#and as a result there's now a bunch of support being tossed out to the writers and some fans are talking about them like they're heroes

[gh-0-stcup]

My thing is that I just do not trust a single person who was involved in the show. It just seems like a lot of PR to fix their image and foster sympathy/goodwill/interest.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 7 - ( c.s )

part six

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, smut (oral m!receiving)

a/n: part 7 bay beeeee let’s get it, they’re falling yall 😳

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @55sturn @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @rootbeerworshiper @stonermattsgf @dazednmatthews @chrisactualwife @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18

the following week and a half are a complete haze. between classes and schoolwork and hanging out with chris, it’s been a whirlwind of both pleasure and stress, but you’re not complaining about it.

it’s the most fun you’ve had with a guy in a minute, the most fun you’ve had with anyone in a minute period.

you catch yourself smiling at your phone in class when he texts you silly things throughout the day, or when he gives you a quick call to tell you something crazy. he’s always insisting that you spend the night at his, just so he can wake up with his chin nuzzled into neck and his arm wrapped around your waist.

after practices he’ll pick you up to go get food, or bring something back for you if he stops on the way home instead. you’ve also been to a few of his games since making up, which depending on the result will usually end in some type of fun new sexual escapade.

he never forgets to kiss you hello and goodbye, is constantly giving you his clothes to wear because they “look better” on you, and he even throws his arm around your shoulder in public without shame.

he’s doing the little things, and you have to admit that you really like it.

ramona and cass have caught on at this point, always shooting you sly grins when you say you’re heading out, or that you have plans. you never even mentioned chris by name in the beginning, but they knew.

and despite prior flukes, they both support you whole-heartedly and are always gushing about how different he’s acting. you try not to read into their theories too much, but sometimes you can’t help but wonder.

why would he be putting in effort on all of these extra gestures if he didn’t truly want something more?

he’s already got the sex, so what else does he need?

but one thing you still haven’t fully learned about chris is that he’s selfish. he needs and wants everything, in almost all aspects of his life aside from his romantic interests. that is, until he met you.

and now that he has you, finally, he wants it all. whenever you’re not with him, he’s thinking about you. sometimes it’s the dirtiest fantasies that he’s just waiting to fulfill, and other times it’s wondering what you had for lunch, or what you dreamed about, or what you’re up to with your friends.

when you are with him, he can’t get enough; your smell, the way your hair feels against his palm, the softness of your lips all over him. he adores when he makes you laugh, when you toss one leg around him before the two of you go to sleep, when you’re standing in the crowd supporting him in his jersey.

he even likes when you scrunch your nose in disgust at him after he hits you with yet another cheesy pickup line.

chris has no idea how to handle the intensity of his feelings, or how to identify them. unbeknownst to him, you’re feeling the exact same.

but everything is still normal as you two lounge on his bed, both enjoying the wind down after a long day. the sun is well below the horizon now and you’ve been watching hockey for the past two hours—shocker. but you can feel chris growing restless beside you, hand stroking your thigh lazily.

“alright, what’s your deal?” you ask after he huffs for the fifth time, even though you know he’s just bored.

he pauses to think about it for a moment, rolling his lips between his teeth. then his eyes go wide and a grin takes over his face as you watch an idea form in his mind.

“wanna play super smash brothers?” chris asks, and you feel your own expression light up at the suggestion.

“oh my god, seriously? i didn’t even know that game was still around.” you gush in excitement.

“lucky for you, i’ve got it on my switch.” he wiggles his eyebrows a few times before he leans over to grab the device off of his nightstand.

you stay silent while he props the screen up on top of the covers, sitting up straighter like he’s preparing for war as he hands you a controller.

though the console is a completely foreign thing to you, you used to be decent when you played on the wii several years ago. you have a feeling the skill will translate.

“are you sure you’re ready? i’m a known pro.” he warns you with a smirk as the game loads.

you shrug, deciding not to boast about your own ability just yet. better to leave it a mystery, just in case you do actually suck.

“your threats are unimpressive.”

“i’d hold the sass, princess. we haven’t even started yet. plus,” he drags the word out for effect as he stares at you with a devious look in his eye, “i have a dare for you.”

a snort escapes before you can help it. “so we’re back in middle school now?”

“c’mon, humor me.”

“alright, let me hear it.” you give in, because you are wondering what he has in store.

“every time i beat you, you have to take off a piece of clothing. and every time i lose, if i ever actually lose, i’ll do the same.” chris explains.

it’s an enticing offer. you pretend to contemplate the challenge, tapping on your chin lightly with your pointer finger as you furrow your brows.

“okay, i’ll take the bait.” you finally say.

you don’t plan on being defeated anyways. he’s underestimating you yet again, and you can also tell that he’s surprised by your answer.

but regardless, he gives you a nod of approval. “very daring, i’m impressed.”

“you'll be even more impressed when i kick your ass.” you tease with a smile, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before you refocus on the task at hand.

“sure i will, now pick your character already.” he prompts, pointing a finger at the screen.

you already know who you’re going to play as, because you used to choose the same fighter pretty much every time. so you use your controls to scroll and select quickly.

“so you’re a kirby girl.” chris notes with a grin, like it makes perfect sense.

“force of habit, i guess.” you respond as you glance down at the switch.

he just shakes his head, clicking on the default stage so that he can get the game ready to go. “that big pink fuck won’t save you now.”

“hey! don’t you dare talk about him like that, he can hear you.” you motion to the screen in offense.

this makes him chuckle, a delightful sound that you’ve come to know and love.

“yeah, yeah, whatever. are you ready?”

you square your shoulders. “prepare to die, chris sturniolo.”

the game begins a moment later, and neither of you are relaxed in his bed anymore. you’re both quite literally on the edge of your seats, fingers frantically jamming at the controllers.

you’re the first to hit him, watching his XP fade just a little bit as a result. he grunts beside you while he continues throwing aimless attacks your way, eyes narrowed in determination.

he’s next to land a big one, which knocks kirby on his ass for a solid few seconds as chris pummels your character. you’re at nearly half of your health before you escape his grasp, so you grit your teeth and keep battling.

but it’s no use. even though you knock him off of the little island, he delivers the final blow a moment later and pikachu wins the first round.

“shit!” you yell as you watch your own fighter die.

chris throws his arms up in victory, already beaming over the fact that you’ll have to be the first to start stripping. you stare at the screen incredulously before you hang your head in shame.

“i think you owe me something, baby.” he chirps happily.

your mind races, trying to find some loophole to save your dignity. then the sides of your mouth turn up just a bit. you reach down to peel your socks off and toss them to the floor, fully smirking now.

chris shakes a finger at you accusingly, though he’s smiling regardless. “that does not count, you little cheater.”

“it totally does. socks are essential to daily life.” you argue.

he licks his lips as he grips his controller once more. “fine, but you don’t have an excuse after this, and puppy eyes won’t get you out of it.”

“sure they won’t.” you reply innocently, giving him a knowing look.

the next round starts up and this time you come out swinging, sending quite a few damaging hits his way. you’re satisfied with the head start, avoiding him by jumping around on the obstacles in the arena.

every time he’s about to strike, you feel him tense up beside you, so you decide to use it to your advantage. you back up as he advances, once again steering clear of any harm.

then you switch up and go on offense again, sending pikachu up into the air with the last strike of the match.

chris groans in disappointment as you let out a brief cheer, nudging him with your shoulder suggestively.

“i think you owe me something, pretty boy.” you mock him, unable to hide how pleased you are.

he just rolls his eyes in response, reaching to grab the collar of his shirt so he can pull it over his head. you honestly weren’t fully prepared yet, and your mouth goes dry as you watch his muscles clench while he shifts to chuck it to the ground.

you can see some of the hickies you gave him scattered across his collarbones, and although you’re a little embarrassed, it’s also a bit of a turn on.

“distracted?” chris taunts.

you narrow your eyes and turn back to the switch. “never.”

the third round commences and you’re feeling far more confident now. he may have a big ego, but he’s not as good as he made himself out to be, so you’ve at least got a chance.

it’s dead even for a moment while you each go punch for punch, bringing your health down quite a bit. you’re completely zoned in until you feel his hand grip your thigh, inching higher and higher rather quickly.

it makes your stomach flip, and you’re forced to look over at him in surprise. in that moment, you know you lost, because chris removes his fingers just as quickly as they were there and goes for the final kill.

he meets your eyes after he’s secured the second win, pure amusement evident in his expression.

“who’s the cheater now, huh?” you shove him lightly, but he just laughs.

“hey, you never said touching was off limits. i was just using my resources.” chris says, clearly deciding to maintain his innocence.

“that’s total horseshit and you know it. you’re lucky i’m a good sport.”

so you tug your own sweatshirt up, throwing it toward the foot of the bed without a second thought. you’re left in your lacey red bra, though it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before anyways.

but when you glance over, there’s a hungry glint in chris’s eyes that lets you know he's just as excited as the first time. his gaze flicks down to your chest, tilting his head forward a bit so his face is closer to yours.

“jesus, that bra is fucking sexy.” his words sound more like a whine than anything else.

you can feel yourself beginning to shake ever so slightly in anticipation, trying to steady your hands by holding your controller.

“don’t say shit like that to me.” oh, but it sounds so delicious.

“i’m sorry.” chris lies breathlessly.

his lips ghost over your cheek, his teeth clamping down on that sweet spot behind your ear a moment later. you let out a small gasp, placing your hands on his warm chest to push him away.

“we’re supposed to be playing.” you remind him quietly.

everything in your body is screaming for him to pin you to the bed, to let him have his way with you, but you won’t let yourself get carried away that easily. not this time.

“damnit, i’m not going to be able to win with you looking like that right beside me.” chris complains.

“sounds like a you problem.” you brush him off and click the button to start the next round.

you can feel your hands sweating as you move kirby around the stage. you know exactly what you’re doing now, walking right into his attacks as if you’re practically begging to die.

the attention chris gave you after you lost last time was intense, and you can only imagine how it’ll go once you take off your pants too.

so, you let yourself lose. pikachu defeats kirby swiftly, and now it’s time to face the consequences.

“you suck at this.” he grins widely after your third loss, clearly content.

but you don’t say anything. you just lay back, lifting your hips up so you can wiggle your sweats down your legs. you kick them off at the foot of the mattress, enjoying the way chris’s eyes go wide as he watches you.

“you’re evil, you know?” his voice is dangerously low as you sit back up, confidence flooding through your veins.

you nod, biting down on your lip to keep yourself from smiling like a cheshire cat. “what are you gonna do about it?”

he opens his mouth like he’s going to tell you, and then changes his mind.

“nothing.”

not the answer you were expecting. you furrow your brows, completely thrown for a loop, when you get your own brilliant idea. an idea he won’t be able to resist, literally and figuratively.

“fine, then i have a game for you.” you say, trying to provoke him.

“i’m listening.” he sounds intrigued.

“let’s see how long you can go without touching me, because i bet you won’t last more than a minute. but i can do whatever i want.” your voice gets sultry at the end as you glance down at his mouth.

chris feels all of the blood rush to his dick just thinking about the dare, already turned on from seeing you in your tiny matching set. he knows he won’t be able to contain himself, but he doesn’t care.

“filthy girl.” he purrs, nodding his head yes.

you watch him situate himself against the pillows, laying so you can roll to your knees and straddle him. his eyes roam your body, lips tilted into a lopsided smile as he relishes the feeling of your silky skin on his.

your hands go to his bare shoulders, steadying yourself as you lean down to give him a brief kiss. you move to his jaw before he can get to into it, taking your time as you finally reach his neck. he spreads his hands out on the comforter, gripping it harshly to prevent himself from giving in.

your hips rock against him agonizingly slow, and you can feel his hard on as you grind your cunt into it. fingers trail down his stomach, raking at the skin lightly.

he’s choking on his breath underneath you, trying so hard not to buck into your movements even though he wants to so bad. you’re careful, leaving open-mouth kisses in new areas in the hopes of giving him more hickies.

chris’s eyes flutter closed, lips parted in bliss as a small whine escapes, and you can tell he’s just itching to truly feel you.

you move your face up so you’re right by his ear, whispering your next words without hesitation.

“come on baby, touch me. i know you want to.”

it’s your first time using the pet name with him, and you can tell by the groan he lets out that it’s enough to send him over the edge.

his hands reach to grip your ass, rocking you against him harder as he gives one side a little slap. chris tilts his head so he can capture your mouth with his for a real kiss, tongue and teeth meshing together beautifully.

when you pull away his lips are glossy and red, which you always love seeing. you shift yourself off of him so your hands can move toward his sweats, fingers dipping below the waistband just slightly as you look up at him for permission.

chris nods eagerly, biting down on his lip and squirming around for any kind of contact. you steady his hips with your hands, clicking your tongue once in distaste.

“you better be patient, or i won’t do a damn thing.” you chide.

“i’ll be good. so good.” he promises, practically pleading with you now.

the neediness ignites a fire in your stomach, so you slowly begin to work his pants and boxers down his legs. his erection bounces free, slapping against his stomach, and you feel your mouth watering just looking at it.

once you’ve officially discarded his clothes, you position yourself between his legs so that you’re eye-level with his cock. he’s already throbbing at the sight, waiting as you spit in your palm and wrap it around the base of his shaft.

chris lets out a moan as you start to move your hand up and down ever so slowly, making sure to tease as much as possible because you know how sensitive he is right now. your run your thumb over his slit, which is leaking with precum, and he trembles in your grasp.

after a moment like this, you finally bring your head down, wrapping your lips around him and swirling your tongue across his tip.

“fuckkk.” he hisses through his teeth, reaching to wrap a hand in your hair messily.

you take as much of him into your mouth as you can, using your hand on the part you can’t reach as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head slightly. your other palm rests on his thigh, steadying yourself as you suck his dick.

“feels amazing.” he praises through a whimper, involuntarily bucking into your throat now.

you can feel him pulling you by the hair, forcing you to take more of him as tears brim your eyes. you know he’s getting close just based on the way he’s beginning to shake, so you pick up your pace a bit.

“shit, baby, just like that.” chris groans, his body shuddering as you work your tongue.

he’s breathing heavy now, head thrown back with his eyes screwed shut, hair messy across his forehead. his grip on you tightens, a dead giveaway that he’s about to come.

“fuck, fuck, i’m—”

you feel him twitch in your mouth, body completely tense as his orgasm spills down your throat. his hand untangles from your hair so you can pull away to swallow, brushing stray strands from your face.

his chest rises and falls heavily as he lays there, riding out the high before he peels his eyes open to look at you through the bleariness.

“you’re incredible.” chris says as he reaches for your hand, pulling you down into bed beside him.

he presses a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch that you’re not used to, and you feel your stupid little heart melt.

“and you’re getting soft on me, mister tough guy.” you joke, poking his side like you're making a point.

“for you, i think i can live with that.”

[cartierdreamx]

MY (SECRET)ARY (18+)

hi my sweet babies! hope you’re well, i couldn’t sleep (i woke up at 2am and now it’s nearly 8), i just wanted to write so here’s a lil sum before DTF ch3!! i hope you enjoy, J <333 

Pairings: jenna ortega x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut (fingering, eating out), swearing, angst. 

Summary: you love her, but you can’t be her secret anymore. 

Words: 4k+ 

This fic is STRICTLY 18+, as it involves adult themes, minors DNI, you are responsible for your own social media intake, which includes reading entertainment which this fic falls under, so one last warning- this fic is 18+. Thank you!

~~

You imagined yourself at a whole bunch of places on a Friday night, clubbing, bar hopping, doing an assignment, but mostly, you imagined yourself laying in bed with your soft and fluffy blanket providing you comfort accompanied by sour gummy worms and whatever take out you craved that night. What you didn’t imagine, couldn’t even begin to imagine from the sheer insanity of your situation, was your tongue sliding down Jenna Ortega’s throat.

“I missed you.” Your girlfriend moaned in between kisses, and she did, with her busy work schedule and your constant load of college assignments, seeing her was a blessing these days. It wasn’t always like this though, a year ago, she would always have time for you and when she didn’t, she would make time for you, she promised that you were always going to be her number 1, no matter what. But a year ago, she wasn’t America’s number 1 IT girl with nearly 41 million followers on Instagram and a billion more views on each of her movies and TV shows, so as a result, you hold your breath to see if she kept that promise.

“Mhmhm, prove it.” You whisper seductively into her ear, knowing it would get her all worked up.

“Your wish is my command.” There was a slight mischief in her tone, you were sure your legs would have difficulty walking tomorrow.

The smaller girl moves to your neck and paints them with hickeys, making sure not to miss a spot, whilst slowly climbing on top of you and pushing you down. They was ironic, the hickeys, hickeys were a sign of being marked, that you belonged to somebody, and whilst you did belong to her, you love her with your entire being, there was doubt ruminating in your mind if she was yours, it wasn’t a cheating thing, or maybe it is, you don’t know anymore, how could you? You barely see her; it seems like you’re dating a myth. As much as you want it to be, your relationship isn’t public, in the beginning she was so excited to claim you as hers, you both wanted to wait a bit before telling the world, but just before it could happen, her new found fame got to her, so she wanted to wait some more. You understood though, and you were so happy for her, you were, and you still are her number one supporter. There was a beauty in her past her pulchritude, the same one you fell in love with, the same one the whole world fell in love with.

“Fuck, Jen, that feels so good.” Praising out as she reaches the inside of your thighs.

“Look at you, we’ve barely started yet your heat is radiating from your pussy and your slick is seeping through your panties. She snarks and she bites the side of your underwear pulling it down and taking it off with her bare teeth, the sight of her kneeling in front your bent knees whilst you laid down, your red panties hanging from her mouth like a predator waiting to eat their prey awakened some hunger in you, you tsk and took the garment from her mouth, tossing it to the floor.

Without hesitation, she dives down with her tongue and makes moves at your folds, moving her way to your clit, she could feel it pulsate as if it had a heartbeat of its own. “Jesus, y-yes, yes, keep going.” You moan.

Jenna giggles at your messes, “ououo close, but my name is Jenna.” She lets out, trying to be smart, you roll your eyes at her comment, but you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. As she continues, making every part of your pussy feel love, your moans grew, it wouldn’t be surprising if your neighbours filled a noise complaint after this. Jenna inserts two fingers into your vagina, making you buck down with a subconscious gasp leaving your mouth which only turned Jenna on even more, she knew your weak spots and she knew how to make you cum hard and fast. With every slither her fingers made, she licked alongside your folds and as she curled her fingers up, touching your g-spot, she would attack your clit, resulting in the loudest moans she had ever heard.

“That’s my good girl.” She mumbles into you.

“Jen, I-I-I.” Not being able to form a coherent sentence, she took that ability away from you every time you two had sex.

“You’re close? You want to cum? Is that what baby is trying to say?”

“Y-yes, OH GOD, yes.”

“Cum for me, y/n, cum for me, baby.”

You buckle down your hips once more, feeling a tightness in your stomach waiting to be released, you were so close, you were going to cum in a matter of seconds, “Fuck, Jenna, don’t stop, I’m close.” You somehow found a way to speak a full sentence. And with one more hook up to your g-spot and one more suck to your clit, your orgasm crashes hard. You lock your legs around your girl’s neck as she helped you ride it out, devouring all of your juices as you released it.

Once you both were done, she collapses next to you, both of you guys panting, “wow, maybe you did miss me.” You let out in between pants, making Jenna laugh, “told you, come one lets get you cleaned up and ready for bed.” She kisses you and guides you to the bathroom.

~~

As everyone starts their day, you were just waking up, the busy sounds of sonder from the city beneath your apartment slowly wakes you up, making you groan but the giggles from your wide-awake girlfriend fully woke you up, only making you groan more.

