#and hopefully I feel better in the morning

[waterlilyspad]

Breaking our Solitude (Chapter 2)

Summary: After a miracle Jayce returns to life in a dead world, it's now up to Viktor and Jayce to start over, hopefully for the better.

Going to errmm loose it your honor.

(Actually, sobbing and kicking the wall, more fluff, flashbacks, are they lovers? Worse. Post season 2, Alternate universe Jayvik)

Above Piltover, beyond rain and wind, and cityscapes of dread and horror sat a perfect patch of time and space. Quiet and chaos, dragon flies and insects flew fluttered along the patchy expanse of grass and life. Here is where Jayce kneeled, his hands now empty, two of his fingers missing entirely as they had been snapped off with the hammer from years of melding with the material. His mantel had now been passed to another and all that was left now was this. His perspective stuck staring out at the horizon now dimming into twilight. Unobscured by the staff of his hammer, he stared out in a quiet contemplation completely bathed in solitude. Existing like this didn’t feel like much, he remembered feeling something at the start of it all perhaps, dread or anger, maybe even despair but now all he felt was quiet and calm, emotions were all but a fever dream now.

After being turned into this, Viktor continued his conquest of Rune Terra bringing every life form to his perfect combine. Meanwhile Jayce spent his first hundred years adjusting to this. He was trapped in those moments before you wake up in morning. A mix of content before drifting off back into the void only to momentarily wake again, it wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t anything either. However, when Viktor returned and became increasingly present in his life, he felt himself wake just a little more than he did otherwise. He liked hearing that voice, something about Viktor’s tone was always soothing. Whatever the hell just happened earlier that day it was all just noise and a hazy memory now. The advent of Jayce looking at himself should’ve been mind-bending and yet it wasn’t. The thing that was however was Viktor’s touch. For the first time in nearly centuries Viktor’s hand laid on his shoulder, so many feelings that had been long since forgotten came back like an eruption of color, for a second purpose was given then it wasn’t. Was this sadness? He felt that empty creep in again and succumbed to it like always. His mind faded back to a dark sleep like the sun creeping down further and further till the colors in the horizon turned to night. Jayce was just that a fading twilight, a shell.

“This should be a monumental moment, conquering the golden boy of Piltover, but it’s not, I am truly sorry it has come to this Jayce, but rest knowing this will be the only place I will not touch in my new world, Farewell.” That mechanical all-encompassing voice rang through Jayce’s ears. What should’ve been a dream was instead a dark void of voices and sounds of memories, not really the sights of them. He stirred awake like usual shortly after, this time noticing the sky was hazy with shades of purples and dark blues. The sun was about to rise, it’s too early to try and think, he should just go back to sleep. But as he peered out to an unobscured horizon, he suddenly noticed Viktor sat just barely out of the corner of his eye next to him, watching the sky beside him. “The sun is about to rise and when it does all of this will never be again.” Viktor said slowly, his words never really registered in Jayce’s mind, but just because they didn’t doesn’t mean he felt they were nothing. In truth he revelled in the sound of company. “I’m giving myself the permission of forgiveness, and hope that wherever you are that you can forgive me too.” Viktor spoke softly before standing and walking in front of Jayce before kneeling. “I’m sorry for robbing you and everyone of this planet a chance to live.” Viktor said his eyes filled with sorrow, “After the sun rises a black hole will appear, it will consume all of this before collapsing into itself.” He explained as his words went into one ear and out the other.

But Jayce was only focused on one thing, those eyes, those pretty golden eyes. He wondered what reaching out would be like, now without 2 fingers, would it even feel nice? What did feeling even feel like? He couldn’t recall.  “After it does, a new world will be made, and with it perhaps new life. I'm sorry I couldn’t fix any of this, I don’t think I could if I tried.” Viktor said as tears ran down his cheeks. “We have some time before the sun rises, perhaps it’s time I tell you something I should have said sooner.” He said his hand wiping his face as he moved in closer than he ever has before. “All of these years, and centuries of nothing I realized that I respected you so highly Jayce, you were everything I wasn’t, not that I didn’t find some kind of worth in myself but that, I wanted to be where you were.” He explained as Jayce silently sat. “If you're still in there, which I hope you aren’t, I haven’t even allowed myself to touch you, paying you company after all of this was all I’d allow myself and even then, it was inherently selfish.” Viktor said as the tears came to a halt, he felt his throat tighten as he continued to explain. “Because up here beyond everything and everyone, you and I were exactly where I wanted us to be.” He said softly as Jayce watched.

