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writhyv · 1 day ago

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⋆｡°✩ [ch.3] for when you want me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park jongseong x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 2.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

The cold Manhattan air gave you a chill as you walked towards the path from East 5th. Swimming through the dozens of people that got to their own businesses for the day, Jay’s business card only felt like burning a hole in your side pocket.

You hadn’t slept.

Not after the bar. Not after you met him.

The card was still there when you woke up—creased from how tightly you’d gripped it, the edges digging into your palm like a guilty secret.

You should’ve thrown it out, yet here it is..

Instead, you found yourself standing outside Yves' Bean Over Eat, the café you and Jay used to haunt during finals week. Back then, the place had been a refuge—scented with overroasted beans and the sharp tang of sharpie ink on disposable cups.

Now, it was polished. Trendy. The kind of place you assumed Naomi would approve of.

"The usual?" The barista—new, unfamiliar—smiled expectantly.

You hesitated.

"...Yeah."

The lie tasted bitter. There was no usual anymore. Not since Jay left. Not since you traded slow mornings for studio call times and press junkets.

Luckily, they got your order right. You took a seat by the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gray and gold.

Resting your back on the wooden furniture, your phone buzzed.

Mira: Atlas wants you in the studio by 11. New single’s getting pushed up.

You exhaled through your nose.

You: I’m asleep.

Mira: Clearly you’re not.

You: I’m sick?

Mira: Don’t ask me now?

You: Family affair?

Mira: What family?

You: Tell them I’m dead.

Mira: They’ll prop your corpse up on stage with a backing track.

You snorted into your matcha.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

And suddenly, Jay was there.

Blond hair slightly windswept, glasses that fit onto his face so perfectly, and a dark loose turtleneck kept in wraps under a plaid sleeve clung to his shoulders like it was made for him.

At that one second, his eyes locked onto yours, wide with surprise—as if he hadn’t spent the last 24 hours lying awake hoping you’d come.

As if he hadn’t spent the last four years regretting everything.

Slowly, he walked himself up to where you were, hesitant at first to really know if it was really you.

With enough courage to muster, he spoke words like it was his first time doing so.

"H-hey," he said, his voice rough.

Your grip tightened around the cup. "Hi."

Jay hesitated, then slid into the seat across from you. Close enough to touch. Too far to reach.

"...You came."

You shrugged, staring into your matcha. "I like the foam here."

A lie.

Jay knew it.

Somehow, he always did.

His fingers tapped restlessly against the table—a habit he’d never kicked.

"Listen, about last night—"

"Don’t." You cut him off, sharper than intended. "Just… don’t."

Jay flinched.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Outside, a taxi honked. A couple laughed. Life moved on.

Then, softly—

"I miss you."

Your breath hitched.

Jay wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at his hands, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the table. "I know I shouldn’t say that. I know it’s—fuck, it’s selfish. But I do."

The admission hung in the air between you, fragile as spun glass.

You could shatter it with one word.

Instead, you whispered—

"I miss you too."

Jay’s head snapped up, eyes searching yours like he’d misheard. Like he’d dreamed this moment a thousand times and still wasn’t prepared for it.

Then his phone buzzed.

Unknown Caller.

The damage was done.

You stood abruptly, chair screeching against the floor. "I should go."

"Wait—" Jay caught your wrist. His touch was warm. Familiar. "Please."

You froze.

His thumb brushed over your pulse point—once, twice—before he let go. "...Can we try this again? Just… us. For real."

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to run.

In the end, you did neither.

"I’ll think about it," you murmured.

Jay exhaled, slow and shaky. "Okay."

You left before he could see your hands tremble.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

The studio lights were blinding.

You squinted against them, headphones crushing your skull as the producer’s voice crackled through the intercom.

"One more take. From the bridge."

You clenched your jaw.

This song was garbage.

Poppy, soulless, manufactured—everything you’d sworn you’d never make. But Atlas had quotas. Algorithms. A bottom line that didn’t care about artistic integrity.

You took a breath.

And sang.

The lyrics tasted like ash.

"I’m over you, I’m over us—

don’t need your love, don’t need your touch."

A lie.

The worst kind.

When the track finally ended, you ripped the headphones off, tossing them onto the console.

Mira arched a brow from the corner. "Dramatic, aren’t we?"

"Buzz off," you laughed dryly.

She tossed you a water bottle. "So. Jay."

Your throat closed.

Mira smirked. "You’re worse than a telenovela, you know that?"

"I hate you."

"Liar." She nudged your shoulder. "Talk."

You slumped against the soundproof wall, sliding down until you hit the floor. "...I don’t know what I’m doing."

Mira joined you, stretching her legs out. "Do you want to know?"

That was the problem.

You did.

And it terrified you.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦��.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

The call came at 2 AM.

Your phone lit up the darkened bedroom, Unknown Caller flashing across the screen like a ghost.

You stared at it.

Let it ring.

On the last vibration, you picked up.

"Hey." His voice was rough with sleep. Or something else.

"...Hey." You could hear relief at some point by the way he answered you.

A beat. Then—

“Sutton Place, was it?”

Your face crumpled in curiosity. “Say that again?”

"I’m outside."

Your heart stopped.

Slowly, you padded to the window, peeling back the curtain.

There he was.

Leaning against his car, face tipped up toward your townhome. The streetlight caught the gold in his hair, the curve of his jaw.

God did he look so beautiful.

You swallowed hard. "...Why?"

Jay’s breath crackled through the speaker. "Because I can’t stop thinking about you."

Simple. Honest.

Devastating.

You closed your eyes and made your choice.

The predawn air bit at your exposed ankles as you descended the townhouse steps, the wrought iron railing cold under your palm.

Jay stood exactly where you'd seen him from your bedroom window—not under the glow of the streetlamp like some romantic cliché, but half-shadowed where the light didn't quite reach, as if even now he couldn't fully step into the light.

"You came down," he said, voice scraped raw. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to reach for you, like they'd forgotten they weren't allowed to anymore.

You tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt nervously, fingers curling into the worn fabric. "You called. And here I am, against my better judgment."

A taxi rumbled past, its headlights catching the hollows under his eyes, the new sharpness to his jaw. This Jay was both familiar and foreign—the boy you loved sanded down into a man by time and choices and the kind of regret that carves itself into bone.

The Bentley parked haphazardly behind him gleamed under the streetlights, but neither of you mentioned it. Some truths didn't need saying out loud.

"You shouldn't be here," you said, but your feet stayed rooted to the pavement.

Right there, he can only reciprocate a breath — eyes tracing your tousled hair, and even the worn NYU sweatshirt you’d stolen from him years ago.

You tightened your arms around yourself. "You’re blocking a five-million-dollar driveway, by the way."

Jay snorted, raking a hand through his windswept hair. "Still can’t believe you live here. When I saw the address on your tour rider, I thought it was a typo."

You sighed, knowing full well how he was able to get that kind of information. He was always smart when it came to you and your whereabouts.

“Leah?”

“Sarah, actually.”

“Oh …. that also makes sense.” You laughed it off.

The city air was quiet, almost as if it was drowning you both in the most tender moment between night and dawn.

"Atlas pays well for selling your soul," you said, watching his smile die.

Jay exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "You would say that."

The first time he'd shown up unannounced back at your old dorm, it had been 2 AM after a fight with his father. Now here he was again—your personal ghost, arriving at the most liminal hour between dusk and dawn.

"Let's go somewhere," he said, nodding toward his car.

You could have said no. Should have, probably. But the look in his eyes—that quiet, shattered hope—had always been your undoing.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

The diner was nearly empty, the vinyl booths cracked with age and the air thick with the scent of burnt coffee. You slid into the corner seat—your seat, the one you’d claimed a lifetime ago during late-night study sessions and stolen kisses over shared milkshakes.

Jay paused by the table, his fingers brushing the chipped laminate. "Jesus. They still haven’t replaced these?"

"Some things don’t change," you said, watching as he eased into the seat across from you. The booth was smaller than you remembered. Or maybe you’d just forgotten how close you used to sit.

The waitress—Marge, according to her nametag, though she hadn’t been here last time—dropped two menus on the table without looking up. "Coffee?"

"Please," Jay said.

"Cola." you added. Jay looked at you with concern etched on his features.

Marge grunted and shuffled off, her orthopedic shoes squeaking against the tile.

“At three in the morning?”

“You know I stack up Diet every day for this.” You smiled. “That small fridge we had was my lifeline.”

“To this day?” He spat in shock, but not surprised. Almost as if just taken aback of the old habit.

“I mean, I can afford a mean inverter double door refrigerator.” You jest. It is true, you can definitely afford that luxury now.

“I wasn’t talking about the amount of colas you can stack in a fridge.” Jay sighed, your usual bickering setting the tone for the conversation—familiar, easy, the kind of back-and-forth that used to mean something more.

But it didn’t mean that now.

There was no playful shove after, no rolling your eyes just to hide a smile. No lingering glances that said I’m only joking, teasing to see your face crumple so cutely.

Before, this would’ve been the part where you leaned in, just a little, brushing your lips against his cheek before he could finish his next sentence. Before, he would’ve reached under the table, fingers threading through yours like it was nothing, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, it was just words. Just two people talking, nothing hiding between the lines.

And that was the worst part—knowing exactly what it wasn’t anymore.

“It’s better than whiskey.” You retorted. Jay can only look at you with a simple gaze.

Jay drummed his fingers against the table — still the nervous habit he’d never kicked.

"So."

Another silence. The kind that should’ve been awkward but wasn’t. The kind that felt like picking up a conversation you’d only paused.

Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know where to start."

"Try the beginning," you said softly.

He met your gaze then, his dark eyes searching yours. "The beginning’s messy."

You huffed a laugh. "Since when have we ever been squeaky clean?"

Something in his expression fractured. For a second, you thought he might reach across the table. Might bridge the distance with his fingertips like he used to.

Instead, he folded his hands together. "I was wrong."

The words landed like a punch.

"About what?" you asked, though you already knew.

"Everything." Jay’s voice cracked. "The band. The label. You. I thought—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I thought I was protecting you. From the industry. From selling out. From … losing yourself."

Your chest ached. "And instead?"

The words sat there, heavy between you, like waiting for a wound to finally bleed.

"Instead—" He stopped, jaw tightening like the words were sharp in his mouth, like they might cut him on the way out. His voice dropped lower, rough at the edges.

"I lost you."

Just like that. No take-backs, no pretending it didn’t happen.

Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. You could hear his breath, uneven, like he’d been holding it too long. Like he hadn’t meant to say it—or maybe he had, and that was worse.

And there it was, laid out between you: the truth, bare and ugly. With no way to get it back.