“Good morning, princess.” Jenna kisses your forehead.

“Good morning.” You mumble as your face was planted down onto your pillow. As you steady yourself up, reciprocating a forehead kiss, you admit “I’m surprise you’re still here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her eyebrow scrunches.

“Would’ve thought your actor friends would have whisked you away by now.”

“Y/n…”

“I’m just teasing, Jen,” although on the inside, you knew you meant it, you didn’t want to lie to her, but you didn’t want to risk losing this state of euphoria you guys are in, not knowing when the next time would be. “Let’s go for a walk today.” You offer up.

“I don’t know.” Jenna, sounding hesitant.

“Come on, it’s a beautiful day.” You plead.

A soft smile directs its way towards you, “okay.” Your heart warms, maybe you were starting to get her back.

As you leave your apartment lobby, you can’t help but giggle to yourself as you found yourself struggling to walk a bit, making your statement right last night. Jenna decided to dress herself in all black, down to her adidas, finding it just a bit ironic as it resembled one of Wednesday’s outfits. “Wow, a real-life Wednesday Addams.” You tease, making your eyes squint as you giggle, “oh shut up.” She exclaims, sarcastically. As the two of you take in the fresh in some more, you see a group of girls a head of you, their faces lighting up, which can only mean one thing, they noticed Jenna. “Hey, just a heads up, you have a group of teenage girls who are just about to run up to you.” You were used to this, you found it cute, you were also used to the paparazzi, luckily there wasn’t any around today, making your walk more enjoyable, there were times when the media speculated who you were to her, but everyone just brushed it off as you two weren’t doing anything a couple would do. As they bolt towards the two of you, you see a familiar face past one of their heads, making it out to be a friend from school.

Oh my God, you’re Jenna Ortega! They all squeal.

The one and only. She smiles at them. 

We are all big fans, we love your shows and movies so much, we were wondering if we could have your autograph and take pictures? We know there’s a few of us, so we understand if you can’t.

No, no, I’ll be more than happy to!

Thank you so much!!

As Jenna starts, one of the girls gathers up enough courage to say hi to you, which only drew the rest of the girls’ attention to you.

Hi! I’m so sorry, we forgot to ask your name!

Her little gesture warmed your heart.

It’s no problem! I’m y/n, I’m Jenna’s fr-.

But before you could finish the sentence, Jenna cuts you off, hearing some panic in her voice.

Secretary. Y/n is my secretary.

This claim broke your heart, she had no reason to be scared that you would out her and go public with your relationship, but the fact that she cut you off and claimed you were her secretary, and not even friend, you begin to think you were losing more of her by the second.

I’m Jenna’s secretary, you guys are so cute, I love your outfits!

Thank you! You’re really pretty by the way.

Thank you! Look, I’ll leave you guys to do this, I’m just going to head down the street and say hi to a friend.

It was nice meeting you! They all say in unison.

You guys too!

In the blink of an eye, you smile at them, ignoring Jenna, who to any ordinary person, she looked fine, happy even, but if you had looked, you would have seen the slight annoyance in her facial expressions.

As you leave them be, you see your friend still in the same spot, waiting for his coffee. “Is that Iverson I see?” Walking up to him with a huge smile, “Y/N!” He embraces you and after the whole secretary fiasco, this was exactly what you needed.

“Out getting coffee?” You try to make conversation, trying to distract yourself from the stabbing ache in your heart.

“Yeah! This isn’t my favourite spot, but the coffee is good at least.”

As Jenna finishes up her last autograph and photos, she sees the interaction and can’t control that pitiful feeling of jealousy aching her heart, funny enough, you two sharing that same pain but different causes. She didn’t know who this guy was, you never mentioned him, and seeing him hug you the way he did and seeing that childish gaze he directed at you like a child at an ice cream shop, jealousy was bound to make an appearance.

“Where’s your favourite then?”

“The coffee shop next to campus, their beans are so rich and aromatic! I have to take you there some time.”

You giggle at his expressions as he gets excited over coffee, “sure, I’ve been meaning to go there.”

All of a sudden, you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump as it caught you off guard, you whip your head around and see that it’s Jenna, done with her fan engagement. She wanted to do more than touch your shoulder, she wanted to wrap her arms around your waist, kiss you in front of him, in front of the world, she wanted him to know you were hers.

“OH! Jenna, this is Iverson, a friend from school, Iverson, this is Jenna, well, I’m sure you know who Jenna is.”

He laughs, “haha, yes I do, nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand, which Jenna accepts.

“Yeah, likewise.”

“Look, I need to get going, but you two have a good day and y/n, let me know about the coffee, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll see you around.” You smile at him as he walks off, he wanted to give you another hug but the way Jenna was leering him down, he analysed it wasn’t safe to do so.

“What’s this about coffee?”

“Just asked me to go get coffee with him.”

“Mhmhm.”

“Jenna.” You spit out, you know this tone of hers, she was jealous, even though she had no reason to be jealous, she was, you found it funny at times though, but this wasn’t one of those times.

“What? I think he’s cute, the way he looks at you is even cuter.” She tried to be playful, but you could hear the spite in her voice.

“What way?”

“Like he wants you.” She shrugs.

“Are you seriously jealous right now?”

“That depends, does he know you have a girlfriend.”

“Do they know you have a girlfriend? Or am I still your secretary.”

“It was an accident, y/n, drop it.”

“Drop it?” You were shocked at her words; how could you drop it? First, she introduces you as a secretary, not even a friend, and next she’s all jealous over your friend. You sigh, not wanting to fight her. “Okay, fine, but I’m going back home, you don’t have to come with.”

“What happened to, it’s a beautiful day.” 

“Not anymore.” And with such haste, you head towards the direction you came from placing your headphones and blasting your music at full volume, not looking at your girlfriend once, but if you did you would have seen her get a call.

Back at your apartment, you had enough time to wallow in your sorrows, she left you alone for 30 minutes and then you heard the doors unlock, using the extra key you gave her, you wanted to apologize, though nothing was your fault, it was easier than fighting, and you didn’t want to lose her completely over such a little thing; she was already slipping away, you couldn’t afford to lose her anymore than you already have.

“Hey.” You glance at her with an apologetic smile.

“Hi.” Was all that she could give you, fair enough, maybe you deserved it, but you notice her packing her things, “where you headed to?”

“Wednesday cast wants to meet up and go over season 2.”

“Oh, okay, can we talk before you go?”

She groans, making you regret your feelings of being apologetic, “not now, y/n, I’ll be back later, we can talk then.”

That later never came.

~~

You decided to wait for her because going to bed angry was never your thing, and going to bed angry at her was something you promised yourself you would never do, but as your eyes started drooping, you called it quits and went to bed. When you woke, you half expected her to be laying in bed next to you, snoring softly as you admired her beauty, but a simple stretch of your arms confirmed you were wrong. Instead, you woke up to Jenna posting a picture of her and Emma being all cuddly, with the caption of her admiration. Some part of you was jealous, why couldn’t she easily post you like that, and she knew how all of this made you feel, but she dismissed it all the time, reassuring she’s all yours and that at the end of the day, she comes home to you, but she didn’t come home last night. Most of you felt betrayed, especially when you saw the thousands of people hyping them up and shipping them together, along with her castmates.

You try calling her but straight to voicemail, you couldn’t help but leave her about 10 voicemails about calling you back and left 100 more messages, and to no surprise, she leaves you on read. During the day, you try to occupy yourself by finishing up some school work but by 6pm, you had enough, making the decision to head over to Jenna’s house.

As you pull up, you notice the array of cars in her driveway, all the pieces coming to you now, the cast had gone back to Jenna’s and stayed the night, and this so called hang out is still going on, you contemplated driving away, but it was now or never. As you knock on the door, Emma opens the door, taking you by surprise.

“Uh, can I help you.” Emma looks at you, confused.

“Is Jenna home?”

“Yeah- who are you?” Emma has no idea who you are, you’re not surprised, with you being a secret.

“Y/n?” Jenna speaks from the back, stepping up to you as Emma falls back, “what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“Now isn’t the time, y/n.”

“I see that.”

“No, no, Jen, it’s fine.” A voice from the back shouts out, it hits that the laughter had died down so they could listen to the conversation you two were having.

“Is that, is that Gwendoline Christie?”

“Sure is.” She winks at you.

“Hi, I’m so sorry for interrupting.”

“No, it’s okay, honey, this seems important, we’ll leave you guys to talk.”

“Thank you.” You flash apologetic eyes at her.

“Hey, it’s no problem, and don’t you dare feel sorry about this either.”

You took a step to the side and let everyone walk past you, who were all nice enough to smile at you and say hi before they left. Once all the cars in the driveway had left, you followed Jenna inside.

“So, what is it?”

“We need to talk.”

“About?” Her obliviousness killed you, but you couldn’t lash out on her.

“Us. About everything.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Let me start off with the fact that no one knows who I am, not as a person, but as your girlfriend, seriously Jenna we’ve been together for more than a year and not even your closest friends know?” You spat out.

“I just like to keep that life private; I don’t see the problem.” She retaliates.

“It’s a problem when you act single, do you know what it feels like to have your girlfriend be the centre of everyone’s minds? And for her to come home angry and just leaves you in the middle of a fight? And then when she says she’s going to be back later, she doesn’t come back, doesn’t call, or even leaves a message.”

“I-.” You cut her off.

“OH, and let’s talk about the post, yeah call me jealous, but I have every right to be, you know how I feel about Emma, she seems great and the friendship you two have is so cute, but when thousands of people speculate you two dating, do you know how it makes me feel? Your ACTUAL girlfriend.”

“Y/n, this life is hard, and toxic, I didn’t want to submit you to that.”

“I understand it is, but from the very beginning, I made it clear that I would never leave your side, but now, it seems like you’re the one leaving mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, it doesn’t feel like you’re my girlfriend anymore, I barely see you, you don’t text me back, HELL, JENNA, Friday night was our first date night in months.” Putting up air quotation marks when you said date. “If you can even call it that, it seems like we only see each other for sex, when YOU want to, I don’t know who is standing in front of me, but it certainly isn’t Jenna, my Jenna wouldn’t do this, you made promises you couldn’t keep. I don’t know who you are anymore, but you’re not the girl I fell in love with”

She was speechless, she didn’t know what to say, and the words that left her mouth after was definitely the wrong choice, “it doesn’t help that you’re so needy all the time, y/n, I just want to breathe, without you standing behind me with eagle eyes.” She saw the colour drain from your face; regret couldn’t set in faster. The argument got so heated, you two barely moved, the only thing that moved was your mouths.

“Needy?” You choked, adrenaline was pumping through you but now the levels were running low, so everything was hitting all at once, resulting in tears welling up.

“Y/n, no, wait, I didn’t mean that, I’m.”

Cutting her off once more, “you know what, you’re right, you don’t need me to do that, let me not be needy, let me be nothing to you.” Maybe you shouldn’t, but she wasn’t going to learn, she wasn’t going to change if you stay.”

“What?” She chokes up.

“I want to break up, Jenna, this clearly isn’t working, when you promised me, I would always be your number one, I believed you, but believing gets hard when you see a totally different thing.”

“Wait no, y/n, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I love you, we can talk this out. Please.” She begs, and it took every atom in you to reject it.

“I’m sorry, Jenna. Talking won’t do anything, I’ve tried it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” With that, you start walking to the front door, but before you could leave, one more message leaves your mouth, “you know, sometimes, I wish you hadn’t gotten the role.”

And with that, the room once filled with laughter was now filled with heartbreak, sorrows and tears.

~~

Two months later, you wish you could tell yourself that you’re doing fine, but this was a lie, yeah, you were having fun and you are so close to graduating, but a part of you was missing, Jenna was missing. During the first month, she would blow up your phone, leaving you thousands of calls and messages, sometimes she’d be drunk when she left them, but never did she once pull up to your apartment, you wouldn’t either if you were her. It took a lot to block her, but by the second month, you knew it wasn’t good for her to be so caught up like this, it was affecting her mentally, affecting you mentally, so blocking her was a sacrifice you had to make, despite there being a chance you two never talk or see each other again. Well, she to you anyway, as even though you two were over, everywhere you went, she was there, billboards, talk shows, photoshoots. Despite it all, you were still happy for her, you were still her number 1 supporter, even if it didn’t seem like it.

After pushing it back, you finally took Iverson’s coffee shop offer, so now, here you two are at the coffee shop by the campus, chatting it up, enjoying the coffee and the small bites. You were having fun and he was sweet and very patient with you, but he was able to read you like a book, and it didn’t help that a rerun of one of Jenna’s interviews was playing on the TV, he caught you staring, a soft smile painted on your lips, but mostly a smile filled with sorrows and regret.

“Jenna is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

You snap back to reality and look at him, “was, Jenna was my girlfriend.”

“Right, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“Nah, you’re not at all, it’s okay, what gave it away?”

“Well, besides the fact I caught you mesmerised by her interview playing, when I ran into you that one time and met Jenna, she kinda kept staring at me in a way, like she was possessive of you.”

“OH MY GOD, I’m so sorry she did that, she’s not like that, I swear.” Well, you aren’t too sure what she’s like anymore.

“No, no, hahah, it’s okay, I found it cute, actually it helped, because I was about to ask you out on a date.” He confesses.

“OH.”

“You still love her?”

“Was that a statement or a question, Ives?” You sigh, “I do, but it’s no use.”

“Your love is worth more than anything, y/n, we’re good friends, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“And nothing would change that?”

Looking at him all sceptical, “ah, look, Iverson, you’re great and all but I don’t think I’m ready to get back to dating just yet.”

“Huh? OHHH, NO NO.” Physically waving his hands in front of your face, “I’m just saying, if I did something that you wouldn’t technically like, we would stay friends?” He awkwardly smiles.

You, now confused as ever, stares at him, “that depends, what did you do.”

And with such speed, not missing a single beat and all in one breathe, he confesses, “okaysojennareachedouttomeandwantedtoseeyoushestilllovesyousoIkindatoldherwewouldbeheretodayandnowshe’sbythedoorwaitingformetoleavesoshecanhaveyoualone.”

By some miracle you understood everything he said, and both your jaw and heart drops, taking a quick glance behind you to see Jenna looking out the door. “YOU WHAT?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!” You shout whisper, making sure she doesn’t hear you.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but she was very persistent, and she may be barely 5ft but she’s scary sometimes.”

“Oh, you poor man, weak, but poor, poor man, get out of here before I change my mind, I’ll deal with you later.”

“LOVE YOU.” He dashes away, making sure he wasn’t going to get caught in the cross fire. This was Jenna’s cue to come up to you, and you could feel her presence getting closer. Once she was in your gaze, she musters up the courage to speak one syllable.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Jenna.”

“How are you?” Small talk.

“Good, you?”

“Could be better.” She confesses.

“Heh, yeah, me too.”

“Y/n, can we talk?”

“Jenna.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just please, hear me out?” She pleads.

“Okay.”

She sits down and stares into your soul, you can’t help but melt, you missed her so much, more than you have ever, and now she’s looking into your eyes, lost, as if you can be the only one to find her.

“I just want to say how sorry I am, for everything, for being a shitty girlfriend, for lashing out, for never showing you off to the world, God, I was so insane for keeping you a secret, look at you, you’re perfect. You’re everything I want and more, anyone is lucky to have a y/n in their life, romantic or platonic. I would say I was scared, scared about everything, about losing you so I started pushing you away, but no excuse could justify the way I treated you. I’m sorry, I love you.” Your heart raced up, broke, and mended all at once, so many feelings rushed through you, thoughts were so loud in your mind, you didn’t know what to say.

“Jenna… I, I don’t know what to say.”

“Just one more chance? Please, the world means nothing to me if you aren’t by my side.”

“I don’t know, Jen.” By now, people in the coffee shop started to notice that Jenna Ortega was in their vicinity, so they started taking pictures of you two whilst listening to your conversation.

“You don’t love me anymore?”

“No, it’s not that, I do love you, and always will, no matter what, but I just don’t think I could subject myself to that again.”

“I promise I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“You make a lot of empty promises, you know.”

“I promise- oh, y/n this time I mean it, not that I didn’t mean it last time, it was stupid of me to have broken it.”

“So stupid.”

“So stupid,” she relays back.

“Okay,” you let out in a breath, “okay, just one more chance, but you have to communicate with me, you can’t push me away like that.”

“I promise.”

You laugh, “you and your promises, Ortega.”

“You and your beauty, l/n. You are my number one, forever and always.”

“You did all this in public? In a coffee shop?”

“You should have never been a secret.” And with that, she leans in and kisses you, taking your bottom lip as you take her top, you were so sure everyone had their phones out now, taking pictures for social media.

“I also want to say I’m sorry, especially for what I.”

“Don’t apologise for that, it was a wake up call, I deserved it.”

~~

As you two arrive home, you were stuck in the same place as you were two months ago, with your tongue sliding down your girlfriend’s throat. You want to keep going but your phone in your pocket is buzzing up a storm, “you should probably check that.” Jenna giggles.

“What did you do?” You playfully smack her shoulder.

“What I should have done ages ago.”

You whisk out your phone and check Instagram, where most of your notifications came from, you see your follower count has gone up by thousands, “Jenna.”

“Keep looking.” She giggles, as you check the main culprit, you find out it was her, whilst you were driving, she had taken a bunch of your photos and videos together and posted them, clearly showing that you were more than a friend, that you are all hers again, and she is all yours. The comments were so supportive, you were filled with joy, so many fans and so many celebs including the entire Wednesday cast, especially Gwendoline hyping you both up. As you further investigate, you now see the photos fans took at the coffee shop, making you laugh, a lot of them were of you and her kissing. “Go back to my post and read the caption.” And so, you did, as your eyes glance down, you let out a soft laugh as you read it.

Not my secretary <3.

~~ 

a/n: thank you for your love and support <3 whew something about me and the smut 2 angst 2 fluff plotline. also this is my first one shot!! notes have been lacking recently so i hope you guys enjoyed this :)🫣

[thepitofjob]

Job 10: 1-7. "The Eschol."

God says we should kill and punish our enemies and then raise a glass. He is correct. We are allowing dogma to dictate the anti-qualities of our life instead of obeying the Torah and amplifying life, turning it into a masterwork of modern civilization. The very idea of allowing a bunch of baby fucking drug addicts to take over our land literally and figuratively is nauseating, and so is their strange tale about the bloodening.

Blood belongs under the skin, not on the outside as the Torah has said long and long, unless it is released from the carcass of a food animal. Otherwise, men are not allowed to engage in bloodshed.

But the attacks on October 7, 2023, waged by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints on Israeli soil have raised a question how to cleanse the world of their presence and their political supporters without violating the Torah. The answer to when to kill one's enemies depends on the situation: 

Evil If the enemy is evil, one should pray for an end to evil. 

HumanIf the enemy is human, one should defend themselves and attack first if necessary. They should also pray that no one will have to die and that their enemies will become friends. The Talmud teaches, "If someone rises to kill you, rise up to kill him first". The Rebbe explains that this is the only way for Israel to deal with enemies who want to destroy it. 

Great sinIf the enemy has committed a great sin, it may be permitted to ask for their demise. However, if the enemy has not committed a great sin, the aggrieved person should not seek retribution. Instead, they should be kind to the enemy. 

WarAccording to Parshah, a king may wage war against seven nations, Amalek, or in defense against an enemy that attacks Israel. After winning these obligatory wars, the king may wage a non-obligatory war to expand Israel's borders. 