Something began to register in Jayce’s mind for once, Viktor’s words slowly began to make sense, it was almost unsettling. Was this feeling? He thought to himself as Viktor scooted closer, his hand resting on Jayce's large still clasped hands manipulating them slowly to move, Jayce felt fire dance between his fingers, if his eyes could light up, they would. He felt Viktor’s cold fingers interlace with whatever fingers he had left, his arms positioned back slightly as Viktor closed in. Sitting between Jayce's legs, their fingers interlinked as he slowly rested his forehead to Jayce, the act of which blew fireworks off in Jayce’s mind. So many sensations in the matter of seconds, touch this is what touch felt like. Viktor continued, “What I’m trying to say is Jayce Talis…” Viktor spoke, his voice softening to a whisper, he swallowed the lump in his throat hesitating to speak, “I…” He choked before wincing, his face relaxing as he sighed his eyes half lidded moved to meet Jayce’s still concentrated ones, “I…I’m so selfish.” He whispered before pressing his lips to Jayce's unmoving petrified ones.

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time. 

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice. 

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs. 

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still. 

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying. 

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly. 

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur�� oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy. 

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt. 

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw��you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly. 

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair. 

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.” 

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage. 

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not. 

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles. 

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

-

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy. 

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows. 

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted. 

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do. 

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

[cozzzynook]

Dragonformers may I present Starbee?

Thunder rumbled as lighting lit up the grey sky in dangerous pattens. Rain poured down hard making each drop feel like thousands of tiny stones. Starscream gave a scowl as his large elegant wings struggled to remain the air even for a skilled flyer like himself this storm was one of the worst ones he ever saw. In the red, white and blue dragon's talons was a small fuzzy black and yellow dragon who's wing was terriblely torn and bleeding.

With a grunt Starscream twisted his lean body avoiding another strike of lighting as he headed for shelter. Quickly glancing down at the tiny shape in his talons, he let out a sigh when he saw Bee was still breathing. "Just hang on a little longer, we'll be home soon"

"Star...it h-hurts" Bee whispered his voice barely audible as the storm drowned out any voices. Wincing he shuffled his weight to look down at his wounds, while most were sallow there was one deep wound running far to close to his swollen stomach.

Suddenly a bright flash forced the pair to shut their eyes, Starscream braced himself to be hit with the lighting only to feel a second set of talons on his body. When they opened their eyes again they found themselves in a warm dry den, Starscream let out a breathy sigh when he saw Skywarp at his side.

"Thank you, Skywarp" Star turned to face his flock mate while he quickly trotted up to the nest. "But Bee needs attention now!"

The black and purple dragon reached for their stockpile of herbs quickly scouping them in his snout and trotted to the nest before handing the herbs to Starscream. "What about the hunters should me and Thundercracker finish them off?"

"Just stay on guard....hopefully the storm made them lose track of us" Starscream sighed as he began treating Bee's wounds.

Skywarp gave a nod and headed for the den's entrance ready to tear apart any human he saw stray too close their den, Meanwhile Thundercracker joined Starscream's side with fresh water and prey so Bumblebee can regain his strength.

The next morning Skywarp woke up the rough shaking of his flock mates paws. With a groan Skywarp opened a his eyes before puffing a cloud of red smoke into Thundercracker's face with a snort. "What is it? Its too early in the morning..."

"Get up lazy salamander" The blue dragon grunted as he gave a playful whack with his tail. "Its happened"

Skywarp's eyes grew wide as he bounced onto his paws and barrelled towards the dens entrance leaving behind Thundercrakcer who only rolled his eyes and slowly followed behind. Inside and in the centre of the nest was Bumblebee who was looking much better and in the fuzzy yellow dragons paws was a small sleeping hatchling.