Marge returned with your drinks, the mugs landing with a sharp clack against the worn formica. The drinks you’ve ordered sloshed over the rims, bearing no noise as the silence surrounded you. You waited until she’d shuffled off, her orthopedic shoes squeaking against the linoleum, before speaking.

"You didn’t lose me," you said, so quiet the words barely carried over the hum of the neon sign outside. "You let me go."

Jay flinched like you’d struck him. His fingers tightened around his mug, knuckles whitening, but he didn’t look up.

Outside, a garbage truck groaned past, its headlights cutting through the diner’s grease-smeared windows. For a second, the light caught the lines around Jay’s eyes—new ones, ones you didn’t recognize.

The clock above the counter ticked, each second louder than the last, marking time you couldn’t get back.

Funny, how everything kept moving. The world didn’t stop just because something broke.

He stared at the chipped mug the waitress dropped in front of him. "I dream about this place," he admitted quietly. "Wake up reaching for you across cold sheets."

Your breath caught. Four years. Four years of radio silence, of carefully curated distance, and he says this like it's nothing. Like the words weren't grenades.

"Why now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jay's fingers traced along the table napkins he has on the table—around and around in a nervous circle. "Because I saw you play last week. Really play, not that polished Atlas bullshit." His eyes met yours, dark and desperate. "And back at the wedding? You forgot the lyrics to 'Way Back Into Love' again. Just like you always did."

The admission hung between you, fragile as the morning light beginning to creep through the diner's grimy windows.

Jay reached across the table, his fingers hovering just shy of yours. "I thought I finally nailed it and I was doing the right thing. Letting you chase your dreams without me holding you back." His throat worked as he swallowed.

"But watching you up there in person again after all this time—you looked just as trapped as I felt."

The truth of it lodged in your ribs. Atlas's golden cage. The songs you didn't write. The versions of yourself you'd whittled away to fit their mold.

Jay's phone buzzed—once, twice—lighting up with Naomi's name. He didn't reach for it.

"I should go," you said, standing abruptly.

Jay caught your wrist, his grip feather-light. "Please, stay."

Two words. That's all it took for the walls to crumble.

His request hung in the air, simple yet devastating.

The radio in the kitchen crackled to life with your latest hit—all polish and production, nothing like the raw songs you used to write. Then your voice floated through the static, singing lyrics you barely remembered writing. The label had polished every rough edge off that song, sanded it down until it was shiny and hollow. A hit, but not yours. Not really.

Jay’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his thumb finding the flutter of your pulse.

"You must hate that song," he murmured.

You swallowed hard. The chorus swelled, saccharine and overproduced. "I hate most of them now."

Jay stood slowly, his free hand lifting—hovering near your cheek, close enough that you felt the warmth of his palm but not the touch. Waiting. Always waiting for your permission, even now.

The diner’s door chimed as another customer entered, the bell jangling. A gust of cold morning air rushed in, carrying the smell of the city streets and exhaust. Neither of you moved.

"Call me," you whispered, pulling away. Your voice barely carried over the radio. "This time, when you’re really ready to talk about … us."

You stepped out into the dawn, the weight of his gaze following you like a second shadow. Behind you, the phone buzzed again—persistent, impatient.

You didn’t look back.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — THIRD ONE OUT!!1 ive got a week off and i'm sooo gonna rest, but ofc i an't forget my duty as a humble writer, and so here it is!! the third chapter ... oooh fascinating developments~ we'll see how it boils down!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — tagging @kaiyunsim @firstclassjaylee @ryes-brownies08

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist

legacy masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

31 notes · View notes

camerainbow · 12 hours ago

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I just need to write this out to get it out of my head

It bring a hallucination (the flash) would mean the funeral episode (maybe even more episodes) wouldn’t be canon in the 9-1-1 universe and at the very most show us more depth for every character (we see a lot of depth already….), very unnecessary.

A hallucination would mean only one character (chim or Bobby or Eddie??) would feel those feelings in the dream state and what reason would be good enough to justify that

(This couldn’t even connect to Eddie realizing gayness, chim feeling guilty but it being fake from his mind is cruel, I could understand if Peter wanted to leave and this was a coma/hallucination for his character realizing he needs to retire but Peter didn’t want to leave the show and his character has already clearly chosen life).

A hallucination at the flash means we don’t have confirmation chim survived…

On the other hand 👁️👄👁️ I have other thoughts about this whole storyline of the death

Peter the actor is an executive producer, do they have a say in anything?. He didn’t want to leave… similarly Angela is also an EP and didn’t see this as a possibility ….

The GA very obviously would never react well to this… (I could MAYBE understand if season 9 was billed at the last season but as far as we know it’s not set to be, also what reason would they have to end the show so suddenly when no one wants to leave… and ratings are good… I don’t see why they’d dump the OG for 9-1-1 Nashville… the only reason I could see is Tim saying I’m done but why not have someone take over)

:( Buck mentoring Ravi and acting captain-like sadly makes sense if he steps up to fill Caps shoes in the future, especially being the only other one besides Athena to interact with Bobby as he goes :(

A surprise recovery (buried alive vibes) makes more sense than hallucination for a show that has never had a main character death for so many seasons. (I do feel like cap seeing his own funeral would make him retire though…)

The death (and then recovery) bringing Eddie into the main environment again and helping him realize his true family and home would make a lot of sense for a move back to LA with Chris. If it’s real I feel like Eddie would have more reason to not move back and potentially feel more grief. I don’t see the Bobby death convincingly resulting in Buddie ugh.

A fakeout death and recovery would motivate Buck to be extremely motivated to become Captain and to get Bobby the happy ending he deserves aka. retirement w/ Athena and her/their kids (not necessarily season 9 but season 9 would be fitting as a one season final arc for Bobby ugh).

The house scene with Bobby and Athena in part one of the two parter feels cruel if this is what the resolution is… (Athena being in an empty home). (The only things I could see as a benefit to that scene are: Eddie temporarily living there and keeping her company, her children having a room that’s not a guest room… though I find both very weak… also would she be able to afford mortgage on one salary idk the money situation, was he even eligible for life insurance).

The pictures of them on set all giddy… (and the Oliver instagram comments)… have thrown me for a loop. I can understand a lack of social media savvy (or trying to cope) and them having a good time on set but like they had to have known that group photo would be leaked right(?) it was out in the open… idk maybe I’m tripping

I have too many thoughts I need to sleep. This feels lowkey like destructive behavior to overwhelm myself with these feelings. I hope everyone who watches is okay. <3 Yes it’s a television show but I fear the way they did this was dangerous for vulnerable people who watch :/ :(

#911 on abc #911 show #911 speculation #911 abc #911 spoilers #bobby nash #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #spoiler alert #911 8x15 #lab rats

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curly-fry-3 · 3 days ago

Note

I don't wanna overwhelm you since you probably have like other req to finish but after I saw the post with Gabriel I had an idea (°□°) ☝️

So basically in season 3 where Dean dies over and over again, surprisingly Dean's daughter, reader doesn't but she also isn't in the time loop stuck with Sam so at the end he asks and turns out Gabriel just likes her better (and also that she isn't gonna die like dean at the end anyways). So then when Dean died and Sam left with Ruby, leaving her alone (tho Sam probably thought that she went to Bobby and he didn't want to take her with him since just like Dean she was against the whole Ruby thing). She had no one... for like 5 hours when she heard from random people that something crazy happened to them. So she goes to look for Gabriel cause what most people described were things a trickster would do. She eventually finds him and confronts him and they start talking giving each other comfort cause right now they both have some sorta family issues (tho he doesn't say he's the Archangel Gabriel just kinda says his name is Gabriel) and they kinda have this 'uncle who buy his niece a gun to birthday' relationship.

𖦹Gabriel's Favorite𖦹

summary𖦹 When the worst thing that could happen, happens, Gabriel will be there to shit talk with you

pairing𖦹 Archangel Gabriel x Reader (platonic)

word count𖦹 1,667

notes𖦹 this idea was so cool but I dont feel like what I wrote is the best cause ive never written for Gabe before (I low-key made him such a diva) Also it has kinda a lot of build up to the actual conversation sorry I hope you like it though

Another Tuesday. Another Tuesday of Sam waking up to you and Dean humming along to Aisa while getting ready for the day like nothing was wrong. Dean has already died about a hundred times, with you and Sam both as witnesses, yet Sam seems to be the only one affected. He was tired and confused. He had just watched you sobbing over your father's dead body, and now you two are brushing your teeth while choosing where to eat for breakfast.

After trying to explain his situation and being met with poorly hidden judgy faces, Sam follows you and his brother into the diner you choose. He cautiously walks in, scanning the room for anybody who looks out of place. You're chatting to Dean excitedly about some show you're watching as you all sit down in a booth. When your rambling dies down,your dad notices Sam’s unease and silence.

Dean turns to his brother and grabs his attention “Why are you on edge? It's not like anything is gonna happen”

Sam tenses his jaw and gives Dean a bitch face “Something always happens. Whether you choke on your food or you slip and crack your head open on the way to the bathroom, you always die”

Dean dismisses his concern “Nothing is gonna happen. I'm a big boy, I can chew my food and walk without falling”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns toward the other people in the restaurant, eyes searching for odd behavior. You look over at your dad in confusion then look over at Uncle Sammy, brows furrowing in concern “If my dad has died so many times, how come I don't remember it? I should be in the time loop too”

Sam focuses back onto you “I don't know. I have no idea what's going on or how to stop it, I just don't wanna watch Dean die again–or have to watch you watch him die”

There is an awkward silence, Dean sighs to fill the space then tries to lighten the mood. “If I'm gonna die today, it's not gonna be on an empty stomach, let's get something to eat”

You nod before looking down at the menu “Look, Dad, Pig n’ a Poke”

He looks at where you're pointing and hums out in satisfaction “That sounds amazing” He turns to Sam, trying to include him in the conversation “Sammy doesn't that sound amazing? I getting it”

You close up your menu “Me too”

Dean kicks Sam under the table “What are you getting”

“Nothing. You know, watching you die over and over kinda ruined my appetite” He recipes with as much sass as possible.

Your meal passes without any hiccups and You exit the diner and barely make it down the street before Dean is mauled by a dog. You watch in horror as his body lies lifeless on the sidewalk. You sob as you hold him, looking up at Sammy. Suddenly Sam sits up in bed, Aisa playing on the radio–another Tuesday.

He has to live through a couple more Tuesdays till he finally spots what he was searching for in the diner. Everyone eats and does the same thing every day, except one man. This man would always have pancakes, but today he ordered a different kind of syrup.

Sam waited until the man walked out of the diner and quietly followed him, You and Dean not far behind. He corners the man in the alley and holds a stake up to his neck. Dean reflexively puts an arm out in front of you and puts you behind him.