We are not to smile on the plans of the wicked or permit persons who are ritually impure to detract from our quality of life. On the personal scale every adult even a few young men know how and when they must alter their habits in order to become ritually pure. Ritual purity does not mean you can't engage in water sports, bondage sex, or jump into the middle of the orgy, it means such things cannot spread disease, cause harm, violate vows, responsibilities, or violate Eden.

So long as the fruits of the actions result in Shabbos, the act can be considered ritually pure. If the fruits of the actions are sin, like a flaccid shameful penis, the act must be discontinued.

Once again the definition of Shabbos is:

"The root שבע (sb'; now spelled as שׂבע (sb') and pronounced with an s) means to be sated or satisfied with food. It's used literally for people who have (or don't have) enough to eat (Hosea 4:10) or drink (Amos 4:8), but also for the earth sated with rain (Proverbs 30:16), a sword drinking its fill with blood (Jeremiah 46:10). Our verb is also used for fillers other than food: Harlotry (Ezekiel 16:28), plunder (Jeremiah 50:10), an observation (Isaiah 53:10), the goodness of God's house (Psalm 65:4), sons (Psalm 17:14). And also it may denote an excess: of honey (Proverbs 25:16), tossing (Job 7:4), poverty (Proverbs 28:19), shame (Habakkuk 2:16), and the list goes on.

The derivatives of this verb are:

The masculine noun שבע (soba'), meaning satiety (Ruth 2:18, Proverbs 13:25) or abundance (Psalm 16:11).

The feminine counterpart of the previous noun שבעה (sab'a or sib'a), also meaning satiety (Isaiah 55:2, Ezekiel 16:28).

The masculine noun שבע (saba'), also meaning sated or satisfied (Genesis 35:29, 1 Samuel 2:5, Job 14:1).

The verb בוש (bosh) means to be ashamed (1 Samuel 20:30, Isaiah 29:22, Jeremiah 6:15). Another verb that means to be ashamed, namely חפר (haper II), appears to predominantly express private feelings of shame and responses thereto, whereas the verb בוש (bosh) seems to emphasize a being publicly disgraced, almost to the point where it begins to mean a being expelled or cast out. Note that where יבש (yabesh) means to become dry, חפר (hapar I) means to dig, either to cover something up (perhaps something shameful) or to search for something (perhaps for water during dryness).

It appears that to the Hebrews the act of being ashamed was based on the act of being weak or weakened, which explains the social aspect of our verb בוש (bosh), since weakness is always measured relative to something/one stronger.

It stands to reason that the Hebrews recognized dryness, weakness and shame as being kindred, and that a flaccid penis reflected these states, whereas an erect penis reflected tautness, strength and confidence. In antiquity, one's emotions were thought to be seated in the lower abdomen, whereas the penis was the seat of a man's will (JOHN 1:13).

This would, at the same time, force Israel's rather unique chastity laws to flow over into the social arena and dictate one's general attitude towards others. In other words, a man should deal with another man irrespective of both men's social or financial status and even of both men's degree of learning and wisdom.

Those are all "private" things and a man may utilize his own strength and plenty to give joy and posterity to his own household, but not to his neighbor's, so to speak. One's own blessings should not result in the humiliation of one's neighbor."

Chapter 10 of Job explains how to oppress one's faults rather than the freedoms of expression and sources of happiness of others and attain to Shabbos. The pattern follows the Seven Days, after the curriculum found in the beginning of the Torah:

10 “I loathe my very life;     therefore I will give free rein to my complaint     and speak out in the bitterness of my soul. 2 I say to God: Do not declare me guilty,     but tell me what charges you have against me. 3 Does it please you to oppress me,     to spurn the work of your hands,     while you smile on the plans of the wicked? 4 Do you have eyes of flesh?     Do you see as a mortal sees? 5 Are your days like those of a mortal     or your years like those of a strong man, 6 that you must search out my faults     and probe after my sin— 7 though you know that I am not guilty     and that no one can rescue me from your hand?

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: Therefore I will give free rein. We do not actually have free rein. The Torah is rife with dos and don'ts; we have the God-given capacity for willfulness, but no one on this planet is allowed to be completely free. We enforce rules and laws every day in order to emphasize this. When enforcement fails, as in the case of Donald Trump, his cabinet, and the Congress, et al, then none of the rules matter anywhere, not really, and this is when free rein takes over. This is also called anarchy and it is loathed by every historian.

The Number is זאֶפֶסזט‎, "you messed up."

Creation began in perfection, then we came along and started a Third World War so a bunch of degenerates can use drugs and have sex with little kids without getting punished for it. It is the burden of the modern world to return it to God as He made it, and this apparently means ending the War and enforcing the very first rule in the Torah, "do not eat of the fruit."

v. 2: Tell me the charges you have. The Number is 5176 ה‎אז‎ו‎, "the time."

During Day 2, God created the Vault, the Ephesus. According to the etymology, one must master the curriculum within each Day ten times, once for each Decree:

"Morphologically not far removed from the previous root מנן (mnn), the verb מנה (mana) means to count (Genesis 13:16, 2 Samuel 24:1, Psalm 90:12) or assign (Isaiah 53:12, Daniel 1:5) — which brings it in close vicinity of the preposition מן (min). In order to count something, it has to be distinguished from others, after all. Studies of cognates show that this verb may have also been used in the sense of to be bounteous.

Its derivatives are:

The feminine noun מנה (mana), meaning portion or part (Exodus 29:26, Nehemiah 8:10).

The masculine noun מנה (maneh), which is a unit of weight, a.k.a. the mina (Ezekiel 45:12, 1 Kings 10:17).

The masculine noun מנה (moneh), meaning time (not clock-time but as in "ten times"). This word occurs only once, in Genesis 31:7.

The feminine noun מנת (menat), meaning portion (Nehemiah 12:44, Jeremiah 13:25).

The masculine noun מנון (manon), which is a dubious word (says BDB Theological Dictionary). It occurs only in Proverbs 29:21: ". . . will in the end find him to be a מנון (manon)" and translations vary widely, from "successor" (J.P. Green) and "continuator" (Young) to "thankless one" (BDB Theological Dictionary). The King James Version translated this word curiously with "son," but so do NAS and Darby. HAW Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament translates this word with "grief" and so does NIV. JSP translates our word with "master".

= the concept of Torah Time. Time within the Torah is defined by accomplishment not the number of hours or seconds. One is expected to understand how to achieve Shabbos as early as possible in life, some of us are late bloomers, but the overarching theme is all mankind must learn how to please itself without infracting against the rest:

v. 3: Does it please you to oppress me? It must not please you to opppress me or anyone. Day Three is associated with the disappearance of the floodwaters that lifted Noach to Ararat. This does not mean God told Noach to build a massive ark and fill it with shitty animals and to float there till whenever.

The Third Day was the moment in human history when it realized it must consolidate in order to survive. We now have laws and rules and procedures that govern life on this world we are expected to adhere to them, we have agreed to do it. This means abuses of other men, plants, and animals, and places in ways that are not legal must be addressed as swift as with a falling sledge hammer.

The bullshit the people of the United States of America have been broadcasting about a man named Donald Trump, an evil drag queen if there ever was one, having "official duties" that include whatever he wants to do must be addressed before the next sundown.

The Number is 7671, ז‎וז‎א, "stir things up so they budge, they stir, they go away."

v. 4:  Do you have eyes of flesh? Do you see as a mortal sees? The Christ got Himsdlf into a little snit with the temple rabbinate after it was discovered they were selling doves within the temple of the mount.

Selling doves, celestial visions to people is not allowed. One can only sell man to himself. If there is proof of a thing, man is allowed to believe in it and define it. There is not proof of a thing then man is allowed to search for it. Otherwise, man is not allowed to subscribe to the unbelievable based upon acts of faith.

The Number is 3470, לדע‎, "you have to know."

Day Four is when we become sentient, when we grapple with what is known and uknown in a scientific way, emotionally mature way. The Christ, whom history recounts as a real person was not able to persuade mankind to graduate from the Third Day and convince man to live like a man instead of a savage.

None of the enlightened beings, gods of Israel, angels, kings, sages or priests the world has seen so far have been able to get man to accept the yoke of the Living God and change his ways.

Unless we give up all superstition about God and come into a shared understanding about His Penultimate Realities, we shall never ever exceed past the violence of the Great Flood or float to the top of our troubled world.

v. 5:  Are your days like those of a mortal or your years like those of a strong man. We are mortal, we are not that strong, we can be easily killed. The Fifth Day is the moment man no longer attains to the life of a seir, a caveman, i.e. he ‎‎‎"conveys himself past a head full of concerns", "reckons with all the horrid things he's done", and becomes a "gatekeeper on his grief."

The Number is 4174, םאזד‎ ‎, mazda, "thenceforth, understand what has happened."

from "Little thoughts or utensils that extinguish."

 pruning a vineyard and singing praises was essentially the same thing. The bridge between these "two" verbs is that it describes the same difference that exists between (1a) a natural wilderness and (1b) a tended vineyard, and (2a) a crowd howling wildly and (2b) a choir singing a crafted song.

Our verb comes with the following derivations:

The masculine noun זמיר (zamir), meaning a trimming or pruning. Note that this noun is identical to the noun זמיר (zamir), meaning song. This noun occurs only once, in the Song of Solomon 2:12, in a brilliant sentence where considerations of vegetation (flowers appearing in the land) turn to the voice of the turtledove, across our noun, which some translations translate with a pruning or trimming, while others translate it with a singing.

The feminine noun זמורה (zemora), meaning branch or shoot. But in half of the half a dozen occurrences of this word in the Bible, something supernatural or idolatrous is going on. In Numbers 13:23 our word is applied to the vine-branch and huge cluster of grapes that the spies confiscate at Eshcol; Isaiah 17:10 speaks of the twigs of a strange (god), and in Ezekiel 8:17 the men of Judah are apparently engaged in some idolatrous ritual.

The feminine noun מזמרה (mazmera), denoting a pruning knife. This word occurs only in plural (Isaiah 18:5, Micah 4:3).

The feminine noun מזמרת (mezammeret), denoting a kind of utensil of Solomon's temple. This word occurs only in plural and only as part of a little list of temple utensils. Most versions translate this word with snuffer — a little tool that extinguishes a candle or oil lamp.

v. 6: You must search out. The Number is 3666, גו‎וו, the gow, "to be in the midst of a nation."

We know God wants us to attain to His Image but it is really our image as God is formless. He is the Unseen. But we can be seen. Once we see the best out there, we know what to do with what is within us. But without instrospection on the Torah, we have no hope of seeing God at all.

Moses was not able to complete the Torah, he stopped short of the Promised Land. Joshua in the "extra portion" found it but that was a story, an illustration of what it means to leave home as a young person and return home to become old and tired like one's parents.

But society never achieved the Promised Land. Thus the rabbis that heard about a man from Nazareth, a Jew who dared to confront Rome in order to establish Shabbat wrote the Gospels so we would neither forget nor stop trying to found it.

Joshua the Nazirite means "the Savior of the Faith."

Observe:

"The verb נצר (nasar) means to watch, guard or keep. It describes the diligent endeavor of keeping something shielded from an intervening outside world and maintaining this thing's constitutional integrity. Items so kept range from vineyards to single trees and from solitary persons to entire towns. It may describe keeping a promise or covenant or edict, or an attitude of kindness or a secret or one's intentions.

The plural word נצרים (nasarim) describes men engaged in the activity the verb describes: watchmen, safe keepers, protectors. The adjective נציר (nasir) refers to the thing protected or preserved.

Noun נצר (neser) means branch or shoot and describes both a plant's most tender part and its mode of expansion or progression. This noun may actually come from a verb that means to be fresh or green, but since it describes something precious and vulnerable, it fits right into the root that describes protecting and preserving."

v. 7: Rescue me from your hand. Shabbat, Day Seven is also called nirvana, nirvikalpa samadhi, liberation in order faiths, but it is the moment one no longer struggles against the call or the wild, the aspccts of lawlessness and sin that tempt us to try to escape the consequences of our actions. Shabbat does not mean lay around and watch the dust bunnies, it means the fruits of the actions are pure, they will not cause srtife if their seeds are planted again.

Man cannot handle being so religious all the time, especially when he decides to practice it without discipline or an highly desirable end point. God has promised us heaven at the end of our days if we have decided long since to live a noble life. Happy, long lived persons who know how to love and are much loved need not trouble with religion or strain during translation into the afterbirth. The rest- strifers and troublemakers, these are a different story.

The Number is 5048, האֶפֶסדח‎‎, "the nightmare."

From Mikeitz:

Joseph is brought out of prison to interpret Pharaoh's dreams, thereby becoming viceroy over Egypt, the global superpower of the day. How did Joseph do it? And why couldn't anybody else understand the message which seems so obvious?

=

The moment other persons start to realize the Self, and stop conforming to the rules of religion, it causes great suspicion as it means institutions and organizations that depend on social control are going to be questioned. This results in profound shifts in society and consciousness, the very same which receive extensive treatment in the Mishnah. For some it means decidely good things, for others it can result in job loss, even arrest.

For the Jew, it means the end of the nightmare, three thousand years of homelessness and helplessness. The only qualm mentioned by the Most High is no one who suffers as the Jew has ever suffered must be left behind as the dream of the new world begins to take hold. This is the most sacred tenet of the faith. It is the very reason a man named Jesus, the Carpenter's Son and a Bar Mitzvah went to the Temple Mount and told the world it needed to care about itself.

Especially for the whores. Jesus said unto them, “Verily I say unto you, that the publicans and the harlots go into the Kingdom of God before you."

The afterlife is not discussed within the Jewish Library too much which is why discussions about afterlife forms are discouraged. That leaves one alternative. A topic we are becoming less familiar with every day, hence the attempt of the Christ to redirect us.

[getthebutters]

Keep Going After January: Top 10 Exercise Routine Longevity Hacks (2023)

So, you started working out on January 1. Good for you! I know a lot of people will give you shit for starting in Jan but fuck them. Start when you want to start. But let’s talk a bit about how to keep you on track past January, prevent burn out and streamline your idea of what this is supposed to be like.

When I originally wrote this guide in 2022, I was 7 months into my exercise journey. Now I’m 19 months in and these tips have helped keep me going. I’ve lost 40+lbs of fat, put on a bunch of muscle. I’m reaching my goals and have settled into this routine as a part of life. If you follow these tips it will help, I promise.

My Progress 2021-2023

 Ensure you’re comfortable

The #1 reason I hate working out is cause I get sweaty and hot. But I’ve learned how to make it a shit ton comfier, especially as a 409lb guy. Here’s the 3 biggest. Wear light clothes, even if you hate showing skin. Get some flat shoes without a ton of extra padding. Utilize an anti-chafing cream like Thick N Slide if you find your thighs rub too much.

 Check out our 2022 comfort guide for more tips: Exercise & The Fatty: Top 20 gym tips for comfort & success

 What’s your reason for doing this? Make it tangible.

Both times I’ve decided to start working out successfully, I had other things going on in my life that made working out necessary. Essentially, I needed to have more endurance and strength to accomplish another goal. This time, The Butters growth (including enjoying the benefits of that) and the desire to toss around large men in bed. I’m just being honest.

Maybe you want to feel more confident in the face of stairs, ride dick longer, give birth easier, construct your body of art, support the weight of your tigo bitties, get out of bed earlier, or even scare people slightly when you shake their hand. Whatever the reason, it’s gotta be tangible and fun. It’s gotta be something personal and actually achievable. Not only achievable but exciting every time it happens.

 Don’t make this about weight

Notice I didn’t mention weight loss in the above tip? Weight loss is slow and boring. If you’re working out right, it’s likely your weight loss will be a little delayed, but you’ll feel more functional and healthier sooner.

 Overcome gym intimidation

Even though you probably won’t recognize it immediately, a lot of your apprehension is the result of deep-seated intimidation. Most people don’t really know anything about their body or the gym – jumping in can be a lot! Unfortunately, you can’t make this easier except to admit it and coach yourself through it.

Try watching natty or not videos on YouTube. Find out how many people are on steroids or in other ways manipulating their image for profit. This will make you feel a lot better about yourself and your capabilities.

 Read More: Doing What’s Best For You Doesn’t Always Feel Good

 Recognize you’re weaker than you think but also stronger!

You’re gonna be humbled your first few times in the gym. Your form will be trash. You’re gonna be sweaty, weak, and questioning why you’re doing this. But there will also be moments where you surprise the fuck outta yourself.

 When I followed the plan given by my basic Planet Fitness trainer, I found that while I couldn’t lift very much, my muscles respond very well to stress; I got bulky and strong super quick. They call that newbie gains but it hasn’t slowed down. I was super intimidated by the gym at first, but I’ve also found that I’m very good at intuitively training myself. I’ve only ever worked with the trainer four times. But I keep making great progress and it encourages me to continue

 Avoid the urge to post on social.

Often, we get in the gym and want to post about it for an ego boost or encouragement. Unfortunately, social media is an exhausting place sometimes. This should be a personal, private experience. Record yourself, yes - That’s very good for monitoring your form and making sure you look cute. But keep the videos off social media and yourself safe from being deflated by low likes and views.

 Keep it fun

Look, what’s the point in doing anything if it isn’t fun? You’ll find me on the elliptical, smith machine, rope pull or literally anywhere else rocking the fuck out. The music, dance, and physical exertion makes it fun for me. But I also enjoy testing myself. Can I lift this, how many reps can I hit, how perfect can I keep my form, how long can I hold this? This is where I find a lot of the challenge that keeps me engaged throughout the workout. Since it’s me challenging me, and I hate being told what to do, it’s more fun. Although I can push myself too hard sometimes.

 Switch it up

The best way to keep your exercises fun and interesting is to simply change up what you’re doing. I’ve focused on cardio, weight, reps, strength, variety, push/pull, individual body parts, cables, free weights, machines, big 3 lifts. Although some might see it as disorganized, I see it as responsive to my needs of the moment.

[therainscene]

I’ve seen parallels between Virginia Creel and Lonnie pointed out a bunch of times, but have we considered a parallel between Virginia and Joyce?

Both mothers brought their sons to doctors at the Hawkins lab in an attempt to “fix” them:

Don’t worry, I’m not trying to imply anything sinister about Joyce here! She genuinely meant well -- Will was suffering and Owens was her only option. But the end result was much the same: both boys were reduced to test subjects, and ultimately did not benefit from their time at the lab.

It’s all very reminiscent of old-fashioned attitudes about homosexuality as a mental disorder in need of “fixing”. I’m sure many of the doctors and parents involved in such oppressive practices “meant well” at the time, too.

This is one of the more insidious forms that homophobia can take: not as something overtly hateful, but disguised as concern. It’s an excellent recruitment tactic for bigots: fence-sitters who don’t understand the issue but don’t feel hateful either are introduced to hate in terms that come across as reasonable and kind.

Recruitment into larger, harmful movements is a major theme in Stranger Things. Will’s possession in S2 hooked him up to the Upside Down’s hive mind; the Flayed in S3 conglomerated to form the fleshy Spider Monster; and Chrissy’s murder in S4 incited a Satanic Panic witch-hunt.

The Mind Flayer itself reflects this theme, too, being a single entity made up of what appears to be millions of tiny particles. This symbolizes the power of societal attitudes like homophobia: they’re eldritch horrors in their own right, shambling emergent properties greater than the sum of the individual brains constituting them. They can’t be reasoned with or defeated by any one person.

Being a supportive parent to an LGBT kid in the 80s (or 50s) must have been incredibly difficult in the face of such a specter; the only information they typically had access to was, itself, homophobic.

The mothers of the various queer-coded children in the show -- Virginia, Karen, and Joyce -- are excellent illustrations of how parents deal with this struggle across the spectrum, and the effect it has on their kids.

