character from the past show up unexpectedly. What do they want, and how does their presence impact the story?

Incorporate a vivid dream or nightmare that provides insight into a character’s fears or desires.

Move the story to a completely new location. How do the characters adapt to their new environment?

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Azriel x Fem Archeron!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | In your struggle to adapt to your new existence, the Night Court's shadowsinger takes it upon himself to offer his quiet comfort.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,537

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mentions of reader in the Cauldron, Anxiety, Depersonalization, Sweet Az, Fluff, Emotional hurt/comfort, Hints at reader and Az being mates. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I’m only half way through the 2nd book so I apologize for any mistakes or inaccuracies. I have a pretty good idea of what happens in the rest of the series, I just haven’t read it yet. Azriel is quickly becoming a favorite, though, so I just had to write something for him. He might be a bit ooc.

masterlist

It was the twilight hour at the House of Wind. The atmosphere was dense and strangling, a tension sitting in the air so turbulent one wrong breath could shatter the carefully constructed peace. Azriel and Cassian certainly had their hands full. Neither of the males able to dispel the strain. Rhysand was sequestered away you knew not where, leaving his brothers with the responsibility of navigating the fractured states of you and your sisters.

You sat near the window of your room, your hands curled tightly in your lap, trying to ignore the suffocating weight of everything you couldn’t fix. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t understand.

Nesta’s sharp voice echoed faintly down the corridor, cutting through the heavy silence that pressed on your ears. Elain’s quiet sorrow was just as palpable, an ache that you didn’t have the strength to soothe, even if you wanted to. 

And you? You were drowning. Over and over again, feeling your humanity being ripped from you. Clawed away and shredded into the withering pain that tore across your skin. Never able to take in an easy breath because each intake of air felt like the Cauldron’s scorching water was invading your lungs. It turned to lead inside you, dragging you down down down into the blackened depths. 

You had come out transformed into someone, something, you didn’t recognize. You were fragmented, frayed, and whatever pieces were left of you no longer seemed to fit. 

The knock at your door startled you, a soft sound, almost hesitant, like whoever stood on the other side wasn’t sure they were welcome. You didn’t respond aloud—what would you say?—but something about the silence must have been answer enough because the door creaked open.

It was Azriel.

Of course, it was him. He always seemed to know when to appear, not with the smooth certainty of someone who could fix everything, but with the quiet persistence of someone who couldn’t walk away. His presence made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t understand, a weight and a warmth all at once.

He carried a tray of food, though his hands, so steady normally, looked almost awkward now. His shadows trailed at his feet, curling along the floor like restless whispers, and for a moment, you wondered if they’d been listening to you earlier. To the broken sounds you hadn’t meant for anyone to hear. Was that why he was here now?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice low, rough, like the question cost him something to ask.

You blinked at him, unsure how to respond. How were you feeling? Empty? Heavy? Nothing and everything all at once? You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of such a simple question when the answer was anything but. Instead, you shrugged, the motion barely more than a flicker of movement.

Azriel shifted, the tray now resting on the table beside you. He flexed his hands at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them now. His large wings were folded low at his back like he was attempting to make them less noticeable.

Is he doing that for me? To not…frighten me, perhaps?

He didn’t sit, didn’t move closer, but his presence filled the room, steady and quiet and infuriatingly unshakable. His gaze lingered on you for just a moment too long before he looked away, his jaw tightening.

You shifted in place on the window seat, folding your hands in your lap to keep from picking at the skin around your nails. It was a nervous habit you'd had all your human life, and it seemed to have followed you into your new fae existence. To be frank, the habit had gotten worse since your ordeal in the Cauldron. You were antsy, jumpy, and nervous all the time now. 

"I'm fine." You finally said in a small whisper. You felt the embarrassment creep in as you spoke. It was only two words, but it felt like it was more than you'd spoken at all since you were shoved into that dreadful, life-altering vessel. Your voice wasn't as strong as it used to be; you weren’t as strong as you used to be. Not even with your newfound abilities. Sure, you were more graceful than before, your now pointed ears could hear a bit better than before, and your skin seemed to shine like starlight, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were a great deal more fragile now.

Especially when Azriel stood before you. The Illyrian male was the very definition of strength. You couldn't fathom why he was here right now, checking on you. But some deep, deep part of you, a part that felt as if it hadn't been there before the Cauldron, was practically beaming at his presence. It warmed inside you and sang into your mind, telling you to reach out for him. That even brushing briefly against his tanned skin would bring you lifetimes of comfort. It was absurd.

You really are losing your mind.

Azriel shifted, the gentle scrape of his boots against the floor pulling you from the spiraling thoughts threatening to consume you. His wings twitched, an almost imperceptible movement, but you caught it. You’d noticed that before, how you were always so aware of his every movement. You caught everything he did, each subtle sound and flicker of motion. It was overwhelming sometimes, this heightened awareness of him. Yet another thing you didn’t understand.

He cleared his throat softly, drawing your gaze back to him. “You don’t have to say you’re fine,” he murmured, his voice a blend of rough honesty and something more delicate, something that felt like understanding. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”

The warmth in your chest flared again, unbidden and unrelenting. You swallowed against it, against the strange pull that seemed to tether you to him, as if some invisible thread had bound itself around your heart and was now tugging mercilessly. It was maddening. You didn’t want to feel this way—this need, this want for something you couldn’t even name.

Azriel’s words settled in the room like a fragile thread, the kind that could snap with just the breath of the wrong response. He didn’t move, didn’t look at you fully, but you felt his focus anyway, sharp and unwavering. His presence was a steady hum in the background of your awareness, grounding and yet deeply unsettling at the same time.

“I…” you started, the sound so faint it barely carried between you. Your throat felt tight as if you were drowning all over again, your words caught somewhere between your chest and lips. You wanted to speak, to tell him something, anything, to fill the suffocating silence. But you didn’t know what to say. The pieces of yourself that once knew how to converse, how to be normal, felt like they had dissolved into the Cauldron’s depths, leaving you raw and exposed.

He didn’t push. He simply waited, patient as ever, his shadows coiling and shifting in the corners of the room like uneasy sentinels. They didn’t feel intrusive, strangely enough. If anything, they were like him—watchful, protective, and respectful of boundaries you couldn’t yet define.

Finally, you managed to meet his gaze, though it felt like an act of courage to do so. “I don’t know how to feel…or how to be anymore,” you admitted, the words tumbling out in a quiet, cracked rush. You hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t planned on baring even this sliver of yourself to him, but it was the truth. And something about him, about the calm compassion in his eyes, made it impossible not to say.

His expression didn’t change, not noticeably, but something about the set of his shoulders eased. “You’re hurting,” he said gently, as if he’d been expecting your answer all along. “And that is alright.”

The simplicity of his statement made your chest ache, an ache that felt strangely like relief. You turned your gaze back to your lap, your fingers twitching against one another as you fought the urge to fidget further. “It’s just…everything feels wrong,” you confessed. “Like I’m still in there, like I’m still falling, and I’ll never hit the ground.”

You felt him stiffen at your disparaging words. Saw his shadows twist the least bit closer to you, as if even they wanted to offer you some sort of solace. His voice came soft and steady, like the first breeze after a storm. “I’ve felt that way before,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his tone striking like a sudden chord in the quiet. “Like I’d been untethered, and there was no ground left to find.”

His raw honesty caught you off guard, forcing you to search for his gaze again. Nothing could have prepared you for the earnestness you not only saw in his eyes, but it also dripped from him like water. You couldn’t picture Azriel being anything but sure and unyielding. But in the same moment, you felt beholden to him for sharing such a piece of himself just to comfort you. 

The continuous tightness in your lungs lessened just a fraction, enough to allow you to take your first easy breath in weeks. “Does it ever go away?”

“Not entirely,” he said almost regretfully. Your heart sank a bit, but before you could fall completely into despair, he added, “But it does get easier.

Your words left you once more, your mind reeling with the idea of fighting this for the rest of your life. A life that would now be centuries long.

It was no surprise that he caught the shudder of dejection that crossed your face. His shadows curled closer to you like a soothing veil of darkness. Their movement was almost hypnotic, easing in the strange way you’d begun to associate with them. Azriel’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you in a watchful manner. He glanced at the open cushion beside you. “May I?” he asked softly, his voice low and warm, though it carried an edge of uncertainty like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping some invisible line. 

You didn’t even have to think about it before you were nodding. “Of course,” you murmured, trying not to sound too eager.

Azriel moved carefully, lowering himself onto the seat next to you. The space was narrow, and you became acutely aware of how close he was—his knee brushing lightly against yours, the faint scent of cedar and night air surrounding him. You tried to focus on your hands folded tightly in your lap, but the warmth radiating from him was impossible to ignore.

“It won’t always feel like this,” he said gently, his voice hushed and certain. “The weight you’re carrying—it changes. It becomes something you can hold, something you can live with. You’ll find your footing again.”

The conviction in his words floated to you like a lifeline. The way he looked at you, soothing and steadfast, made you feel like you had no choice but to believe him. You nodded more to yourself than to him. Silence settled in the room again, but with him beside you, it felt easier to endure than before. For the first time you didn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with something. It was simply enough to sit there with him and let his company anchor you. 

The wisp of something against your arm pulled your attention. The faint brush on your arm was barely noticeable at first, like the lightest touch of silk on your skin. When you glance down, one of Azriel’s shadows glides towards you, curious and tentative. It swirls near your wrist, its edges soft and flickering like the flame of a candle, before retreating as if it was testing the waters. 

You laughed slightly. “Do they always do that?” You asked softly, unable to keep the awe from your voice. The shadow seemed almost alive, sentient in a way that both mesmerized and unsettled you.

Azriel followed your gaze to the shadow, his expression lightened in a way you hadn’t expected. “Not always.” He divulged, his tone carrying something akin to fondness. “They’re curious about you.”

You tilted your head at him, your brows furrowing. “Me?”

“They’re drawn to certain people,” he explained, his voice low and even, as though sharing a closely guarded secret. “They can sense things others can’t.”

The shadow flickered closer again, this time brushing along your hand in a more eager manner. You couldn’t help but smile faintly, the sensation strangely soothing. “They’re not what I expected,” you said, your voice still so as to not scare the shadow.

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his eyes seeming to search you for something. “What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure.” You confessed, glancing at him. “Something harsher maybe.”

“They can be,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “When they need to be.”

You looked at him fully then, the true meaning behind his words sparking comprehension in your mind. There was a deeper depth to his shadows, a duality that mirrored their master. You wondered if he’d been born with them. If he had grown with them. Or if they had been birthed from pain, from the darkness he carried with him that hadn’t always been there. “They feel safe.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. 

Azriel’s eyes glimmered with something you couldn’t quite name, some sort of longing. “They’re meant to be,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. You could hear the unspoken words he didn’t say, though. He was holding something back. 

The space between you seemed to get smaller and smaller, his warmth wrapping around you like a second skin. You became dangerously aware of how close you were—of the brush of his knee against yours, the way his wings shifted slightly behind him, almost grazing your shoulder. Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

Azriel took note; of course he did. His eyes lingered on you, his expression bordering on hunger. But it was gone and replaced by neutrality as soon as it came. Though, you could still feel the weight of his attention. His shadows danced along your wrist again, and you wondered if they could sense the fluttering beat of your pulse. 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice rougher now, tinged with something that almost sounded like desperation. 

“You didn’t,” you replied quickly, your voice shaky but earnest.

The moment lingered between you, fragile yet thrumming with something so strong. The potency of it forces you to grapple with everything you felt for him. His shadows swirled around you softly, their movements calmer now, almost languid. You thought he might say something, that the weight in his expression would finally take shape in words, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted ever so slightly, his arm brushing yours. You leaned into him and felt that warmth in your chest thrill at the closeness.

Something unknown, something that could wait to be explored, hummed between you. And you didn’t realize it right away, but the Cauldron’s waters felt farther away than they had in weeks.

Kind of playing with an idea for a part two with some moments leading up to them finding out they're mates.

[hargreeves-duncan]

Can I request five x reader (takes place in s2) where reader (five’s partner) gets sent to Dallas around a year before five comes and after he does and reader sees him, she immediately tackles him on the spot and gives him many kisses. Maybe reader manages to work at a casino too

a/n: hi, thank you so much for your request! i haven’t written in a while so i'd love to hear your thoughts, enjoy!!

summary: it's been far too long since you've seen your boyfriend - he learns that the affectionate way.

warnings: reader works at a casino but there’s no actual gambling so🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.4k

You had to hand it to yourself, for someone who’d known next to nothing about life in the 1960s, you’d adapted pretty well. In no time at all, you’d managed to land yourself a job as a waitress in a casino. A very good one. It seemed in this timeline, Jack Ruby thought a casino would be a better investment than a night club - and for your part, you couldn’t say that he was wrong, nor could you complain.

The hours were long, but the pay was good enough and the other girls had taken you in as one of their own. You quickly began to excel. Strolling between the tables and flashing smiles was easy, second nature even. You developed the wit and charisma to charm the casino’s patrons without second thought, which meant you got more drinks served, more loyal customers and bigger tips to go along with them. 

Most nights the new life you’d built for yourself was more than enough but sometimes, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but yearn for what had come before - who had come before.

There was always a dull ache in your chest whenever you caught a fleeting glimpse of a lone, brown-haired man at one of the tables. In those moments, you could never stop yourself from believing for a slither of a second that Five had made it and he’d come right back to you.

You’d waited for him in that dingy, old alley for two weeks straight, because you knew that Five would never abandon his family like that. That something must’ve gone wrong, but it was okay because he’d come back and everything would be fine. That was what you told yourself. You were so sure he’d show up and solve everything in an instant, because that was what he always did. And when he hadn’t, it had almost destroyed you.

The first few months were gruelling, taking your first steps in the new world had taken a while. Grieving Five had taken longer. The obvious truth was staring you in the face. A year without contact from him or any of the other Hargreeves siblings? The probability was that you were the only one who had survived.

It was a truth that you were reluctant to admit, even now. One that led you to where you are today, starting yet another night shift, beside the casino’s bar, to serve a particularly rowdy Friday night crowd of patrons.

As you begin to set up, Mary-Anne, one of the other waitresses on shift, sidles up to you. Her honey-blonde curls bouncing around her ears as she leans against the bar. Trying to stifle her laugh, in her southern drawl, she says, “Has he tried talking to you yet?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, tilting your head to the side, “Has who tried talking to me yet?”