Sam grips the lapel of the man's shirt “I know it's you. You're the reason I keep living through Tuesday, watching him die again and again. I know you're a trickster, we've killed one before. One thing I don't know is why. Why are you doing this and why isn't she affected”

Suddenly, the man's face shifts into the face of the trickster Sam was referring to “You two chuckle heads didn't kill me. I've gotta say, it's been quite fun killing Dean every day, but I didn't do this to hurt him, it's all for you. I'm trying to tell you, Sam, you can't save your brother. As for why she's not involved, I like her. She's not an asshole like you two.”

Sam grinds his teeth and digs the wooden stake farther into the trickster's neck “bullshit, I can save him. All I have to do is kill you for real, and this is all over”

The man puts his hands up in defense “Woah, we don't need to go that far. You found me, the joke is over”

He snapped his fingers and Sam woke up in the motel again, but this time the radio played a different song “It's not Aisa”

Dean makes room for you to spit out your toothpaste in the sink “Yeah I know, this station sucks”

A large smile never left Sam's face as he got up and ready for the day. The smile vanished when he sent Dean and you to go put your bags in the car. He was finishing up in the room when he heard a gunshot and a scream from the parking lot. He rushes outside and finds you cradling Dean's lifeless body. You look up at Sam as he approaches with tears and snot running down your face.

After that day, things had really changed. Your dad was gone and Sammy was different. You thought you could mourn with him but he was just so disconnected. It didn't take long for him to ditch you, saying that it was important and too dangerous for you to come with him. You knew what that meant, you knew he was going to Ruby. You know he thought you were going to go to Bobby, that you would be taken care of, but you just couldn't. You couldn't live in that house, it reminded you too much of your dad.

You had just started wondering, looking for something, a sign or anything, that would tell you what to do next. It didn't take long because, a couple hours later, you heard people talking of the most insane thing happening to them. You knew that it had to be the trickster, you could feel it in your gut. You used the skills your dad had taught you to find him. Although you had been searching for him, You were only able to meet him again by complete accident–running into him on the street.

You were minding your own business while you were walking till, by the grace of god, you made eye contact with the trickster. You pause, making sure it's really him, before quickly approaching him. He looks a little shocked to see you,but not unhappy “Hey kid, what are you doing by yourself”

You look down at your feet before looking back at him “Dad’s dead, Sam left”

He awkwardly pauses for a sec then mutters under his breath “Oh, shit” He puts one arm around your shoulder and starts leading you towards an apartment. “Is it ok if you stay with me”

You nod “Yeah, I mean, who else would I stay with”

He keeps his arm around you until you make it to the front door and he unlocks it with both arms, motioning for you to go inside “Make yourself at home. I got food in the fridge, an extra bed, and there's a dog here somewhere. If you need or want anything, just tell me–I have my ways of getting shit. If you wanna talk, I'm available anytime I'm not messing with someone. Oh and, my name's Gabriel by the way”

You sit down on the couch next to him after he finishes his introduction “Thank you, really. I had somewhere else I could go to but I had too many memories of my dad there.”

He lazily spreads out on the couch and nods in agreement, “You don't have to explain that to me, I totally get it. I would be living with my family but there's just too much going on there too. I mean, don't even get me started on the family drama”

You start becoming more comfortable and relax on the couch “Please, I feel like I'm the queen of family drama, My uncle left me after my dad died to go kanoodle with a demon”

His jaw drops “Are you serious, that bitch! You deserve better. I should have messed with him more”

You sigh in exhaustion “I don't even wanna think about it right now. You need to tell me your drama so I forget about mine”

He immediately starts unloading “Oh, where do I even start? My brothers have always been fighting but it kinda died down for a while, but now they're at it again. And whenever they fight, it's always messy, they hurt other people and it's just annoying.”

“Oh, I hate a messy fight. People need to learn to control themselves” You reply

He nods in agreement “Tell me about it. That's why this time, I'm not picking a side. I'm gonna stay out of it till it dies down. It's just frustrating because nobody else tries to stop it, they just pick a side and go with it. My dad has just given up, he is nowhere to be found”

Your eyes widen “Omg he ditched you guys, that's crazy messed up. I think it would be worse if my dad left, at least when he died it wasn't his choice. I guess that's why it hurt so much when Sam left”

Gabriel takes a deep breath “You know, talking it out actually feels better than I thought it would”

You take a second to think before responding “It actually does. I haven't really talked to anyone since everything happened and I already feel way better”

He gives you a mischievous smile “You know what would make this even better? Booze.”

sorry for any typos

@areswasneverhere

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #fanfic #dean winchester x daughter!reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x niece! reader #gabriel spn #gabriel supernatural #gabriel x reader #spn Gabriel x reader

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tinyshyteacup · 3 days ago

Text

Tw: Angst, cussing, knives, blood, tension.

Part 3

Gilded Façade - Part 4

The room is vast, but warm—gold and cream drapery spilling from the tall windows, soft with age and light.

Along one wall, bolts of fabric rest in shelves like precious tomes in a library, rich velvets, silks, and ethereal weaves that shimmer even in shadow.

Frigga stands beside you, regal and serene in deep blue robes threaded with silver stars.

She smells faintly of lavender and something older—like parchment and spell smoke. Her presence is soothing, her movements graceful.

She doesn’t command the room. She settles into it, like she’s always belonged.

You, by contrast, feel painfully small. The seamstresses whisper in Asgardian, taking measurements in floating light-ribbons that tickle your arms and waist. Your reflection shimmers in a hovering mirror that adjusts to show you from any angle.

Frigga watches you quietly, hands folded at her waist. When you glance at her with uncertainty, she smiles.

“You do not need to choose what is most Asgardian,” she says gently. “Only what feels most you.”

You swallow. “I… don’t know what that is... here.”

Frigga moves to your side. “Then let us discover it together.”

The dress you choose is unlike anything you would have worn on Earth.

Soft pale champagne, weightless as air. Sleeves that drape like falling water. Intricate emerald embroidery curling across the bodice like vines of starlight. There are no zippers or buttons—a selection of ties instead, whispered into the fabric by the seamstresses, so it fits like it was born for you.

Frigga gently places a circlet atop your head—delicate silver filigree with a single pale gem at its center.

You look in the mirror and hardly recognize yourself.

“I look like… someone else.”

“No,” Frigga says, adjusting the circlet with motherly care, “you look like yourself, beloved and seen.”

Your eyes sting, you do not feel like either of those things.

Once the seamstresses withdraw, Frigga leads you to a smaller antechamber—filled with light and flowering vines that trail from the ceiling like blessings.

She pours tea from an intricately carved urn, the steam carrying hints of wild herbs and starlight.

“The ceremony,” she says gently, “will feel overwhelming. We do not rush our unions in Asgard, but we do celebrate them with great intensity.”

You nod slowly, sipping the tea. “That’s… what I’m afraid of.”

Frigga tilts her head. “The convergence?”

You look down at your cup, cheeks warm. “Yes, Your Majesty. I don’t— I didn’t grow up where that sort of thing was… expected.”

Frigga reaches out, resting a cool hand over yours.

“You are not a prize to be claimed, Child,” she says softly. “You are a person to be cherished. My son knows this, even if he struggles to say it.”

You look up at her. “He scares people.”

Frigga’s smile doesn’t falter. “Yes. Because he does not let them close.”

A pause. Then, warmly:

“But he lets you close, doesn’t he?”

Your throat tightens. “…He showed me butterflies.”

That earns you a real smile. “Then he’s already given you more than most have seen.”

You catch a glimpse of Loki at the edge of the corridor as you and Frigga exit the seamstress hall. He’s leaning in a shadowed alcove, arms folded, expression unreadable.

His eyes sweep from the circlet on your head to the faint shimmer of the dress under your robe.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. Then—

“You’ll stun them all,” he says, quietly. “Even the stars will look down and wonder.”

You’re not sure what to say. His voice is smooth, as ever, but his posture is different. Guarded. Careful. He doesn’t come closer.

You offer a nervous smile and a tiny nod.

It's the kindest thing he's said since you've arrived.

It had been too much.

Too many stares, too many murmurs as you passed down the corridors in your formal silks. Asgardians with fine cheekbones and starlit eyes looked at you as though you were a curiosity in a gallery, a painting hung beside one of Loki’s darker stories.

Some with thin smiles.

Some with pity.

Some with expressions you couldn’t even read.

"Such a timid little thing"

“A Midgardian bride?”

“Does she even know who he really is?”

You had kept your chin up. Spoken softly. Smiled even when your voice trembled.

But now, with night blanketing the golden towers, you slipped from your rooms—barefoot, wrapped in a simple robe, needing air, needing something that didn’t watch you like prey or like porcelain waiting to crack.

You found yourself in the library.

It was quiet.

Vast marble shelves stretched endlessly upward, filled with books older than your world. The air smelled like parchment and starlight dust.

The only light came from flickering sconces and the grand fireplace in the heart of the reading chamber, its flames cool gold instead of orange.

You curled into one of the large armchairs, knees tucked to your chest.

The firelight kissed your skin gently, your eyes rimmed pink from trying not to cry.

You just wanted to breathe.

To not feel like a creature on display.

You didn’t hear him come in.

A shift in the room's magic preceded him—subtle, like the way a shadow changes when clouds pass the moon.

Loki walked in soundlessly, dressed in gold and forest green, his steps quiet against the polished stone. He didn’t speak at first.

You looked up, startled.

“I—” your voice wobbled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— I thought no one would—”

He raised a hand gently, not to silence but to soothe.

“You’re not intruding,” he said, voice calm, velvet-smooth. “This is the only room in the palace that doesn’t judge.”

He crossed the room, long coat trailing behind him like a second shadow, and sat in the chair opposite yours.

But not too close.

He leaned forward, forearms resting lightly on his knees, hands folded together.

“You looked like you were about to vanish,” he said softly. “So I followed.”

You stared into the fire for a long moment. The crackle of flame sounded more like chimes than wood. Everything here had a kind of... strangeness to it.

“I don’t belong here,” you said finally.

Loki didn’t laugh. Didn’t deny it.

“Neither did I,” he replied.

You glanced up at him. His gaze was steady, not unkind. His features softened by the low light, the sharpness of his jaw less intimidating here. He seemed... quieter in this space.

“I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow,” you whispered. “And the way they look at me. I don’t know if they want me to fail, or pity me because I’ll be your wife.”

That made something flicker across his face—not anger, but... pain?

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked, voice low.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

He leaned back then, folding one leg over the other, watching the fire.

"They see what I make them see,” he said. “What I let them see.”

Then, softly, Loki reached out—only a little—his fingers brushing the arm of your chair in the barest of touches.