Virginia embraced the 50s hive mind and unquestioningly trusted the advice she was given by Brenner and society: that her son was broken and in need of fixing. Henry claims that she despised him, but I think he’s an unreliable narrator; it wouldn’t surprise me if Virginia genuinely wanted the best for her son. She was just concerned.

Not only did her approach completely fail to make Henry “normal”, it also made him angry. He cut her out of his life forever -- a tragically common ending to the relationships between queer children and their parents.

Karen desperately wants to be a good mother, but she trusts the 80s hive mind more than she trusts her children. She frequently assures Mike that she’s there for him if he needs to talk... but her words ring hollow, as though the person she’s really reassuring is herself.

Mike approaches her for hugs when he needs comfort, but he never opens up. I don’t think he trusts her, and I can’t say I blame him -- it’s a coin toss as to whether she’d listen and understand, or dismiss his feelings in favour of pressuring him to join the hive mind.

Mike has been left adrift with his confusion in the sea of heteronormativity and he’s at a loss as to whom he can turn for help.

Joyce ignores the 80s hive mind altogether and trusts her son to tell her what help he feels he needs from her. Will doesn’t always know the answers to those questions...

...but she actively listens and makes an effort to help him figure it out. As we saw with the Hawkins lab plot, she makes mistakes sometimes, but she’s also unwavering in her advocacy -- she took precisely zero shit from the doctors there.

Will still struggles with internalized homophobia, but he’s got the support he needs to deal with it. His line at the end of S4 -- “it’s strange, knowing now who it really was this whole time” -- warms my heart, because this is him acknowledging that the problem is with homophobic attitudes, not his identity. He’s gonna be okay.

Incidentally, this is another nail in the coffin for the idea that Will’s character arc is about being accepted: Joyce (and Jonathan) are already operating at peak acceptance! There’s nowhere else to go!

If anyone is in need of acceptance... it’s Mike.

[stopeatingwhales]

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

[legends-live-in-memories]

Do You Believe in Magic?

AYO second day in a row can you believe it? I come with more content.

Fics Masterlist

Wallynette Oneshot 3.1K words (no warnings apply) Summary: “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

without further ado:

“That’s ridiculous!” He was pacing back and forth, arms waving in the air to compliment his theatrics. “Magic shouldn’t be able to do that, it defies all logic!”

“That’s the point! Magic exists outside of logical reasoning!” The shorter girl was equally as furious, standing in place and growing redder by the minute.

“Nothing exists outside of logical reasoning! Everything can easily be explained with science.” The redhead had paused his pacing to stare down the noirette before him. He was uncaring of his volume, ignorant to how his voice echoed in the large cave. “Your Lucky Charm is nothing more than transdimensional materialisation. An already pre-existing object is broken down into subatomic particles and rearranged at your location.”

“Are you really trying to tell me how my own Lucky Charm works?” She had sounded absolutely livid at the assumption. And Dick had to agree with her. Wally was in no position to tell her how her own powers worked. Before he could interject the screaming match between his two best friends, she was going off again. “And are you really trying to tell me that somewhere in the world existed a red and black-spotted doughnut just waiting to be used? That when Antibug was around a ladybug patterned flamethrower was just lying somewhere?”

“Oh please, there are plenty of flamethrowers all over the world and they probably only appeared ladybug themed due to shifts in light refraction.” He had stopped waving his arms around and crossed them in front of his chest. He was standing in her space now, leering over her trying to be imposing. “Simple fact is magic. Isn’t. Real.”

“You can run faster than the speed of sound! If you really think it was your precious science that saved you after willingly striking yourself with lightning in hopes of tapping into a cross-dimensional ‘speed-force,’ then you’re dumber than I thought.” She had gotten even closer now, pressing a finger into his chest and pushing him back.

“Are they still at this?” Kaldur had walked up beside Dick with two soda cans, silently offering him one. His voice sounded tired, visibly annoyed at the constant bickering.

“An hour and counting,” he sighs. The sounds of their bickering slowly faded into background noise. “For today at least. But they’ve been butting heads ever since she’s joined the team. Kinda exhausting.”

Marinette, a.k.a Ladybug, had joined the team after Wonder Woman deemed Paris officially safe from any more magical mayhem. While the rest of Paris’s heroes chose to retire and preserve the rest of their teen years, Marinette did not have that option. Magical Guardian and all. The JLE welcomed her with open arms and Wonder Woman decided to introduce her to the Team. She got along great with M'gann, the two could almost always be found baking or exchanging recipes in the cave’s kitchen and they, plus Artemis, went on frequent shopping trips. Conner saw her as a little sister, which was unexpected but it probably had to do with the fact she was a whole foot shorter and he had natural instincts to protect those who looked meek. She was anything but meek but first impressions were a damning thing sometimes. Marinette was Kaldur’s biggest supporter, always ready to back him up when it came to tough Team related decisions, something born from her own experience as a leader. The two understood each other the best. She also related to Dick on the importance of secret identities and while the Team still only knows him as Robin, she was the only one who never pestered him on it, respecting the lengths he would go to for the sake of anonymity.

Wally was the only one the newest member clashed with. Magic skeptic, meet magic connoisseur. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. They almost never agreed on anything. Every time the two were left alone for more than two minutes it evolved into a screaming match. Wally was insistent on pushing all of Marinette’s buttons and she was always eager to defend herself and magic as a whole. Her rather short fuse didn’t make matters any better. It hadn’t affected missions, arguments reserved for the safety of the cave, but it was only a matter of time before that became an actual issue. He voiced as much to Kaldur who agreed with only a contemplative nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s moments like these where Kaldur hated when Robin was right. At least he was on another mission with Batman so he didn’t have to bear witness to this fiasco.

The Team was currently in Louisiana investigating the disappearance of Dr. Kent Nelson, better known as Dr. Fate, the Sorcerer Supreme. And Wally was being argumentative with Marinette while simultaneously trying to impress M'gann. It had put Artemis on edge and she kept taking jabs at him whenever an opportunity arose. And even when one didn’t.

They had just barely escaped the pit above lava, standing above the cool platform.

“Don’t worry, Megalicious,” Wally had moved to support M'gann, throwing an arm above her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “I’ve got you.”

“Enough!” Artemis had cut in between the two of them, pushing Wally away from the Martian, her frustration palpable even from where Kaldur was standing. “Your little ‘Impress Megan at all costs’ game nearly got us all barbecued.”

“When did this become my fault?”

“When you lied to that whatever it was and called yourself a true believer.”

“Wally, you don’t believe?” M'gann sounded hurt at that. Wally looked across the room, before coming to a silent conclusion.

“Fine, fine! I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie, a major load.”

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.” Marinette, who had remained silent before, finally entered the conversation, ready to defend her craft. “We just fell over five hundred feet below ground into an almost fiery death and you still don’t believe it? Was the magically appearing Tower not enough? Or the fact that our feet are not being scorched right now?”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Kaldur said his piece.

“Wally, I have studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis.” He had crouched down, rubbing the surface of the floor. “The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my water bearers.”

“Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too. Today it’s all just a bunch of tricks.”

“What I do is not a trick. Do you really think destroying the Eiffel Tower, and putting it back in place is just some trick? Or how about when an old akuma was able to control the weather and created a volcano in the middle of Paris? Were those all tricks too? Were the casualties just results of things that don’t exist?” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated as her rant went on. M'gann moved to comfort her, embracing her slightly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I never said the lives lost weren’t real! It was tragic, yeah, but that was due to real scientific explanations.”

“Science can’t bring people back from the dead.” Her voice was more subdued and sombre and her shoulders were curling into her body. The atmosphere was increasingly getting more depressing so Kaldur grabbed onto the latch, hoping that making progress into the mission would revive the Team’s energy.

He ignored Wally’s protests about heat backdrafts and came face first to a rush of frigid air.    

“Do you ever get tired of being wrong?” Artemis was rather smug as she threw a smirk over her shoulder. Kaldur just wished the rest of the mission wouldn’t be like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis was going to tear her hair out. Or probably Wally’s. Yeah, she was going to tear Wally’s hair out. It had been a week since the Dr. Fate mission and he still hasn't apologized to Marinette. His refusal to believe in magic was not only screwing up the team dynamics but it was forcing Marinette’s hand, pushing her to dig up trauma, to try and prove to him that magic is real. Artemis didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Wally believed in magic but it was and that was enough for Artemis to stand by her friend.

The two haven’t even spoken to each other since the mission and it was painfully obvious that Marinette was avoiding him. Valid, but still aggravating when it put everyone on the team on edge. Artemis wasn’t one to play peacemaker, leaving that to Kaldur and Marinette, but since this ongoing conflict involved the Parasian, and Kaldur had his hands full with a mission in Atlantis, someone had to step up and that person was her. Wonderful.  

She had tracked Wally in the medical facility, tinkering with some of the equipment and taking inventory of their supplies, a job Red Tornado routinely asks him to do. She skipped any greeting and just started plucking items out of his hands. Ignoring his protests, she kept going until his hands were empty then grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the training room and shoving him into the center ring.

“Shut up and stay,” was all she said, crossing her arms and freezing him with a glare. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his gimmicks tonight. The sound of the zetatubes announcing the Ladybug designation alerted her to Marinette’s return from Paris. Time for the next part of her plan.

“Don’t move,” she said as she turned to retrieve the other person for her plan. A firm ‘I mean it’ was tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Collecting Marinette was easier said than done. Artemis was headstrong on a good day, she will admit, but now as a woman on a mission she was down right intimidating and she knew it. Marinette took one look at her expression and bolted for the zetatube she just stepped out of. Artemis was having none of that and was able to grab the much shorter girl before she could get any further. While Artemis was mentally applauding herself she was also begrudgingly impressed with how difficult it was to hold the girl. Dragging her to the training deck was becoming more trouble than it was probably worth.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Marinette’s eyes landed on the speedster because her efforts doubled and she almost escaped Artemis’s grasp. She dropped her gracelessly on the floor and moved to block the exit before either could do anything.

“Neither of you are leaving until you work out your issues,” she was huffing from exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Whether that means punching the shit out of each other or talking it out like normal people: I don’t care. But no one leaves this room until you two stop screwing with the team dynamics.”

She left no room for arguments and turned to stand outside the exit, giving them some semblance of privacy. If they didn’t work out their issues here, Artemis’s plan B involved Connor tossing them into the far end of the coastline. Hopefully, Wally and Marinette were reasonable enough it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Oh, who was she kidding?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally stared at Artemis’s retreating figure and then at a very interesting spot on the cave wall. He felt like an asshole all week and, after his experience with the helmet of Fate, he knew he would have to be the one to mend the ever growing gap between him and Marinette. Still, he couldn’t face her yet. Every time he looked at her, or saw her hastily leave any room he was in, his mind flashed to those haunting words she had said.

Science can’t bring people back from the dead.

He knew that. He knew there were harsh limitations on what science can and can’t do. Magic shouldn’t have been any different. And he thought he understood what she had to deal with during her time in Paris but he was wrong. He was so painfully wrong that it took his body being overtaken by a mystic ‘Lord of Order’ for him to really comprehend that. He just… He just couldn’t wrap his head around someone so young being entrusted with so much power. Magic was inexplicable. It defied reason and was unpredictable so he never understood how someone as self-assured as Marinette could put her faith in something that unreliable. So he lashed out at her. Then he did it again. And again so much so that he can’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her.

He messed up and he knew it but the shame he felt in the past week was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Look,” his head snapped to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, holding herself for comfort. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t realise it was affecting the rest of the team.”

No. no no nonono.

She shouldn’t be apologizing. She had nothing to apologize for and Wally is the ass in this situation not her so why is she apologizing? He needs to fix this. Fast.

“You don’t need to apologize,” such a terrible start, Wallace. Congratulations. “I was the one who pushed your buttons and called magic a big trick.”

She had lifted her head slightly but her gaze still wasn’t focused on him, rather she was looking beyond him just above his shoulder. He took a step closer and when she hadn’t made a break for the exit, he took that as a good sign.

“Listen, Marinette,” her eyes dart to and away from him in an instant. He didn’t let that stop him though. “All those times, times when I called magic fake or belittled its legitimacy, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to wrap my head around its absurdity.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” she finally locked her gaze on him and the pain swimming in her eyes was going to burn him alive. “You still hurt me. You took everything I did, everything I’ve learned and lost and loved and called it a hoax, you called it unreal, and you doubted everything I’ve ever accomplished. I have memories I may never recover from because of magic, scars that will never heal from something you didn’t want to believe in.”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and Wally wanted to brush them away. He didn’t, but fighting the urge was herculean of him. He didn’t get the chance to respond, though, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“Did you ever realise how those arguments affected me? I used to look up to you, Kid Flash, before joining the team.” He never knew that. Why didn’t he know that? “You were always so cheerful and the media framed you as someone who believed in the impossible. That was something I needed back in Paris. Because there was nothing more impossible to me than ever getting a chance to defeat Hawkmoth.”

She was openly crying now, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red. Wally didn’t know what to say so he took a chance and opened his arms to her. A silent invitation, a quiet apology. Whatever this little spitfire needed from him. He would willingly give it.

She took the offer and crashed her face into his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her, almost crushing her to his chest.

“I needed someone who believed in the impossible to believe in me.” Her sobs were heartbreaking. Wally could only caress her on the back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “That someone was you but then you had no problem looking me in the eye and saying you don’t believe in magic. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Marinette.” He could never apologize enough. He was willing to dedicate his life making it up to her. He was silently praying to gods he also didn’t believe in that she would let him try. Before she could say anything, and he felt the hitch in her shoulders as she was taking steadying breaths to do so, he continued.

“I never knew what I—Kid Flash— meant to you. I only argued against magic so much because I didn’t want to believe that something that unpredictable was the only thing keeping someone like you safe. I heard all the stories; Wonder Woman loved to gush and brag about her mother’s successor, but I could never believe that someone could do such incredible things by magic alone. It was mind boggling.”

Wally felt more than heard the faint gasp at his confession. He pulled her off his chest, holding her a short distance by her shoulders, so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m really sorry; I don’t think I can ever tell you how sorry I am.” She needed to know how genuine he was. He may clown around a lot but he was absolutely serious in this moment. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I—,” she cut herself off, and Wally could see her growing frustrated with her own loss of words. She opened her mouth to speak again but she was interrupted.

“OH just kiss already!” Artemis’s rough voice echoed in the room and Wally’s gaze flashed to where her back was facing them by the entrance. She looked uncomfortable standing there but clearly she had an agenda she was seeing through. He didn’t pay her any more attention as he focused back on the increasingly red girl still within his grasps. The hurt that was previously in her eyes was quickly replaced with embarrassment and she couldn’t look Wally in the eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of confidence at her demeanor and hoped he wasn’t about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He bent his head slightly, casting a smirk at the small girl.

“Well, if that’s what the people want,” he pulled her closer to him then, her mousy ‘eep’ sounding adorable in response. He cupped her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up. “May I?”

She didn’t speak but her answering nod and slow closing of her eyes encouraged him to close the distance between them.

Wally’s been struck by lightning before but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of her lips on his. Her lips tasted like slowly drying tears and her favourite vanilla lip balm. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lips were slightly chapped, as were his, and their noses bumped into each other, but it was the best kiss of his life.

They broke away from the kiss but neither moved far from each other. They stayed like that for who knows how long. Staring intently at each other, committing the other’s face to memory. And as Wally stared at her tear streaked face and into her slightly red and puffy eyes, he came to a single conclusion.

He definitely believed in magic.

[thecolordemon]

Paws and Claws event: Beelzebub NSFW short story 🦁❤😈💧🔞

Beelzebub x reader/Mc

My headcanon: The brothers have the mating behavior of the animals from the paws and claws event (Lucifer -> wolf, Beelzebub -> lion etc.)

❗⚠️NSFW⚠️

two versions: male mc and female mc

Requested by: @suga-cream-chocolate

Luke's potion, that turned your beloved demon brothers into demon-animal hybrids, seemed to influence the behavior of all of them. Mammon was even more playful and didn't want to share you, Lucifer totally bloomed in his position of an alpha and Satan was even more charming then before.

Belphegor was a little bit more flirtatious and wanted you to be around him all the time and Leviathan became your second shadow and followed you around the house without hestiation. Asmodeus just wanted to cuddle all the time and was even more determinded to show the world how cute you both were together. But the biggest change of behavior affected Beelzebub.

Beelzebub was a quiet and calm nature. Normally. But you couldn't help yourself to notice that this changed. He was still quiet but since he turned he was kind of touchy. He always seemd to appear behind you and pulled you backwards to his chest. His body radiated off a lot of heat and his grip was rather strong. He placed his hands on your shoulders or your hips to keep you in place. It was like he feared that you were going to escape. Right now it was the same.

You were on cooking duty today and watched the soup bubbling on the stove. The soup conisted of meat, broth, a bunch of herbs and croutons. It truly smelled delicious and you took in a deep breath. You were sure the brothers were going to like this. You continued stirring the appetizer constantly when out of all sudden two strong hands placed themself on your hips. Surprised you looked over your shoulder only to find lilac, hungry eyes staring back at you. So close to you, Beel seemed even taller then before.

"Oh. Hello Beel. I didn't hear you coming down the stairs." He mumbled something and burried his nose in your hair. He inhaled your sweet scent and a low growl rumbled in his chest. You, however, mistook it as his usual stomach rumbling. "Yes, I know your hungry. That's why I made an extra large portion for you!" You gave him a sweet smile and leaned back against his hot and strong chest. The growling continued quietly and you were able to feel the dull vibrations which were resulting from it. "Just 10 more minutes, okay?" You looked back to the food when his nails digged deeper into the soft flesh of your hips. It felt demanding. You yelped in surprise and Beel pressed his crotch against your ass.

"But I can't wait anymore..."

His voice was a low growl and he started to nibble on your neck. It send shivers down your spine when you could feel his sharp teeth grazing over your sensitive skin and it was hard to concentrate on the food. What was happening right now??

"B-Beel? W-what are you doing?" you whispered and tilted your head a little bit to the side to give him more access. It just felt so good ... "I feel some different kind of hunger..." he breathed with a husky voice and his hands continued to travel upwards.

*continue reading here if you indentify yourself as a female reader, if you identify as a male then you can scroll down to the male part below this one*

One hand held you in place by your hips but the other one glided upwards and slid underneath the shirt from your uniform. You could feel Beelzebub smiling predatorily when his hand found your left breast and he noticed that you weren't wearing a bra. You watched his big hand moving underneath your shirt as he massaged you and you couldn't stop your nipples from getting hard. His hand felt hot and strong against your soft skin and he started twisting your nipple in all the right ways. You bit your lip to hold back a moan and felt your breath getting faster.

"Beel--I have things to do-what has gotten into you?" He bit your neck and his rough tongue traced over your sensitive spot. "I don't know-" he answered in a deep voice. "I just know that I need you- It's such a pain to see you all the time and not being able to do anything. Everything feels hot when I see you-"

His hips bucked forward against your ass and you had to support yourself next to the stove to not lose your balance. You gasped and now you were pressed between him and the stove. His other hand traveled up too and found your other breast. He pinched both your nipples and pulled at them softly. While doing this he didn't stop to rub his growing erection against your ass.

It nearly took your breath away and the hot steam of the soup wavered right into your face. Your body started getting all hot and ready and Beel sucked on your throat very harshly. His breath came in jagged gasps and you could feel his throbbing erection through his pants. "-what if someone comes in and sees us?-" Your panties were getting damp and you just wished for him to fuck you right here and there.