Her grin grows wider as she gestures to a table on the far corner of the room, laughing, “That little boy. Haven’t I said a million times that we oughta get tighter on the security in this place?”

She sighs, resting her hands on her hips, “I went over to him - trying to tell him that we don’t allow minors in here - and what’d he do?”

Deciding to humour her, you smile, looking down at her, “I’ve got no idea, tell me.”

She scoffs, shaking her head as she smiles, “He told me that he more than knew his way around place a place like this and that I had nothing to worry about with him. Can you imagine having the nerve like that at his age?”

The thought made you laugh. It reminded you of Five. His haggard temper in the body of his younger self always seemed to shock people in the very same way. You paused. It couldn’t be him, couldn’t it? You must be jumping to conclusions. After all this time, it’d make no sense if he was here now and yet…

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing as you glance between the table and Mary-Anne. You squint, trying to see if you could recognise him.

A part of you felt silly and girlish for still holding out hope but this kid’s description was just too similar and besides, you were a teenager again, you were allowed to be lovesick and entirely delusional. It was practically your god-given right.

Mary-Anne nodded, loading her tray up with drinks of all shapes and sizes to cover her half of the room, “He did.”

Your eyes were locked onto the distant table, practically pleading for the kid to just turn around and let your hopes down already. Still, all that greeted you was the back of his head and the green fuzz of the poker table in front of him.

When you didn’t tear your eyes away, Mary-Anne looked you up and down, her baby blue eyes swimming with concern, “You alright there?”

Looking back at her, you sigh, already pent up at the possibility of Five being so close, “Yeah, I just… What did he look like?” You ask tentatively, biting your rouge-tinted, bottom lip between your teeth.

Mary-Anne hums in thought as she loads your tray for you, “Gosh, I don’t know - he had dark hair, was wearing a suit. It had the funniest, little emblem on it.” She says, tapping her chest in place of where it would’ve been.

Your eyes widen in shock and excitement as you process her words, “An umbrella! It was an umbrella, wasn’t it?”

Mary-Anne grins, giggling, “It was… how’d you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer her. You were already starting to tremble and hyperventilate, entirely overcome with nerves and joy and pure, unbridled excitement all at once. A year of being apart and now he was no more than a few strides away. Your smile brightens up like no other.

You slip your tray from over your head and place it down on the bar as you say, “Hey, cover for me, would you? I’ll be two seconds.”

Without waiting for her answer, you dash across the room - a flurry of giddiness bubbling up inside of you the closer you get. You tousle your hair and straighten your uniform, anything to keep your anxious fingers busy and to better yourself for something you’ve waited for for far too long.

Hearing heels coming towards him again, Five sighs in frustration and turns around in his chair, “Lady, I already told you-“

The breath feels like it’s been stolen from your throat as he turns to face you. It’s really, truly him. Your boyfriend is right there in front of you and you’ve never felt more relief than in this moment.

“Y/N.”

You’re not sure if you want to cry or scream or simply just take him in for the first time all over again. As you look over him, his piercing gaze, his dark hair and the freckle on his right cheek that you can’t count the number of times you’ve kissed, your eyes can’t help but be drawn to his lips.

God, how you’ve missed the feeling of them. You barely have time to think about what you’re doing before you’re cupping his face and pressing your lips against his once more, savouring every part of him in a way you’d never thought to before.

Your hands trail over every callous in his skin, memorising him with your fingertips, and as you pull back, Five’s gaze softens like nothing else as he smirks, “Hello, you.”

His hands reach out to cup your face, gazing over you as if he’s not entirely sure that you’re real. After all your time apart, you’re not sure either. You smile, nodding, “It’s me. It’s you. You’re here, you’re really here!”

You cup his face in return and you can’t help but press another kiss to his lips. He smiles fondly as you do. And so you kiss him again… and again on his cheek… and on his freckle… his chin… his forehead. Everywhere your lips can reach, you press them.

After a moment, he laughs weakly and reaches up to pull your hands away from his face and intertwines them with his own fingers instead, “Okay, love.” He says chasteningly, “Let’s calm down there, shall we?”

Your smile grows shyer as you right yourself, “Sorry.” You say, brushing your hair away from your face.

He shakes his head, brushing your hair back for you and then guiding you by the waist to the seat beside him, “No, don’t be sorry. Don’t ever be sorry. Believe me, I’m just as happy to see you. Really.”

It’s him who initiates the kiss this time. He’s soft, delicate almost, in the way that he kisses you, as if each movement of his lips is a new way of giving all of his love to you and promising that he won’t ever let you out of his sights again.

[gffa]

One thing that caught my attention while watching The Phantom Menace in the theater, a movie I didn't expect to find anything new with after how many times I've seen it and analyzed it, was that Sidious mentions multiple times that he has to change his plans to fit the new circumstances. It got me to thinking about how Palpatine gets credit for his carefully crafted plans, but often times not for how flexible he is in changing them on the fly, especially in time travel fics where someone destroys one of his plans and that's the end of it. Which, I'm not advocating against, I love a good Take That Wrinkled Walnut The Fuck Down However You Gotta Do It fic and I don't want them to change! But in canon Palpatine makes note of things he's not expecting, like:

When Valorum sends the Jedi as ambassadors, it's not part of Sidious' plan: DAULTAY DOFINE: This scheme of yours has failed, Lord Sidious. The blockade is finished. We dare not go against the Jedi. DARTH SIDIOUS: Viceroy, I don't want this stunted slime in my sight again! This turn of events is unfortunate. We must accelerate our plans. Begin landing your troops. NUTE GUNRAY: My lord, is that… legal? DARTH SIDIOUS: I will make it legal. NUTE GUNRAY: And the Jedi? DARTH SIDIOUS: The Chancellor should never have brought them into this. Kill them immediately!

On the Trade Federation ship, after Queen Amidala has disappeared from Naboo, Palpatine originally planned that she would be forced to sign the treaty, and then brings in Maul to deal with this. DARTH SIDIOUS: And Queen Amidala, has she signed the treaty? NUTE GUNRAY: She has disappeared, My Lord. One Naboo cruiser got pat the blockade. DARTH SIDIOUS: I want that treaty signed. NUTE GUNRAY: My Lord, it's impossible to locate the ship. It's out of our range. DARTH SIDIOUS: Not for a Sith. This is my apprentice. Darth Maul. He will find your lost ship.

On Naboo, after Padme allies with the Gungans: NUTE GUNRAY: We've sent out patrols. We've already located their starship in the swamp....It won't be long, My Lord. DARTH SIDIOUS: This is an unexpected move for her. It's too aggressive. Lord Maul, be mindful. MAUL: Yes, my Master. DARTH SIDIOUS: Be patient... Let them make the first move.

Palpatine's plans aren't static, they adapt and change with the events that happen, just as the other characters react to new information and head in new directions for it, so too does Palpatine and I think it's interesting to note that part of what makes him such a good villain is that he has an outline for what he wants to do, he sets up the dominoes of what he needs, but even when they don't fall precisely into place, he generally gets what he wants. He originally intended that Padme would sign the treaty, the Jedi wouldn't be involved, and that would lead to a vote of No Confidence to oust Valorum, using the sympathy for Naboo as a way to boost himself into the position. But he didn't really need her to sign it and still managed to use the sympathy for Naboo to get elected, it ultimately didn't matter what happened to the planet, so long as it was in danger while he needed it to be, he could use it either way. Nor, honestly, do I think he ever planned for Anakin Skywalker's existence, he had no idea they would find such a boy on Tatooine or how useful he was going to be, that was another way he changed his plans once the opportunity arose. Or a lot of his plots in TCW--he has Cad Bane steal the list of Force-sensitive children and kidnap them, bringing them to Mustafar for some sort of program to use them probably not too unlike how he uses the Inquisitors later. That plan is foiled by the Jedi, the babies are returned to their families, and Sidious' plans fall through, but that doesn't really change the outcome. tl:dr: I don't think Palpatine gets enough credit as a villain whose plans shift and change along with the new events that happen, just as much as the heroes' plans shift and change when new things happen. Yeah, he's a great villain because he creates an impossible trap for people, but also because the thing about him is that he's incredibly charming and charismatic and he knows an opportunity when he sees one, that any one given plan might fall through, but it's not necessary to his overall plot.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Revolutionary Army Punk AU

Ft: Luffy (not punk)

Steampunk is cool but i think just straight up punk would be cooler. I just think what they stand for lines up a lot better

Design notes:

I did some research and talked to a punk friend of mine for these as i am not a punk, myself, and I dont want to look like a poser. I think i did a really good job translating them and i want to explain my thoughts!

Sabo was first, of course.

I not only wanted to make the characters punk, but i also wanted to crank their designs up about 20 notches, so i gave Sabo’s scar one hell of an upgrade. In this version I tried to make it very clear that that cannon ball hit him head-on. I think it works really well with his punk vibes because under-cuts and shaved parts of the head in general are very popular in punk culture.

I largely tried to keep the silhouettes the same with this au, and It was really easy to keep it with Sabo because of the fact that he already has a lot of design elements that translate well to punk. His big pants into tall boots were perfect to translate, crust pants and steel toed boots fits him well. Trench coats arent a staple in Punk, but i couldnt take the coats away from him… him or Belo. They deserve it…

I threw away his cravat for a choker, i replaced his vest with a red tank top and his undershirt for fishnets, Patches up the wazoo, he looks very cool.

Belo Betty was next, she was super easy to translate. She’s already in the punk spirit with her tits out, we love to see it. Her hat was really difficult to translate, along with all the other hats, but a red knitted hat that has those two points cuz it’s essentially a scarf sewed together looks nice on her.

My punk friend suggested i give her a bunch of nets and harnesses and i really agreed that was her style, so i gave her red tie to Morley, slapped some harnesses on her and just overall just turned her sexy up like 50 notches. I think i was clever how i adapted her striped stockings here with how they have runs in them.

Karasu is almost the exact same. I just threw out his dinky little cravat and gave him a bandana and harness. I also gave him piercings. That’s the only difference. In the words of my Punk friend “hes naked and wearing a spiked mask, He can hang”

Speaking of what my punk friend said, he said that Lindbergh would get “demolished” in the pit, and that he looks like he’s scared of bees. The consensus was that he couldn’t hang. But also i still had to make him punk, so then he suggested CBGB punks:

Redneck, bluegrass, southern american punks. I was really in a rut with his design, I didn’t know what to do to keep the silhouette of his backpack. But everything changed when I chance got the idea of a guitar. And then everything flowed from there

Morley was really really fun. Punk friend suggested i make him Pop Punk, inspired by this pic

Mainly Lindsey way with this plaid skirt and tie

He was so so fun to draw, i love his fucked up eyes.

For dragon, i didnt change much at all, even though it’s only his bust that’s shown. Imagine everything is the same, except now he has piercings. Dragon isnt concerned with the punk fashion, but the punk cause.

For Luffy, I wasnt trying to make him punk, but he felt a bit plain looking like base Luffy next to punk Sabo, so i just did the “turn design up 20 notches”, and just gave him a more visibly tattered hat, bangles and waist beads.

That’s about it! Ive been getting a lot of comments and asks lately saying that you guys like when i go on my design explanations, and i realized that i didnt do that for the last few AU’s, so i thought id type this up :)

Thank you for reading!

[cakelitter]

Doll Repair

Sweet Kidnapper! Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: dead dove, p in v, daddy kink, pet names, praise, glass cuts, blood (not in a sexual way lol)

summary: Kept away from prying hands and unwanted glances, all his to love. Filling that gaping hole in his chest, and emptying his cluttered brain. That may have cost you your entire personality and the rest of your life; but all is well as long as the two of you have each other.

words: 2k

a\n: i'm back!!! you have no idea how much i missed this. Leon is so sweet and protective in this one. God, i love sweet old men :(

It’s been 398 days since he made the best decision of his life, usually Leon’s decisions never have prospering outcomes; however, he definitely lucked out on this one.

You’ve fully adapted to this lifestyle that you were—with all love and care—forced into. He likes to think that it’s better for you this way; sure, you’ve been living the same day over and over again for the past weeks you’ve stayed with him.

But on the bright side, you don’t have to deal with the shit that other people your age have to deal with. While other college students worry about housing and tuition, eating the same cup ramen for dinner. His act of generosity (kidnapping you) has saved you all that trouble.

Leon takes care of everything, paying the bills, feeding you, buying you clothes, washes said clothes, and the list goes on. Keeping you safe in the bubble he created so that pretty brain of yours doesn’t work too hard.

You’re his favorite hobby.

As soon as he walks through that front door, agent Kennedy is long forgotten —crumbled up and tossed aside until he needs to save the day again.

You’re perfect.

Perfectly sculpted by his hands to fit into the mold that suits his lifestyle best. Truthfully, he’s not sure what your true personality is like. You went through phases, eyes wide open as adrenaline rushed through your veins whenever he came too close. The only time you got sleep is when you’d hyperventilate and pass out.

Then the determination arc began, begrudgingly swatting his hands away, venom dripping from each word you spoke—shattered his heart into bits.

And while this phase lasted a little longer than he would’ve liked. It was nonetheless a cloud that passed just like the one before it.

Tears beaded along your lash line, completely isolating yourself and refusing to eat. Considered starting to plan your funeral, one which he would be the only one attending.

 And while Leon doesn’t pray anymore—by an act of a miracle—it only took two weeks before crying because of him, turned into crying in his arms. Glad he didn’t have to flush you down a toilet like a fish, he wasn’t in the right headspace when he came up with that plan.

Ever since that breakthrough you’ve been nothing short than on your best behavior, reciprocating his affection and touch; the way things were supposed to be from the start. Where you always this loving? Always this clingy? Well, you now are.

His little treasure.

Kept away from prying hands and unwanted glances, all his to love. Filling that gaping hole in his chest, and emptying his cluttered brain. That may have cost you your entire personality and the rest of your life; but all is well as long as the two of you have each other.

 And while he takes his job of protecting you very seriously, practically baby-proofing his entire house, mistakes can still slip through.

As he walks through the front door of the place you both call home, your absence next to the door; tail swaying back and forth to greet him since last seeing him this morning doesn’t go unnoticed.

He calls out your name a few times, perhaps you’re asleep somewhere. That has happened a few times before, but seeing you curled up into a ball in the corner of the dark living room with tears streaming down your face is a first.

“Sweetheart?”

Your glossy eyes look up at him, lips quivering as they lock with his.

“I’m sorry.”

Reaching towards the light switch, the room lights up revealing your weeping figure. And that’s when he sees it, bloodied handprints smeared all over your thighs and arms. His heart drops, worst-case scenarios popping into his head before a single coherent thought can from.