"Aww, they look like a mini you Star" The purple dragon teased as he lean into his flock leader's side with a smile. "Don't you agree Thundercracker?"

"Mmm a little..." The blue dragon chuckled.

Starscream just rolled his eyes as he snuggled closer to his mate's side, wrapping one of his wings around Bumblebee carefully. "In my eyes, they are just perfect"

Bumblebee just softly smiled as he nuzzled both his hatchling and mate's cheek with his snout. He then turned his attention back to his hatchling pulling them closer to his fuzz to keep them warm and safe.

(Sorry if this a little short, I just wanted to add onto that little Starbee dragonformers idea)

Its not short its perfect!!!

Alsooqoddiqowj

I LOVE IT!

Thank you!!!!

Small dragon bee! Small dragon bee!!

[domm1etae]

sent to tempt me - chapter seven

chapter seven: rosary and riddles

chapter summary: Yunho’s morning prayer gets ruined by thoughts of Mingi messing with his rosary. What’s supposed to be his sacred grounding tool now feels like a joke in Mingi’s hands. As Yunho tries to stay focused, all he can think about is that playful, intense moment they shared. The whole day’s ahead and mostly the theme of their project that they will get assigned, but Mingi’s smirk and the rosary won’t leave his mind

pairing: yunho x mingi

genre: smut (not yet but there will be eventually), angst, fluff, romance, m/m, non!idol!ateez, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, drama, coming of age, collage, religion

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually) | mdni

word count: 3.3k

warnings under

collage, roommates, sub!yunho, dom!mingi, bad boy mingi and religious church good boy yunho same-sex attraction, m/m, teasing, dark themes, homophobia, self discovery, pet names, strangers to lovers, religion and religious topics, aaaand more will be added soon hehehe

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author's note: i lowkey hate the end of this chapter xddd but next chapter will be waaaay better and hopefully soon!

Yunho turned sharply toward the voice, his heart lurching into his throat.

Mingi was sprawled out on his bed like he owned the place, an air of effortless dominance radiating from him. His dark hair was tousled, messy in a way that seemed deliberate, with a few strands falling across his forehead. One arm was lazily tucked behind his head, showcasing the toned muscles of his bicep through the snug fabric of his black shirt. The shirt clung to him just enough to hint at the lean build beneath, while his other hand dangled something small and familiar, twirling it slowly between his fingers.

His rosary.

Yunho’s eyes widened as his stomach twisted into a knot. The sacred beads that had rested neatly on his bedside table were now draped casually in Mingi’s grasp, spinning like some trivial toy. The sight made Yunho’s breath hitch, and his fingers instinctively tightened into a fist.

Mingi’s long legs, clad in baggy jeans that contrasted sharply with his fitted top, were crossed at the ankles. His dark, heavy-lidded gaze locked onto Yunho’s with unsettling precision, the faintest curl of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth.

For a moment, Yunho couldn’t move. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, his mind racing with a confusing blend of irritation, unease, and something he couldn’t quite name. The sight of Mingi lounging there so nonchalantly, his presence so overwhelming, filled Yunho with a frustrating mix of emotions.

Why is he holding that? And why does he look so… Yunho swallowed hard, pushing the intrusive thought away.

The room felt too small, and yet Yunho stood rooted in place, his feet refusing to carry him forward. Mingi’s question lingered in the air like a challenge, its casual delivery somehow making it heavier.

Suddenly Jisung’s voice echoed in his head: Stand up for yourself. Don’t let him push you around.

Yunho squared his shoulders, willing his voice not to tremble. “Looks like I’m not at the dorm all the time, huh?” he replied, his tone sharper than he’d anticipated but carrying a confidence he hadn’t entirely expected.

Mingi’s expression remained unreadable for a moment, his sharp eyes studying Yunho with unnerving intensity. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into a smirk—small, almost imperceptible, but enough to make Yunho’s stomach churn uneasily.

“Our shy Christian boy is a little mouthy, isn’t he?” Mingi said, his tone low and teasing, as though he found Yunho’s defiance amusing. He twirled the rosary between his fingers, the beads catching the faint light of the room, and Yunho’s chest tightened.