“I won’t let them tear you apart,” he murmured. “And I won’t... become what they expect, just to prove them right.”

You blinked fast. “But the wedding—”

“I will handle it,” he said simply, with just a note of sharpness.

“And the ceremony? The—convergence?” The word was awkward in your mouth, like something ancient and ceremonial and terrifying.

Loki's expression darkened for a moment.

“I said I would take care of it,” he repeated sharply.

Sharp enough that you flinched.

Loki's eyes narrowed, his tall frame suddenly very still in the dimly lit library.

"You, flinch. As though I were about to strike you." his voice deceptively calm as he took a measured step toward you.

"Tell me, is that what you expect of your future husband? That I would resort to violence at the slightest provocation?"

His expression hardened, something raw and wounded flashing behind his eyes before the mask of cool disdain returned.

"You think me a monster," he stated flatly, the words hanging in the air between you. "A beast to be feared and appeased."

He closed the distance between you with deliberate slowness, until you could see the faint flecks of darker green in his irises.

"Is that what Midgard teaches about the God of Mischief? That I am nothing but teeth and claws and cruelty?" A bitter smile curved his lips.

You tried to shake your head, but Loki’s sharp words made you still.

"Tomorrow, you wed a monster then. How... unfortunate for you." He turned away sharply, his shoulders rigid beneath his attire.

"I wonder, Pet" he spat the endarement as if it had rotted in his mouth "which is worse—to be feared as a monster, or to know that your own bride trembles at your mere presence on the eve of your union."

The palace windows flooded your chamber with golden light, the kind that glinted off every polished surface and filtered through translucent silks hung from the ceiling.

Outside, the spires of Asgard rose against a perfect sky—but inside, you sat silent, the weight of centuries-old tradition pressing into you.

You were barely breathing.

Frigga stood behind you, carefully arranging the final touches in your hair. Her hands were warm, steady. She had braided fine gold-threaded cords through your hair, twining them with delicate beads that caught the light like starlight.

The gown—chosen only yesterday—fit like it had been dreamed of by someone who knew you long before you ever stood in this realm.

Champange-colored silk with green accents, the colors of Loki’s house, but subtle… not overwhelming.

“You look like a dream, my dear,” she said softly, gazing at your reflection in the full-length mirror. “Like something the stars would envy.”

Your hands fidgeted in your lap. “What if I trip? Or say the wrong words? Or—” You swallowed, voice trembling.

Frigga met your eyes in the mirror. Her smile was gentle—but there was a steel beneath her softness.

“Then Asgard will adjust,” she said firmly.

She touched your shoulder, grounding you.

“And as for the ceremony… just walk forward. Everything else will come.”

Two golden guards opened the doors with solemn precision, and the hum of a distant choir echoed down the long marble corridor ahead.

Your heart thundered.

Each footstep was a betrayal of your nerves, your pulse fluttering in your throat as the weight of hundreds of eyes waited somewhere just beyond.

You clutched a bouquet crafted from Asgardian star-blossoms—so luminous they almost looked unreal. Your fingers trembled around the stems.

And then you stepped through.

The grand ceremonial hall had been transformed into something ethereal. Vines of silken greenery drifted above, suspended mid-air by unseen magic. Light filtered through floating crystals, casting soft prisms on the white marble floor. Pillars lined the path, each wrapped in silver and pale green.

And at the end of it—

Loki.

He stood tall, regal, and untouchable.

Clad in his gold and green ceremonial armor, gleaming and fearsome. The horns of his helm curled upward like a crown meant for tricksters and gods of old.

The golden glow of the hall made the green of his cape shimmer like a serpent's scales.

His face was unreadable.

Lips pressed into a line. Eyes flicking across your form, lingering—but giving away nothing. He did not move toward you.

Did not smile. He stood as if carved from cold marble, a man sculpted by war, betrayal, and duty.

Something in your stomach twisted.

He felt so far away.

But Loki didn’t notice your panic.

Or perhaps he did—and chose not to react.

You reached the platform, every step careful, rehearsed a dozen times in your mind.

Loki looked down at you—not unkind, not cold exactly, but… distant.

Formal.

His hands were clasped behind his back, posture perfect. You felt very small standing beside him, full of nerves and covered in silk next to a god in full ceremonial armor.

Your voice nearly failed when the priest asked if you were ready.

But then—you felt it.

A flicker.

A pulse of warmth—brief, deliberate. Loki’s fingers brushed yours. Barely. A whisper of skin on skin.

Perhaps it was accidental.

The vows were spoken in Old Asgardian, translated gently for your ears. You recited your part softly, afraid of mispronouncing every word. Loki spoke his flawlessly, of course—voice deep and smooth, his gaze never leaving you.

But you couldn’t read him.

And that terrified you more than any crowd.

When the ritual ended and the ceremonial binding of hands began—glowing green threads curling around your fingers—your chest was tight. You expected Loki to say something. To lean down and whisper a quiet reassurance.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he simply looked at you.

After the feasting the whirlwind of congratulations, Solem robed women. Led you away.

The corridors leading to Loki’s chambers felt longer than any corridor should.

Torches flickered low against the golden stone, casting dancing shadows across your path as the elders—robed and solemn—led the way.

They said little, their faces stone masks of tradition, but you felt every glance.

Behind them, the ceremonial guards kept their distance. Behind you, the murmur of old customs and whispered expectations chased your steps like ghosts.

You clutched the soft fabric of your nightgown tight to your chest. It was Asgardian in cut, but lighter—meant for the night, the had insisted you change in a side room at the start of a corridor.

You weren’t cold, and yet you trembled.

The elders halted in the entry chamber—an antechamber, you now realized—meant to receive the soiled sheets. You saw a silver tray placed on a side table beside them, elegant and waiting.

You had to fight the bile that seemed to climb your throat

One of the older women gave you a nod—gentle, but firm.

You stepped inside.

The ornate door to Loki's chamber closed with a resonant thud that seemed to echo through your very bones.

You stood frozen, watching as Loki locked it with a casual flick of his wrist, magic shimmering briefly around the edges.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, Loki's chambers gradually revealed themselves in all their princely splendor.

The space was vast, far larger than any bedroom you'd seen on Earth. Polished marble floors stretched across the chamber, reflecting the golden glow of scattered lanterns.

To your left, an imposing fireplace carved from black stone dominated one wall, flames dancing lazily within its depths, casting moving shadows across the room.

Bookshelves lined another wall, stretching from floor to ceiling, filled with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts collected from across the Nine Realms.

Many appeared worn from frequent handling, their spines cracked and pages marked.

A testament to Loki's scholarly nature.

A least there was something you had in common.

Near the far corner, partially concealed behind an ornate silk curtain, you glimpsed the edge of a sunken bath large enough for several people, its marble basin inlaid with gold veins that shimmered with latent magic.

Steam rose gently from its surface, scented with unfamiliar Asgardian herbs.

Tall arched doors led to a sprawling balcony where elegant cushioned benches waited beneath the stars, positioned for contemplative views of the eternal cosmos beyond Asgard's edge.

The night air whispered through sheer curtains that billowed gently at the threshold.

At the center of it all stood the massive bed, draped in linens of the finest silk, its pristine white sheets a stark canvas awaiting the completion of your marriage bond.

Four intricately carved posts reached toward the vaulted ceiling, supporting a canopy of deep emerald fabric embroidered with golden threads that formed delicate vines.

"So," Loki said, his voice startlingly soft in the silence, "the final act of this charade."

Your heart hammered against your ribs as he approached, each step measured and deliberate. Despite the elaborate Asgardian nightgown adorning your body, you felt utterly exposed under his piercing gaze.

Hours earlier, he had stood beside you before all of Asgard, his face an impassive mask as vows were exchanged. Now, alone, that mask remained firmly in place, though something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"My Prince," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Look at you little one, playing the dutiful Midgardian bride."

He circled you slowly, like a predator assessing its prey.

Your breath caught as he stopped directly behind you, close enough that you could feel the chill emanating from his body.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for his touch.

It never came.

Instead, the distinctive sound of a blade being unsheathed sliced through the air.

Your eyes flew open as panic surged through your veins. You whirled around to find Loki standing there, an ornate dagger gleaming in his hand, its blade catching the lantern light.

"Please," you gasped, stumbling backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. "Loki, I—"

"Quiet," he commanded, but without the usual venom. He approached steadily, dagger extended. "Remove your left slipper, and sit down"

Your hands trembled violently as you obeyed, fingers fumbling with the delicate clasp.

The floor was cold beneath your bare foot as you looked up at him, confusion warring with terror, as you lowered yourself onto the edge of the bed.

"This marriage is a necessity," Loki said, his voice low and controlled. "But even I have certain... boundaries."

He knelt before you in a fluid motion that sent your mind reeling—the God of Mischief, on his knees.

Without warning, he grasped your ankle with surprising gentleness, lifting your bare foot.

"Hold still," he instructed, all business now. "This will sting, but only briefly."

Understanding dawned just as the blade's edge pressed against the underside of your foot. A sharp pain, quick and bright, made you gasp. Blood welled from a shallow cut, dark against your skin.

Loki's fingers were cool as they guided your foot, pressing the wound to the sheet, leaving a unmistakable stain on the pristine white fabric.

"There," he said, satisfaction evident in his tone as he released your foot.

He stood in one fluid movement, wiping the blade clean before vanishing it with a gesture. "The evidence of our union is provided. The servants will find what they expect to find, and this farce will be complete."

You stared at him, bewildered, your foot still throbbing with pain.

"You didn't..." you began, unable to finish the thought.

"Force myself on you?" Loki completed, arching an eyebrow. His voice was still cold, but lacked the cruelty you'd come to expect. "I may be many things, but that is not among them."

He gestured toward the stained portion of the sheet. "Sit there. Briefly."

"What?"

"Your nightgown must match the sheets," he explained with clinical detachment. "The servants will expect... consistency."

Hesitantly, you lowered yourself onto the blood-spotted area, feeling the dampness seep through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

A blush heated your cheeks at the implications, but you understood the necessity of the ruse.

After a moment, he nodded, seemingly satisfied with the small stain now marking your garment. "Sufficient."

Loki approached once more and surprised you by kneeling at your feet again. He extended his hand over your wounded foot, and a soft green glow emanated from his palm.

A tingling sensation replaced the sharp pain as his magic knitted your flesh back together, leaving no trace of the cut that had been there moments before.

"There," he said quietly, his eyes focused on his work rather than your face. "No lasting damage."

He rose and moved to the bed, deftly stripping the sheet with precise movements. He folded it carefully, making certain the bloodstain was prominently visible.

"It's complete," Loki announced, his voice suddenly projected with regal authority. He handed the folded sheet to the older of the women, whose eyes widened slightly at the visible evidence. "See that the Elder's receive confirmation of our union's consummation."