What could you have possibly done?

The knife drawer is locked shut—triple checked that before he left— and you don’t have access to any razor-sharp object either.

“I’m so sorry.”

Stepping closer, he slowly makes his was over to your hunched form. “Hey, hey it’s okay.”

With his empty palms facing you, you allow him to kneel in front of you.

“Talk to me, baby.” he practically whispers.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to break it.”

His hand reaches towards your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft skin; noticing the way you flinch at his touch. ��What did you break?”

“The glass.”

“Glass what?”

“Please don’t get mad.”

Your voice breaks before you start sobbing again. Taking in a deep breath, his hand runs through your hair while the other runs up and down your exposed calf soothingly. “I promise I won’t be mad, sweetheart. Just tell me what it is.”

“The glass- the glass cup.”

Those fucking cups, should’ve known to throw those away. In his defense, he didn’t hand them over to you on a silver platter. Took him five months before letting you switch from plastic to normal fucking forks for crying out loud.

Rubbing his temple, he nods slowly. “Did the glass hurt you?”

You nod, tears flowing slower than before yet still watching his every move attentively. “Can you show me where?”

Removing your hands off of your upper arms, you open your trembling palms to him. He places his large hands beneath yours, carefully inspecting the surface; small cuts are littered all over the area with fresh blood seeping through the injured skin.

“Gotta wash your hands. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Nodding again, he helps you get up before leading you into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and placing your hands beneath the cool water. You both watch as the blood tainted liquid washed down the drain, Leon’s hand rubbing your waist gently.

Your crying calmed down, leaving behind only a few sniffles and winces from the pain. Grabbing a clean tissue, he gently pats your hands dry, making sure to not put too much pressure on the scathed area; then proceeding to wipe the blood streaks strewn over your body.

“I’m gonna go grab the first aid kit, go sit on the couch, baby.” He ushers, deep blue eyes cutting through your thread of thought.

Doing as your told, you walk out of the room leaving him to search for the first aid kit beneath the bathroom cabinet before following pursuit.

It feels like he’s been picking glass shards for eternity, each tiny piece engraved in your delicate hands. He makes sure however to reward you with praise every now and then to keep you going.

‘You’re doing so good, baby.’

‘Such a strong girl, huh.’

‘Almost done, sweetheart.’

With enough patience and a few more tears each time the alcohol met your cuts, it’s not long before he’s wrapping your hands in bandages after disinfecting the surface for the last time.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mutter, scooching closer and curling up on his side like a cat. “No problem, baby.”

Leaning in, he plops a soft kiss on the crown of your head; rough hands running up and down your back comfortingly.

Your fingers manage to tug on his shirt, demanding another kiss. He chuckles lowly, grabbing your chin and placing his lips onto yours. Your lips are slightly chapped, juxtaposing their usual soft nature. And while it feels like you’re fishing for the right opportunity, you manage to straddle his lap; keeping your lips on his.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. “What’re you doing, hm?”

He asks, softly nibbling on your lips. “Apologizing for making daddy worry?”

You nod, grinding onto his crotch; the rough material of his jeans rubbing against your panty clad clit. Slipping his hands down and onto your hips, he guides their motion. Rocking them while thrusting upwards to apply more pressure onto your clothed cunt.

 You bite your lip as slick pools on the gusset of your panties. “Daddy.”

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, forgetting what you were planning on saying as all your thoughts turn into mush. “Aw, cute pussy just wants to cum? Is that it?”

 “She just wants to use daddy to get off, huh?” You shake your head; unable to grab his shirt in your hand like you normally do. You’re so cute when you try to make things up for him, he finds it endearing. Always trying to bridge a gap that doesn’t even exist.

“Don’t lie, sweetheart. You only want daddy’s cock.” You shake your head even harder, eyes however still focused on the area your hips are rutting against. “Want to make daddy happy.”

He chuckles, connecting your lips together. “I’m just messing with you, doll.”

 His lips go for your neck, hungrily sucking and biting on the tender flesh; leaving a new bruise to make up for the ones that just started fading out. You whine and whimper, muscles tense as your high approaches.

“Soak those panties, and cum for me so I can stuff this needy cunt.”

And with enough filthy words whispered in your ear, and enough kisses scattered on your neck, you squeeze down on nothing as you reach your peak.

Leon drinks up the expression on your face each time, his obsession, a face that is burnt in the back of his mind reserved only for him.  

Wasting no time, he picks you up and heads straight to your shared bedroom. Placing your gently on the bed like you’re made out of glass. He does quick work of his belt, discarding the piece of leather on the floor, the rest of his clothes following pursuit.

You lay flat on your back, bandaged palms facing the ceiling as you watch him approach you. His finger hooks on the band of your flimsy shorts, pulling them down swiftly along with your soaked panties. A few open-mouthed kisses land on your hips, his eyes focused on yours as he drops the last one on your clit before caging you between his arms.

He strokes himself a few times, angling the tip of his thick length at your entrance before thrusting in. You’d probably have died if he did that a few months back, but at this point he’s managed to stretch you out enough to fit him easily –what was once painful dulled into a sense of familiarity.

“Daddy.”

“Right here, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

He fucks you deep and slow, earning a low moan out of the both of you with each thrust of his hips. “Squeezing me so well, sweetheart. That’s a good girl.”

Your hand reaches down to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric and revealing your plump breasts; he can’t help but feel proud. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, lapping at the tender peak with his tongue. You squirm beneath him, your walls squeezing around his throbbing dick causing him to grunt in return.

The slow thrusts begin to pick up speed. His tip knocking the opening of your cervix time and time again, the mixture of pleasure and pain almost euphoric. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cream my cock, sweetheart so I can fill you up.”

Listening like you always do, Leon watches as that same expression reappears on your face, your back arching off the mattress while slipping out his name in tandem. The once translucent fluid coating his length has already turned white by the time your body slumped back. Feeling lightheaded by the fluttering of your walls, the knot in his stomach snaps shooting ropes of cum till his balls went dry.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy as he pulls out and grabs a towel to clean you up. He smiles at the sound of your even breathing as you drift to sleep, giving your inner thigh a soft kiss before tucking you in bed.

“You still mad?”

A soft voice calls out for him. Walking up next to you, he tucks a few stray strands of hair behind your ears.

“Never was.”

Heading towards the kitchen, he turns the light on to be greeted with the expected sight of the incident. Sighing, he grabs the broom and begins cleaning the glass shards scattered on the floor.

Back to plastic cups it is.

divider by: @/fairytopea

[randomthefox]

These levels are absolutely the highlight of the game for me. I think when playing this game for the first time, these levels were what truly Sold me on Transformers as a franchise. For some reason the potential of the Robots In Disguise concept really just clicked for me thanks to this. Everything about it from the whole strategy briefing overview, to the adaptations they make in the field on the fly, to the disastrous conclusion really feels like a legitimate military operation and makes the whole idea of the Transformers WAR really feel like a real conflict. And it's all just such a joy to play, and the games graphics really make these locations feel like a spectacle.

Not only that but these levels made me really love the Combaticons! I absolutely adore their chemistry all throughout, their interactions with each other, the way their personalities bounce off one another. The fact they feel like real team mates both in how they bust each others balls and yet also support one another. It's good banter and it's solid squadmate dynamics. It really makes sense that they get along so well too considering they can combine into a single entity. The way Bruticus clearly has his own independent personality despite being a combination of five individuals is so interesting to me hehe. Plus that is such a fucking Megazord moment, if you know what I mean, when they combine together. I'm sure the Constructacons and Devastator are more popular, and perhaps they have a right to be. But I ADORE the Combaticons entirely because of these levels in this game. Teletran even has some dialog with Swindle that alludes to his character from TAS which is a cute easter egg.

The fact they have such a confrontational relationship with Starscream is also hilarious given their G1 origin story. I will say these levels feel SLIGHTLY like Starscream slander. Since he really doesn't feel like he should be THIS suicidal egotistical as a leader, and he never really sounded any retreats in the original show. But the parts where he's trying to take over the briefing speech and make dramatic little gesture poses and completely deflects all responsibility for the plan going tits up feel on brand at least. Still feel like they could have ended up in the same place plot and character wise WITHOUT having Starscream lead his wing into a meat grinder of the anti aircraft guns and then sounding a retreat like a whimp though.

This game kicks ass, Decepticons are fucking awesome.

[kooyabooya]

HIERARCHY

m reader x dahyun // 9k words

(shoutout to @passingnotions for allowing me to adapt this idea <3)

“I have her here waiting at the desk if you’re ready to see her, sir.” 

“Perfect. Send her up.” 

It’s peculiar for these kinds of rumors to circulate given her status - and even when the sounds of her heels click off against the polished tiles and get gradually louder; until she steps past the open door and into the oval office, you still can’t put together why she’s a controversial topic in the first place. 

“I’m glad that we can finally have this arrangement,” you say, glancing over the more she makes her presence known, “Overseer.”  

-

It’s as simple as it sounds: 

She’s the regulator. You’re the higher-up. It’s your job to assess, determine, and take action. 

And the roles exist for a reason, and every system has its necessary balance. Nobody gets out of line, and nobody ever questions the orders that come from the superiors. Everything feels right in its place, between the people and where this institution stands, but there’s one catch that you’ve sought yourself to see out personally, after hearing some peculiar commentary building up with various faculty members.

This very woman standing in your quarters exudes this infectious aura that sweeps up the whole room. In the case of the students, it would send a chill down their spine, get a few beads of sweat to form in the palms of their hands and foreheads - a quick breath beneath their lips as they tense up because despite not being the main person in trouble, and she makes them feel that way regardless. 

“I would like to know why you asked to see me in the first place,” she says, face stoic as she settles into the seat, gaze locked with yours, “Hopefully this isn’t about what we discussed the other time, is it?” 

Something in the way that she sits, and how the two-piece set of her dress rests along the line of her shoulders, how her eyes dart through yours when you’ve caught yourself staring a bit longer than expected. Make the goosebumps along your arms stand up underneath the sleeves. 

“It’s partly that,” you answer, pinching the edge of your cuff, hoping to divert the attention of death staring in your direction. “Among other things.” 

“Meaning what, sir?” 

Breaking eye contact, the formality alone snaps some composure into you. To recap: you’ve been in and out of meetings all day, talking about future plans to implement amongst the student body and faculty; then there was some discrepancies that was dealt with from past incidents brought to your desk, but the common thread from these accounts all pointed to the same thing: 

“It’s about your recent-” the pause alone of the intended word hanging between your lips makes the Overseer puzzled about this discussion (though with the implications through the reports sitting on your desk, tell a different tale). 

“-modes of conduct.” You tell her, which only earns a quirked eyebrow and a nod, signaling that you’re right. “I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going around between the other staff members and what not, Dahyun.” 

Even the name alone sometimes sends chills to your body. Overseer Kim Dahyun: the academy’s best instructor. Lead figure when it comes to dishing out disciplinary measures to those who were stupid enough to go against the rules. Once she has someone that’s out of order, it’s automatically assured that there won’t be any further incidents coming from them moving on. You’ve looked at the written reports, noticed that there’s nothing worth putting against someone like her with the reputation that she carries, but no one ever really stays perfect for this long. 

“So tell me, Superior,” Dahyun begins, one leg over the other in her chair while you continue with the glacial pacing around the office, “What is it that you have heard about me, circling around with the other staff in the past weeks?” 

“I guess it’s mainly the latter, the ‘forms’ of discipline you’ve been committing with various students.” 

“What about them?” 

“That's the reason why I’m having this discussion with you in the first place.” 

Dahyun tilts her head down, eyes wandering the opposite direction, reflecting almost as her mind tries to piece the different shards of information rummaging about in her head. She’s one to not leave anything unchecked - down to the minute detail possible. Intricate in the way that she does her line of work, and meticulous with how she wants things to be done. She also gets along well with others to which they speak highly of her. You wouldn’t want to call these accounts ‘accusations’; not yet, until you’ve seen both ends of the scope before drawing up a solid conclusion. 

She turns her head around to see you at the tray table next to the door, tending to the two glasses of water before a wave to the keypad locks the deadbolt into place, to ensure privacy and know that someone will eventually knock without even going to the front desk in the first place. “This is a first for me, especially coming from you, questioning my methods.” 

“I don’t see what you mean,” you tell her, making peace with the glass in your left hand to which she accepts, “I’m only aware of the stories that were told in recent weeks.” Dahyun acknowledges with a sip, eyes still trained on you now on the other side of your desk, “Let this be a simple conversation between you and I, please.” 

“Okay then,” she remarks, handing back the empty glass once she’s done with it, “I’ll ask this again: What is it that you’ve heard about me that caused this whole debacle in the first place?” 

Her look shifts up, maintaining her posture, hands resting on her lap. There’s a few strands in her hair that look out of place, but most of it is neatly tied up in the bun hanging low behind her head. She knows that she holds this sort of entitlement, this status - even from the glances alone in all sorts of seriousness tell you not to mess with a woman like her if you were a student. 

But you’re not. 

The lift from her eyebrows, above the upper rims of her glasses, prompting you to answer. It’s all in your head, right there, the only problem is how the delivery is going to hit her. You have every right to feel bad to be the bearer of not-so-good news, but it’s the part of the job, and the more you stand there in silence with her looking up waiting for a reply, adds on the slow building tension in the room. 

You’re reminded however, of the actions she committed. 

“We have an issue, technically it’s not really an issue, yet.” Dahyun’s gaze twists at that, but it isn’t a look of clear confusion, moreso thrown off at the very topic of discussion. She scoffs, slightly amused, and you can’t blame her for giving that reaction. “Though it’s been brought to my attention in the past few days.” 

And in terms of issues, there’s hardly any throughout the academy; thanks to the dedication towards molding the best and brightest students into civilized beings for the real world. Most of these incidents come at a scarce occurrence alone - but it still happens even if it’s an ordinary day throughout the week. 

She blinks twice, maybe thrice, turns her head away, fixated on the edge of the desk still. Her hands mold together with a small unease, but she still looks empathetic with how her eyelids flutter in the small lines of breaking light past the windows. 

“So say it then,” she says, tone flat - like in her lectures or when having a one-on-one conversation with a troubled student outside the hallways, “since you’re always so on top of the loop with the faculty here.” 