The casual swing of the sacred object in Mingi’s hand sent a fresh wave of irritation through Yunho, mingling with a heat he didn’t want to acknowledge. The sight felt like a mockery, yet Yunho couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rosary—or from the way Mingi held it, as though it belonged to him.

Yunho took a step forward, his pulse racing, though his voice came out steadier than he felt. “Give that back,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the rosary in Mingi’s hand.

Mingi tilted his head, his smirk deepening as he held the beads higher, letting them dangle mockingly. “Oh?” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Come and get it, then.”

Yunho froze, his breath catching as the challenge hung in the air between them.

He hesitated, his steps faltering. The way Mingi looked at him, like he was daring him to make a move, made his skin prickle. But he wasn’t about to back down. Not now.

“Really?” Yunho muttered, irritation bubbling to the surface as he stepped closer.

Mingi chuckled, low and deep, a sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Yunho’s spine. “You want it or not?”

“Obviously, I do!” Yunho snapped, the frustration in his voice surprising even himself.

Mingi’s smirk widened, his amusement evident. “Then try harder.”

Something about Mingi’s playful tone lit a fire in Yunho. He lunged forward, his hand outstretched to grab the rosary, but Mingi was faster, pulling it back just in time.

“You’re impossible,” Yunho huffed, his frustration mounting.

“And you’re predictable,” Mingi countered, his voice dripping with amusement. He held the rosary above his head, his long fingers effortlessly keeping it out of Yunho’s reach.

The tension in the room was almost tangible as Yunho climbed onto the edge of Mingi’s bed, stretching to grab the rosary. Mingi shifted again, leaning back just enough to throw Yunho off balance.

“Careful,” Mingi teased, watching Yunho struggle.

Yunho glared at him, determined not to let Mingi have the last word. He pushed forward, trying to swipe the rosary from Mingi’s hand. The movement threw him off balance, and before he knew it, he was straddling Mingi on the bed, his knees planted on either side of Mingi’s hips.

Their faces were suddenly far too close.

Yunho froze, his breath catching as he realized the position he was in. Mingi, however, looked completely unbothered, his smirk softening into something more unreadable.

“Not so mouthy anymore, are we?” Mingi murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Yunho’s mind went blank, his pulse roaring in his ears. The way Mingi looked at him, his dark eyes searching Yunho’s face, made him feel exposed in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to Yunho’s lips for just a second before meeting his eyes again.

The moment felt like it stretched on forever.

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Yunho darted forward, snatching the rosary from Mingi’s grasp. He scrambled back to the edge of the bed, clutching the beads tightly in his hand.

Mingi sat up slowly, stretching his arms above his head as if nothing had happened. “Relax, I was just playing,” he said, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Yunho didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to steady his breathing, his knuckles white from gripping the rosary so tightly.

Mingi swung his legs off the bed, standing and leaning casually against Yunho’s desk.

Yunho stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “S-so, what did you want to talk about?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with Yunho’s attempt to regain composure. “The project, obviously.” he said, his tone dry. “We’ll have to work on this after classes. Neither of us has time to mess around, so we might as well get it done.”

“Okay,” Yunho managed, his voice small.

Mingi continued, laying out a plan. “We’ll be picking the theme tomorrow in class. After that, we should meet, probs at the library and start planning. Agreed? Or are you too busy clutching onto that rosary to focus?” He watched Yunho’s hand unconsciously tighten around the beads, a glimmer of smug satisfaction lighting up his face for a moment.

Yunho nodded, still clutching the rosary like it was a lifeline.

Mingi’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, he pushed off the desk and headed for the door.

As he reached the threshold, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk widening. “See you tomorrow, my project buddy.”

The teasing lilt in his voice made Yunho’s face burn.

Once the door clicked shut behind Mingi, Yunho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He looked down at the rosary in his hand, his fingers tracing over the familiar beads. The memory of Mingi holding it lingered in his mind, unshakable. There was something about the way Mingi had swung it, twirled it, held it between his fingers like it was something precious…

Yunho closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. This project is going to kill me, he thought, clutching the rosary tighter.

-----

Yunho woke to the soft light of dawn spilling through the blinds, the warmth of his quilt making it hard to crawl out of bed. For a few blissful seconds, his mind was blank, cushioned by the grogginess of sleep. The air was cool and quiet, offering him a sense of calm before the demands of the day.