"I don't care-" he growled and rubbed his clothed length against your ass cheeks. "You're mine-let them see-" That was so different from the Beel you knew. But you liked it. You loved it! Your head fell forward and exposed your neck to him as you moaned. Your nipples were all hard and rosy from his skills and you spread your legs a bit. "Please Beel--undress me-I'm sweating, everything feels hot--"

He didn't hestiate and ripped your skirt in a half. Carelessly he tossed it on the ground and his fingers interwined with the thin fabric of your slip. He took a step back so that he had a good look at your behind and kneeled down. Slowly he started to slide your panties down. Your were still grabbing into the hard material of the kitchenette and bit your lip as you watched him over your shoulder. His eyes were clouded with desire and lust as he slid your panties down your legs. Your juices covered the thin fabric and made it see through. Sticky stripes connected your quivering, wet pussy with your soaked panties.

Beel's eyes went wide and he licked his lips hungrily. You could feel his hot breath tickling over your exposed sex and bit back another moan. The demon of gluttony couldn't hold back anymore considering the banquet right in front of his eyes. Without hestiation he pulled your legs apart and his big, hot tongue swiped over your folds and between them. He groaned satisfied by your taste and started devouring your pussy. Your knuckles turned white because your grip got stronger and it was impossible to stay quiet. His tongue worshipped your clit and the long, greedy swipes made you crazy. Your legs trembled and it was not easy to stay balanced. "Fuck--Beel-" you breathed.

Beelzebub grabbed your ass and squeezed it thightly before his tongue swept over your overflowing entrance and then plunged right into you. The wet, long muscle worked its way deep inside of you and massaged your tightening walls like a professional. His tongue touched all the right spots and twirled and twisted deep inside you. It made you a moaning mess and you had to push your lap back into his face. You wanted more, you craved more! Beel fucked you with his tongue and you couldn't stop yourself from leaking heavily all over his tongue. You coated him with your tasty fluids and moaned his name. He let go of you and withdrew his tongue with a slurping sound before he got up on his feet again. You whined desperately. "Beel--don't stop--"

The next thing you felt were how his thick tip pressed against your wet entrance. His tip was already soaked in precum and smeared his and your juices. Beels hands found your hips again and he watched closely how his tip slid over and between your wet folds. He growled darkly and marked you with his claws. "Bend over the counter-"

You did so without thinking about it. He stepped between your legs and just his tip entered you. It was already so big that it stretched your entrance deliciously. You breath came in shaky, needy cries and you couldn't wait for more. Then, without a warning, he pushed himself into you. His tick cock stretched you in all the right ways and it stung from the pain but when the pain mingled with the pleasure you couldn't care less. Beel let out a raspy moan and started moving right away. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen and it was soon drowned out by his loud moans. You didn't expect him to be so loud and vocal but he was. Your name left his lips like a spell and his thrusts grew stronger and deeper with each motion.

You couldn't even talk because he picked up such a fast pace. Your words would be a stuttering mess. Beel growled close to your ear and it send goose bumps all over your body. You both were sweating and his claws would cause bruises all over your hips and ass. His big tip swept right over your g-spot with every thrust and your walls clenched with anticipation. He fucked you senseless, you couldn't even think straight. Beel moaned when he felt your walls clenching around him and he bit down in your neck. It didn't hurt it just drew more pleasure and shaky moans and cries from you. He marked you as his territory and his thrusts became sloppier and more irregular which meant that he was just as close as you.

"Mc--I'm--coming--"

"--me too--"

He moaned and his thrusts grew stronger and faster one last time before his movements halted, his grip tightend and then he came in long, hot spurts deep inside your quivering pussy as you both reached your release. You couldn't even stop yourself from squirting a little bit when he burried his length so deep inside of you. It drenched his dick and the tiles beneath you.

You and Beelzebub breathed heavily as both came down from your high. Your mind was clouded with dizzy desire from the afterglow but one thought still crossed your mind.

'His behavior definitely changed into the mating behavior from a lion-' You also wondered if this was the case with all of his brothers. But Beel pulled you out of your thoughts. With one swift motion he pulled his length out of you and grabbed you, before he sat you down on the counter. He started cleaning off all the fluids that spurted out from your throbbing pussy and gave you a greedy look.

"I'm not done yet."

*male mc version*

One hand held you in place by your hips but the other one glided upwards and slid underneath the shirt from your uniform. You could feel Beelzebub smiling predatorily when his hand found your left nipple and he started twisting and pinching it right away. You watched his big hand moving underneath your shirt as he massaged you and you couldn't stop your nipples from getting hard. His hand felt hot and strong against your soft skin and he started toying your nipple in all the right ways. You bit your lip to hold back a moan and felt your breath getting faster.

"Beel--I have things to do-what has gotten into you?" He bit your neck and his rough tongue traced over your sensitive spot. "I don't know-" he answered in a deep voice. "I just know that I need you- It's such a pain to see you all the time and not being able to do anything. Everything feels hot when I see you-"

His hips bucked forward against your ass and you had to support yourself next to the stove to not lose your balance. You gasped and now you were pressed between him and the stove. His other hand traveled up too and found your other nipple. He pinched both your nipples and pulled at them softly. While doing this he didn't stop to rub his growing erection against your ass. This didn't leave you uneffected too.

It nearly took your breath away and the hot steam of the soup wavered right into your face. Your body started getting all hot and ready and Beel sucked on your throat very harshly. His breath came in jagged gasps and you could feel his throbbing erection through his pants. "-what if someone comes in and sees us?-" Your own dick was getting hard too and a visible tent built into your pants. Your mind was a rollercoaster. 'Fuck me-please fuck--right here and there-'

"I don't care if they see us-" he growled and rubbed his clothed length against your ass cheeks. "You're mine-let them see-" That was so different from the Beel you knew. But you liked it. You loved it! Your head fell forward and exposed your neck to him as you moaned. Your nipples were all hard and rosy from his skills and you spread your legs a bit. "Please Beel--undress me-I'm sweating, everything feels hot--"

He didn't hestiate and ripped your pants in a half. Carelessly he tossed them on the ground and his fingers interwined with the thin fabric of your boxershorts. He took a step back so that he had a good look at your behind and kneeled down. Slowly he started to slide your boxershorts down. Your were still grabbing into the hard material of the kitchenette and bit your lip as you watched him over your shoulder. His eyes were clouded with desire and lust as he slid your boxers down your legs. Then he turned you around that you had to face him. Your own tip was already leanking with some precum and it made you blush.

Beel's eyes went wide and he licked his lips hungrily. You could feel his hot breath tickling over your erection and bit back another moan. The demon of gluttony couldn't hold back anymore considering the banquet right in front of his eyes. Without hestiation he pulled you closer and his tongue travelled from the root over the underside of the shaft and up to your glistening tip. A deep moan emerged from his throat and he gave you a hungry look. Your dick twitched with anticipation. What a nice view...

Beelzebub groaned satisfied by your taste and started devouring your length. He sucked you in without and problems and soon your tip hit his throat. Your knuckles turned white because your grip got stronger and it was impossible to stay quiet. His tongue worshipped your dick and the long, greedy swipes and twists of his tongue made you crazy. Your legs trembled and it was not easy to stay balanced. "Fuck--Beel-" you breathed. It was so hard not to cum already.

Beelzebub grabbed your ass and squeezed it thightly before his tongue swept over your swollen tip and then he took you into his warm, wet mouth again. The wet, long muscle worked its magic and massaged your twitching dick like a professional. His tongue touched all the right spots and twirled and twisted all over your whole length. It made you a moaning mess and you had to push you hips forward and deeper into his mouth. You wanted more, you craved more! Beel massaged you with his tongue and you couldn't stop the drops of precum which he milked from you so easily. You coated his tongue with your tasty fluids and moaned his name. He let go of you and your hardened length popped out of his mouth with a slurping sound before he got up on his feet again. You whined desperately. "Beel--don't stop--"

He turned you around, so that you were facing the wall and stove again. The next thing you felt was how his thick tip pressed against your entrance. His tip was already soaked in precum and smeared it all over your tight hole. Beels hands found your hips again and he watched closely how his tip slid over your entrance again and again. He licked over the fingers of his right hand and coated them in sticky saliva. Firstly he pushed one finger inside your thight butthole then a second finger followed. He stretched and prepared you. In the end he used three fingers and curled them deep inside of you. It caused you to moan up loudly. He growled darkly and marked you with his claws. "Bend over the counter-"

You did so without thinking about it. He stepped between your legs and just his tip entered you. It was already so big that it stretched your entrance deliciously. You breath came in shaky, needy cries and you couldn't wait for more. Then, without a warning, he pushed himself into you. His tick cock stretched you in all the right ways and it stung from the pain but when the pain mingled with the pleasure you couldn't care less. Beel let out a raspy moan and started moving right away. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the kitchen and it was soon drowned out by his loud moans. You didn't expect him to be so loud and vocal but he was. Your name left his lips like a spell and his thrusts grew stronger and deeper with each motion.

You couldn't even talk because he picked up such a fast pace. Your words would be a stuttering mess. Beel growled close to your ear and it send goose bumps all over your body. You both were sweating and his claws would cause bruises all over your hips and ass. His big tip swept right over your prostate and with every thrust and your walls clenched with anticipation. He fucked you senseless, you couldn't even think straight. Beel moaned when he felt your walls clenching around him and he bit down in your neck. It didn't hurt it just drew more pleasure and shaky moans and cries from you. He marked you as his territory and his thrusts became sloppier and more irregular which meant that he was just as close as you. Your own dick throbbed with excitement and your tip was reddened because of the pleasure.

"Mc--I'm--coming--"

"--me too--"

He moaned and his thrusts grew stronger and faster one last time before his movements halted, his grip tightend and then he came in long, hot spurts deep inside of you as you both reached your release. You screamed his name and came hard. Your dick twitched violently and painted the whole counter with thick white stripes of cum. It even drenched the tiles beneath you when your orgasm became weaker and the cum dribbled down from your tip.

You and Beelzebub breathed heavily as both came down from your high. Your mind was clouded with dizzy desire from the afterglow but one thought still crossed your mind.

'His behavior definitely changed into the mating behavior from a lion-" You also wondered if this was the case with all of his brothers. But Beel pulled you out of your thoughts. With one swift motion he pulled his length out of you and grabbed you, before he sat you down on the counter. He started cleaning off all the fluids that spurted out from your throbbing cock and gave you a greedy look.

"I'm not done yet."

(By the way this was my first time writing male x male. I would be very grateful for some feedback because I would like to know if I could do something better of I described something wrong.❤)

[kim-seungmine]

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.  

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.  

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation?  I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!” 

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

[strawberrysoup]

Pocketful of Posies || Chapter 5

You’d been hiding for years and years now; from your family, from society, from alphas and packs. Suppressants were dangerous but effective and necessary for an omega who refused to be owned—but no suppressants were strong enough to fool the nose of a super soldier, who together with his pack would stop at nothing to bind you to them forever.

pairings: dark!Avengers x reader

word length: 4.7k

chapters: 5/?

warnings: A/B/O dynamics, power imbalances, noncon and dubcon sexual situations, loss of autonomy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat — this is a dark!fic, read at your own risk. more detailed content warnings are included at the end of the chapter to avoid spoilers, click through the read more, CTRL + F “content warnings”. 

Rationality within Carol’s pack was often treated like a talking stick; only one person could have and use it at a time, and stealing it required either brute force or a clever trick—which was why she and Loki fumbled it back and forth so often. Sam seemed to have snatched it for a moment, until their omega’s sharp tongue made him fumble. She was cutting and brutal, as wild as she’d looked the first time Carol saw her: covered in mud and blood, half soaked from the bath and thrashing violently while Thor and Peter tried to gently get her in the tub.

The blonde figured it was time to regain the upper hand over their omega and came to stand at the top of the stairs, eyes locking on Sam from behind. He was turning the corner from patience to frustration, their little omega’s demeaning comments making the muscle in his jaw clench. It was impressive though; any of the other alpha’s in the house (plus herself and maybe minus Peter) would’ve had her nose in the corner by now, bent over to hold her own ankles and struggling for balance so that her forehead didn’t press against the wall lest she earn herself a spanking for being sulky.

“Alright Sammy, tag out,” Carol made sure that there was an undertone of mirth in her voice, hoping to bring the other alpha out of his anger. “You should probably go check on dinner and—Bruce, test results?”

“Oh, you’re right,” the beta nodded, immediately headed for the stairs. “Her hormone analysis should be ready at the least.”

The moment her eyes landed on the little omega on the bed, Carol felt her heart melt just a bit. Despite the vitriol she’d been spitting just moments before, the precious thing looked like an angel sprawled out in their den. All she wore was one of Thor’s t-shirts, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs and perfuming her scentless skin with his musk—she couldn’t wait until the suppressants were out of their omega’s system, Carol desperately wanted to know what she smelled like.

“Sammy?” The blonde prompted when the male alpha didn’t move, leading him to sigh.

“Yeah babe,” he leaned over and pressed a kiss against the omega’s forehead, ignoring how she shrunk back into the pillows behind her. “I’m out. Take care of her, beautiful.”

Sam stopped to press a kiss against Carol’s cheek on his way down the stairs, gesturing for Tony to follow. The genius rolled his eyes and huffed but followed nonetheless, only after tossing a wink at the scowling omega huddled in what would hopefully soon be a nest. Carol waited until they were both down before returning her attention to the younger woman, stomach filling with butterflies.

Carol had wanted an omega since she presented as an alpha at twelve. 90% of the people she interacted with thought she was such a waste—a female alpha? Objectively, a useless combination. Female alphas were weak and passive, certainly not strong enough to lead a pack or produce strong alpha babies. If only she’d been a delta or a beta, she could’ve at least carried children. She’d always been fully aware that society’s perspective was incredibly flawed; she was as dominant as any male, just as potent and just as strong. Stronger even—more recently by unimaginable levels.

But omegas rarely looked negatively upon female alphas. Omegas preened and clamored for the attention female alphas provided, they saw it as more tender and careful. Carol didn’t know if she exactly agreed with that either, but at least an omega would never look at her and consider her a very pretty waste.

Or so the blonde had thought, right up until making eye contact with the sweet-faced omega her pack had managed to stumble upon. She certainly didn’t look pleased, her glare verging on incendiary.

“You sure are feisty,” she felt her lips quirking at the corners, especially when the omega seemed to puff up like an angry kitten. “What you said to Sam wasn’t very nice. You gonna hiss at me too?”

The answer was a resounding yes, the cute, clicking cub growl she made only reinforcing Carol’s gut instinct that the little omega was perfect. She liked that fire, it wasn’t disrespectful—it demanded respect and the blonde could certainly understand that sort of attitude. Considering her omega’s evident disdain for modern presentation centered care, it could even be considered mild.

“Claws away, baby,” she ordered, tone amused and the smile still curling her lips as she toed her shoes off at the edge of the bed. “Be a good girl for me now.”

Carol pressed the omega flat to the bed before she could fight, plastering herself against the half-naked woman and burying her face in the crook of her neck. Scenting deeply made the blonde’s eyes roll back in her head—the faint scent of panicking omega wafted off her skin, only noticeable at such a distance. Thank God the Hulk picked it up, the alpha’s senses so incredibly strong that even while masked by Bruce’s beta he had picked up the faint whiff of omega; if Bruce hadn’t prompted Steve to scent carefully they might not’ve found her. Carol hadn’t been the only one in the pack desperate for an omega.

Thor had been… devastated to learn of the lack of omegas on Earth. With the destruction of Asgard and the remaining population’s relocation, it had been another gut punch to the alpha prime who’s people had already endured so much. He’d spoken at length about how omega Aesir were different than humans’ and the tone of longing and sadness in the prime had radiated through their entire pack.

The deltas, Bucky, Tony and Loki had all realized years ago how sorely their dynamic suffered without an omega. A delta’s overwhelming physiological drive was to provide support and comfort to pack members, their intuition let them see their packmates in a way the other presentation’s couldn’t replicate. Their pack’s deltas were all incredibly intuitive, beyond the norm, and without an omega to properly direct them they got manipulative. It was rarely antagonistic or cruel and if there had only been one delta in the pack, it would’ve slid by without notice—but deltas perceived the deception where others didn’t and it usually led to dissent amongst the three.

And while Steve had never said a word, Carol knew that as a sickly little beta he’d dreamt of being ‘strong enough to deserve an omega’. Bucky had mentioned it briefly—as had Tony, who’d heard it from his father at least biweekly. Steve loved omegas; he loved that they balanced an incredible strength with equal fragility. The very nature of them spoke to his inner artist, ‘his inner romantic,’ Bucky had teased. Now that he was a big ass alpha prime? He could deserve an omega now, he was strong enough now.

Their omega was practically a miracle, considering how few of them there were—so few adults, especially. Some claimed the overall population of omegas was going up despite the overwhelming evidence of the opposite and besides, the number of omegas born every year didn’t matter when you had packmates approaching their mid-forties. Tony, Bruce, and Clint were getting up there, as everyone liked to tease. Finding a reasonably aged omega that was also unclaimed? They’d never even considered the possibility, it was unfathomable.

Carol had consoled herself with the knowledge that her pack loved her deeply, found no fault in her gender or presentation. She knew it would take time, but soon her omega would realize the same. There was nothing wrong with her, she didn’t need to hide or put on a façade; not in their pack, not under their protection. Whatever the omega had gone through in her life must’ve been traumatizing, the blonde could only assume some sort of abuse, and it would be tough to instill confidence in her. They’d need to build her back up from scratch.

“You know, if you’d let Wanda search your mind, we’d have a much easier time understanding what’s going on,” the blonde murmured into the omega’s neck, nose brushing back and forth over her left scent gland. “Will you tell me why you’re so scared? Are you afraid of alphas or of packs? Or deltas?”

“I’m afraid of being trapped forever by a bunch of fucking rapists and kidnappers!” She spat furiously in response, struggling futilely under Carol’s careful grasp. “Get your fucking face out of my neck!”

“Packs it is then,” Carol sighed, lifting her head but keeping the woman pinned beneath her.

“You’re so shifty ‘mega, calm down. There are some horrible people out there, we know that better than anyone, and I’m sorry that you were hurt. I’m sorry you had to go through whatever it was.”

The omega froze, muscles pulling so tightly that she started to shiver. Her lips pursed, jaw clenching and her eyes got dim, lashes fluttering as she looked into the distance over Carol’s shoulder. It was a dead-eyed stare, one the blonde had seen before. Her baby was half trapped in a memory, tightly clenched hands clawing at Carol’s shirt and trying to force her body away.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry, come back—” Carol cooed into the omega’s ear, holding her tighter as she struggled. “You’re with me baby, you’re safe. Breathe with me, come back to me.”

“Would you fucking get off!” The omega choked, sounding both parts desolate and frustrated. “Why don’t you people fucking listen? Am I speaking gibberish?”

“I’m sorry you’re so angry omega,” the blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, sadness permeating her expression as she lowered her head to rest her forehead against the omega’s. “I’m sorry, I can’t get off—you need the pheromones, the alpha contact chemicals. Even if you’re traumatized, once the suppressants you’re on start to wear off you’re going to have to submit. We need to start practicing now so you can get comfortable with it, before it’s critical for your health.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry, you’re not sorry! If you were, you would’ve let me go. You wouldn’t be holding me here! I don’t need or want your help, I don’t want to be in a pack!”