The prompting. It’s so on brand for her to be like this - to set someone else up as a way for them to keep their attention, carrying on with the conversation till she finally has that satisfaction with the answer. There’s some admiration for her, in the way that she doesn’t back down from a disagreement, because she’ll always see it through no matter what the circumstance may be. It’s her strength, and also her weakness, but she’s good enough to not let it show on her face. 

At some point you were afraid of her, something that you can admit to yourself from a long while ago. Not a lot of people at the academy even really liked her because she’s extremely intimidating, and that still seems to be the case now. Though, with all of the different events spread out across the place, some of the roses were given in her effort to come out of her shell which she takes your encouragement. It’s in those rare moments where she laughs or smiles, like a blue moon passing in the night sky. 

You remember the task at hand, what needs to be done. 

“It’s about the students,” you tell her, air slipping through your upper lip as a way of preparation, “I’ve been told by a few individuals that you’ve been having an affair with one of them.” 

“What!?” 

“This is all just speculation,” you say, settling into your chair as Dahyun keeps her posture upright and composed, “Hence you being here to tell me your side of the story so that we can try to line up the two different perspectives together.” 

“That’s what this is about?” 

“Dahyun.” That sense of professionalism has to be cared for. An eye to the desk to the few different reports that insinuate a wrongful framing; some of them were just verbal accounts and had to be on the record, but the whistleblower tip in the form of a post-it note already caused quite a stir around the teachers lounge. 

“All of this is unbelievable.” She plucks her glasses away from her face, catching a few wisps fall out from their spot on the top of her head, clearly irritated. “I have- I have not. In no way those accusations are true.” 

You pull your lips inward, trying to be sympathetic as much as possible in addition to being transparent. Her eyes darted back at yours, fully interested as to what you might say next. She expects an answer, and you’ll give it to her, but all you do is raise an eyebrow to where she scrunches her eyes in response. 

“Are you sure?” To that, Dahyun rolls her eyes. You notice a quick pull from one of the corners of her lip, shuffling the small stack of files off to the side, leaning closer with both elbows on the wood. “I hope you realize that if you are withholding information from me, it can lead to harsher consequences.” 

Dahyun clasps her hand to a fist, face still as stone as you watch her eyes sweep across the floor. A heavy bundle of air leaves your chest, keeping your gaze locked to her, waiting for an answer within the next moments or so. She knows that she can’t shy away from this, and she knows that the only direction to take is the one where truth is the sole passage. It’s also very interesting the way she doesn’t falter, sheltering her emotions inside. You’ve only seen her be the opposite of that - only once, a spell ago, and you were convinced that it was only a one time thing. The silence seems to get louder in the room, and she finally shifts her eyes back to you. 

“Well?” you ask, to break the tension a bit, “You’re not my enemy here. I just want you to be as open and honest as possible.” 

You can see the slightest clench at the bottom of her jaw, gritting her teeth behind her lips. There’s that thought of clear common sense, telling you that what she did was wrong, but that’s just one side of the story. Sure, that someone who created the rumor might’ve done it out of spite, or maybe they wanted to see Dahyun in a state of panic just for the fun of it. Some will say one thing, and others will say another. The only way that you’ll know for sure to make all of this go away is the personal statement directly from her. 

“Overseer.” You huff, sighing out of pure annoyance.

Her brows crunch in response to the title. 

“I need to know. That’s all I’m requesting of you right now.” 

She sets herself square on the seat, facing you; she’s matching your height now in a sitting position, but despite the lack in length is replaced with the demeanor that she carries. There’s been some sort of competition thrown around by the students, talking about how Dahyun’s figure comes second to none with the likes of Jihyo or Mina to name a few. Gawking at the fellow staff members who caught wind of the conversation is what you give them, and it would take a metric fuck-ton of persuading to spill an answer out of your lips. 

Still no answer from her as of this second. 

“Overseer Dahyun,” voice now in a much lower register than usual to punctuate the gravity of the situation, “We don’t have all day; so either you fess up now, or I’ll carry on this conversation tomorrow if I’m not going to get it out of you today.” 

Running her upper lip inward, you carry on with the scattered paperworks spread across the desk as she contemplates, unwilling to make eye contact with her while she keeps her eyes focused on you. By all expectations, you were hoping that this meeting would be quick and easy; just get the required information before writing up a report and be on your way. Still, you can’t help but think as to why she’s being so reluctant about saving her status let alone her job - all because she didn't do something that had very little significance to her and became such a big deal. 

“Fine,” you say, slapping the pen lightly on the desk before beginning to stand up from the chair, “Just forget that I asked and you can-” 

“One.” she finally says, after what felt like an eternity it seems. And then again, “One.” 

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere,” you start, falling back onto the seat; Dahyun collects herself with the subtle rise and fall of her chest, breathing carefully. That crucial first step was already taken, and the plan in your mind to diminish this whole controversy is slowly scaffolding into place. “So I’ll ask this once again in a different way: Are you having an affair with one of the students in the academy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is it…just the one?” 

“Just the one.” 

Despite how this information may be shocking to a degree, composure has to be kept from this point on. You’re just simply doing your job as the superior, and if this doesn’t get solved quickly, there’s more people in higher places than you that will do what you couldn’t. 

“So,” you set yourself up for the next connecting inquiry, “I want a full explanation for this, as to when and how all of this came to be.” 

Dahyun licks her lips, unsure if what she’ll say next will either be her saving grace or a shortsighted opportunity breeding on disappointment. You can easily tell that she’s uneasy, and it’s very impressive at how she’s able to keep an expressionless face for an instance like this. Put anyone else that works here in her seat and situation, they’d all panic or break a sweat pleading for an appeal to save their own skin. To hell with the fading wish for an interesting day every few weeks or so - because this potential scandal might make the whole week or even the whole year. 

“Alright,” she relaxes, finally letting her body release all of the tension while she flutters her eyes back to you, “For the record, he came to me. It was-” a quick look to the side before subduing the sudden impulse coursing through her neck, “It was supposed to be a simple form of disciplinary action. A one time thing. Had him serve the correction and be on his way. Though, you’re very familiar with, well- you know, the methodology.” 

“I see, and it took you that long to tell your side of the story??” Swallowing the small lump in your throat growing as her eyes fail to leave yours. “But let me guess, he-” 

“He wanted to see me. Actually, he wanted to keep seeing me. I asked him as to why one day, and he was just fascinated with the approach that I do; he just wanted the pleasure for himself and as for me, I reveled in the satisfaction of taking advantage of him.” 

“And you found it to be completely appropriate for this little entanglement to keep on happening?” 

Dahyun then leans forward, and thank Christ you managed to save your wandering eyes from leering a second too late at the overflowing swarm of pale thighs ballooning on the cushion as more and more skin is revealed at the help of that tight light blue dress getting hiked up with the press of her legs. The inquisitive angle of her head at the given question, letting a stray wisp of her hair fall from the side before she drags it back behind the cuff of her ear. “So what are you saying?”

“Well, I’m the one who asked you first,” you answer, twiddling the pen around your fingers, maintaining eye contact with her. “Besides, I’m also not the one stuck in the middle of this debacle in the first place anyway.” 

She sighs, head cocked back, almost vexed that this meeting has gone way longer than intended. You could’ve waited until after hours once all of the students had left the campus, but this was also the best possible convenient time because of the gap in her schedule during the regular day. Her lips stay shut, the soft tick of the clock mounted on the wall keeps on going. Maybe raising a white flag in the means of things might be better for today, and you’ll pick up where you left off tomorrow. 

Most days don’t often go this way. Aside from the usual responsibilities throughout the typical day whether it would be out your desk or out and about peeping in different classrooms, you’re slightly ecstatic for the sudden change in pace around these halls. “I digress,” you say, leaning forward before finally carrying on,  “So as your superior, Overseer, I’ll leave it off with this. Do you have anything else left to say before I draft up a report for all of the parties affected?” 

Dahyun crosses her left leg over the other, clutching the glasses in her hand, her head tilts at that same right angle as earlier. The gaze she has is unchanging, staring at you right in the face while you’re quickly examining the two sheets of paper placed next to each other on the desk, sliding them away into the pile as you stand up off the chair. You’ll take this meeting as a win, at least some of the information was suitable enough to your liking for now. With all that done and over with–

“Still no answer?” You ask, fingers dancing along the button of your cuff, carefully threading it through the small slit, “Don’t make me ask this again–” 

“No.” 

��No?” 

“I told you. No.” 

“Really now?” 

“I have already made my case with you, sir. There’s nothing else left for me to say for the time being.” she answers with a shrug to her shoulders. 

Dahyun’s throat tenses when she sees the once needling eyes from you become quickly disinterested with her return. Incompetence was a sheer rarity with the way you operate your role, let alone a hindrance that you see in other people. Like the rest, it wouldn’t be long for everyone to get whipped into the ‘new regime’ all those years ago; some stimulating commentary at the time, but everyone understood once the policies were put into place. 

Though, this meeting has gone long enough, and keeping her here wouldn’t really do anyone good at this point. 

“Consider this conversation to be over, then,” you say, turning your body to the window panes set behind your desk, looking out at the moving trees in the breeze. “You’ll hear from me within the next few days so, carry on until you’re notified.” 

She then stands too, hand clasping to her wrist, subjectively giving you a nod with your back turned, seeing  her out of your peripheral vision. The emotionless look that’s her only mask, unimpressed and cold, as if nothing ever phases her in the tiniest of mishaps. You know that she’s just like the rest, despite wearing that facade like if life were to depend on it, part of you wants to break her- to tear up that infuriating fray of nothingness, spark some kind of fear into her core that would have her screaming, beg for a twinge of mercy. 

Reading those accounts of what she did with that student, wasn’t supposed to make you interested, but it is. A worthy head-scratcher for someone like her to have a few screws loose every now and then. It just didn't add up, for her to treat this so pointlessly. 

Even when she starts to bundle her feet together, swiveling them across the tile, she still carries this peculiar gracefulness in her step as her profile sweeps out of the picture - her back coming into view. She’s put up with that facade against you for so long, you know that it’ll be easy for her to comply in her case because it’s not in her nature for her to defy orders. 

A turn of the head signifies a chance out of desperation; a lifeline, and you’ll give her the luxury of deciding her fate. 

“And one more thing,” you setup, rolling the sleeves of your shirt to the elbow, to where Dahyun turns her body the long way round, hands behind her back, waiting for the next thing to leave your lips, “I’ll be perfectly blunt with you because I know that you clearly know better.”

Her forehead twitches at the cause of her brows bridging against each other. You see the small nick of her head that also shows the acknowledgement she’s willing to give you, both ears and eyes trained on you once the spread of your fingertips rest on the polished bark. 

“You’re aware of this academy’s policies when it comes to relationships among peers, it’s basically frowned upon,” you tell her lowly, “Let alone of the fact that you’ve been having this intolerable amount of behavior out of the false guise of indignancy.” She starts to internalize this short reproachment you’re dishing out on her, watching as her eyes expand by the passing second, “Now, I’ve could’ve let this be handled by the high council, but they’ve gave the chance to me in order to see if I can get this incident resolved without having any further escalating conflicts.” 

She parts her lips, wanting to take the opportunity at clearing her name, but she holds back since there’s that hanging impression of ‘what’s there left to be said once everything is put on the table?’ And even so, would anything serve to be better in the good graces of innocence for her case?

So she says nothing. Forever holding her peace while you audibly scoff at her. “I expected better from you, Overseer, I really did.” 

It takes the next few seconds to re-organize your workstation, she hangs herself in limbo, gathering her thoughts as the window to save herself starts to close smaller and smaller, and she finally takes the sealed fate into her hands. 

“If I may,” she says, diverting your attention from the desk back to her - hesitant to the point where you can rightfully assume that she’s eager to finally set everything straight: “I’d like to formally tender my resignation here at the Academy.” 

A bold move, Overseer, but a surprise one too- 

“On what grounds?” you ask, clearly taken aback with the sudden course of action by her own admission. “I don’t really see to understand while you would go to such lengths for this little incident-” 

“Because I will admit to you, Superior, that I saw that student out of my own volition. I’ve made the effort to set time aside from my schedule so that he and I could have our private meetings in my office; for the sake of his pleasure and for my sake of being able to satisfy those kinds of requests for him.” 

This tidbit of honesty coming out serves as a great reaction to your scolding, and not a lot of people get the credit they deserve trying to convince a person like Dahyun, but luckily you’re the one - if not the only one to have that ability in advising her. You always believed that she’d come around in some way or another, considering that this was the very first big fuck up from her too. 

“Superior.” The name alone brings you back. “Please, consider my resignation. And I’ll make all of this go away.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Why can’t you?” Her voice is strained, a fist at the side of her thigh, nails deep into her palm enough to draw blood, “I have to do this. I need to do this, sir. Please, let me-” 

You can see the desperation start to break through the cracks of her stoic persona, inching closer to where you want her to be. She can play the cool, level-headed teacher all she wants, but you know that this whole fiasco was her doing; like anyone else, they’ll do anything to make things right, no matter the cost. Then the getting ahead starts to seep through your frontal lobe: what she’ll start asking for next, the kinds of lengths she’ll commit to if you’re not the one to throw the figurative lifeline at her. 

Not just yet, guiding her into the right mindset will fall into place if you let the inner workings of panic do their thing. 

“Overseer Kim.” You slowly navigate closer to her, rounding the desk with every moving step across the room. “Even if you were to leave, you can’t. I’ve taken the liberty of locking the door here because I knew that this would happen: the way that you’re acting, we can’t have this.” 

It’s amazing at how she’s at ease, despite having the mini breakdown just an instant before. 

Because her act is rapidly deteriorating. 

“Sir, I don’t follow-” 

“Dahyun.” With a hand to her shoulder, her face freezes right when she flashes a look of suspicion, tensing up at the touch before she locks eyes with you again, the unsureness diminishing with a singular eyebrow raise. “I’m giving you an opportunity to have all of this resolved without any loose repercussions.” You can feel the heart rate within her start to calm down the way her breathing stabilizes, tension along the line of her shoulders releasing with every pass of air, “There would be no need to resign, and we would find a workaround to prevent this from ever happening again.”

“And how would you suggest that, Superior?” 

“By granting you amnesty. Without the word from anyone else but me.” 

You can see that same sweep of her eyes moving left and right, unable to meet yours. The offer alone is taking her a significant amount of time to consider, a mistake that she’s willing to undo. She then looks up with a wistful gaze, the small spark dashing through her irises - as if she had just made the discovery of fire. Her mind starts to work and it’s so easy to tell, reflecting on this potential choice that she’s able to make. “You don’t mean-”

“Mean what?” Letting a sly grin break through your lips. 