He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. Mornings were his sanctuary—a time to ground himself, to find clarity through prayer before the world intruded.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Yunho’s bare feet met the cool floor. He reached for the rosary on his nightstand, its smooth beads a familiar comfort in his palm. Closing his fingers around it, he moved to the side of the bed, kneeling with practiced ease.

The position was second nature to him, a cornerstone of his mornings for as long as he could remember. With the rosary clasped between his hands, Yunho bowed his head until it rested lightly against his knuckles.

“Lord,” he began softly, his voice steady in the stillness. “Thank You for this new day. Please guide me to walk in Your light and resist the temptations that may come my way…”

He trailed off, his thoughts snagging on that word: temptations.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of his own breathing. Yunho tried to stay focused, to keep his mind on the prayer and the steady rhythm of the beads between his fingers. But then his eyes fluttered open, his gaze falling to the rosary in his hands.

The beads glinted softly in the morning light, their smooth surface catching his attention. He traced one with his thumb, the repetitive motion usually grounding him. Yet today, something about it felt… different.

And then, as if summoned by the devil himself, an image flashed in Yunho’s mind: Mingi holding the rosary, twirling it between his long fingers with that lazy, self-assured smirk. Yunho’s breath hitched, his thumb stilling on the bead.

Why was he thinking about that?

The memory deepened, vivid and unbidden. Mingi’s painted fingers had moved with a casual grace, like he owned the rosary, like it was just another prop in his endless arsenal of charm. His dark eyes had gleamed with something Yunho couldn’t name, and the smirk on his lips had carried a challenge Yunho didn’t know how to meet.

Yunho swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back to the rosary in his hands. It was supposed to be a symbol of his faith, a reminder of his connection to God. But right now, all he could see was the way it had looked in Mingi’s hands—how he’d held it like he had every right to touch something so sacred.

The harder Yunho tried to focus on his prayer, the more vivid the memory became. The way Mingi had lounged on the bed, completely at ease in a space that wasn’t his. The way his voice had dipped, low and teasing, as he’d called Yunho “mouthy.”

Why does he have to be so… Yunho’s thoughts stumbled, skidding dangerously close to a line he didn’t want to cross. …so annoying.

Yeah. Annoying. That’s what he meant.

But his mind refused to stop there. It dragged him further, kicking and screaming, to the way Mingi’s shirt had clung to his torso, hinting at the lean muscle beneath. The way his smirk had deepened, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Yunho froze, horror crashing over him like a wave. No. Stop. What am I even—

“Lord, forgive me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head lower as shame clawed at him. “I don’t know why I’m thinking this. Please, help me to keep my thoughts pure.”

The words felt hollow, like they couldn’t erase what had already taken root in his mind. Yunho’s grip on the rosary tightened until his knuckles turned white.

After a long moment, he exhaled shakily, loosening his hold on the beads. He couldn’t let himself get caught up in… whatever this was. He had more important things to focus on.

Rising to his feet, Yunho placed the rosary carefully back on his nightstand. He padded to the small kitchen area, relieved to find it empty. The quiet felt like a blessing, a chance to gather himself without anyone noticing the storm swirling inside him.

He grabbed a banana and a slice of bread, eating quickly and without much thought. His mind was already shifting to the day ahead—class, the project, and, inevitably, Mingi.

Yunho sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed out the door. The fresh air hit him like a reset button, clearing some of the fog from his mind.

Just focus on school, he told himself firmly. Don’t let him get to you.

But even as he walked, the memory of Mingi’s smirk lingered, stubborn and unshakable.

The lecture hall was filled with the usual hum of students packing up as the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Even though the lecture had ended, now it was time for the class to receive the much-anticipated theme assignments for the semester project.

Their professor was making her way around the room, handing out papers. She moved quickly, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stopped in front of each row, sliding the papers onto desks without a word. Yunho’s eyes were on the paper as it was placed in front of him, his hands gripping the edges lightly as if the weight of the task ahead was already sinking in.