“I hear you, baby, I promise I understand what you’re saying,” Carol carefully pinned one of the flailing omega’s arms down with her knee, reaching up to stroke the woman’s face. “You don’t want to be here, you don’t want to have a pack, I’m sure you don’t want to be bonded to us. But you’re on so many suppressants baby, there are so many mind-altering chemicals in the shit you were taking—”

“If you force me to stop taking them I’ll only be under the ‘mind-altering’ chemicals produced by the other presentations and—and this stupid collar forcing my body to produce addictive chemicals at a rapid rate,” she argued, “you want to argue that I’m out of my mind like I can’t be trusted with my own safety! I’m fully conscious, I’m not stupid, I’m an adult for fuck’s sake. The only thing that’s going to fuck up my personal agency is you!”

“We’ll know for sure when Bruce gets your test results back,” Carol sighed realizing how unlikely it would be for her to get through to the omega. “Tony’s having some equipment dropped by in the morning so he and Bruce can run some more. If your hormone levels aren’t entirely trashed, we’ll revisit this conversation.”

“You have to let me take my suppressants tonight then,” the omega pushed against the blonde again, grunting with effort and irritation when she didn’t move at all. “Otherwise the test results from today won’t match the ones tomorrow, missing a dose will entirely trash my hormone levels! The tests won’t provide an accurate reading!”

Carol was shaking her head before she’d even finished the explanation. “No way, there’s a reason those are illegal, baby. They’re so dangerous—”

“I’ve been taking them for fifteen years and I’m completely fine, come on—”

She watched the omega’s face fall when she sighed, “it’s not gonna happen baby. This one isn’t up for debate.”

“This one?” The omega scoffed bitterly, lips twisting as angry tears collected in her eyes. “Nothing is ‘up for debate’. I’m here, aren’t I? Obviously against my will. I’m not even wearing my own clothes, you won’t let me move! You’re acting like this is the one bit of agency you’re planning to strip from me but you’re either too stupid to realize that or you’re too caught up in the idea of having a house bitch to care!”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Carol frowned, thumb smoothing over the crease between her brows. “We’re not looking to ruin your life, baby. The last thing we want is to make you meek or take away your ability to make your own choices, but we have to take care of you.”

“Y-you don’t though,” she hissed, breath hitching as she fought not to cry in front of the alpha. “I’ve been taking care of-of myself for years. I’ve never had a problem I’ve—I’ve never been attacked or assaulted or—”

Carol shifted until the omega was cradled in her lap, easily blocking the omega’s attempts to escape her grasp, “If that’s true baby girl, I don’t think you understand how rare it is—or how it would mean you were poisoning yourself so thoroughly that no alpha could scent you. There’s too many people out there would hurt you just for being you; the only way for you to be safe is with us, where you don’t have to keep taking the pill equivalent of drinking gasoline and bleach.”

“I should have the choice!”

“The choice to slowly kill yourself?” The blonde looked down into the omega’s face in disbelief. “No one in their right mind would allow another person to suffer like that.”

Their attention was suddenly and brutally drawn to the stairwell, both of their hindbrains reacting to the scent of overwhelmingly aroused alphas accompanied by raised voices and shouting. The omega in her lap went completely and utterly still, instincts locking down all movement as if it could prevent her from being seen. Carol sighed quietly through her nose, nudging her forehead gently against the charming little creature hiding against her chest. She couldn’t really tell what they were yelling about but she figured it had something to do with whatever Bruce found.

“Someone has to—!”

“That doesn’t mean—!”

“It should be—!”

The blonde cracked her neck, arms slipping around the waist of her omega and locking in place like iron bands. The cowering made it easier for Carol to snuggle her tightly against her chest, wiggling them carefully as several pairs of feet began stomping up the stairs, until the omega was entirely engulfed by the alpha from behind. Steve and Thor made it up first, shoulder to shoulder and passive-aggressively nudging each other in the ribs. Sam was next, along with Bucky—both of whom were being decidedly antagonistic to poor Peter who followed behind.

“Would you guys shut the hell up? What’s going on?”

Before anyone else could respond Bruce forced his way between the group of more dominant males, eyes flashing green even as he attempted to shake it off, “the amount of alpha pheromone in her blood is so low it’s amazing she isn’t in shock.”

“What?!” The omega snapped furiously, eyes darting between the people standing around the room nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with me—!”

“Carol, hold her,” Steve ordered, as if the blonde hadn’t locked the omega down the second they heard them coming. “Thor, how are we gonna do this?”

Both primes looked almost pained, their faces painted with grimaces as they exchanged glances. Their struggle was easy to identify; neither wanted to cause any strife between them, damage to their partnership would damage the pack but they wanted to be first. Their hindbrains could barely function beyond the desire to fuck their omega, their pretty, sweet little omega who desperately needed alpha semen because her body would stop functioning without it. Primes always got first take on omegas, but when there were two primes in a pack things got dicey.

“Have one of us do it,” Carol chimed, carefully maintaining an expression that relayed she wasn’t trying to step on toes. “Both of you are massive, you could do damage without proper prep and if it’s that serious we can’t wait on that.”

“I’ll do it!” Peter was quick to step forward. “You all know I’ll the gentlest and she’s already upset—”

“Shut it Spiderboy,” Sam quickly interjected, giving the younger alpha a stern look, “she needs careful handling, not some teenager fumbling with his knot.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore you asshole—!”

“Carol’s cock is the smallest,” Tony stated nonchalantly as he kicked off his shoes in the closet that faced the den, “no offense babe, just logistics.”  

“None taken,” the blonde snorted slightly in amusement before turning her attention to the two primes, “I can get her started, at least get her hormones on the right track.”

“Let go of me you psycho!” The omega howled, voice constricted by her collar. “Get away from me, let me go!”

A low, bone-deep rumble suddenly washed over everyone in the attic, the growl emanating from both Steve and Thor. A keening moan escaped the omega, her breath hitching and eyes rolling as viscous slick gushed from her pussy. The scent of it made waves through the rest of the pack, a cacophony of moans and growls echoing off the high ceiling as the responding scent of hot and bothered emanated through the den.

“Thor?” Steve questioned the other prime imploringly, knowing that they needed an immediate answer and follow through.

The taller man grit his teeth, nose flaring for several moments before he let out another low growl that made their omega cry with arousal. “You first—leave my shirt on her, please.”

“Oh God, oh God,” the whimpering omega shifted in Carol’s arms, likely about to try to make a break for it when Steve swept her up into his arms. “Please, wait—!”

“Your pussy is dripping for your primes, isn’t it precious?” The alpha male hummed quietly as he swiftly lowered them both to the bed, hands grasping the backs of her thighs and pressing her knees towards her shoulders. “So much slick for such a little thing.”

The whine that came from Peter sounded wrecked, only minutely more embarrassing than the groans and panting coming from the rest of the pack as they watched. The omega looked to be approaching frantic and Carol sighed, shifting farther away from the prime on the bed—there was no reason to test Steve’s incredible patience. Well, that had been Carol’s opinion anyway.

Evidently Loki believed otherwise, but then again the delta was habitually prone to testing Steve’s last goddamn nerve. The brunet had appeared with a shimmering green light, lying on the bed so close to the omega that the scent from his ridiculously expensive Fendi sweater was transferring to her arm and shoulder. The prime had barely flinched, certainly hadn’t reacted in a manner more noticeable than a slight dilation in his pupil. Thor made a reprimanding noise but didn’t move forward to remove the delta, much to Bucky and Tony’s immediate disdain.

“Why the fuck does he get to—!”

“You better rethink that, Ice Man!”

The combined snarls from both primes quickly brought all three deltas to heel and while Loki didn’t retreat, he did keep his hands to himself. One hand propped up his head, the other tightly fisted and rested on the bed between himself and the omega’s borrowed shirt while eyes burned into him from all sides. The omega’s wide eyes were locked on the man, some flicker of recognition fleetingly passing over her face. Loki was good at surprise entrances and even better at taking advantage of his brother’s status in the pack—not that he necessarily got away with things the others wouldn’t, but none of the others particularly wanted to find out what the prime’s breaking point was either.

“I just want to keep her calm, is that so horrible?” The tone the God used was smooth and Carol remembered the talking stick analogy again. “You can smell the poor thing’s terror, is it really necessary?”

Steve looked conflicted for maybe two seconds when a light went off behind his eyes. “Keep her calm so I don’t have to purr and you can stay.”

The delta’s hand immediately slipped up the front of her shirt, cupping the curve of her rib cage just under her breast. His nose pressed into her neck in the following moments, a small golden glow flowing over the little omega’s skin where he touched her. The odor of fear was quick to recede once the windows were open, replaced with the tangy-sweet scent of her pussy. Carol inhaled sharply and whined, drawing Steve’s attention to her wide, sad eyes.

The prime huffed, running one big hand through his hair while Loki held the omega’s thigh in place. “Hands to yourself, Carol.”

The blonde immediately tucked her nose into the other side of the omega’s neck, hands clenched into fists and tucked tightly against her stomach. She could hear the rest of the pack shuffling around, vying for space and views on the bed. Steve seemed entirely unbothered, his gaze once again locked on the pretty omega’s.

“Is your cunt working your slick hard enough precious?” He murmured directly into her ear, lips brushing the skin gently. “If those muscles aren’t strong enough we might have to put in a bit more effort to stretch you out. Squeeze around my fingers baby.”

Carol’s eyes rolled back when a breathy whine escaped the omega, the only perceivable reaction that might’ve betrayed her fear—otherwise, whatever magic Loki had used made her eyes shine with bliss. Steve had two fingers knuckle deep in her cunt, still pressing forward while his slick coated thumb swept up through her folds to pass over her clit. She shook under the grasp of his packmates, hips shifting without her consent to follow the movement of his hand.

“Come on sweetheart, please?” Steve implored quietly, looking at the loosely pinned omega with soft eyes. “Clench your pussy for me, let me take care of you. Please, I—oh, there you go, that’s a good girl.”

He hummed, working his fingers deeper into her cunt and scissoring them carefully. A smile lit the prime’s face when the cutest hiccupping moan escaped the omega, her legs pressing futilely against his hold. Muscle memory tried to guide her legs closed but Carol easily slipped a hand around her knee, keeping her spread wide while Steve continued to stretch her pussy. Another bass toned growl from Thor reverberated off the walls and she wailed, slick dripping over Steve’s fingers while her pussy contracted in waves as commanded by the prime’s guttural growl.

“I’m gonna take care of you precious,” her low whine prompted a moan from Steve as he added a third finger, carefully pressing the pads of his fingers up against her g-spot. “You’ll feel so much better once we fuck you, I promise.”

Carol watched with heavily lidded eyes as the omega’s attention was sparked by Steve’s use of the collective we. Likely it was only Loki’s magic that kept her from lashing out as viciously as they knew she was capable of. In spite of it, her little teeth showed, sharp incisors flashing in a botched hiss. The prime poised himself over her carefully with a small grin, fingers still fucking into her with vigor while he rested his weight on his elbow next to her head.

“It’s gonna be okay omega, it’s gonna be okay,” he cooed quietly against her ear, removing his hand only to pull his cock from his pants. “Take deep breaths, baby.”

“Don’t—” She didn’t sound distressed, the omega sounded aroused and desperate, “I—”

“Shhhh,” the prime’s lips skimmed over her cheeks, down her nose while his hand guided his dick up and down her slick folds until he was dripping with her arousal. “I’m gonna take care of you, precious. We’re gonna take care of you.”

The sound that escaped the omega’s lips as he slipped into her was goosebump inducing in the best way. She whined as the head popped in, breath hitching with every millimetre that came thereafter—and there were a lot of them. The omega was squirming, her heels scrambling against the blankets and both Loki and Carol found themselves having to focus much harder than expected on keeping her still while Steve bottomed out.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Loki cooed, his nose brushing the line of her jaw. “I know it’s a lot but you’re taking it beautifully. Stay still love, just relax we’ll hold you.”

“That’s right ‘mega,” Steve groaned as he withdrew, the squelch of her cunt making his teeth clench. “We’ll do all the work precious, you just have to be a good girl and take my cock.”

It was easier said than done and everyone in the room save Thor was fully aware of that. The omega’s sweet little whines and cries were causing a massive feedback loop of arousal in the pack’s consciousness and Carol was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of several people going at it but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from where Steve’s cock was drilling into that pretty cunt. Evidently said feedback loop was also affecting Steve, who very suddenly growled possessively.

“Carol, Loki, off,” The prime snapped barely hesitating before dropping his elbows into the pillows on either side of the omega’s head, narrowly avoiding giving his pack mates concussions. “Now.”

Both the alpha and the delta were yanked off the bed by their ankles—well, Carol was yanked off the bed. Loki was yanked off the bed and then promptly thrown into the wall by said ankles. The reinforced exterior wall meant there was only a small dent where the god had landed, but the ensuing ruckus had a strong potential of causing even more damage. Thor immediately turned to deal with the problem, along with several other packmates.

Several things occurred in the next few seconds and the pack would probably fight about what really happened for the next twenty years, but somehow Bucky was thrown through the window and Tony’s right ring finger was broken.

And Wanda—poor Wanda, Thor pushed her out of the way before Bucky could accidentally take her through the window with him. The beta was sent flying, sailing across the bed until she hit the unyielding form of Steve. He startled in shock, immediately drawing back to assess her condition—only for a heel to slam directly into his nose. The prime’s head snapped back from the force, big body falling backwards while his hands scrambled for purchase on his face.

The omega probably would’ve even gotten down the stairs if Natasha hadn’t been ascending the stairs at that moment, having heard the commotion from where she and Clint had been putting away groceries. The redhead smelled her before seeing her, a somewhat sinister grin pulling Nat’s lips when the omega ran directly into her while attempting escape #2.

“Now where are you going, kitten? With that mess dripping down your thighs,” the beta cooed, head tilting as she scented the air. “Why can I smell Steve on you, but not his cum?”

There was a horrible, long pause while the omega seemed to consider her options before landing on Go For Broke. She attempted to dodge past Natasha but the beta’s strong arm immediately lashed around her waist, her superior strength making it easy to force her up the stairs even as she refused to hold her own weight.

Steve met them just two steps from the top, dick out and covered in blood. The prime’s expression wasn’t so much angry as it was disappointed and Natasha hummed in false sympathy.

“Someone’s been naughty, huh kitten?”

content warnings: nonconsensual sex, voyeurism 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Interruption (modern au)

The school of U.A was one of the most popular and importants around Japan and the area. You and a few other teachers were considered lucky to work as teachers there and some even envy you all for the payment.

Well... you and your coworker Aizawa could say other wise.... Toshinori, Mic and the others could sure be happy but the job was draining. And now with this pandemic thing going on it seemed that online classes were more exhausting then the normal ones... the hell?

'At least you dont have to get out of the house' you commented once on a teachers reunion and some answered you by laughter, others by whines and Aizawa only sipping his slcoffe while petting his cat as Eri gave all of you a cheerful greeting.

"Eh?!?!?!? So is not 160 the answer?!" You heard Denki Kaminari voice at your computer as you giggled at the bunch of laughter on the zoom chat.

"By my calculations is seems like the answer is 90, right (L/n)-sensei?" You nodded at your camera at seing and hearing Momo as you clicked on some things and showing the online board.

"You guys can see the results and the solving of the problem here. Any questions? Kaminari?"

"Oh shit it was that simple?" You snorted as some of the bakusquad as they named themselves laughed.

"Fucking stupid who cant solve a problem."

"Bakugou..." you scolded softly before you saw it Midoriya's hand raised "Yes Midoriya?"

"(Y/n)-sensei there is a problem of anatomy that I wanted to discuss with you!"

"Oh, of cour-!"

"No one cares DEKU!"

"Bakugou!" You scolded again and sighed, supporting your head on your hands as you tried to control your laughter... Those kids never failed to amuse or to entertain you.

You heard the door cracking open and you turned your head to the apartment door to see your boyfriend coming from work with a exausted face. Tossing his jacket aside as he called your name softly.

You mouthed a sorry to your students while pressing the mute and turning off the camera... well, that's was what you wanted to do at least.

"Hey." You spike softly as he only scotted to you, wrapping his bandages arms on your waist and making himself at home in your arms as you giggled softly, combing his dyed hair on your fingers as he rested his face on the crook of your neck.

You took the chance of grabbing your computer and your notebook with your pens, placing the laptop on top of you and your tired boyfriend as he breathed in and out on you, ocassionaly tightening his hold on you.

"Sorry guys, I will have to continue the class without the camera but moving on-" you heard giggles and snickers from many of your students but you simple brushed off as then messing ok his phones instead of paying attention to classes... you could only scold them softly with a joke or two but hey, is not like you can do what you usually did on classes.

The class moved on, you answering questions and praising everyone for their hard work as the male on top of you smuggled his face every once in a while on you, coincidentally the giggles getting just after that.

"Well usually we would have ten minutes left, but since I know all of you are exausted I will let you all have a break." You said while writing on your notebook some annotations as some students cheered.

"You're the best (L/n)-sensei!" You shaked your head with a smile at Kirishima's words, glad at least that your voice wasn't mumbled by your boyfriend's hair.

"Thank you thank you. Any more questions? I will be solving them." You hummed at seing Shoto's hand raised, Todoroki wasn't much of a talker yet his relationship with you was particularly interesting and like he was even a little brother to you as well. "Yes Todoroki-kun?"

"First, thank you for the class (Y/n)-san." You snorted, your only student who called you that "And second, Touya. Mom, Natsuo and Fuyumi send a hi and asked if things were okay for both of you."

Your eyes widened as one turquoise eye cracked open lazily, staring directly at the camera before you bursted in embarrased laughter along with your students, poor Shouto not understand why everyone was laughing that much.

"So you catched us huh?" You giggled as Touya sighed, closing his eyes once again and answering a few of questions including of his little brother.

"Oh gosh." You spoke after seing the time writen on your laptop "I took the break of all of you, I'm so sorry kids."

"Don't worry (L/n)-sensei!" Urakaka spoke on the mic as the others agreed to her words.

"You with Todoroki-kun's older brother is just so cuteeeee!!! I ship it!" Mina made a signal of heart with her hands on her camera as you giggled, your boyfriend shaking from the movement of your chest.

"Right right, thank you guys. Now I will leave the class to Aizawa before he rips my head out." They all whined as Touya tsked on your neck at they behaviour.

"Mom also asked if we could visit on this weekend." You snorted as the other students laughed at Shouto's words before Touya just raised his hand to give a thumbs up before plopping down to your waist. "He said yes."

"Okay now, dont forget to do your homework and study for the online text tommorow, I'm looking at noth of you Mina and Kaminari." They all made a salute out of joke as you rolled your eyes and wished them a good day before finishing your class.

You looked at your boyfriend, whose was still face deep buried on your neck a syou chuckled.

"Come on! It was kinda of funny!" You yelped at the pinch you received on your thigh before softening your gaze and playing with his hair, his natural color slowly growing and coming back.

"Is everything okay? You want to talk about it?" You felt him shake his head as a no on your neck before breathing in and tightening his hold on you.

"Shitty day doll..." he mumbled before you kissed his head as you cooed over your boyfriend.

"Its okay baby, take a nap, my job is over for today so..." you layed with his hair as he hummed, body relaxing and slowly giving onto slumber.

You soon received both messages of Natsuo and Fuyumi on the group chat you were added some months ago. The only member being the todoroki siblings, you and Rei.

Natsuo:

Party rock onto Touya's house tonight!😝🎵🎶

Fuyumi:

Thanks for accepting us in your apartment (Y/n)-chan!

Natsuo:

Yeah! Thanks a lot... but can you do us ust a favor? Send a pic of that sleepy head to us will you?😂👌 we saw through Shouto screen right when you ended the classes and we couldn't get it!

You snorted, clicking on the app of camera and snapping one or three pics of him sleeping on your chest as you sended only two, the most precious one where you got him smilling on your neck you decided to make as a wallpaper.