“By amnesty,” she adds, tilting her chin up, bearing your arms across your chest, “What would I have to do in order to achieve this?” 

She has a general idea of the term itself, and maybe you think she’s also heard of the many things thrown around with this specific practice or policy of yours. This occurrence has happened a few times, whipping up a few notable individuals into shape - some much more needed than others, but the commonality between all of them: they’d always submit themselves to you. 

“Do you admit and accept the responsibilities of your actions, Overseer?” You formally request with hands reaching to the fine creases of her dress to which she accepts. 

There’s a brief pause of consideration again, and you’re watching her eyes never leave yours, thinking about the whole reason that you two are in this position in the first place. It may be a little hard to believe still; knowing what Dahyun will do not only for herself, but for the academy. Then there’s the logged report from your desk, in detail of what she did with that student, makes you realize that she’s got a screw loose in her head. 

“Yes, sir.” She answers, looking up with a delighted smile, fully realizing the opportunity and taking it with no regret. “I do.” 

“Good.” With a sigh of relief,  a hand escalates to the back of her neck. “Because your punishment begins now.” And she’s in awe of the shimmer in your eyes, slowly grinning when you’re dipping your head down lower, minimizing the distance. It lights a fire within you, a motive of what will entail from this point going forward. 

This is what amnesty is, Dahyun would think, be oh- she has no idea what she just got herself into. 

You learn that she’s receptive, the way that she takes your lips with hers so well, hands flying freely, breath clashing with yours. It’s messy, the way more slick starts so spread on the lower half of both of your faces, wanting more. Her tongue weaves its way past your mouth, a leg hiked up that you greatly take the hint for, channeling the hum of approval coming from her down your throat. She grips tight on the back of your shirt, adamant on taking this chance to build a clean slate, a perfect rush of gasps followed with even more kissing. Her hands are well into your hair when you pull away, a pause to probably call a stop and- 

“So it is true,” she admits against your cheek, “About this little policy?” 

You lift an eyebrow unimpressed at her. 

“What do- you don’t even know what you’re talking about.” you mumble, grip getting tighter on the fine part of her ass, chest heaving slightly, breaths getting uneven. 

“I thought it was just some legend here, around these halls.” Dahyun answers, letting her wrists relax while swooping under her legs, instinctively wrapping them around the small of your back. “Maybe you can show me if that’s actually a real thing.” 

She doesn’t see the flared nostrils you’re giving her, “I’d like to thank you, Overseer,” setting her on the desk nicely when the clack of her heels fall onto the floor, echoing the room as she removes the top piece of her dress, tossing it over to the chair she was previously sitting at, “For reminding me what I was doing.” 

“And that is?” She asks, naively. 

There’s a bit of a shock when you force her body to the desk, a flushed reaction covered with a gasp when you have one hand fastened to her wrist, the other lightly on her neck with the grip on the fingers getting delicately tighter. She tries to read your expression, map out the crinkles falling towards a cross or a devilish smile, feeling your breath graze along the line of her neck in these soft hitches. 

“Allow me to show you,” you whisper, flipping her small body to where her back is facing the ceiling, toe tips nearly grazing the floor but just barely. The same hand to her wrist is now shifted to her back, the other set flat; searching for something to take hold, she peeks over her shoulder, watching you study the way her dress hugs along the shape of her waist and hips. 

Doing this kind of practice was no surprise to you, and it doesn’t happen as often as you would’ve liked. Ryujin took three tries before she’d agree to not be a bother to you, Haewon probably took a few days or more to finally come around, and even Mina just recently. This revolving door into your office and form of chastising was the last resort of necessary actions for your fellow colleagues, some willing to challenge your authority, others were willing to submit. 

“What do you think this treatment entails?” you ask vaguely, raising the lower part of her dress to reveal more and more of her ass into the light, taking note of the noticeable choice of lace as she hikes it up with her free hand. “I sure hope that this should help you learn a thing or two. Though, it’s entirely up to you.” 

Dahyun’s side profile is amazingly flawless to see when you’re gently kneading her soft ass with your hand, palm moving graciously along the fine skin, fluttering her eyes shut, her breathing begins to become irregular, a small tremble to her hips as you press down lightly on the waistband, tugging on the elastic before letting go. The potential is right there at your hips - at your fingertips, to ruin, break skin, a perfect canvas for you to mutilate in any way you see fit. 

You laugh and admittedly, out of spite. “I’m sorry, if this meeting didn’t occur, you were going to invite him over for another one of your private sessions?” 

She seethes, but in anticipation, drawing a sharp inhale of air when your hand slides up her back. Part of you wants to put her back onto the wood, but you let it slide when she lifts herself off to meet your cheek, getting a bit selfish when she’s refusing to pull away. Her swollen lips and lidded eyes are too tempting to stop yourself- as if she’s the one pulling you into her spell. 

“Had I not been found out, I would’ve,” she murmurs, clutching onto a bit more of her hiked up dress, revealing her bare ass to the open air, unveiling a strike point. 

A fast hand tends to hers, placing it with her other hand still pressed behind her back. She writhes at the uncomfortable position but the tension passes through her body once you adjust. 

“You know what I would say to that, Overseer?” 

“What-” 

Nothing is said, but all is shown with a harsh slap to her ass. A statement. 

Strike one. 

Dahyun quietly yelps at the sudden hit to her backside, everything from the waist down clenching from the contact. The rough palm on your hand stings to the point where you’d have to flick your wrist a bit to subdue the burn. Her breathing starts to become irregular, wiggling her legs hanging from the side of the desk. 

“Superior, ah-” 

“I should’ve also mentioned that I’m permitting you to use expletives, but you’re already ahead of the curve as it is,” you tell her, massaging the crimson mark now apparent across the breadth of her ass, feeling the bits of heat emulating across the rough creases of your palm. “You’re now free to speak your mind.” 

“God, f-fuck. I can’t bel-” 

Another rough hit cracks an echo in the room. Earning a high-pitched whine from her. Strike two. 

“Choose your words more carefully.” Fighting the urge to smile at the sight this woman splayed across the table, letting out these heaves of desperation, body tightening and untightening on the surface as she’s hiding her face from you. “I don’t plan on easing up after what you did.” 

“Sir, please. I just need to-” 

You press her deeper into the table, hike up more of that insanely tight dress to her waist, letting her struggle under your grasp. The sounds leaving her pretty little lips would drive anyone else drastically crazy, watching as this uncrowned beauty crack under the weight of your touches with a third slap. Strike three.  

What sets Dahyun apart from the rest that has gone under your specified practices of treatment is the appeal she possesses. At least everyone from the faculty to the students have shared their thoughts about her: few envying and others fantasizing. You’re somewhere between the two, impossible to really tell for yourself, but what’s rest assured: 

There's more than a boatload of things to discover with Dahyun that’s already a list growing by the second. Dragging your fingertips along her thighs, pressing and pinching in spots where you’re trying to assess how nimble she can get, the way you can twist and mangle her limbs into a plethora of ways that’s drawing up with the imagination running through your head. How she shudders when you’re pulling on the elastic of her panties down her luscious legs, drinking in the sight of her glistening pussy lips hanging off the rim of your desk, clearly having an enjoyable time with the slick soaking her undergarments as well. 

“Have we had enough? Or are you willing to take more?” you ask, letting Dahyun keep her own hands behind her back with yours fastened over the curve of her hips, sliding down to her red cheeks, handprints visible as you're soothing the damage. “I definitely think that you can handle more, shall we continue?” 

She shivers, the slightest grasp to her ass gives another hitched breath, caressing it briefly as you’re plotting the next move in your head. 

“You can answer me, Dahyun,” you tell her, leaning down over her back, nose tangling within the threads of her hair, brushing the cuff of her ear before planting a kiss right below it, “But from these sounds I’m hearing tells me that you’re enjoying it.” 

A small twist from her singular eyebrow, lids still sewn shut, “You’re ecstatic, that I m-misbehaved.” 

“Can you tell?” Another slap to her ass and a tug to the soft skin. 

“Y-yes sir, I-” 

And another. 

“I’m not convinced yet.” 

Then another strike. 

“F-fuck sir-” 

One more hit to bring the tally up to seven. 

“Makes me wonder what you were going to do with that poor student if this carried on without my interference.” And at this point her ass has morphed into this ruby shade with every strike that follows. Her shoulders roll back, you’re keeping her in place, wrists still stacked on top of each other, hands opening and closing in response to the pain the more slaps you dish out.  

Dahyun struggles to keep her breathing stable, one firm grab to her asscheek as you’re planting a few scattered kisses down the column of her throat, teetering along the bridge of her collarbone. “Tell me, would this be on your mind with him also?” 

She doesn’t open her voice to tell, but a simple nod is all she gives. “My, my, Overseer. You really are something.” 

You could be satisfied with the way things transpired in this very room, content with the message sent and the warning laced between the lines. A momentary pause, hushing her whimpers, tending to the red tint of her ass, easing the ache of pain mixed with pleasure. Her eyes are scrunched along with the bridge of her nose, gnawing on her bottom lip as your fingertips continue to dance along the sensitive skin. 

“Are you ready for the next part?” you murmur into her ear as your hand trails down to the space between her legs, dragging a pointer finger across the warmth of her leaking slit, listening to the sharp breath passing through her lips again. 

“Mmmm…” Her legs buck against the drawers, dipping the two pads into her walls. The corner of her lip wobbles as she throbs around your fingers, dragging and sliding in a form of trial and error; seeing what she likes and what doesn’t, the light in her eyes filling with lust. “Sir, please, yes, God-” 

She sees another idea spark in your irises, drawing away from the warmth of her pussy temporarily, hands fast to undo the belt around your waist. Dahyun could only watch as you’ve got the leather wrapped around, creating a loose hoop at the end before lightly placing it across the two divots in her back resting above her ass. 

You test the pliancy of the looped belt on your other hand, ensuring that the article rebounds nicely across your palm. “I’ve got one more thing to do, consider this to be a test of some sorts.” 

“What do you mean, Superio–” 

Her voice screeches when you strike the leather in the same spot where your hand hit on her ass cheek; entire body tensing from the sharp pain before breaking down into broken down sobs. She tries to resist by getting up, but you keep her in place as she whines, adamant in believing that she can’t handle it any more. 

“Oh no, we’re not through yet,” you hiss, not paying any attention to the stray heel hitting your thigh in retaliation. “Not until you tell me that this won’t happen again going forward.”

“Just for the record, sir,” Her hand grips the underside of your forearm at the same time your weight begins to stack along her back, furrowing her brows and gritting her teeth. “I wanted this.” 

“So are we going to have a problem like this again next time?” 

“Absolu-” 

The leather belt finds her ass again, the crack in the atmosphere strong enough to mistake for the clap of lightning. 

“No,” she pleads, twisting her head back and forth, sounding off another thwap to make a point. “No sir, we’re not going to have another problem with this ever again.” 

“Good,” you say, the formality alone shortly returning, hands hovering over to her wrists, slackening the belt as you begin to wrap it around her. You’re keeping focus, maintaining your thoughts meticulously, fighting your cock that’s beginning to ache in your trousers. “I’m gonna take good care of you now.” 

Once you’ve got the leather fastened around her wrists, there’s another fill to be satisfied when you slip your fingers back into her cunt, throbbing at the way you curl them inside, earning a few harmonious sounds as her back arches to the touch. She’s melting by the second, “Yes, yes, please sir, I want-” 

“Speak up,” you breathe, sinking down to your knees, hands resting at the rise of her hips, glistening lips into view. Everything about her is a new learning curve, and the way her lower half is still hung over the edge, ankles neatly crossed together like her bound wrists, you almost feel bad for enacting this onto her. 

Keyword almost, and you put your mouth on her other set of lips. Unsure, testing, getting those first savoring seconds up her wet cunt. Her whole body pulls inward, choking down a cry, and you realize, this woman is filled with surprises. 

But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, the shivers she dishes out, the string of hums continue to leave her mouth. This wasn’t the time to keep the niceties - shoving your whole face and tongue into her pussy, tongue slipping through her opening in these strokes, body contracting and relaxing. The fingers also come into play, tapping along her clit and eventually dipping in to where your tongue can’t reach, the wetness soaking your fingers, the short grasps letting you know of that beautiful high fast approaching. 

“I’m gonna-” she says, voice peaking in a higher pitch than the last, the balls of her feet hitting your chest, holding her down at the bottom of her thigh and ass. “Sir, I’m gonna fucking-” 

“That fast?” you ask, gaze glassy, drunk on the sweet slick that’s all over your lips. Biting down the laugh from the top of your throat, “And here I thought you’d hold out a bit longer for me there.” 

She pulls her body up with what little strength she has while being tied up. Panting. Heaving. You’re content with the structured appearance of her face completely ruined, tense, letting her eyelids flutter when she feels your finger slip inside her once more, because another feeling like this wouldn’t really hurt anyone. 

“Final question. Are you going to be good for me from here on out?” 

There’s a silver lining with the sense of humiliation you’re giving her, nearly sympathetic when your knuckle finds its way deeper. It’s wrong, you think, to be like this, but you’ve learned with the years of experience of being in this place that people will only listen when backed to a corner with no other way out. Everyone here is aware of the rapport you have with others, the kind of power that shouldn’t be really shown until it’s a desperate call to make to ensure everyone’s on the same page as you. This time isn’t really different. 

But still, it’s a first with her, and you’ll take this grand opportunity to pressure her into not making another issue for the next time. 

“Dahyun,” you’re telling her again, because she’s just staring at you in awe. The way you’ve been handling her; professional at the surface level, finding a pressure point to the things that she’s been accused of committing, drawing that out of her by any means necessary, until you’ve managed to break her. “Answer me, darling.” 

She comes back to her senses when her body shifts more inward to the wood, resting right at the bending point of her hips, listening to the zip from your pants. The most evil thing she’s done all day: a sly smile breaking across her face, watching you tease the head of your cock along her wet lips. This will be a problem, but a welcome one. You’re hoping that you’ve done your part to the best of your ability. 

“Yes sir,” she answers, shimmying her hips to tease. “I’ll be really good for you. I promise.” 

“I hope so.” you retort, “I can be very convincing.” 

A slip inside, a slow push. It’s electric. Further. Deeper. Filling her cunt up, her walls leisurely stretch around you. The heat alone is euphoric, coming to you in a fast rush. You hold yourself in for as long as possible, but it’s futile; she may have a few screws loose in the head, but you’re not far off the mark as well. 