“Now, as I mentioned last class,” the professor’s voice echoed across the room, sharp and professional, “your semester project will require you to explore a central literary theme. Each of you will dive deep into a specific work, and I expect a comprehensive analysis over the next two and a half months. Be sure to integrate historical context, authorial intent, and, of course, your own critical perspective.”

Yunho barely registered her words. He was already mentally preparing for the work ahead, thinking of the research and reading he had to do, feeling the familiar pressure of a looming deadline. He wasn’t the most excited about the project, but it was a part of the course, and it would likely affect his grade.

Mingi, on the other hand, looked entirely too relaxed, almost as though he was already bored with the assignment. He was leaning back in his chair, his eyes lazily scanning the room, but there was something in his expression—something almost predatory—that made Yunho uneasy. Mingi always had a way of making everything feel like a game, even the most serious things. Yunho glanced over at him, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Mingi was grinning, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, and Yunho felt the weirdest sensation of discomfort crawl up his spine.

After a moment, the professor stood at the front of the room, holding up a sheet of paper. She looked around, her gaze sweeping across the room before it landed on the class.

“Now,” she continued, her tone not quite as warm as before, “for each pair, I’ve assigned a theme to explore through the works of various authors. As you all know, these pairings were finalized last class, so I’m sure you’re aware of who you’ll be working with. For Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi…” She paused, her gaze landing on them for just a second, and Yunho felt the weight of her eyes. “…you will explore the theme of decadence.”

Yunho blinked, his heart momentarily skipping a beat. Decadence? His thoughts scrambled, but he couldn’t form a coherent response in time before the professor moved on. The word itself was a heavy one—so full of excess, indulgence, and moral decline. It felt wrong to even think about it, especially in the context of his project partner. He glanced over at Mingi, whose relaxed demeanor hadn't shifted. If anything, he looked pleased, as though this theme had been made for him.

Yunho’s throat tightened. "Decadence?" he muttered softly under his breath, his eyes dropping to the paper in his hands. The name "Oscar Wilde" jumped out at him in bold text. The Picture of Dorian Gray. Yunho knew the novel, of course, but it was one he had always approached with caution. Wilde’s work was brimming with themes that felt too dangerous, too controversial, too… indulgent for his taste. He wasn’t sure how he felt about spending the next two and a half months analyzing it, especially with Mingi.

The professor, clearly aware that the students needed to hear more, continued in her clipped tone, starting with Yunho and Mingi. “Specifically, the theme of decadence as illustrated in Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. Your task will be to explore how Wilde’s depiction of excess, moral decline, and the consequences of a hedonistic lifestyle defines the notion of decadence. You should focus on Wilde’s philosophy and his own life, particularly how his trials shaped his views on morality, art, and society.”

As the professor moved on, Yunho’s eyes were still glued to the paper, his mind working overtime. The words on the page seemed to blur together. Wilde’s life, his struggles with his identity, his unflinching views on art and excess—it all felt overwhelming and weirdly familiar to Yunho. But what bothered Yunho the most wasn’t the assignment itself. It was that damn pairing. He would be working with Mingi—Mingi, who thrived on chaos and indulgence, who could turn anything into a joke or a game. It made Yunho uneasy to think about how Mingi might approach the project.

Yunho glanced at Mingi again, only to find him still grinning—though now it looked more like an amused smirk than anything else. Mingi’s eyes locked with Yunho’s once more, and the smile on his face grew wider, almost predatory. It was a look Yunho had seen before—one that made him question what Mingi was really thinking.

The professor’s voice broke his thoughts as she moved to the next pair. “Please take your time and plan carefully. I expect you to meet regularly with your partner and discuss your findings. The more thorough your research, the better your project will be. I’ll see you all in two weeks for the first check-in.”

Yunho blinked, still staring at the paper in his hands. He didn’t even realize that the professor had dismissed them until Mingi’s voice reached him.

“Meet me at the library later,” Mingi murmured, his tone low and teasing, his voice laced with something that made Yunho’s stomach tighten. “I’m sure we’ll have a lot to discuss. I hope you’re not backing out or are you?”

Yunho swallowed, glancing up at Mingi, who was already standing and gathering his things. That familiar grin was still on his face, the one that always made Yunho feel like he was in the middle of some game he didn’t understand.