The servants bowed deeply, exchanging knowing glances as they accepted the proof they had been sent to collect.

"Fresh linens," Loki commanded, and the younger servant hurried off to comply. Once new sheets were brought and the bed remade under Loki's cold supervision, he dismissed them with a wave.

The door closed once more, and he turned back to you, his shoulders tense beneath his formal attire as he gazed out the window at the stars above Asgard.

The silence stretched between you until finally, he spoke without turning.

"You thought that I would take what I wanted regardless of your consent?" His voice was deceptively calm, but undercurrents of frustration rippled beneath the surface.

"How predictable. The fearsome, cruel God of Lies, surely he would force himself upon his unwilling bride." A bitter smile twisted his lips as he paced a few steps closer.

"But contrary to what Thor or Odin or all the realms might believe—" He stopped abruptly, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you.

"I do have limits. Lines even I will not cross." His voice dropped lower, almost to a whisper.

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hehe-69 · 3 days ago

Text

Bonfire Part 11

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

WARNINGS: BELLA’S WEDDING, EMMET BEING THE HIMBO HE IS, WOLFPACK, EMBRY X QUILL MOMENTS, VERY POORLY WRITTEN PART

I have never struggled so much to write a part as I did with this one. The other parts are soooo much better

Summary: Bella’s wedding wasn’t something you were looking forward to, and true to your gut…it’s a bit on the rocky side.

Tage list: @coldonez

The day of Bella’s wedding was a bit hectic. You had to find a suit for Jacob last minute because he was about to wear JEANS and a dress shirt. Sometimes you wonder what would happen to Jacob if you weren’t around. Likely for the both of you, you’ll never have to find out.

Your mother found one in your dad’s old room, most of his things were still there. You and her made sure nothing got too dusty or ruined by time. It was the perfect fit for Jacob, and it took forever for your mother to convince him to wear and keep it. She told him that she’d rather him have it and wear it than it sit in the closet collecting dust.

Jacob in a suit is something you never thought you’d actually see, it awakens something within you. The fact that it’s your father’s suit is…oddly fitting, your dad knew about your crush on Jacob right away. He’d be happy to see you now.

You and Quill talk about your boyfriends in suits, agreeing that it’s a life changing event. Quill was dressed in a white dress shirt with a suit jacket and some slacks. No tie, very much Quil. “Are you excited?” Quill asks you as you smooth out his jacket. “A part of me is, Bella’s getting married to the love of her life. But, she’s also giving up her humanity for an entirety with Edward. I just worry about her, I don’t want her to end up regretting this decision.” Even though you and Bella don’t talk anymore, you still cared about her and wanted her to best for her.

“I’ll never understand how your brain works. Just remember, it’s just a normal wedding.” Quill says softly. “Just watching your childhood best friend getting married.” You smile at the reminder. “Thanks Quil.”

———

Bella’s wedding is…very extravagant in Bella terms, but it’s also very beautiful. You, Jacob, Quill, Embry, Seth, Billy and Sue all feel a bit out of place with all the vampires who are at this wedding. Thankfully there are also some people from Bella’s life there, her group of friends from high school, her mom and dad, and so on.

It’s really nice, Alice definitely went all out with this one. “Bet you’re glad I didn’t let you come here in jeans and a dress shirt.” You tease Jacob playfully, trying to ease the tension in his body. Jacob glares at you, but there’s no bite to it. “I think we both know I would’ve pulled it off just fine.” You grin at him, at least he’s comfortable enough to be playful back.

“Ugh, if you two are going to be like this for the entire wedding. I’m going to need a barf bucket.” Quill groans out and Embry chuckles next to him. “That’s my cue to start drinking.” Billy laughs and rolls off to find Charlie, Sue following him. “Am I the only one who’s excited?” Seth asks, he’s been looking forward to the wedding for a while now.

———

The wedding ceremony was traditional, no personalized vows just short and sweet. You could see how much they loved each other, Bella has been so nervous walking down the aile but the second she looked at Edward it all melted away.

You were happy for her, in that moment it really did feel as simple as watching her get married to the love of her life. As you sat and watched with the love of yours.

Afterwards you couldn’t help but notice that Charlie almost always had his glass filled with champagne. This man is going to drink very drop of liquor involved in this wedding by the end of the night.

———

While you’re off looking something to eat, Edward comes up to talk to you. “Bella is really happy the both of you could make it.” You jump a bit at the sound of his voice. “Shit, you scared the crap out of me you lurker.” Edward smiles at that, it isn’t the first time you’ve called him a lurker. You have made jokes about how Edward isn’t a hoverer but a lurker, he lurkers instead of hovering like a normal person.

You and Edward used to get along, in fact you almost became friends. Till he abandoned Bella in the woods. Bella told you all about what she went through during the ride to Emily’s house the day you and her were almost mulled by Paul.

He never attempted to speak to you after he returned. The last time you saw him, you were playing peacekeeper between him and Jacob.

You’re a bit confused why he’s gone out of the way to talk to you. Till you look behind him and see Bella watching the two of you, she turns around quickly once she realizes you caught her.

“Bella wants us to get along.” Edward explains akwardly, you glare at him. “Maybe we can start by you agreeing to stay out of my head.” You hiss as you realize he’s read your mind. “Sorry, it’s a habit.” Edward apologizes and looks around awkwardly. “You’re a hard one to read, kind of like Charlie….I know you’re upset with me. But I’d like to try to make amends.” Sighing heavily at that you reluctantly agree to a truce between the two of you.

———

After having the most awkward conversation you have ever had in your life with Edward Cullen, you managed to escape back to your table with Jacob. “What was that about?” Jacob asks you as you sit down next to him. You huff out a laugh, “Just a truce agreement for Bella’s sake, and quite possibly the most awkward conversation I’ve had in my life.”

Jacob laughs as you wallow in self pity. “God I hope he doesn’t try to do that to me. I might end up breaking my vow to not rip him apart.”

———

Speeches, you hated speeches and now you know you hate wedding speeches even more. The second hand embarrassment is enough to make you want to gouge your eyes out as Ranee sings.

Emmets speech is something else. “Hope you’ve got enough sleep these past 18 years, because you won’t be getting anymore while.” No one takes it the way he intends. You cringe and watch as Charlie gulps down his champagne.

Your personal favorite is Charlie’s speech. If anyone could hunt down and kill a vampire it’d be a pissed odd Charlie Swan.

———

“Remind me to never let anyone at my wedding touch the mic.” Quill whispers to you as you and him look for some snacks. “Oh I’ll be the first one up there, I’ll talk about how much you fangirl and drool over Embry.” Quill glares at you playfully. “You wouldn’t dare.” And you grin evilly.

———

Turns out, Emmet is having a blast with the members of the pack that are here tonight. He’s always been more bubbly and energetic than the rest of the Cullens. You’re not sure when Jared got here but the two of them are messing around like they’ve been best buddies for years.

———

Quill and Embry get to SLOW DANCE TOGETHER DURING THE WEDDING!!!!! You try your best to contain your excitement. They get to actually act like boyfriends now, IN PUBLIC!

It’s cute, beyond adorable. Charlie comes up to talk to you as you watch the two lovers. “You and Jacob gonna dance?” Charlie asks as he takes a seat next to you, he almost misses it. “We were going to till Edward stole him for a bit.” You says simply and turn to smile at Charlie, who is sipping on God only knows the number of glasses of champagne he’s had tonight.

“Edwin…still don’t like that kid.” Charlie speaks ‘Edward name’ like it’s a curse. You chuckle at Charlie. “Welcome to the club.”

———

You and Jacob never get that dance. Turns out, Bella is planning on having a normal honeymoon with Edward. Jacob is beyond livid at the idea and the entire pack has to go back to Emily’s. So the night is cut short.

You’re walking to Jacob’s truck to drive it to Emily’s house, when Bella runs up to talk to you. “I’m so sorry Y/N. I never thought that he’d react that way.” You try to stay calm, she hasn’t spoken to you the entire wedding and now she wants to. “It’s okay Bella, I’m only worried about it ruining your night.” You do feel bad for her, it’s supposed to be a happy day, drama free. “I’m fine, I just hope you’re all okay. I never wanted all this to happy. I’m really happy you came.” Bella admits as she follows you to the truck. “I knew you wanted me to be here, so I came. That’s what people that care about you do.” You’re being short with her. To be honest with yourself you don’t want to be here anymore. Bella always makes a mess of things and everyone else has to clean it up. You’re tired of always being the one to do it.

“Just go back and have fun Bella, don’t worry about us.” Your voice is filled with the same fatigue that flows through your body. “You have an eternity left to spend with Edward, go and enjoy it instead of wasting seconds on us.” The bitterness and resentment you have for Edward and Bella’s all consuming relationship wins as you say this to her.

You loved Bella, she was the kind of person you only meet once in your lifetime. She was a kind soul, caring, but when Edward came into the picture everything else in her life faded into nothingness.

You get into the truck and give Bella an apologetic look before starting the engine and driving away.

———

Everyone is inside playing cards, Jacob is outside sitting on the porch when you get there. He took of his suit jacket and his his tie loosen around his neck. He looks like he has been beating himself up for the entire hour it took for you to drive there. Sighing to yourself, you kill the engine and get out to walk towards him.

You sit down next to him, and he moves to lean his head on yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry I blew up like that and ruined the night.” Jacob murmurs, and his tone is low and remorseful. “You’re worried about her Jacob, you have every right to be.” You’re fine is light and full of understanding. “Bella will be okay, Edward won’t let her die. Besides I think she’s too stubborn for dearh.” Jacob laughs softly, then presses a kiss to your head. Before getting up and bowing to you with one hand out. “What are you up to?” You grin as he turns to you with a bright smile.

“May I have this dance?” You grin at him, he did promise you a dance tonight. You hop up and accept the invitation. You and Jacob slow dance, there’s no music but the sound of the night and your own heartbeats…and the sounds of laughter and yelling coming for inside Emily’s house.

“I just wish I could’ve given you a happier night.” Jacob says softly. “I think it’s perfect, drama, secondhand embarrassment, speeches, fighting, romance, what more could I ask for.” Jacob laughs at the slight sarcasm that fills your voice in the last part of your sentence. “I’ll make it up to you.” Jacob whispers and you grin. “Ooo I think I might have some suggestions.”

“HEY QUIT MAKING OUT AND COME PLAY SOME MUGGINS WITH US LOVEBIRDS.” Paul yells from the door. “YEAH WE NEED SOMEONE TO MAKE JARED LOOK BETTER!”

———

You used to think that Bella and Charlie were like a second family, till eventually you grew apart form them. Now, the Wolfpack is the closest thing you have to a real one, they knew you and Jacob were struggling with the whole Bella is gonna be a vampire thing. And there they were, making you play games and have fun with them.