“God,” she mumurus again, and you drag yourself out slightly. Back in nicely, smoothly into that heat, until Dahyun nods her head in approval. She gasps again when you move past the previous spot your cock was inside her, nearly to the base. 

“Oh, my fucking-” 

A shared gluttal moan parts from your chest and hers, eyes fixated on the sight of your slicked up cock carefully impaling Dahyun, the friction becoming more and more addicting. The muscles in her back start to freeze up along with her clenched hands, fighting against the leather around them. You make it easier for her case, lifting her chest up at the breast, leaning down to seize her lips on yours, holding her steady, cock carving up her walls with every building thrust. 

Nose against her cheek, “This cunt,” you utter, pushing yourself deep as this girl is faltering moans with every hit your hips make with her sore, red ass, “I can’t believe how tight this grips me, god- fucking, no wonder he wanted to keep seeing you in the first place,” and you lean down the line of her back, letting her pussy clench around your cock, feeling the clutch of her walls, all wet and aching for more. 

The thrusting starts to pick up, unrestrained and unrelenting now. You’re not even sure what to do with your hands, alternating between holding at the endpoint of her waist where her hips meet or press her unbelievable thighs together, to make the press around your cock that much better. A premature call to make, in comparison to the other’s that have preceded Dahyun: her pussy takes it in so well, you could bury yourself inside her for what feels like forever. 

“Sir,” she groans out, the sentence being cut off with another slap to her ass, following up with the crash of your hips into hers, holding on to her binded wrists. “Please, please, please-” 

“Please what, hmm?” You can’t really conjure up the proper thoughts to put in conversation, heaving out scattered spells of air with every stroke into her. “You’ve gotta help me out here.” 

“Need more.” It’s a request for sure, and not a vague one. “Please keep fucking me.” 

You do give her more, and nothing less. With every passing second you dive deep into her cunt, the beating in your heart accelerates just that teeny bit faster. The thoughts are out the window at this point, the only thing keeping you from figuratively passing out is the sopping wetness of her cunt every time you pull out and drive back in. The pace gets a bit faster, then you dial it back, watch as her upper body convulses across the desk, mouth hung open for all the moans to be let out, getting louder, more higher, and needier. 

She gasps when you hold yourself inside, thrown off guard with the firm hit you give her, a moment to catch her breath. “Wait, no, fuck, why did you-” 

Dahyun had managed to do something to you that the others couldn’t in this short span of time: break you. Even after all this time, it’s really interesting how the very person you’ve been wanting to see out for an instance like this is the one that’s managed to make you go all out into setting them right. She’s spearheading this thing, and not you. When it should be the other way around. 

A fistful of her hair is grabbed, and her body is raised up, hips flush with hers. “If I hear another question leave your sultry lips, I’ll tape it up so that nobody can hear you screaming down the hallways.” 

She bites her wobbling bottom lip, assuring you that’s exactly what she wants to happen, and it will. Her half-open eyes sees your head go sideways, planting a kiss down her neck, inching your cock deeper into her cunt past the hilt and her body shudders at it. 

“Want me to fuck some sense into you now? Properly? Fuck this pretty little pussy that it’ll make you think right?” 

She nods desperately, “Yes sir. Please.” 

You bend her over across the desk again, hand still tangled into her hair with the other resting at her hips. The pace deliberate at first, savoring the sensation of how her body takes you, parting her folds with every inch of your shaft. She shivers when you tease her still, not going all the way, but making her earn it. 

Now wasn’t the time for easygoing now, the sight of her backside is an eighth wonder of the world to admire, sliding out and dragging your cock back into her, gradually increasing as the additional slaps to her ass again, fucking her deep. You eventually decided that she’s served her punishment long enough, untying the belt at her hands and discarding it somewhere in the office, putting her hands up to the other end of the desk for her to hold on as you mercilessly bury your cock into her. 

“Sir, I can’t keep- fuck!” she cries out, the litany of lovely whines and sounds the more you fill her up. She also takes the liberty of letting you take a breather, moving her hips back, bouncing her ass with you just standing there, watching as her perfect ass does this little ripple effect on the skin, jiggling with an endless movement. 

It was getting all too much, and Dahyun herself was enjoying it as well, smiling with every groan that rips from your throat, hand floating over her hips, piercing your cock roughly back into her again and again, unwilling to yield the remaining bits of pleasure before either you or her reach that point-

“I’m gonna fucking- god, sir, keep going, so close-” she strains, gripping your wrists and tight enough for her to rip them off. 

“Don’t fight me,” you spit, voice leaning towards something primal, “Cum all over this cock.” And she does. 

Your muscles should be spent at this rate, but they hold out long enough as your ears are picking up the endless babbles and whimpers, mixed in with the sloppy strokes of your hips hitting hers. The mind is overloaded with so much, but your hands find rest at her ass again, burying yourself deep. And then it hits you in a flash. 

One firm hit sheathing your cock into her cunt, and you pull out, cumming all over the fine plane of her ass. You’ll need to take a mental image to save for eternity - the way you’re painting in these lovely slashes with your release, all over her ass, her back - because you learn that she looks amazingly good like that. A fine figure, waiting to be defiled and tarnished, and it happens. 

“God, would you look at-” you’re also left in disbelief, the grip around your cock loosening, eyes on leaking pussy lips, she’s hung down, face off to the side, eyes closed, steadily breathing. The words coming out of her mouth are inconceivable, but she’s thankful, praising you, giving thanks. Judging from how content she looks, proves that your hard work is done.

“S-sir,” she tries to say, still left speechless. 

A kiss to the temple of her head, and a ruffle with your hand sliding down to her back. “So, are we satisfied with your conversation?” 

Dahyun takes a minute or two, maybe more, to process everything that’s happened just now. She’s still on your desk, and you’re getting right back to it, slipping on your slacks, picking up the tossed belt that you used as a makeshift rope. Your ears pick up on the heavy breathing from her as she slowly gets up, hands giving her support on the desk, dazed and astounded once things start returning back to normal. 

You fix up the rolled up sleeves of your shirt; Dahyun blankly stares out in space, fixing up her dress and placing some of the various items hit in the crossfire back in their right spot, off the floor and somewhere where you’ll fix soon. 

“Dahyun?” you ask again, watching as she starts to make her way out the door. “Overseer.” 

She turns at the title, realizing she left behind a vital piece to her appearance, dipping her head down in embarrassment, but you can already see the blush breaking through her cheeks. Her breathing is also irregular, but it’s a lot calmer than before. 

“Sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders, a hand taking the heels in yours. “Thank you, for- uhm, the persuasion.” 

An inquisitive look is what you give her. Meeting your gaze, you notice a few stray strands out of place in her hair, take it upon yourself to use the tip of your pinky to move it away from her forehead. Not much is left said between the two of you, probably just small talk or the comfort of silence finally setting in like before. You can’t really seem to get over the wistful constellations behind the lenses in her eyes - and it’s something that you want to study more about. 

“Right,” you tell her, patting her shoulder before guiding her to the doorway, fingers fast to the touchpad and the quick clicks of the deadbolt finally opens it. “I’m happy enough to see you again, without the intent of correcting your little issue.” 

Dahyun nods in agreement, pulling both of her lips inward to force back the smile, but you see right through her. She begins to make her way out, bare feet on the floor, heels in her hand - a solid lasting impression after today.

“Before I forget Dahyun,” you’re calling out again, and she twists her head around to meet your eyes, “Let’s speak again sometime soon okay? My door will be open for you if needed.” 

She squints, smiling a bit to where you see the bottom bits of her teeth. You give her a nod to emphasize your point. “Count on it sir. I guess I’ll be coming around more often, then.” 

[lxkeee]

MY HEART IS BROKEN SO I NEED TO CRY First of all, I LOVE how you write, and I wanted to make a request about Lucifer breaking reader's heart, it doesn't matter how, I just want a broken heart 😔note: Sorry for the English translator, I don't write it but I understand it, TOTALLY CRAZY

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—Part One

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: angst (for now)

Warnings: none.

Notes: this one is short, 450 ish words but will serve as a foundation for the entire series lolol. Also, it's okayy:) your english is finee^^

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

Life was good in heaven. Having been brought to existence by our creator, we were given a chance at life. The world is still currently in progress, slowly changing to adapt to newer life forms.

We angels were tasked to help this new world grow into such an amazing world. Speaking of worlds, I am very much grateful to be alive as I am given a chance to love. As one of the first few angels created, I was able to befriend Lucifer. God's most beautiful angel and whom I have the honor of calling mine.

Lucifer was such an awkward romantic lover, showing off his affections in his ways. Giving flowers, a pretty stone he managed to pass by while flying around, or perhaps by giving her kisses.

They've been married for some time now, being together for a few decades and recently got married. The wedding was amazing, friends and their creator attended the celebration. It was a very beautiful celebration, the wedding night was awkward yet romantic, two innocent angels experimenting, learning about the art of making love. It was wonderful. Despite being inexperienced, both had a great time being each other's firsts.

Life was truly good, until God announced that he made new creatures, mortals or humans as he calls them.

They looked like angels but without wings. They will be the very foundation of humankind.

Slowly and surely, Lucifer began to act weird. Ever since he visited the garden of Eden, he's been purposely avoiding [y/n]. Making up excuses to not spend time with her.

Rumors started to spread that Lucifer has begun to form ideas that threaten the order of heaven, [y/n] tries to stop him but Lucifer is stubborn. He believes that mankind needed this.

[Y/n] was heartbroken, why is the love of her life acting like this? Why doesn't he look at her with love and passion in his eyes like he usually does.

Why does it look like he doesn't love her anymore?

Deciding to spy on him, she followed him to the garden of Eden. There he saw her husband looking at the mortal woman, named Lilith with so much love and adoration in his eyes.

[Y/n] felt her heart and entire world shatter. Broken hearted, she quickly fled the garden. Returning back home and sobbed into her friend's slap.

She cried the whole night, Lucifer didn't even notice she wasn't home.

Not long after, Lucifer was cast out of heaven along with Lilith. [Y/n] was heartbroken beyond her understanding. She couldn't understand, her emotions all over the place. Her husband doomed humanity and was cast out of heaven with another woman.

[Y/n] didn't even get to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

Happy Valentine's Day:)

Also, guess whose lap she was crying on? His name starts with A;)

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[mrmeowski]

Hello~ I just read ur work "Can I" and aughhhh im falling in love with my biases more XD If it alright, could i make 2 requests and you can choose either one or both of em? the characters are fr dan heng, aventurine, dr ratio, jiaoqiu, jing yuan and ae!sunday 1. Them with a s/o who is sensitive to the cold but they refuse to complain to him thinking it may bother them. like how'd they

2. Them with a s/o who wants to exchange bites of food or sweets with them (they have one food and the boi has another that they wanna try basically so they askin fr a nibble). Tempted to see the fluffy behaviours or maybe teasing ones whichever u assume And just in case, I apologise if its too much wrk XP

.🍮♠💙

˚✧𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞✧˚

Synopsis: You’ve always caught colds quicker than others, and even when you’re uncomfortable, you struggle to speak up, prioritizing others over yourself. But what happens when you meet someone who makes your well-being theirt utmost priority?

CW: Coughing blood [Jing Yuan], injured soldiers [Jiaoqiu], slight character backstory spoilers [Aventurine, Jiaoqiu], slight suggestive

A/N: Hey Anon!! I'm really glad you liked my work and I'll be making both of your requests becuase they look sooo fun to make☺️ And since I'm dried up of HSR ideas

Word Count: 6.5k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Aventurine [1.4k] 💜༻✧ Dan Heng [872] 🧡༻✧ Dr. Ratio [827] 💜༻✧ Jiaoqiu [985] 🧡༻✧ Jing Yuan [1.1k] 💜༻✧ Sunday [1.4k]

⋇⊰AVENTURINE⊱⋇

Sigonia-IV was a harsh world, its sun scorching during the day and its nights plunging into a cold that felt as though it could freeze your very bones. The people here learned to adapt, to survive under the relentless heat by day and the bitter chill by night.

But for you, the balance was difficult, especially during the cold nights when your body felt as if it were being shredded by the freezing temperatures. You could barely get any sleep, constantly waking in discomfort, wrapped in whatever rags you could find to keep yourself warm.

Your friend, Kakavasha was always the one to notice when you’d start wearing down, never letting you hide it for too long.

"Man, [Name]... you look awful." He pinched your cheek one morning as you rubbed your eyes, groaning as you tried to shake off the exhaustion.

"Shut up," you hissed, swatting his hand away.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of the bags under them. You'd been running on fumes for days, the sleepless nights piling up on you.

His laughter following you as you walked through the dusty streets.

“You know, [Name]... we should skip the labor for the day. Your birthday’s coming up, riiight?”

You yawned and rubbed your eyes again, trying to ignore how tired you really were.

“...You know we can’t,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him.

You knew how it would go. The labor was constant here. There was no such thing as a break unless you could afford it—and you couldn’t. Not on Sigonia-IV.

"Augh, come on, look at you!" He nudged your shoulder with his elbow, forcing you to look at him. His grin was cheeky, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look like a corpse! Just.. one day. I know a spot!"

His persistence made you sigh in defeat. You’d been too exhausted to argue, and deep down, you knew he wasn’t going to let you say no.

“Fine,” you said, giving in with a resigned shrug. "But only this time." His eyes sparkled with excitement, and before you could brace yourself, he’d grabbed your arm, pulling you along as he charged forward.

“Wait—” you stammered, struggling to match his pace as you stumbled over the uneven ground, nearly tripping on rocks and loose debris. “V-Vasha, hold up!” But he either didn’t hear you or chose to ignore your plea, his laughter ringing out as he weaved through the sparse crowd.

Soon, the noise and remnants of the town faded, and you found yourself surrounded by open, barren land. The sun blazed overhead, intense enough that you had to pull your hood up to shield yourself from its harsh rays, but heseemed unfazed by the heat, charging ahead with an energy that felt endless.

“Are we close?” You panted, but he only grinned, slowing down just enough to keep the mystery alive.

You trailed him along a path winding up the side of a rocky slope. The terrain was uneven but soon you found yourself climbing higher until the view stretched out into something unexpected.

You were speechless, mouth slightly open as you gazed at the sight before you.

The endless expanse of desert and mountains glowed under the skies painted in a deep hues of red, purple, and a soft, golden orange that radiated from the sun. Feathery clouds streaked across the sky in hues of crimson and violet, blending into an almost surreal canvas.