Yunho’s heart skipped a beat. “The library at three?”

“Perfect,” Mingi said with a grin that sent an uncomfortable shiver down Yunho’s spine. “Don’t be late. We wouldn’t want to waste any time.”

Yunho watched as Mingi walked out of the room with his usual nonchalant swagger, leaving Yunho to sit there with the weight of the assignment pressing down on him. He wasn’t sure if he was more anxious about the project or the fact that he would be spending so much time with Mingi—someone who seemed to make everything feel dangerously close to crossing some invisible line. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the paper again.

Decadence. Dorian Gray. The idea of exploring all of that with Mingi, who seemed to live in a world of excess and indulgence without batting an eye, made Yunho’s head spin. But he had no choice now. The project was set. And Mingi had already made it clear that he wasn’t backing down.

[herawell]

.

[ahhrenata]

Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.

Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.

He breathes a quiet,

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Eddie huffs a tired laugh,

‘You know I never mind.’

Because, yeah.

Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.

( another one from the poll | WIP )

[inutiliacapra]

worm and salmon woodburning :))) 🪱

eerrrm .. finally woodburning this piece... that i had sitting in my closet for 2 years... also uhhhmmm *dies* i almost died when i didnt take my meds for the last 3 days never fucking do that it was HORRIBLE but im glad to be back on them things feel better

[crabsnpersimmons]

Hi, how are you dear?

:)

awww thanks for asking

honestly

sore 😅

had a busy day at work today and it involved cleaning some stubborn marks, so now my arms are super sore 😂

but hey

i got a job done so now i'm getting paid 😍 i'm saving up for the new 8 inch Sun and Moon Youtooz figure! cuz it's so cool and i missed out on the original. can't wait 🥰

how about you? how are you doing?

[leviiackrman]

UMETAROU NOGUCHI - Demon Slayer [full colour]

more art || character page || commissions

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[capn-twitchery]

got to next dogsit house and the wifi is broke.... my joints are killing me and i'm on a sofa bed......and it is cold and i'm tired and very much not feeling it. augh. wish me luck

[elenadoeslife]

shower, sleep, survive - repeat 🤧

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

the sleepy foxgirl has given up on her job application

[petrichorium]

One thing abt me is I have a rlly specific squick that makes me feel nasty and nobody ever tags it bc it’s too nebulous 😭😭😭 and sometimes the dash gets in a mood about it and I end up wanting to cry and also punch someone esp when it’s a char i somewhat like

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

tomorrow is my first day back to work and I'm a lil nervous

I haven't been able to get anything written for here bc I've been trying to get a couple other things written (updating my Bill Cipher redemption fic and starting a Gyutaro x reader x Daki because I make poor life choices)

but I'm on light duty for a month, basically just sitting at the register checking people out, unable to do any stocking or anything bc I'm not allowed to lift anything over 15 pounds so I can't lift totes, bend much, or reach much, so I'm allowed to bring something to do in between customers... maybe I'll get some writing done? I feel as if I'll be slacking off bc that's how my brain works

but you know what, I kill myself for that store normally, I don't work full time simply because I can't afford medical insurance if I did, but even working only part time I give my all while I'm there, I'm not someone who slacks off. so if I'm healthfully and approvedly permitted to slack off and take it easy for a month, I guess I'll take it (... plus, I mean, I'll still be working, just light duty, it's not like I'll show up and get paid to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I'm still gonna be ringing out customers)

ANYWAY MY POINT IS-

get those last requests in! after I get home from work tomorrow, I'll be closing the askbox and won't open it back up till this batch is finished and I swear I mean that this time 😂

[piningpercussionist]

(ooc)

hey guys! You may have noticed some slowed posting over the past couple days and I just wanted to let yall know that it's literally only bc of the heat where I live. I'm like, regularly waking up feeling like I'm suffocating so it has Not Been Fun!

I'm hoping to either get a new fan, or if I'm lucky, a new AC unit again so that I can hopefully return to my usual obsessive tag searching and being able to think in complete, logical sentences 👍 anyway sorry w the delays

[primordial0riginator]

I did it…kind of 🧍🏻‍♀️