Nothing get better then this. And nothing can come between the bond you all have formed…right?

—————

This was the HARDEST PART FOR ME TO RIGHT. I had nothing planned for this I was so focused on the rest of the story. What little I did completely flew out the window.

So sorry if it’s shit, everything else will be better written and put together. I’m just so happy this part is FINALLY FINISHED.

This is literally just to move the plot along I’m so sorry.

As always feel free to request whatever you’d like to see in future parts.

Thanks for suffering through this part

Love ya🫶

Part 12

#jacob black x reader #jacob black x gender neutral reader #jacob black x male reader #jacob black x female reader #jacob black fanfic #jacob black x oc #twilight jacob #jacob x reader #jacob twilight #jacob black #jacob black x you #jacob black twilight

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 1 year ago

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Ngl it's weird finishing the Knuckles tv show and going to tumblr about it only for people (even who I consider bigger name fans) who also watched the entire show to claim that it "confirmed Knuckles Wachowski"

I'm sorry

Did you somehow miss the part in the last episode where Knuckles had a whole montage of hanging with the Whipple family and Wade and saying "home" or something?

#sonic the hedgehog #knuckles series #knuckles the echidna #knuckles 2024 #knuckles whipple #sonic movie #knuckles 2024 spoilers #knuckles series spoilers #fandom wank #Sorry do you just think that this entire show was a sidequest so Knuckles could go back to the Wachowski house and be their kid now like #nothing ever happened?#In the show where episode 1 clearly showed that Knuckles couldn't mesh with the household and that Sonic considered him a roommate?#This place was not home for him. The show was about him finding home. How is the Wachowski household Knuckles' home after he had an epiphany #that his home was with the whipple family??#Ah wait sorry how could I forget. Sonic fans are just used to absorbing canon with a toothpick and picking the parts they like and then #claiming their headcanons for filling in the gaps are canon #Only the things they personally like are what happened of course #Sorry for being salty I'm just annoyed. Like you can have whatever headcanons or fanon you want. Heck I loved all those 'maddie is knuckles'#mom' comics and whatnot. I'm not even saying we have to interpret the media the same way. But Knuckles having a montage and calling being #with the whipple family 'home' happened. That happened.#A friend and I are running a bet that most people won't acknowledge that it happened unless Sonic movie 3 shoves it in our faces #The universe tests me every day by having put me into Sonic fandom. It is a constant test of one's soul not only to exist in proximity of a #community who you often disagree on big points with‚ but to watch a bunch of loud people claim things are canon but only accept textual #evidence when it serves them. Or to explain a little better #to watch a fandom try to build an 'accepted idea' of what canon is like that becomes so divorced from actual canon that you get people #saying that it's canon and ignoring anything that doesn't fit it because 'writing bad anyways'#Like guys please I am grasping your shoulders. If you don't like canon just say 'fuck you I'm going to make content of this because I think #it's better'. You don't have to assert that everything you believe is canon and ignore when it's not #i just be ramblin

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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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i saw mommy kissing santa claus — fushiguro toji

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.” You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face. “Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?” You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—" “Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, christmas day, santa, parenthood, pet names (babe, love, etc), love, humor, light-hearted, domestic life, slice of life, being in love, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, toddler, family, late night sex, kissing, p-i-v sex, profanity, sexual intercourse, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: toji seems to me like the type who would have been so good at teasing mamaguro??? like he would definitely be the person that would also wear a santa claus costume just to put megumi's gifts on the tree and then know that megumi would be watching??? anyway i love their tiny family i am so floored every time i write about them. anyway merry fushiguro christmas!!! i love you all <3

box it up, christmas hun! (santa kayu 2024)

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU ALWAYS ADORED CHRISTMAS. Even as a child, the magic of the holiday season was something your mother and father made sure to bring alive for you.

They worked tirelessly to fill each moment with joy, whether it was the way the house glowed with lights or how the scent of fresh-baked cookies lingered in the air.

Your favorite memories were wrapped in those small, meaningful traditions—sipping hot chocolate while the snow fell softly outside, unwrapping presents by the fire, and gathering together to share stories and laughter. It wasn’t about the gifts or the grandeur, but the warmth of family and the sense of belonging.

Now that you had a family of your own, you were determined to recreate that magic, to pass down those same feelings of joy and love to the people you held closest to your heart. Fushiguro Toji wasn’t raised with those kinds of traditions.

For him, the holidays were often just another day. Especially when he lived with his family and even after that. There was no desire for a fuss, no fanfare. But when it came to you, he was more than willing to step out of his comfort zone.

Toji might not have admitted it outright, but seeing how much the holidays meant to you made it easy for him to get involved. Whether it was wrestling with tangled strings of lights or holding your hand while you browsed for the perfect tree, he found himself drawn into the excitement. It was a quiet kind of joy for him, watching your face light up with happiness as you brought the season to life.

When your beloved Megumi came along, the holidays became even more special. Toji was quick to embrace his role, even if it meant helping you with putting out the tree or helping to bake cookies that somehow ended up burnt half the time.

He didn’t care if it was messy or chaotic—seeing the laughter, the wide-eyed wonder, and the unfiltered happiness of his family made every effort worth it.

What surprised him most was how much he’s slowly come to love those traditions, too. They weren’t just holidays anymore; they were the foundation of memories he never knew he needed.

He started to look forward to the little things, like staying up late with you to wrap presents or watching Megumi to try to stay awake for Santa, only to fall asleep halfway through their schemes.

Each holiday became another chance to build something new together, a season filled with traditions that were uniquely yours. Toji might have started off doing it for you, but somewhere along the way, he realized he was doing it for himself, too.

After all, your beautiful family meant everything to him, it’s now his safe zone—and these moments were proof that he finally had one worth celebrating.

So on this bright Christmas morning, your comely house was tenderly wrapped in a soft, magical stillness. The gentle hum of the house’s heater and the occasional crackle from the fireplace your husband had set up added to the warmth of the room.

The Christmas tree glowed with colorful lights, their reflections dancing on the ornaments and the neatly wrapped presents beneath. The faint scent of cinnamon and pine hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Young and bright four year old Fushiguro Megumi shuffled into the living room, his favorite blanket dragging behind him like a cape. His small, sleepy frame was bundled in his fuzzy pajamas, the ones with tiny snowflakes printed all over.

His dark charcoal hair was a tousled mess, sticking out in every direction as if he’d been wrestling with his dreams. He paused near the doorway, rubbing his blue–green eyes, and blinked at the cozy scene before him.

There you were, curled up on the couch with Toji, both of you cradling steaming mugs of coffee. Toji was dressed in his usual casual sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, one arm draped lazily along the back of the couch, the other holding his mug. He looked relaxed, his sharp green eyes softened with a rare, unguarded warmth.

You were tucked into his side, your legs curled beneath you, wearing an oversized Christmas special cardigan and your fuzzy faux fur slippers.

The two of you shared a quiet moment, sipping the coffee your husband brewed and exchanging conversation and content smiles as the early morning sunlight peeked through the curtains.

Megumi's sleepy gaze lit up as he took in the sight of the tree, its glowing lights illuminating the pile of presents waiting for him. His little mouth opened in a gasp, and he looked at the two of you with wide, sparkling blue–green orbs.

“It’s Christmas!” he announced, his voice still tinged with the rasp of sleep but filled with excitement. “It’s Christmas morning!”

You smiled, setting your mug on the coffee table and opening your arms to him. “Good morning, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He toddled over, crawling onto the couch and nestling between you and Toji. Toji chuckled, ruffling Megumi’s messy hair affectionately. “Morning, kid. Looks like Santa came through for you this time around, huh?”

Megumi nodded eagerly, his blue–green eyes darting back to the presents under the tree. “Can I open them now?” he asked, his voice filled with hopeful anticipation.

“Not even a good morning first?” Toji teased, arching an eyebrow. But the playful tone in his voice made Megumi giggle. “Too excited, you are.”

“Good morning, Dad.” Megumi said, grinning as he leaned against you. “Good morning, Mom.”

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, his excitement so pure and unfiltered. You kissed the top of his little head, wrapping an arm around him as Toji stood and stretched, walking over to grab the digital camera.

“All right.” Toji said with a smirk, motioning to the tree. “Let’s see what Santa left for you, kid.”

With a delighted squeal, Fushiguro Megumi scrambled off the couch and ran toward the presents, his blanket forgotten on the floor in his excitement.

You and Toji shared a tender glance, his usual smirk softening into a genuine, warm smile. You shake your head, looking at him with much contentment.

He walked back to you, settling beside you on the couch and slipping his hand into yours. His touch was steady, grounding, as the two of you watched Megumi dive headfirst into the pile of gifts.

His bright laughter filled the room, bright and melodic, blending perfectly with the soft crackle of the fireplace.

For a moment, everything was perfect—pure joy radiating from your son as he examined each box like it was a priceless treasure. Then, Megumi suddenly paused, his small frame still in the middle of the living room.

He turned slowly to face you both, his expression shifting into something unusually serious, his little brows furrowing in a way that was far too mature for his age. When he wasn’t smiling, you were sure your son was quite a young old man in that tiny body.

You blinked, puzzled, as Toji sat up straighter, his grip on your hand loosening. Before either of you could ask what was wrong, Megumi crossed his arms over his chest, his blanket forgotten entirely now, and declared with absolute certainty:

“Mom, I saw you kissing Santa Claus last night.”

You froze, the coffee cup halfway to your lips as your cheeks turned a warm shade of red. Your husband Toji, on the other hand, lowered his mug, his sharp green eyes sparkling with mischief. He looked at you, one brow raised, fighting the grin threatening to spread across his face.

“Oh, really, kid?” Toji said, leaning back casually. “Mommy here was kissing Santa Claus, huh?”

You stammered, caught off guard. “W-well, Megumi, I think maybe you were dreaming—"

“Nope!” Megumi insisted, crossing his little arms over his chest. “I saw it, mom. You were right by the tree!”

His little pout was so serious it almost made you laugh. You tried to hold your composure, his cute little glare gleaming at you with the most adorable aggression. He looked too much like Toji when he was like this. And that had made you even more adoring of him in this way.

Toji’s chuckle deepened as he leaned back on the couch, completely unbothered. “Cookies and milk are standard, kid.” he said, shrugging casually. “But Santa? He’s a special guest. Sometimes he deserves a little extra appreciation.”

Megumi tilted his head, his little face scrunching in thought. “Like a hug?” he asked, glancing back at the presents under the tree, though his curiosity still lingered.

“Sure, sure.” Toji said, smirking as he threw a glance your way. “Or something like that.”