Natsuo:

Doesn't even look like the old man he is 😂😂😂🤣🤣

Fuyumi:

💕💓😚

Rei:

Thank you for taking care of him (Y/n), my son looks so peaceful on your arms sweety 😊🙏

Shouto:

Classes are over.

Natsuo:

ALREADY?!😱

Shouto:

Yes. I was just going to ask if (Y/n)-san would like to taste cold soba. Do you, (Y/n)-san?

"Look at what you got yourself into.." you yelped softly at the vibrations of his voice on your neck before carresing his cheek.

"I thought you were sleeping?"

"I have ears, the flash also bothered my eyes doll." He mumbled as you deadpanned.

Shit...

[preciseprose]

From Nightmares to Dreams (Part 1/3)

Fandom: The Owl House

Chapter synopsis:  Luz has a horrible morning which Amity helps remedy.

Author’s note: This fic is the first long-form work of fiction I have written in five years and would not have been possible without the encouragement and support of @sterling-jay​.  This fic was inspired, however, by @notbirdofprey​ who asked me: “How do you think Luz and Amity will get together?”  Please be aware that my answer to this question involves a lot of angst on both Luz’s and Amity’s part; and, as a result, this fic is relatively angsty.  I hope you enjoy it.

- - -

Luz jolted awake, feeling dizzy and uncomfortably warm.  She threw her blanket off her and sat up to rub her face.  It was slick with some sort of wetness.  “Oh,” she groaned.  She must have been crying in her sleep.  Again.

Suddenly aware of herself, she looked down at her feet.  King wasn’t there and her door was closed.  He must had left at some point during the night.  She laid back down.  “At least he didn’t see me this time,” she said quietly.

She prodded around her cot for her phone, finding it after a few moments.  She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before powering the phone up.  The right-top corner of her lock screen stated the obvious: “No Service.”  After hesitating for a few seconds, she opened her messages.

She spent a few minutes reading through old conversations with her mom.  It didn’t make her feel better.  If anything, it made her feel guilty.  Her mother’s messages were caring and warm.  She asked if she was having a good evening, if she liked that day’s camp activities, if she was enjoying the food, if she was looking forwards to tomorrow, and so on.  In contrast, Luz’s replies were generally short and impersonal.  A lot of yeahs, yeps, and nopes.  An occasional emoji.  Few genuine responses.

She put her phone down and looked up to the ceiling.  Even with the moonlight streaming in from her window, it was hard to make the beams out.  After a few minutes of holding back, she let herself cry.

“I’m sorry, Mami.  I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m okay.  I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m safe.  That I’m not missing.  That I didn’t run away.”  Her tears grew heavier.  “I’m sorry I lied to you.  I’m sorry I’m making you worry.  I’m sorry for being a bad daughter.  You’ve always tried to be a good mom and you don’t deserve this.”

Luz cried until her eyes burned.  When she destroyed the teleporter door, she had thought Eda might be able to send her home using magic or by taking her to some special place on the isles.  But several weeks ago, Eda had sat down with her on the roof of the Owl House and explained the gravity of her situation: that the door was the only way she knew of to travel between the human realm and the demon realm, and that without the ability to cast spells she wasn’t sure if she would be able to send her home.

She had only barely stopped herself from breaking down.  It helped that Eda had taken her hands and, looking directly into her eyes, promised that she would do everything in her power to try to return her home someday.  And she had kept that promise so far, spending several hours every other day pouring over books with Lilith.

She wished Eda’s promise was enough to keep her fears under control, but it just wasn't.  She kept a decent face up when around Eda and her friends.  But when she was by herself, she couldn’t keep the act up.  The idea that she might never see her mother again was overwhelming and terrifying.  But even worse was the possibility that her mother might think that she disappeared on purpose.  

Eventually, her eyes ran dry.  Dawn broke soon after.  

“I guess I should get up,” she thought.  After a few minutes of sniffling and wiping her eyes, she rose from her cot, activated a few light glyphs, and dressed herself.  Once done, a realization hit her: “My eyes!  Crying makes your eyes puffy, right?”

The closest mirror was in the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t risk running into Lilith or King.  If she ran into either of them, they would ask questions, and Eda would find out and start worrying about her again, and she didn’t want that.  “What do I do?  What do I do?” Luz repeated to herself.

She activated another light glyph to help her think.  The light reflected off a small object lying nestled in the blanket on her cot.  Her phone.  “My phone!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice.  She walked over to her cot, snatched her phone, and unlocked it with a swipe.

“Okay, how bad could it be?”  She opened the front-facing camera.  Her stomach clenched.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like someone had filed the skin under her eyes with abomination goo.  “No, no, no, no, no.  This is bad, this is so bad.”  She pulled and pushed at the fleshy mounds trying to get them to recede.  Her attempts did nothing.

The morning sun was already starting to brighten.  She needed to act fast.  She would need to leave for Hexside within the hour and there was no way she could avoid everyone on her way out.  “What do I do?  What do I do!”

Luz had no idea how to do anything involving her face.  She had never been very interested in make-up and even she had been she didn’t think she could just slap some concealer on her face (not that she had any) and call it a day.  She needed help, fast.

“Okay, okay.”  She looked to the phone in her hand.  “No that’s not going to help, I don’t have service here.”  She tossed the phone on her cot and started pacing around the room.  Muffled sounds began to emanate through her bedroom walls.  The other residents of the Owl House were out of their rooms.

“Oh, I know!”  Luz ran over to her school bag and dredged out the small scroll Eda had given her for her birthday.  “Penstagram!”  She tapped on the scroll and it bounced out of her hand and into the air, unfurled and glowing faintly purple.  She grabbed it, thinking about her next move.

“I can’t ask Gus or Willow for help,” Luz thought, grimacing.  They were already worried about her enough.  Just yesterday, Willow had pressed her about why she had been especially quiet lately.  It took their entire walk home to convince her that she was just stressed about homework and helping Eda learn glyph magic.

She didn’t think she could ask Viney or Skara for help either.  She had gotten to know each girl better through classes at Hexside, but she didn’t really know either of them that well.  And this was a bit too personal to spring on either of them.

That left Amity.

Luz blinked and took a long breath.  She had been spending more and more time with Amity lately.  On one of her better days last week, she had convinced Eda to let her, Amity, Gus, and Willow to have a “Azura Movie Night Sleepover Extravaganza!” at the Owl House after Eda found a DVD player in a trash worm.  She and Amity had ended up cuddling on the couch under a blanket.  And it felt so nice.  

Amity was warm, and soft, and her hair smelt like wildflowers and sea salt, and Luz had been terrified that her heart was going to jab through her chest and explode on Amity’s back.  But eventually, somehow, she managed to fall asleep with her in her arms.  But when she woke up, Amity had already dressed in her day clothes and was eating breakfast with Eda.  Every time she had tried to talk to her since then Amity had kept the conversation short or turned her head away and said she had something she needed to do or gave some other reason to leave quickly.  Luz didn’t know what to think of it.

But that was then, and this was now.  Luz had no one else to turn too, and out of all her friends she figured Amity would be the most likely to know how to deal with her situation.  She pulled up Amity’s profile and sent a DM.

@glyphwitch (07:03:51): Amity I need your help!!!  IT’S URGENT!!!!

@witchchick128 (07:04:27): Luz, what is it?  Are you okay?

@glyphwitch (07:05:11): I don’t have time to explain but I need to get rid of these HUGE bags I have under my eyes (don’t ask please) and I have no idea how to deal with them but I need eda to not find out about them and I don’t know what to do and I thought you might and I just don’t want to worry eda about me so please help me

Luz snaped a picture of her face to Amity and dropped herself onto her cot.  One minute passed.  Luz heard Eda and Lilith having some sort of argument in the kitchen.  They were constantly arguing about one thing or another these days.  Another minute passed.  The argument was now a three-way shouting match between Eda, Lilith, and Hooty.  Based solely on volume, Hooty was winning.

Suddenly, the scroll vibrated against her leg.  She snatched it up and tapped it.  Again, it sprang to life.

@witchchick128 (07:08:34): I’m so sorry, Luz.  Mother pulled me away for a tuft of my hair...

@witchchick128 (07:09:13): So, are they like that because of a magical or non-magical cause?

@witchchick128 (07:09:32): You eyes, I mean.  Sorry, I wasn’t clear.

@witchchick128 (07:09:43): Your*

Luz laughed despite her situation.

@glyphwitch (07:10:12): non-magical

@glyphwitch (07:10:39): I was, uhhh.  crying.  a lot…  but I’m okay now!  really

@witchchick128 (07:11:16): Okay.  Do you have any abrasion ointment from the Healing Coven?

@glyphwitch (07:11:42): no.  I can’t leave my room or the others might see me

@witchchick128 (07:12:15): Alright.  Let me think.

@witchchick128 (07:12:58): You haven’t discovered any glyphs that cast any illusion spells yet, right?

@glyphwitch (07:13:09): no, not yet

@witchchick128 (07:13:41):  Okay, so you can’t conceal your eyes with magic.  But I’ve seen you summon columns of ice before.  Can you use your glyphs to make a bunch of small ice cubes?

@glyphwitch (07:13:53): yeah, I think so

@witchchick128 (07:14:38): Okay, do that.  Then get two of your shirts and use them to make two cold compresses.   Hold them under your eyes for five minutes.  It should make the swelling disappear.  If anyone asks you why your eyes are red, just tell them you were up late reading and only got a few hours of sleep.

@glyphwitch (07:14:56): oh my god, thank you Amity!!!

@glyphwitch (07:15:09): you're the best!

Luz shoved the scroll in her bag, then pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and got to work.  After a few-second’s thought, she drew a moderately-sized plant glyph surrounded by three inter-connected tiny ice glyphs.  She activated the ice glyphs first, creating three tall but slender pillars of ice.  Then, concentrating her intent into her hand, she activated the plant glyph.  A thick vine with several stems emerged from the paper and wrapped its tendrils around each ice pillar, crushing them into small pieces.

“Yes, it worked!” she said joyfully, impressed with herself.  “What next?  Oh right, the shirts.”  She dashed over to her dirty clothes pile, grabbed the two least objectionable shirts visible, then dashed back over to her cot.  Working quickly, she made two compresses using the ice littering the floor, lied back on her cot, and pressed the compresses onto her eyes.

A minute passed without interruption.  Then Luz heard her door handle jiggle, followed by a quiet thud.  She heard it a second time, and then a third.  The fourth time she understood.  King was trying to open the door.  Before she could call out, she heard a solid impact with the door, followed by a metallic click and a final small thud.

The door began to open.  “Luz, get up!  It’s almost time for…”

Acting on pure instinct she streaked out of bed and flew against the door, slamming it shut and screaming, “King, don’t come in!  I’m naked!”  As she spoke, she heard something hard impact the wall across the hall.

“Ow!  Jeez, I get it!  Gross!  How was I supposed to know!?” King shouted through the door.  “I get that you wanted to protect me from a potentially scarring experience, but did you have to slam the door so hard?  I can feel my brain spinning around inside of my skull!  All I wanted to tell you was that breakfast is almost ready!  Sheesh!”

“Sorry, King!  I’m uh, just.  Really self-conscious!  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  She paused and looked behind her.  In her panic, she had strewn ice everywhere.  She rolled her eyes, sighed, and looked back to the door.  “I woke up a little late, okay?  I still need to get ready.  I’ll be down in like ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes!  Really!?”

“Yes, really!  And if you keep talking to me it’s going to take me even longer!”

“Ugh, fine.  Whatever, just hurry up, will you?  I’m starving and Lilith cooked today so breakfast actually looks good for once!”

She heard his little footsteps trod away.  When she was certain he was gone she locked the door and got to work reassembling the cold compresses.

[swtorpadawan]

For 50 types of kisses. With my favorite swtor couple, Corellan and Kira.

Lets do 7 and 12

Kira Carsen hopped down from the Alliance shuttle and onto the pad of the hangar on Odessen as it landed, feeling elated. She’d been gone for a week while on Tatooine; one of the hottest, driest, most unpleasant planets in the galaxy. She’d spent most of that time fighting rakghouls, nightmare creatures born out of Sith alchemy, and managing a team of individuals with a rather “diverse” mix of personalities and ambitions, as well as coordinating with the independent THORN agency (The Hyland Organization for Rakghoul Neutralization, what a dumb acronym.) all to bring the Rakghoul outbreak on Tatooine under control.

For those reasons alone, she had good reason to be pleased to be back on Odessen, a place that – in just the two months since her rescue from carbonite – had become like home. This mission had been the longest she’d been separated from Corellan Halcyon since she’d joined, and that was an even more important reason to her.

But to her own surprise, there was another reason why she was truly in such a happy mood:  

Her mission had been a success.

Her mission. She’d been team leader for this one. She wasn’t playing second-fiddle to anyone.

And she’d found – over the course of the week – that she had a knack for it. She’d learned to appreciate the crew of Alliance personnel she’d been assigned. Blizz – the Jawa mechanic, a native of Tatooine – had been incredibly resourceful, and was adorable, besides. "Deadeye" Leyta, the Selonian gunslinger, had a ruthless streak, but Kira could relate to her desire to protect the people she cared about. HK-51 – the same hunter-killer droid who’d joined their crew on select operations years before – was still a sociopath, but his sense of humor was starting to grow on her. Doctor Lokin – the former Imperial scientist and expert on the Rakghouls – was as tricky as Corellan had (privately) warned her. But he was also as brilliant as Corellan had said, and in just a few days – using only the gear from his field kit – he had successfully adapted an effective vaccine to this new ‘Tatooine strain’ of the Rakghoul plague, as Lokin himself had dubbed it. THORN was already distributing synthesized versions of Lokin’s vaccine and achieved containment.  

Xalek… was Xalek. The Kaleesh Sith was arguably the bluntest individual she’d ever met. Even the other Sith in the Alliance didn’t seem to care for him. But she had to admit, he was (almost) as good with a double-bladed lightsaber as Kira herself was, and he followed orders when told to protect their support teams.

She wondered for a moment if this was how Corellan had felt. First with his old crew, and now with the whole Alliance. It had worked out. And the mission had given her a greater appreciation for what the Eternal Alliance truly stood for.

The whole experience had given her a greater sense of belonging.

Kira looked around the hangar, somewhat disappointed that there was no one there to greet her. The flight deck officer gave her a casual smile and a nod, then proceeded to take stock of the shuttle’s condition and fueling levels. A few other individuals around the hangar tossed glances her way, exchanging a whispered word to their fellows.    

She felt much more confident about that sort of thing now than she had a week ago.  

(Kira didn’t want to admit that she was a little disappointed that he wasn’t there to greet her. Corellan Halcyon had a whole Alliance to run, after all. He couldn’t afford to be seen running off every time the love of his life came back from a mission. But she was certain he was on-planet nearby; she could feel him through the Force.)

Behind her, the rest of the team – her team started to walk down the shuttle’s loading ramp.

Doctor Lokin already had his datapad out, preparing a report as he walked. The scientist had seemed quite pleased with their results. Leyta – who had been piloting the ship – was assisting the flight deck officer with checking in their shuttle. Xalek and HK were making themselves useful, carrying a crate of Lokin’s equipment and genetic samples to the labs. Blizz sauntered past Kira with backpack full of used THORN equipment he’d recovered that he seemed certain he could do something with. The small creature looked up at Kira, happily.

“Blizz thank red-haired big boss friend lady for taking Blizz on trip!” He chirped up at her in Jawaese Trade Language. “Blizz enjoy seeing old home – but good to be back on new home!”

Kira smirked at his excitement.

“Don’t mention it, Blizz. I hope we work together again soon.”

“Blizz hope so, too!” he gave her a wave, then walked off with his catch. No doubt he was headed for his work bench at the Underworld Logistics section of the base. The Jawa had proven an impressive tinkerer, so maybe his side project would result in something after all.    

As Xalek and HK hauled their cargo off, Lokin paused in his deliberations to regard Kira. The older man’s smile was somehow grandfatherly, charming, and creepy all at the same time. As Corellan had confided to her privately, he was someone to watch closely.

“I must echo our small companion’s sentiments, Knight Carsen.” He bowed to her. Lokin had taken to addressing her by her old title, even though Kira wasn’t even sure if she qualified as a Jedi anymore. “This has been a most efficacious expedition, and I must commend your leadership and skill. I do hope we are assigned to another operation soon.”

Kira found – much to her surprise – that her smile back to Eckard Lokin was genuine, and not forced like it had been earlier in the week.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She kept her tone and choice of words formal. “Your work was as impressive as advertised. I would certainly ask to work with you again.”    

“I am quite gratified to hear that.” Lokin’s smile turned into a toothy grin for just a second.

Yeah. He could be creepy. Kira thought to herself. She wondered how much of his behavior was intentional, and how much of it was just his nature.

“I’ll get started on my follow-up research right away.” He continued. “I would be elated if you could please inform the command staff that my preliminary findings will be submitted for review by oh-nine-hundred hours tomorrow morning.”

“No problem.” She nodded, holding his gaze firmly. “I look forward to… reviewing your work, myself.”

“Of course.” Lokin bowed again. “I’ll leave you to your own reports. Congratulations once again.”

With that, he turned and departed, no doubt heading for his laboratory.

Kira exhaled, relieved that she’d held up so well. She’d learned she could deal with the Doctor Lokins of the galaxy.

(Truth be told, she’d never met anyone quite like Doctor Lokin. But that was a problem for another day.)

For now, she had a report to make in the command center. Corellan – along with his advisors – was probably waiting for her there.

Satisfied that Leyta and the support staff had everything else taken care of, Kira headed for the corridor that would lead her to the war room, briefly mulling hitting the showers first. She’d been on Tatooine for a week, a planet where water was a luxury, spending almost half of her time in the Rakghoul tunnels. The brief sonic shower she’d taken at Anchorhead was the most hygienic relief she’d had in that time. Followed up with the day’s travel in the rather cramped shuttle, Kira suspected she could certainly have used the genuine experience of the shower in the quarters she shared with Corellan. It was a tempting prospect. But the Alliance had a reputation for being a ‘rough’ bunch. If she dallied, people – particularly Lana Beniko – might suspect she was trading on her relationship with the Commander, and that was something Kira would never allow.

The Commander. Still strange to think about Corellan that way, even if the role did suit him. He was good at it; the loyalty he commanded from his people was proof of that.

Kira was so distracted by her inner thoughts that she was taken completely unawares when a strong hand reached out seemingly from nowhere, grabbed her by the shoulder, and yanked her into a darkened maintenance closet where the door promptly slammed shut behind her.

Every instinct in Kira’s mind screamed at her to respond to this obvious attack with aggression in kind; to pull her lightsaber from her belt and lash out with the Force at her assailant.

But the Force, her soul – and her heart – all told her to do otherwise.

Kira stifled a gasp as Corellan Halcyon pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss, pinning her against the sealed metal door. Instinctively, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as her lips tried to reciprocate the affection, only to feel his tongue assert itself possessively, slipping deep into her mouth and tracing her teeth, as if trying to memorize them. Kira released a slow, needing moan as their lips continued to press together for minutes on end. He so rarely took control like this. And the kiss… shavit. She couldn’t remember him kissing her quite like this since that night on Tython so many years ago, when kissing had been fun and mysterious and the ultimate. When the only thing either of them had wanted was to explore and then get lost in each other.

For a few fleeting moments, she almost felt overwhelmed by the sensation pulsing through her mind and body. It was like he was devouring her essence; her very sense of identity. And all she could do in that instant was to moan softly again in contentment.

But no. He would never do that to her. Even for as long as he’d been forced to deal with Vitiate haunting him, he would never become anything like him.