"It's… beautiful," you whispered, transfixed by the stunning view, your eyes locked on the horizon.

“I know.” He murmured softly, but his gaze wasn’t on the horizon—it was on you, taking in the awe in your expression, the way your eyes reflected the colors of the sky. “It’s truly beautiful... Come on, no time for sightseeing! We're still not there," He called out, his hand suddenly grasping yours, giving it a gentle tug to bring you closer.

“Wait… this isn’t the spot?”

“It’s... a part of it, but the real gem is just ahead." He moved ahead, his hand still holding yours as he led you toward a cave entrance, hidden behind a curtain of beads.

The beads shimmered in the dying light of the day, the sound of them clinking lightly against one another as he pushed them aside, revealing the interior of the cave.

You gasped, stepping inside. The walls were lined with old trinkets—fragments of forgotten times, relics from some long-past era.

The flickering remnants of a campfire sat cold in the center, and around it were pillows and blankets, their fabric faded and worn.

“Do you like it?” His voice carrying a hint of nervousness as he watched you take in the small cave.

“Yes! So, you found all of this?” You reached out, tracing a finger over one of the metal pieces scattered about, fascinated by each strange object.

He grinned, looking pleased.

“Yeah! There are tons of these out here, though I couldn’t tell you where half of them came from,” he laughed, watching you examine one in particular with intrigue. Recognizing it, he moved closer. “Wait—give me that one for a second. I wanna show you something cool.”

From the on, the two of you spent hours talking, laughing, and experimenting with each trinket. But eventually, the light began to fade.

The sky outside the cave transformed into rich shades of red and purple as the sun dipped low, casting shadows across the cave walls. You blinked, realizing how late it had gotten.

“The sun’s going down…” you murmured, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. “I-I don’t think we’ll be able to get back in time.” He only gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“That’s fine,” he said, squatting down to gather some rocks. “I’ve spent the night here plenty of times. I’ll get a fire going. We’ll be warm.” You tried to smile, but the idea of spending a night in this cold made you tense.

For him, it might be comfortable enough, but for you…

The fire crackled softly, you asked him about his favorite piece, his eyes lighting up as he shared the memories.

Eventually, as the sun dimmed and the stories faded, the chill in the air grew sharper, but you tried not to let it show. You faked a smile as he settled down across from you, rolling onto his side with a yawn.

"Goodnight, [Name]..." he murmured, half-asleep already.

“Goodnight, Vasha,” you replied, burrowing into your thin blanket and tucking your legs into your hoodie.

As soon as his eyes were closed, your smile faded. You could feel the cold seeping into your bones, making you shiver despite your best efforts.

No matter how tightly you wrapped yourself, the fire offered little relief, and your fingers and toes started to go numb. Glancing over, you noticed that even he seemed affected; he shifted occasionally, his face scrunched up as he tried to stay warm in his sleep.

A thought flickered through your mind—perhaps you could just inch closer to him, share a little warmth. But then again, he was sound asleep now, his chest rising and falling steadily. You didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, you pulled off your own thin blanket and quietly moved over to him, draping it around his shoulders. For a moment, you watched as he unconsciously snuggled into the extra warmth, a slight smile softening. You hoped it would help him rest a little better.

With your blanket now gone, you returned to the fire, trying to warm your hands over the low flames.

The chill was so intense that your entire body trembled, and you pulled your legs tighter to your chest. It was then that you heard a low, sleepy voice break the silence.

"[Name]...?" His voice heavy with sleep. "You're still awake?"

You froze, trying not to let on how miserable you felt. His gaze narrowing as he took in your shivering form. He noticed then, your thin blanket draped over him instead of you, and his expression shifted from confusion to concern.

He sat up slowly, his gaze lingering on your hunched figure for a moment before he crawled toward you without saying a word. He closed the distance, his brows furrowed.

Without warning, he pressed his side against yours, wrapping one of the blankets around both of you. You felt the warmth of his body as he pulled you close, his arm sliding around your shoulders to hold you firmly against him.

"Why didn’t you say anything, huh?" He murmured,

"I… I didn’t want to wake you," you admitted, cheeks flushing at his closeness.

He huffed softly, almost amused, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

"I’d rather be woken up than see you trying to freeze yourself like this. Giving up your only blanket like a self-sacrificing hero..." he teased, nudging his head on the crook of your neck.

"Guess you’re lucky I’m here to take over that role."

⋇⊰DAN HENG⊱⋇

Man, it sure is chilly here. You despised the cold—it crept into your bones, made your fingers stiff and your thoughts sluggish. Yet, somehow, you found yourself sitting in Dan Heng’s room, enduring what felt like the iciest atmosphere on the Astral Express.

How did this happen? Well, you had volunteered to help him with his research on a particular planet and its people. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—spending time with him, delving into his meticulous work, maybe even impressing him a little with your insights.

But you hadn’t considered one key detail: He liked his room cold, arctic even. And now, with the cooler set to its lowest possible temperature, you were fighting the urge to shiver.

You glanced at him, sitting calmly at his desk, completely unaffected by the temperature. He had always been composed, almost detached in his demeanor.

Asking him to turn down the cooler felt... intrusive, like you’d be disrupting his sense of balance. This was his space, after all, and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in his own room.

“Hey, [Name], take a look at this." His calm voice pulled you from your thoughts.

He turned slightly, his teal gaze meeting yours, the faint glow of his device reflecting in his eyes. You pushed yourself up from where you were sitting.

Every step was a fight to suppress the shiver running through your body, your fingers numb despite being stuffed in your pockets.

“What is it?” Keeping your voice steady as you moved closer to him.

He gestured toward the display, a map of a distant planet spinning in holographic detail. “This planet—Denvalis-IV—caught my attention. Its climate is… unique.”

You leaned in to get a better look, but instead of focusing, your mind was drawn to the faint warmth radiating from his form. It was subtle, like a beacon against the icy atmosphere of his room.

For a moment, you let yourself indulge, thinking maybe, just maybe, you could edge a little closer without him noticing—

“[Name], are you even listening?”

The sharp question jolted you from your reverie, your eyes darting back to the screen.

“O-Of course!” You said quickly, trying to play it cool.

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he didn’t push.

“Hmph...” He turned his attention back to the screen. “What did you learn of this place?"

"Let me show you.” With a few tap, images of its habbitants displayed on the screen. "The inhabitants—look at them." You pointly but the moment you relieazed your hand was shaking you instantly put it down. "They’re… incredible."

The projection showed a group of Denvalis-IV's residents—tall, sinewy figures with thick, layered exoskeletons that shimmered faintly, almost like armor.

"Despite the violent storms, extreme temperatures further amplified by the Stellaron, they've been able to adapt," you continued. "And it’s not just physical. Look at these structures—they’ve developed entire cities that are mobile, designed to migrate with the weather patterns."

“It’s fascinating,” he murmured, leaning closer to study the images. “They’ve managed to build entire civilizations in this planet... even after the Stellaron erupted." His gaze flicked to you, something unreadable in his expression. “You’re knowledgeable,” he said, his voice soft. “And you’re also…”

You froze, sensing his next words before he spoke them.

“…cold.”

He then raised his hand, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made you involuntarily lean toward him, seeking it like a moth to a flame.

His warmth was comforting, but it also amplified how much the freezing temperature of the room had bitten into you. Eyes softened slightly as he observed you.

“Your cheeks are puff..." He glance down, noticing your tembling hands, "and you’re shivering.” His lips pressed into a thin line, and with a sigh, he turned away to adjust the cooler.

The hum of the air system shifted, and the temperature in the room began to rise.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked, his back still to you.

You tried to shrug it off, shoving your hands into your pockets to conceal their shaking.

“You’re… quite observant.”

He turned back to you, his gaze piercing yet patient.

“Deflecting the question won’t help you," he said, his tone soft but firm.

You hesitated but finally, you admitted, "Well, I just… I-It’s your room. I didn’t want to bother you. I figured you like the cold, so—”

“So, you prioritize others’ comfort above your own?” He interrupted, stepping closer.

The sudden proximity made your breath hitch. He was so close now, his quiet intensity pulling all your focus. His warm breath brushed against your chilled skin, and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

He tilted his head slightly, observing you as though trying to read the thoughts you weren’t voicing. “Hmm...” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost teasing.

His arm moved, slow but deliberate, slipping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Your pulse quickened as the heat of his body cut through the lingering chill in the room.

His expression remained composed, but the faint blush dusting his pale cheeks didn’t escape your notice.

“...I do enjoy being this close to you. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

⋇⊰DR. RATIO⊱⋇

The library was your sanctuary, a place where the air hummed softly with silence, inviting you to dive into your work. Today, it beckoned like a far-off paradise, you'd love to go there if the winter wind isn't creeping through the walls, chilling you to the bone.

Bundled up in your thickest jacket, you made a quick hot cocoa in the small kitchenette, hoping it’d warm you just enough to keep working. Your dormmate, Ratio Veritas, was engrossed in a dense-looking tome, his gaze fixed in a way that made him look almost statuesque, detached from the cold entirely.

You sighed, slipping back into your room, hoping to hide your shivering mess from him. You knew he disliked interruptions, and you didn’t want to hear him complain about you 'ruining his concentration' with your uncontrollable shivers.

You sat at your desk, fingers trembling as you flipped open your books, each word on the page starting to blur. But you refused to tell him and do something that can help.

It's no use anyway, he'd only huff, make some pointed comment about your lack of preparation, or worse, pretend to ignore you altogether. Besides, you didn’t want to burden him, especially when he was absorbed in his work.

Time passed, or so it felt. Your focus drifted, every fiber of your being caught in an cold-induced fatigue. You thought about getting up, maybe crawling under the covers of your bed, but as you pushed yourself to stand, the world swirled and faded into black.

When your eyes opened, you realized you were no longer at your room but on someone’s lap. Warmth wrapped around you, unfamiliar and yet... oddly comforting.

A gentle hand brushed through your hair, moving rhythmically, soothing you back to wakefulness. Blinking, you looked up, eyes trailing from a complicated book cover down to his familiar profile

“Veritas...?” You murmured, still disoriented.

He glanced down, face as unamused as always.

“Ah. You’re finally awake.” His voice held its usual cold tone, but his hand didn’t stop its careful stroking through your hair.

It felt far gentler than his gaze would ever imply.

“W-What happened?” Stammering, trying to shift, but he placed a hand on your shoulder to keep you still.

“You passed out,” he replied, his voice a low mutter as he went back to his book.

Your eyes widened. You... passed out? Now that he mentioned it, you could feel a faint throbbing in your head and a dull ache in your abdomen from the fall. Heat crept into your cheeks, embarrassed and unsure.

You hadn’t meant to make a scene, and you hadn’t meant for him to get involved.

“I’m… I-I’m sorry." The words rolled out your tounge before you even realized it.

He raised a brow, tilting his book slightly to inspect you as though you were an anomaly in need of explanation.

“Has the fall scrambled your brain?” He asked, his tone dry, even a bit amused. “What could you possibly be sorry for?” He closed his book completely, leaning in a bit, scrutinizing you with a detached but focused intensity. “Hmm... perhaps there’s an internal bleeding and affected your speech?” He mused.

Your cheeks flushed as you averted your gaze.

“No, no… It’s just… you were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you, so—”

“So, you chose to hide that your suffering?” He chuckled, a sound both mocking and strangely warm. “I would never undermine the value of academic focus, but you’ve taken it to the extreme. This involves you life, not just a mere distraction.” Leaning back, he reopened his book, though his eyes lingered on you, assessing. “In any case, I can study while you… stay here,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“What?” You shifted slightly, instinctively finding a more comfortable position, only to feel the firmness of his thigh tense under your head.

His fingers paused, but only for a moment, before he resumed the gentle circles on your scalp, thumb tracing patterns.

“I said, get some rest,” he replied, a slight edge in his voice, though the warmth in his touch betrayed any irritation.

For a man with such cutting words and an aloof demeanor, his touch was remarkably gentle, grounding you in a way that no words ever could explain.

Minutes passed in silence, the stillness of the room broken only by the faint rustle of the pages. Then, almost reluctantly, he bit back his pride and spoke, his voice softer, quieter.

“Hey... [Name],” he murmured, feeling you hum in response, shifting slightly in his lap. A shiver ran through him, though he quickly masked it.

Hidden behind his book, his cheeks flushed red, and he brought the book up to his face, hoping it concealed his expression.

“If... if you ever need anything or… if you want help with something,” he continued, voice barely a whisper. He swallowed, speaking through his own restraint. “Just… tell me, alright?”

⋇⊰JIAOQIU⊱⋇

You looked up at the artificial skies of Xianzhou Yaoqing, watching as what could only be described as raindrops fell from the simulated heavens. Though the rain was artificial, the chill it carried was all too real.

You shivered as the cold breeze brushed against your skin, and instinctively, you pulled your coat tighter, wishing it would do more to ward off the biting wind. The camp had just won a major battle, but the aftermath was far from over. The injured were many, and every hand was needed.

You couldn’t afford to slack off now, not when the medics were busy patching up soldiers and treating the wounded. The chill in the air was nothing compared to the urgency of the situation.

You swallowed your discomfort and turned toward the tents where the injured were being treated, your footsteps quickening as you walked deeper into the makeshift infirmary.

And then, you saw him—Jiaoqiu, focused as always, sitting beside a bed where a man lay, his hands deftly bandaging the soldier’s wounds.

The moment he heard your footsteps, his ears twitched, and he looked up, flashing you that signature, bright smile. His tail wagged, the motion almost too endearing.

"[Name]!" His voice was cheery, but there was a slight hesitation in it as his eyes lingered on your flushed cheeks. "You’re looking a little… flushed. Are you alright?"

You quickly masked your discomfort with a smile, trying to sound nonchalant despite the cold creeping into your bones. No, you couldn’t tell him. Not now, not when everyone needed all the help they could get.

"I'm fine," you said, though your voice lacked conviction. "Just.. a little tired. I-I’ll get going—there are still a lot of hands needed." You flashed him a quick smile, trying to appear unaffected. "See you later during your break."

With that, you hastily walked away, eager to get to work. What you didn’t notice was the way his eyes followed you.

Your movements had become sluggish as the day wore on. Your fingers were a bit stiff, the chill in your bones seeping into every part of your body, and you found yourself sniffling more than you cared to admit.

No, you couldn't—You couldn't let the Foxian or anyone see you like this. You were the one who was supposed to take care of the injured, not the other way around! You couldn't afford to show weakness.