You nudged him with your elbow, your cheeks heating up again. “Toji, that’s not something you should be jumping into.” you whispered under your breath, giving him a look that was equal parts exasperated and amused.

Toji just grinned and leaned in closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “What? I didn’t even mention the mistletoe.” His tone was full of playful mischief, and you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice broke through, his tiny hands clutching a brightly wrapped box as he looked up at you both. “Can I open this one first?”

You gave a soft laugh, glad for the distraction. “Of course, sweetheart.” you said, smiling warmly at him.

Toji reached over, ruffling Megumi’s hair again as the boy plopped down in front of the tree. “Go for it, kid. Let’s see what Santa left you.”

“Hmm. Okay.” he finally muttered, turning his attention to the colorful boxes waiting for him.

Megumi’s attention shifted entirely to the gift in his hands, his little fingers working furiously to tear the wrapping paper. You let out a breath, glancing at Toji, who was still watching you with that infuriatingly smug look. His hands wrapped against your shoulders.

He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Kissing Santa, huh, babe?” he teased, leaning in close. “Got any more Christmas spirit for me?”

Your face burned as you playfully shoved him, your smile betraying you. “Shut up, Toji.” you whispered, though the giggle that escaped ruined the effect.

“Guess Santa’s the lucky one this year, don’t you think?” he murmured.

You bit your lip, shaking your head but unable to hide the smile that crept across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, yeah.” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer as he looked at you. “But you love me anyway.”

“Merry Christmas, babe.” Toji murmured, stealing a quick kiss.

“Merry Christmas, love.” you whispered back, heart full and cheeks still warm.

══════════════════

TOJI SAID HE PLANNED EVERYTHING. And knowing how much you trusted your husband, you do believe him. He hasn’t ever failed you before, after all. Your husband wasn’t going to fail you now either. He said he’s going to make it happen and he will.

The night before Christmas was serene, the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the fireplace and the occasional rustle of branches as the tree swayed slightly under the weight of its ornaments.

The vibrant living room glowed softly, bathed in the colorful twinkle of Christmas lights that reflected off the shiny ribbons and bows of some of the presents you had already wrapped and bought for Megumi and each other. All Toji has to do now is add the other ones you bought for Megumi.

You had just finished cleaning up after dinner, your feet padding lightly across the wooden floor as you straighten a few stray decorations. A hum of curiosity pulled you toward the living room, and when you peeked around the corner, you couldn’t hold back a small smile from appearing on your pinkish lips.

There he was— Fushiguro Toji, crouched by the tree, fully dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The red fabric clung to his massively broad frame, the white trim looking comically out of place against his rugged demeanor.

The bright red hat was askew on his head, barely covering his wild, dark hair, and the sight of him muttering multiple times under his breath while adjusting a precariously balanced present was nothing short of endearing.

“Damn this tree’s too small.” Toji grumbled, carefully shoving a particularly large box further under the branches. “How the hell does Santa Claus even do this without knocking everything over? Like, this is just an insane operation for a break in. Mission impossible even!”

You stifled a laugh, leaning against the doorway as you crossed your arms. “You’re really committing to this Santa Claus thing, huh?”

Toji glanced up sharply, his green eyes narrowing at you in mock irritation before softening into a lopsided smirk. You sighed, smiling as he enjoys taking in the sight of you like this. He has never thought he would ever have something as enjoyable as this life. And he always has you to thank for it.

“Caught me, babe.” he said, straightening up and dusting his hands off. “Santa Claus really had to work harder for this. And I gotta commit like he does, babe. I mean, this is harder than it looks, you know.”

You stepped into the room, your gaze sweeping over the scene. “You’re supposed to look jolly, not grumpy, love. Kids don’t want an angry Santa Claus.”

Toji snorted, tugging at the crooked hat and tossing it onto the couch. “You’re lucky I even agreed to wear this, babe.” he said, gesturing at the suit with a faint grimace. “This thing’s itchy as hell. How the hell did people wear this without having to scratch everywhere? Even my crotch feels itchy.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to adjust one of the presents he’d just placed. “You’re not exactly selling the magic of Christmas, love.”

He leaned against the arm of the couch, his smirk turning sly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m doing pretty good. The kid’s gonna love it in the morning. He’s going to have fun about Santa bringing in lotsssss of cool presents.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “And what about me? Does Santa Claus have any surprises for me? I mean….I should get gifts too, right?”

Toji’s grin widened as he pushed off the couch and sauntered toward you, his voice dropping to a playful, sensual murmur. “Actually, yeah. Look up, babe.”

Your eyes followed his gaze, landing on the tiny sprig of mistletoe hanging above your heads. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. You looked at him with so much adoration, you couldn’t help it. He just made you feel giddy every single day.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

He took another step closer, his voice low and teasing. “Maybe. But I’m also a hardworking Santa Claus. And Santa likes to get paid for his trouble. I’m sure this pretty lady in front of him will ease his troubles.”

You rolled your eyes playfully once more, your lips twitching as you fought back a smile. “Naughty Santa, aren’t you?” you muttered, leaning up just enough to close the gap between you. “What about Mrs. Claus?”

“Don’t have one.” He smiles down at you, his thumb pressing against your lips. “Would you wanna volunteer to be one, pretty woman?”

You laughed aloud at his words. “Shouldn’t you take me out to dinner first?”

“Well, if you’d let me, then I will.” He grins at you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you.”

“Good. Santa’s happy about that.”

“Well, we only want that, don’t we?” You smiled at him.

“Hm, very great for securing your kid a spot on my gift list.”

You giggled at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous, future Mrs. Claus.”

You laughed at his words again, which made him very happy. Your husband Toji happily pressed hands forward and found your waist as he met you halfway, his sly lips brushing against yours in a passionate kiss that was far too warm for such a chilly night.

You pushed deeper, kissing him back, pulling him closer to you. When you finally pulled back to take a breath, his grin was smug as it was shameless, his bright green eyes gleaming with the endless joy that comes with having you as his beloved.

“Best payment I’ve ever gotten. By far.” he murmured, his voice soft but smug.

You laughed, swatting at his chest as you stepped away. “Go finish your job, Santa Claus. There’s still a tree that needs all the presents to set up for the good kid.”

He chuckled, watching you with a lingering smile as you walked away. “Yes, ma’am. But don’t think this is over.” he called after you, his tone full of promise.

“I look forward to it, Santa!”

══════════════════

OF COURSE YOU’LL NEVER FORGET ABOUT LAST NIGHT. You could still feel your legs sore and your throat full of his pleasurable bites. But that wasn’t important right now, even though, of course it felt really good. Santa was really good with blessings. But that wasn’t the point.

You could feel your cheeks turn redder and your ears more scarlet. You tried to calm yourself down as you continued to clear out stuff in the kitchen. The cookies were more important. You had guests coming over.

Of course, on the other side of the wall, the living room was alive with Megumi’s excited giggles and the joyful chaos of wrapping paper flying in every direction. His precious little voice carried as he marveled at each gift, holding up toys and books like treasures.

You peeked at him from the kitchen, your heart swelling at how happy he was. Your son’s joys were the reason you always worked so hard at the prosecutor’s office. And he was, genuinely, the happiest little boy. And that made everything feel like it paid off.

You were in the middle of arranging cookies on a festive plate when you felt it: a pair of strong arms sliding around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. The scent of pine and the faintest trace of cologne told you exactly who it was before he even spoke.

“Toji, love.” you started, a hint of exasperation in your voice. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm nothing.” he murmured against your ear, his voice rich and teasing. He grins slowly as he catches a peak of the hickeys from your side, hidden in the cardigan. “Just came to say thank you for, you know... last night.”

Your hands froze, the cookie you were holding slipping onto the counter as heat rushed to your cheeks. You were just trying to forget about it now but the images started to flood your head once more as your husband nibbles against your ear.

“Toji, please.” you hissed, glancing nervously toward the doorway to make sure Megumi was too busy with his presents to overhear. The last thing you need is to traumatize your little son.“Not now.”

But Fushiguro Toji, as always, was undeterred. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his lips grazing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. He hums against your skin, bright eyes looking at you with wanton affection.

“What? I’m just saying Santa Claus didn’t just get a kiss under the mistletoe. I mean he enjoyed it really well too—”

You spin your head toward him, your bright eyes wide as you whisper with embarrassment. “Will you stop? Love, our son’s on the other side of the wall and—”

Toji only grinned, his hold on you tightening slightly as he leaned in closer. “Come on, sweetheart. Admit it. Santa Claus always deserves a little something extra for working so hard, don’t you think?”

“You sly fox of a husband.” you hissed, swatting at his arm as your cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. “You are impossible. I swear, Toji.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “You’re cute when you’re all embarrassed like this, babe.” he teased, nuzzling the side of your neck in a way that made your heart skip. “But I wasn’t lying, you know. Best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Your heart melted at his words, even as you tried to maintain your composure. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas, love.” you muttered, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as a small smile crept onto your face. “Otherwise, it’d be a different story.”

Toji shifted, leaning back just enough to study your beautiful expressions. His bright green eyes were soft, a rare tenderness shining in them that made your breath catch. The air of joy blossoming in his chest ever so fondly when he looks at you more.

“Lucky, huh?” he said, a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing. “Nah. I’m the luckiest guy every day I wake up to you. Every day, every minute, every second. Every day. For forever. I’m the luckiest guy on earth, babe.”

Your face burned hotter, and you turned back to the cookies to hide your expression from him. You could feel your heart making flips and jumps against the wall of your chest. He’s always so good at making you feel this way.

You were really going to be overwhelmed for all your life with how much he always makes you feel the universe with his love and tenderness. You were always going to be falling in love with this man over and over again like this. You sighed, admitting defeat to him.

“You’re ridiculous, love.” you mumbled, but the warmth blossoming in your chest betrayed your words. “Really….”

He couldn’t help but chuckled again, reaching around you to snag a cookie off the plate. You gasp as you try to stop him, but he lifts it up and you pout at him, knowing you can’t reach it. He snickers at you. You turn back and continue putting away the other cookies.

“That’s why you love me, babe.” Toji said, his voice smooth and teasing as he took another bite of the cookie, his smirk practically glowing with satisfaction.

Before you could muster a response, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your temple in a kiss so gentle it made your heart flutter. “Don’t work too hard. Megumi and I are waiting for you, okay? Still got some presents left for us to open.”

You watched him stroll back into the living room, his broad frame relaxed, his laughter already mingling with Megumi’s excited chatter. His voice carried back to you, warm and playful, as he greeted your son again, seamlessly joining him in exploring his new toys.