After what felt like an eternity – but still nowhere long enough to satisfy Kira’s sudden want – he released her from the kiss. She caught her breath, feeling like she’d been holding her breath underwater. Even after all that, he didn’t pull back completely, instead letting his forehead press down against hers, her back still against the door. Their breaths were heavy, even as they began synchronizing with each other.

“I missed you.” He whispered.        

In the minimal lighting, she could barely make out his boyish grin.

Kira actually giggled in embarrassment, pressing her hands against his chest. Corellan was the only one who could make her feel girly like this.

But despite that, she was still herself. She was truly part of something special rather than being subsumed by something that wanted to dominate and destroy her. Those fears she’d had as a child on Korriban could not be further from her mind.

Kira trusted him completely.  

“I can tell.” She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling in the dark.

Corellan reached up, gently caressing her cheek as she closed her eyes at his touch.

“I read the preliminary reports.” He whispered. “We’ll do the debriefing with Lana and Theron in just a bit. But I just wanted to welcome you home. And to tell you how proud I am of you.”

Kira chuckled as she cast her eyes downward, relieved that in the dark he probably couldn’t see her blush.

Then again, with their Force bond, she doubted she could fool him.

She’d realized instinctively that he’d used his Force camouflage ability just to surprise her in the corridor just now. It was the first time he’d done something like that since they’d been reunited. And he’d planned it perfectly; no one had seen him grab her in the corridor, which meant there’d be less tongue-wagging and gossip from the rank and file. He’d given her the ‘welcome home’ they’d both wanted without doing anything to undermine her position in the Alliance.

It had been perfect.

On the other hand, her competitive streak was pushing her to… assert herself just a bit.

Just because she’d found her place with the Alliance – and with him – didn’t mean she’d stop being herself.

“Tell me tough guy.” She grinned up at him saucily, reaching down and grabbing him by his belt. “Exactly how long do we have before that debriefing?”

________________________________________________________________

Author’s Notes: Something I really liked about the Echoes of Oblivion story was there were multiple moments in the story where Kira clearly takes the lead, even in the presence of characters like Scourge and Senya who are far more experienced, and the Outlander, who is theoretically the most accomplished warrior in the galaxy regardless of the other variables. She’s the one who comes up with the plan to find the ship. She’s the one who leads the group in the process of ‘Let’s meditate and go into Satele’s mind so we can fight the Emperor’. And so on. It all highlights Kira’s character development; she’s always been driven and now she’s coming into her own as a leader. Even though I don’t plan on taking my fic into that specific story, I did want to capture a measure of that.      

I had another piece of fic planned regarding this mission to Tatooine I’ve alluded to, but I like this, too.

I really like the character of Doctor Lokin. I wish he had more content. The others just seemed to be an interesting mix to me.

Full disclosure - I borrowed some stuff about the kiss from an old John Grisham novel; just a line that always stuck with me.

Roping in the Rakghoul even and THORN just seemed natural. I like to world build in my stories.

Tagging interested parties - @legacyofabsolutewalnuts , @misthios00 , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @no-name16-21 , @a-muirehen and @jagger127 ! 

[reynauldapologist]

What darkest dungeon mods do you like? I'm think abt doing another run. Confide in me your secrets.

i use a lot of different ones for different runs, and they all impact the game in radically different ways, so i’ll break them down into categories to make things easier:

aesthetic/non-impactful mods:

[these are either skin mods or only change a very small aspect of the game]

Remove Narrator from Endless Loading Screen 

this does exactly what it says. you no longer have to listen to Grampy Darkest give his dissertation on why he’s the Most Evil and Fucked Up Guy around every time you wanna hop back into the farmstead. 

Perfect Faster Dungeon 

CANNOT RECOMMEND THIS ONE ENOUGH!!! i have no clue how i ever played this game without it. it increases walking speed, combat pacing, scouting, and end screen results without choppiness or awkward animations. this is perfect if you’re a weirdo like me and you’re trying to grind for all of the achievements or if you’re a longtime player or if you simply have a need for speed

Unofficial Palette Expansion Pack

hands down my favorite skin mod ever! it gives each base game class five new palettes to choose from. the recolors are subtle, but very well-done and visually unique, and they blend right in with the rest of the game. if you value immersion from your mods like i do, you’ll really like this one. there are also palette expansion packs by the same creator for the flagellant, shieldbreaker, and musketeer

Jester On-The-Run

i installed this one shortly after starting my all-jester run. i adore the design and how well it blends into the game’s art style. i almost like this one better than his canon skin, it fits his backstory much better

annnnd since i was neck-deep in crusaders and ONLY crusaders for a little while, i ended up installing quite a few crusader skins, which i’ll now dump here:

Warden Crusader Skin / Deus Vult Skin Set / Crusader Soul of Cinders Skins / Accurate Templar Crusader Palette / Crusader Knight Skin

class mods

[note: i haven’t had the chance to mess around with these in an actual run yet, i added these to my longest save after i had already beaten the final boss]

The Veiled

i haven’t had the chance to utilize the veiled much in my expeditions, but a lot of love and effort went into this mod and it really shows. he uses similar mechanics as the flagellant - the closer to death he is, the more powerful he becomes - but cranked up to nine. he has great healing and offensive abilities, as well as a decent debuff skillset. this mod has fantastic art, of course, and would probably fit right in with a good mark team

The Commandant

it might take you a little while to learn how to properly use this guy, but once you do it’s well worth the effort. he’s a great debuff/stress healing support class if utilized correctly, but he can dish out some heavy damage of his own if you have a little patience. cool aesthetics and a unique concept elevate this class quite a bit for me

The Stargazer

this dude is the definition of a glass canon. super low HP, but high dodge and the potential to deal out some serious damage. he has two states, each with four abilities (kinda like abom!), that he has a 40% chance of switching between, making him a decently versatile class, if a little unpredictable. he was made with the intention of being a color of madness specific class, in the same way that the flagellant was made for the crimson court. i was first drawn to his aesthetics tbh, i adore all the work that went into designing this mod, from the design to the unique animations and sounds

script/gameplay mods

[these mods fundamentally change the gameplay]

Bigger Balanced Roster - Max 99

does what you would expect: increases your roster to 99. i use this for my completed save, so that i can test out different comps and class mods to my heart’s content. i wouldn’t recommend this for a serious run, because it totally destroys a core aspect of the game’s difficulty lmao. i haven’t encountered any bugs with this one and i still receive 1-4 lvl heroes in my stagecoach regularly

Crusader Only

here it is. the mod that took over my life for six months. does what it says: ensures that only crusaders show up in your stagecoach and eliminates all non-crusader class-specific trinkets. i didn’t encounter any bugs with this mod at all. this creator has also made [class]-only mods for all of the other heroes, including a bunch of different combos (like crusader-arbalest only, shieldbreaker-flagellant only, etc). check out their work if you’re interested in Testing Your Patience Abilities

Eternal Fanatic

typically, once you’ve killed the countess, the fanatic will cease spawning. this is great if you're a normal person with a healthy relationship to video games, not so great if you’re a completionist and a cautious scaredy-cat and have successfully avoided him during your entire Crimson Court run. activating this mod on a save means that the fanatic will begin spawning again, albeit with a slightly lower chance. once you’re sick of him, you can deactivate the mod and play normally once again. 

Last Man Standing

aka Reynauld Goes Beast Mode. this mod restricts you to one hero - Reynauld - and forces you to use him and only him for the entirety of your run. all eight of his skills are active at once and buffed to the gills, he has seven total armor/weapon upgrades, and he can carry three trinkets at once. but that doesn’t mean this will be an easy endeavor. as you might have guessed, you can’t toss rey in the sanitarium to deal with pesky quirks or diseases or stress-heal him in the hamlet. you just have to tough it out. i would highly recommend you use this in conjunction with the Perfect Faster Dungeon mod above. unfortunately, this mod is rather buggy in its current state. ive had problems with reliable quest spawning and many of his skills don’t function the way their description says they should (such as his added riposte). im including it anyways because it’s a really cool concept and has a lot of potential! i’ll be keeping an eye on it

and that’s everything i regularly use! i hope this was helpful & good luck on your runs :)

[owlespresso]

Nhaza’a/Clandestine Comfort

With the Scions gone and the Garlean empire at your heels, you retreat to the temporary safety of the Thanalan wilds, only to find the comfort you’ve been seeking by chance. If you like what I do, consider supporting me via ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/owlespresso

The pale moonlight touched the river's surface gently, its reflection full and hearty. You gazed down at it blankly, silently, legs gathered to your chest as your thoughts ran over recent events. Again, and again, and again. The sudden comas that sprouted up around you and afflicted your closest allies seemed to be a curse. What Garlean witch had cast such a terrible blight upon you? Had they finally figured out how to make use of the world's aether for the sole purpose of hurting you? It seemed as likely an explanation as any.

Thanalan's dry air was tinted with a gentle chill at night. The dried grass shuddered against the gentle breeze. The desert stretched out for miles around you. The only aetheryte in the region was a few minutes away, gleaming brilliantly in the distance though half obscured thanks to its subterranean position. 

You listened to the sounds of the wildlife around you, to whatever Hydaelyn had to offer to distract you from the awful matter at hand. 

However, it seemed she had a much different plan in mind for you tonight. The sound of boots against the hard soil made your eyes go wide and your body grow stiff. You whirled around, nerves alight with all the paranoia that's plagued them as of late.

"I don't remember you being this jumpy," Nhaza'a said, his artificial eye glowing faint in the soft darkness. The moon cast his hair in a silvery glow, lit his skin up a few shades. He looked perfectly at home in front of you, despite the way he dipped in and out of your life with no predictable pattern. Perhaps it was only right that he showed up now, when you were at your weakest. The universe had a tendency to stab you in the back like that.

"Well, you get like that when all your friends start dropping like flies for no damn reason." You deigned to not mention how you had actually been looking for him mere hours prior, desperate for the company of someone you could trust. How ironic. Nhaaz'a was far from what most people would consider "trustworthy", but he had yet to put a knife in your back and he actually seemed to enjoy your company. 

"So I've heard," he admitted, resting a hand on his cocked out hip. His posture was at ease, the typical, languid stance you had come to expect and associate him with. "My condolences for your loss... losses." He corrected himself, words blatant and tactless, but you found you didn’t care. What mattered was that he was here now. What mattered was that you needed him.

Bracing your hands atop the grassy patch you were sat upon, you pushed yourself to your feet. Your legs cried out in palpable relief, having been bunched up and bent for the better part of an hour. The joints popped, bones cracked in that strangely satisfying way as you lifted your arms above your head, stretching with a wide open yawn. You attempted to force some ease into your posture, chasing away the tension that had plagued you for the past few days. 

"How brazen," Nhaza'a murmured, voice suddenly much closer. One of your hands was promptly snatched as you lowered it, tugged roughly, suddenly. 

“Wha—!” you gasped. Your voice died in your throat as his plush lips brushed over the back of your hand.

“To this day I am still unsure what impresses me more. Your incredible, god-slaying power or your obliviousness to your own charm,” he commented dryly, thumb rolling a circle over your palm before he released it. Your hand dropped back to your side, sheepishness warming your cheeks as you struggled to regain your cogent thought. Just his closeness was enough to rattle you after everything that had happened. “But I believe you sought me out for more than mere flattery or condolences.”

“I just wanted to spend time with you. Is that too much to ask?” you frowned and tilted your head, attempting to shake off your nerves. Nhaza’a had never been the most… compassionate of people, but you had desperately hoped he would be willing to keep you company. Anything to get your mind off your current troubles.

“Are you afraid I’ll disappear on you next?” he inquired, taking a small step closer. His paralyzed you with the sudden, surprising gentility of his gaze. It left you wide open for the strong arm that wrapped around your back and tugged you to his chest, his warmth reaching you even through the barrier of your garments. “You should know that won’t happen. You’re in too deep to get rid of me now.”

A soft kiss was pressed to your temple, before he nuzzled his cheek affectionately over the spot.

Despite his reassurances, the very suggestion was enough to send a jolt of pure terror down your spine. There was no way either of you could know for sure if he was safe. Only the Scions had been affected thus far, but who knew? Maybe this mysterious illness would latch onto anyone who you spent too much time with. Maybe all of your allies lapsing into sudden comas was your fault. The thought made your stomach turn, your world growing fuzzy and dark at its edges as you struggled to keep your breathing even.

Because you can’t lose him, too. Not after Thancred, after Urianger, and Y’shtola, and they’re all leaving you one by one, dragged into the dark by an unseen, faceless force that you can’t find or fight or do anything about—

The soft sound of your name on his lips breached the chaotic wall of thought and grounded you. His hands slid to the sides of your midsection and gently squeezed, jolting you back into the here and the now, away from those horrendous thoughts.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable,” he said, and you provided no objections. “Do you feel up to returning to Ul’dah?” There was undoubtedly a building with a spare room close to the aetheryte, but you would much rather live in comfort wherever you find the chance to, so you nodded. The trip back to the grand city was made easier by your ability to finely tap into the lifestream and teleport. 

Before you knew it, you were standing before the grand, blue crystal as it hovers three fulms above the ground. It was a struggle to not get lost in its grand expanse, in the sea of blue that so deeply aligns with whatever strange gift Hyaedyln had bestowed upon you what feels like ages ago.

“Come back to me,” Nhaza’a beseeched, and you tore your gaze away from the looming crystal to look at him. You hadn’t even realized it, but he held one of your hands, grip firm and reassuring. His thumb rolled soothing little circles onto the back of it. “Your current state is much worse than I thought it would be,” he admitted with a small sigh. He wasn’t agitated, you realized after a moment of frantically inspecting him. Rather, his eyebrows seemed pinched together out of sheer concern. His expression was too soft to be frustrated. 

One of his hands reached up, fingers tenderly brushing against the apple of your cheek.

“ I will be damned if I let you rot away in your grief. Follow me.”

The trip from the aetheryte to an inn room was a blur for you. Ul’dah’s massive pillars and archways were an afterthought. You heeded the crowds no mind, simply followed your partner wherever he led you with newfound pliance.

When you entered the inn, you paid no mind to its inhabitants. You were well-known around these parts and as a result, folks were likely to stare, if they did they received no reply, no glare in return. Your gaze remained flat on the floor, despondent. You faintly remembered the journey up the lift, the twist of the key inside the door’s lock. Before you even realized it, you were standing in the middle of a luxurious room. The massive bed rested in the corner, nestled against two of the walls. 

“Well, let’s make ourselves at home,” Nhaza’a said, and a part of you was grateful that he’s giving you instructions. Like this, exhausted and away from your allies, you feel aimless, floating in an abyss without any given purpose. For what does winning the war matter when all of your closest friends have been whisked away from you by some malignant force? 

He said your name. Softly, prodding into the dry air of the room to reach you. It jolted you into motion, your limbs feeling heavy as you walked over to the door and removed your shoes, neatly placing them next to his. 

...He was already beginning to disrobe. Nimble fingers neatly undid his outerwear until he was left in a simple pair of trousers. You paused to roll your gaze up the stretch of his body, admiring the planes and slopes of his lean muscle. 

“You like what you see?” he inquired smugly, like he already knew your answer. Warmth touched your cheeks as you looked away, following his lead and discarding your light jacket, the sash around your waist. Your wallet and any other trinkets inside your pockets were tossed atop the nearby dresser, a slow and methodological process that kept your hands moving and your head focused. 

Only when you were finished did he speak again.

“Come here.” He lounged atop the mattress, back nestled against a pile of many pillows. He looked like he belonged there, looked like an emperor basking in the lap of luxury whilst waiting to be hand fed grapes by one of his many servants. The blankets had been pulled back to rest against the wall, allowing him to rest upon the sheets. His exposed eye gleamed expectantly. His sly smile drew you in. 

Wordlessly, you padded barefoot across the room and climbed atop the bed. As soon as you entered his radius, he grasped one of your wrists and gently tugged you forward. You followed his directing, climbed to rest your entire body atop of him. His warmth near cocooned you, one of his arms settling across your back whilst the other curled the blankets around your bodies. 

“There,” he said, sounding quite satisfied with himself. “Nice and cozy. Are you feeling any better?”

“Not really,” you replied. You turned your head to the side to press a single, fluffy ear over his chest. The constant thrum of his heartbeat serves to soothe you, tense muscles relaxing until you’re at last lim laptop of him. “...A little bit.” He’s alive. He’s alive and his beating heart lets you know that you’re not deluding yourself, not trying to cling onto your last bit of sanity by dreaming up this scenario. 

He started to rub your back in smooth circles, and the slight pressure there is welcome.

“You’re terrified,” he remarked, and you could not help but think back to when you were enemies. When he delighted in working you up and crossing blades. Was he longing for that version of you, again? Did he want the you who could get up no matter the severity of your injuries and keep fighting? Did he want the adrenaline rush of combat? Did he want your defenses to be impenetrable no matter the hardships that wracked you?

“Are you disappointed?” you asked, despite your fear of his answer.

“No. I’m concerned,” he clarified. You sighed against his chest. “The pattern of those afflicted thus far is clear. It only affects your fellow Scions. And I… could not be further from a Scion.” When you glanced up at him, his lips curled into a wry smirk. He was all too aware of how your comrades viewed him.

“But they’re also my friends,” you pointed out. “They’re not just coworkers, Nhaza’a.”

“And you fear that it could spread to me, since we are also… closer than coworkers,” Nhaza’a’s amused tone of voice dipped into something softer, something more serious. He gave a low, thoughtful hum, as though sifting through potential reasons why you shouldn’t worry. “Even if there is no telling who will vanish next, I am likely safe from harm due to not being a Scion. Believe me.” Long fingers combed through your hair, silencing you as you opened your mouth to argue. 

“When was the last time you slept?” he inquired, and you almost wanted to scold him for changing the subject. You stayed quiet instead, because he had a point. The pattern given to you thus far left no room for non-Scions to be affected by the mysterious ailment. For now, at the very least, he was most likely safe.

You decided to believe it, if only for your own sanity.

“Uhh,” you swallowed as you struggled to find an adequate answer.

“If it takes you that long to find the answer, then the answer is ‘too long ago’,” he stated. “Get some rest, my dear.”

“I don’t want to,” you groused back, feeling like a scolded child. Your pride lightly stung, the stubborn side of you insisting that Warrior of Light did not have a bedtime. 

“And why ever not? You will need your rest if you are to win the war for these paltry city states. You don’t want to let them down, right?” His voice carried with it a light taunt, his dislike for the states that employed your services all too prominent.

“...I’ll sleep if you promise to be here when I wake up.” you stared defiantly up at him, perhaps the most firm you have been all night. If you awaken to an empty bed, you’ll likely lose your mind, afraid that he too has been taken. 

“You think I would leave you? Perish the thought.” Nhaza’a scoffed, as though he hadn’t been gone the next morning after several of your midnight trysts. It had taken you three months to get him to stay with you, certainly a rocky phase in your relationship as you struggled to adjust to each other. “I will be here when you awaken, my lovely. You have my word.”

It didn’t soothe you completely, nothing could at this point. But his presence alongside the steady thrum of his heart helped soothe your cacophony of fearful and negative thoughts. You didn’t know what you would do if you lost him as well, but there truly was no sense in worrying about something that hadn’t happened yet… or something that likely might not happen at all. 

You shut your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the past several days leech at your limbs. Your mind swam briefly in the void between slumber and wakefulness, desperate to stay conscious of his body, desperate to know he was at your side until you lapsed completely into sleep. The slow, warm caress of his hand atop your back was all you needed to lull you into soft unconsciousness. Dreams of his velvety voice replaced the horrible nightmares.