"Dr. [Name]...?" A voice interrupted your thoughts. You blinked, looking down at the soldier in front of you. His face was pale, his breath shallow. "A-Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course," you answered too quickly, trying to brush off the unease you felt creeping up on you.

In reality, it was hard to focus on your work when you felt like your body was betraying you. Before you could go back to your task, you heard that voice again. It was familiar, and now, it sent a shiver down your spine—not from the cold, but from the sudden concern you knew it carried.

"As a medical student, I expect you to care of yourself, [Name]." His tone was lighter than usual, but you could still detect the hint of worry in it.

You turned to see him standing there, arms crossed, his smile gone, replaced by a frown.

"Ah, but I’m fine," you protested weakly, chuckling to dismiss the concern.

But when he closed the distance between you, his hand gently rested against your forehead, and the warmth from his touch made your heart skip a beat.

He hummed softly, the sound both soothing and commanding. "You have a cold, [Name]. It’s better to rest than push yourself." His voice was firm yet caring, and it made it impossible for you to argue.

"But—"

"No buts," he interrupted, his tone soft but resolute. Before you could react, he slipped his arms around your waist, effortlessly pulling you toward him. "Let's get you some rest, hm?" His smile returned, and it was warm and gentle, a stark contrast to his usual playful teasing.

You could feel your resolve crumbling as he drew you closer to his side. It felt like he was enjoying this a bit too much, if the sly smile playing on his lips as he led you away wasn't obvious enough.

"I could do it myself, Jiaoqiu! You need to go treat the soldiers!" You sighed in defeat, but you knew deep down that resistance was futile.

The moment he set his mind to something, you knew you’d lose.

"I’m on my break," he simply said, as if that explanation was enough to make you stop worrying. "I have nothing to do." Just as you were about to shoot another complaint, he raised his hand, signaling to one of the nearby medics.

"Need a hand over here!" He called out, his voice calm and commanding, directing the medic to help with the soldier you’d been treating earlier.

Turning back to you, he flashed you an innocent smile. "See? No need to worry about anything!" Every part of him practically pressed against you.

His arm was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and you could feel the soft, comforting weight of his tail winding gently around your leg.

Sure, it was a bit of a struggle to walk with him so near, but the heat from his body made it easy to ignore the chill that had settled deep within you.

You could feel the vibration of his chest as he chuckled, a soft sound that filled the air. His gaze lowered to meet yours, your eyes neatly closed and mouth slightly parted as though you were feeling heaven.

"I suppose I'm your medicine?" He mused, his finger tracing down the curve of your cheek with a gentle touch. He paused, his grin widening as he leaned closer. "Not that I mind... I could be all the warmth you'd ever need."

⋇⊰JING YUAN⊱⋇

You stared out from the fleet, watching as the snow-covered planet loomed into view, a world blanketed in endless ice. Even from behind the glass, you could feel a chill settling into your bones.

How did you end up here? Well, it had all started with a single slip of the tongue—admitting, without much thought, that you'd never once seen snow.

He’d looked at you curiously, his golden gaze sharp but gentle.

"Never seen snow?" He asked, surprised, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a hint of wonder.

You’d shrugged, brushing it off, mentioning briefly that your mother had never let you go anywhere with winter’s bite, then tried to change the subject.

But Jing Yuan had clearly taken it to heart. The General, in his subtle, thoughtful way, had decided he’d remedy that, and when the opportunity came—a mission to a world wrapped in eternal winter—he’d practically dragged you along.

Seeing his excitement, you hadn’t the heart to tell him the truth, that your mother hadn’t been overprotective without reason. She had known, as you did, that you were sensitive to the cold. But how could you ruin the General’s rare, genuine smile?

The doors slid open, and a harsh gust of icy wind hit you instantly, slicing through even the thick jacket he had insisted you wear.

You braced yourself, steeling against the cold. It wasn’t too bad—yet. Surely, you could hold out for a little while, right? Just enough to take in this strange, pristine winter world he’d wanted to show you.

"Isn't it magnificent?" He raised his gloved hand, catching a snowflake as it fluttered down.

He watched it melt into his palm, an almost childlike wonder on his face. The sight shook you from your thoughts, and, for the first time, you really looked around. Winter, in your mind, had always seemed bland—just a blur of whites and grays, cold and endless.

But standing here now, you could see the glistening world laid out before you. Snow blanketed the landscape, softening every angle, making everything look divine, untouched, as though you’d set foot into a world beyond reality.

You stepped out, your foot sinking deep into the snow. A sharp gasp escaped you at the sudden cold, and you whipped around, catching him chuckling behind you.

Embarrassment flared in your cheeks, warming them a bit as you muttered, “It’s not funny…” You turned your gaze back to the vast, shimmering landscape, hoping he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. “But… it is beautiful.” You took a few more steps, each one slightly awkward as your feet sank into the soft, powdery snow.

The crunch underfoot was strangely satisfying, each step sending a tiny thrill through you. Just as you were getting used to it, you felt something hit your back with a soft, cold thud. Whirling around, you found the General standing there, a mischievous grin plastered on his face, a snowball in hand.

“A general, starting snowball fights?” You said, raising a brow, trying to keep a straight face.

He shrugged with a smirk, as if throwing snowballs were a part of some important tactical training.

“Come now, did you think I’d let you enjoy this in peace?”

You bent down to gather some snow, forming a snowball of your own.

“In that case, General." Smiling as you took aim, “Prepare for battle!” The snowball left your hand, hurtling toward him, but he dodged it effortlessly, flashing you a playful smirk as he prepared to throw his next one.

And so began a wild, impromptu snowball fight between you and the general, each of you laughing and teasing as snow flew back and forth. In the thrill of the moment, the biting cold around you seemed distant, almost... forgotten. But there was a dangerous oversight.

You had underestimated winter’s toll on you. Between handfuls of icy snow and the chilled wind cutting across your exposed face, your body quickly began to feel the effects. Reality crashed down on you suddenly; your knees wobbled, then buckled, sending you crumpling to the ground.

“[Name]? [Name]!” His voice broke through the haze, distant and muffled, as you felt yourself slipping.

Everything grew fuzzy and dim, until all you could see was the stark white ground tinged with an alarming splash of red. He knelt before you, his voice laced with a rare edge of worry.

“[Name]?” He called again, urgency straining his usually steady tone.

His strong hands tilted your face up, but you barely registered it as the void overtook your vision.

In what felt like seconds—or perhaps hours—you blinked your eyes open, squinting against the dim light. There was a gentle weight on you, the tickle of soft hair brushing against your neck.

Groggily, you let out a faint groan, your hand sluggishly rising to push away what felt like a very heavy, unyielding presence on top of you. Whoever it was clearly had no sense of their own weight.

A low rumble vibrated against your chest as if this someone was grumbling, “Awake, are we?” His usual calmness was there, but you could hear a faint tremor of relief as he lifted his head to meet your gaze. His face softened, though his brow remained furrowed with concern. “You worried me back there.”

He lifted his head to meet your eyes, his face softening, though his brow remained knitted with concern.

“I’m sorry…” The apology left you in a near-whisper, and he made a quiet, thoughtful hum as he continued observing your features with that intense, almost unrelenting gaze.

“Perhaps this is why you’ve never seen snow?” His voice laced with a gentle tease touched by a genuine worry. “The medics said you got cold so quickly… your fingertips were already turning purple, you know. It wasn’t something to brush off.” You swallowed, cheeks warming, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“Y-Yeah... I’ve always been sensitive quite to the cold,” you admitted.

His hand rose to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your skin, warm against the lingering cold.

“But you did enjoy it, right?” He murmured.

Caught off guard, you hesitated, the warmth of his touch melting away the lingering chill that had clung to you since you’d first stepped onto the snowy planet.

You gave a small, reluctant nod.

“Of course I did..."

He chuckled, the sound low and soothing, “Good." his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before slipping down to rest on your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“Then perhaps next time, you’ll tell me if you’re cold, hm? I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you with my actions...”

⋇⊰SUNDAY⊱⋇

The halls and rooms of the Astral Express felt colder than usual. You couldn't quite pinpoint why. Maybe you were coming down with something, or maybe it was the emptiness of the train itself.

Most of the crew was out on a mission, leaving only you, the ever-adorable conductor Pom-Pom, and the Halovian from Penacony, the newest addition to the crew.

You still weren’t sure how to feel about Sunday after everything that happened on Penacony. His calm demeanor and polite words seemed genuine enough, but there was still a sliver of doubt lingering in the back of your mind. Yet, as time passed, part of you wanted to believe his sincerity.

Sniffling softly, you tapped your fingers on the table, waiting for the coffee maker to finish brewing. The silence of the Express was unnerving. You’d grown accustomed to the lively presence of the Trailblazer and March 7th, always filling the place with their laughter and chatter. Now, the quiet was heavy.

A faint sound—the flip of a page—caught your attention. You glanced over, your eyes landing on him, seated on a nearby sofa. He was engrossed in a book, his wings tucked neatly behind him. Those small, puffy wings at the side of his head caught your eye.

Halovians had three pairs of wings, you'd heard. How warm did they feel? You couldn’t help but wonder, and the thought of running your fingers through those feathers danced at the edge of your mind. Would they be soft? Would they radiate warmth? And where are his other two?

You shook your head slightly. That would be way too forward, especially since you barely knew him. It was a silly thought anyway, but the cold made your mind wander.

You tore your gaze from his wings, only to meet his calm, steady eyes watching you intently. For a moment, you froze, unsure if it was from the lingering cold or simply the intensity of his gaze.

“[Name]?”

Blinking, you scrambled to regain your composure, attempting to smile as you buried your shaking hands deeper into your pockets.

“Wha… What is it?” you asked sheepishly.

“Your coffee’s finished.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, watching you with that unflinching gaze.

Your breath caught, feeling embarrassed under his stare. You must have looked like a wierdo.

“A-Ah! Right… thank you.” You tried to play it off, reaching quickly for the mug’s handle.

But your fingers, numb from the cold, barely managed to grip it before the weight slipped from your grasp. Everything happened in a blur.

The mug began to tilt, and in a desperate attempt, you reached with your other hand to catch it, only to feel the sharp sting of its hot surface searing your palm. With a reflexive jerk, you dropped it, the mug shattering against the floor.

"Shit..." You muttered under your breath, frustration bubbling over as you crouched to survey the damage.

From the distance, a high-pitched screech shattered the silence. “[Name]!” Pom-Pom’s unmistakable voice rang through the room, their little paws on their cheeks in cartoonish shock. “What have you done??”

You turned to face the adorable conductor, their tiny body practically vibrating with indignation. “Hmph! Clean your mess this instant!” They declared, paws now firmly planted on their hips.

You swore smoke is puffing out of their ears from frustration.

“I-I’m sorry, Pom-Pom! I’ll clean it up right away!” You stammered, scurrying off to fetch a dustpan and broom.

The air felt even colder when you returned, and as you knelt to sweep up the broken shards, you couldn’t help but notice how your hands trembled uncontrollably, each movement sending shivers through your already frozen body. Your teeth chattered despite your attempts to keep them still.

Focused on the mess before you, you didn’t realize someone was standing behind you until you bumped into them. Startled, you flinched and spun around, nearly dropping the broom in your hands. There, mere centimeters away, stood he, his piercing gaze fixed on you.

“May I assist you?” The Halovian tilted his head ever so slightly. “You appear to be shaking like a deer.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, as you gripped the broom tighter in your trembling hands.

His brows knitted together, frowning.

“You’re clearly not fine. Your hands are trembling, and you’ve been shivering since earlier.” He crouched down to your level, his expression still composed but his gaze is a lot softer now.

“I said I’m fine,” you insisted, your tone firmer this time as you swept up a pile of shards, though your movements were clumsy and uneven.

His frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing as they took in your trembling form.

"Enough." Before you could react, his gloved hands gently but firmly taking the dustpan and broom from your grasp.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the pointed look he shot you silenced you immediately.

"Get some rest, [Name]." His tone was calm yet commanding, leaving no room for argument. "If you'd like, I can brew you another coffee."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The former head of the Oak Family, was kneeling on the floor to clean up a mess you had made? The thought alone was mortifying. More than that, you'd interrupted his reading—something you had tried so hard to avoid.

“I’m sorry...” You murmured, your voice barely audible as you quickly turned away and scurried down the hallway.

Once inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. The heater was on, but the cold seemed to seep through every crack and crevice, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. You tugged a blanket over your shoulders, but it did little to stop the shivers.

Moments later, a soft knock echoed through the door.

"May I come in?" His voice was smooth and quiet, like honey drizzling over a frozen lake.

You hesitated, clutching the blanket tighter.

"Y-Yeah." The door slid open, and he stepped inside, holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand.

His elegant composure hadn’t faltered even for a bit. He set the cup down on the small table by your bedside before sitting beside you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his golden gaze sweeping over you with a hint of concern.

“I’m fine,” you lied, averting your eyes. “Just... a little chilly, that’s all.”

He reached for the coffee and handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The warmth of the mug felt like a lifeline in your frozen grip.

“Drink,” he said simply, leaning back against the headboard.

You looked at him then at the steaming mug before taking a cautious sip, the heat spreading through your chest and chasing away some of the cold.

You didn’t notice him moving until you felt the weight of his coat drape over your shoulders.

“Sunday—”

“Shhh..." He instantly hushed you down.

As the coat fell more snugly around you, you caught sight of something dark behind him. Two faintly shimmering pairs of wings stretched just beyond his back, their colors deeper and more shadowed than the smaller set behind his ears. They shifted slightly before folding back.

Your eyes lingered on them longer than you intended, and his lips quirked into the faintest smirk.

“Curious?” He asked, his voice teasing yet calm.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t staring—”

“Oh? Then my eyes must be mistaken becuase you were,” he said, cutting you off again, though there was no malice in his tone.

“Oh? Then my eyes must be deceiving me, because you were,” he chuckled softly, a sound rich and melodic, like the first note of a forgotten song. "It’s fine, my dear," he murmured, though his voice faltered just slightly.

His gaze shifted momentarily, and for the briefest of moments, a shadow of vulnerability flickered across his features. His wings, darker and more imposing than usual, twitched faintly behind him, betraying his uneasiness.

But you paid no mind to his hesitation, far too enveloped in the unexpected warmth of his coat and presence. The heavy fabric wrapped around you like a cocoon, shielding you from the bitter cold that had clung to you all day.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable but instead soothing, like the calm after a storm. It was he who broke the serenity.

His voice low and steady as he spoke, “Next time, [Name], don’t shy away from me.”

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