The sound of Megumi’s giggles and Toji’s deep chuckles filled the house, creating a melody that could warm even the coldest snowy, winter morning. It was what you wanted to wake up to every single day. It was all you could ever want for all of time.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, leaning back against the counter as a soft smile tugged at your lips. It was uncontrollable, this joy, this love that bubbled up in your chest. This was a love that had a place to go and blossom here in this place, in this family. In this life you have.

Ridiculous, you thought with a shake of your head. Toji was ridiculous. But he was also your, the most precious of men who made even the simplest moments unforgettable, who filled your life with laughter, warmth, and love.

And your precious Megumi. Your sweet, bright boy, was the perfect little light who completed the picture. Everything about life made sense when you met Toji and had Megumi together. Life began when you had this. And you knew he would agree with that sentiment.

You looked out at the scene before you, the two of them sprawled on the floor amid wrapping paper and toys, Megumi pointing animatedly at something as Toji nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

It was so small, so ordinary—and yet it was everything. It meant the world to you. No, you shook your head. It meant the universe to you. And you would never trade this for anything in the world.

You felt it all in that moment: gratitude, contentment, and a profound sense of love. How lucky you were, to have this life, this family. This was your everything. And no matter how many lifetimes you could dream of, you knew there would never be anything more beautiful than this.

“Babe, Megumi wants his mommy!” Toji’s voice called from the living room, pulling you from your thoughts.

You chuckled, pushing off the counter and heading toward the sound of your favorite voices. “Coming, love!”

As you stepped into the living room, Megumi beamed up at you, his hands full of his latest toy, while Toji looked over with a smirk that was both mischievous and affectionate. You settled in beside them, feeling their warmth wrap around you like a hug.

Life wasn’t just great to live—it was perfect.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

══════════════════

TOJI'S TAKING ALL THE OPPORTUNITIES HE CAN GET. But if you were being honest, so were you. Last night wasn't enough for you to get your fill. When your husband is someone like Toji, how could you?

The house was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the winter wind pressed against the walls.

Megumi had been tucked into bed after a long, laughter-filled Christmas dinner, his tiny snores signaling that he was sound asleep. The evening had been perfect—filled with warmth, love, and memories you’d cherish forever.

Now, it was just the two of you.

Toji leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching as you pulled off the festive sweater you'd worn all day. His gaze was heavy, but not with exhaustion—it was something else, something that made your skin tingle.

"You finally sitting still for once?" he teased, his voice low, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that followed. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I was waiting for you to catch up."

That was all the invitation he needed. Toji crossed the room in a few long strides, his arms circling your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours almost immediately, hungry, but unhurried. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, and for once, it felt like you did.

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly as he deepened the kiss. His hands roamed, tracing the curve of your waist, the small of your back, and eventually settling at your hips, holding you firmly against him. The heat between you both grew, sparking like the fire you’d left burning in the living room.

"I’ve been waiting all day for this, babe." he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with need.

"Me too." you admitted, your breath hitching as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses that made your knees weak.

The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the snow piling up on the windowsill, not the mess of dishes waiting in the kitchen, and certainly not the clock ticking down the last hours of Christmas Day. All that mattered was the way Toji made you feel. You always feel so seen, loved, desired when it comes to your beloved husband.

He guided you toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savoring every second. The night was yours, a stolen moment of intimacy in the chaos of life.

And as his lips found yours again, you knew this was the best gift you could have asked for—time together, just the two of you, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms.

Toji’s arm slid right back around your neck, firm yet careful, pulling you closer as his lips claimed yours once more. The way he touched you sent shivers cascading down your spine, every sensation heightened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

His grip was confident, possessive, and it made your pulse quicken as pleasure rippled through you like a rising tide. Each kiss, each graze of his hands against your skin, ignited something deep within you, leaving no room for anything else but the heat building between you.

He knew exactly how to unravel you, how to make you melt under his touch, and he didn’t hold back. He never holds back. Not when it was you he has to make love to. Making love to you was his church. It was his patronage. It was his repentance, it was his atonement. It was his salvation. His love for you was his salvation.

“Toji…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a mixture of breathlessness and yearning.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, filled with something raw and unspoken. His thumb brushed gently along your jawline as his other arm stayed firmly around your neck, keeping you grounded in the moment.

“You doin' so good, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and low, sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

The way he looked at you, the way he held you. Everything about it was overwhelming in the best way. Your body responded instinctively, arching into him as the pleasure coursed through every nerve, building higher with each kiss, each touch, each whispered word.

Time seemed to blur as he continued, his movements unhurried but deliberate, as though savoring every moment with you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. This was all there was right now, just the two of you, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of each other.

Toji’s lips trailed down to your neck, his hot breath against your skin making you shiver. He knew exactly where to kiss, where to linger, drawing soft gasps from you as his hand caressed your side, sliding over the curves he loved to touch.

The pressure of his arm around your neck wasn’t rough, but good enough to make you feel the tension of his touch against your flesh. Everything about his touch, it was deliberate, possessive, reminding you that he wanted every inch of you, body and soul.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. The sensations rolled through you like waves, each one stronger than the last, your body responding to his every move. You could feel the heat of him against you, the tension between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“Toji…” you murmured again, your voice trembling with need.

“Hmm?” He didn’t stop, his lips finding that spot just below your ear that made your breath hitch. “Say it again, babe.” he whispered, his tone dark and teasing, sending a fresh jolt of desire through you.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, and the low chuckle that escaped his lips vibrated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. The sound was rich, deep, and filled with promise, igniting a fire inside you that grew with every passing second.

His lips trailed along your jawline, slow and deliberate, before finding the sensitive curve of your neck. He lingered there, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch.

Your body press instinctively closer to him. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth against your skin, left you trembling, a quiet gasp spilling from your lips.

His hand slid lower, the roughness of his palm contrasting deliciously against your soft skin. His touch was teasing at first, featherlight, exploring, testing your limits.

But then it grew bolder, more certain, as he found the places that made you quiver beneath him. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks shooting through your body, the intensity of it building with each moment.

You arched into him, desperate for more, the ache between you growing unbearable. A soft moan escaped you, unbidden but unstoppable, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him.

He let out another low, satisfied laugh, his breath hot against your neck as he murmured, “You sound so good, baby. Don’t stop.”

The pleasure rolled through you like a tidal wave, crashing over every part of you until all you could feel was him. It was all his touch, his heat, his weight against you.

The room seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in this intimate dance, your bodies moving together in perfect, unspoken harmony.

Your skin grew slick with sweat, the heat between you almost unbearable but so, so good. Every movement, every touch, every kiss only pulled you deeper into him, the connection between you electric and all-consuming.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes smoldering with desire as he leaned in close.

“I’ve got you, babe. I got you.” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion.

And with those words, he claimed your lips again, pouring every ounce of his passion into the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair, his other still exploring, holding you firmly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

Toji’s breath hitched as he stilled, buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed to yours. The heat of your body wrapped tightly around him, the soft, rhythmic flutter of your walls making him groan low in his throat.

It was almost too much for you, how big he was, how whole you feel when he fit you to the hilt. Everything about it the way you felt, the way your body seemed to pulse and cling to him, drawing him deeper into the moment. It all just felt too good.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, anchoring himself, trying to hold onto the frayed edges of his control. A thought flickered in his mind, unbidden and primal: Can I even last long with this?

The idea sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. He didn’t need to move—didn’t need to thrust or grind or do anything but stay right where he was, utterly consumed by the way you felt around him.

The subtle contractions of your body, the way you tightened around him and the way he fluttered tightly against your walls, that was all enough to drive him mad. You were still as you were before, you were paradise in every sense of the word.

“Toji…love....oh—” you whispered, your voice a mix of need and wonder, your nails dragging lightly down his back. The sound of his name on your lips only made it harder for him to hold back.

“Shit, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough and strained. “You’re gonna kill me like this.”

He pressed his forehead harder against yours, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to wrestle with the overwhelming pleasure. Your moans can only grow as he pushed in and out in a more passionate speed.

“I swear… I could come just like this, babe.” he admitted, his voice low and ragged. “The way you’re squeezing me so good, babe… you feel so damn good.”

The confession sent a shiver through you, your body responding instinctively, and he groaned again, his fingers digging into your hips as if to ground himself. He wanted to move, to chase that inevitable high.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to lose the sheer intensity of the moment—didn’t want to lose the way it felt to just be inside you, connected in every way. He still needed to last a little bit more, he wanted this moment to last.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “You’re perfect. You know that?” His voice was raw, filled with both reverence and desperation.

And as he stayed there, lost in the heat and intimacy, he wondered if he could ever get enough of this—of you. Every sensation was heightened, every second stretching into eternity, until nothing else existed but him.

The overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. In his arms, you felt completely unraveled, utterly cherished, and entirely his. The world outside faded completely—just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet intimacy of your shared space.

Toji’s movements grew more deliberate, his bruised lips finding your own again as he deepened the kiss, his arm around your neck keeping you anchored to him. His tongue wrestling against yours as he tried to thrust deeper inside your mouth, earning a groan from your throat.

The way he held you, the way he touched you—it wasn’t just desire; it was love, raw and unfiltered, pouring into every moment.

Your body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure he brought you, and you clung to him, lost in the heat of the moment. Toji pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his voice low and husky when he finally spoke.

“You’re mine, babe.” he whispered, the words heavy with emotion and promise.

His calloused hand brushing your cheek as his eyes met yours. And in that moment, you knew there was no place you’d rather be than here, with him, wrapped up in the intensity of his love.

"Always." You whispered back to him.

He felt satisfied with that as he pushed deeper into you.

You couldn't speak words anymore by the end of that.

The world was cold from the snowing echoes, but you were warm.

Warm in the pleasure of the husband you loved the most.

══════════════════

epilogue

The room was still bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, your breathing finally steady after what had been a Christmas evening full of all sorts of intimacy and bright warm laughter.

Fushiguro Toji, ever the opportunist, propped himself up on one elbow, the smirk on his face practically devilish as his fingers began tracing patterns on your bare shoulder.

“You know, babe.” he started, his voice low and teasing, “I’m thinking Santa deserves a little overtime bonus for all his hard work tonight.”

You turned your head, arching a brow as you caught the glint in his eye. “Overtime? Didn’t we just finish the main shift? Both last night and tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of energy left, babe.” he murmured, leaning in to nip playfully at your ear. “The question is… do you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, maybe to tease him back, but the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway made you both freeze. Your eyes darted toward the door, which creaked open just enough to reveal a mop of messy black hair and the outline of a sleepy little boy clutching his favorite stuffed animal.

“Mom? Dad?” Megumi’s voice was tiny, wobbling just enough to tug at your heartstrings. “I had a nightmare…”

Toji let out a low groan, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he muttered, “Of course you did, kid. Of course you did.”

“Shush!” you hissed, elbowing him lightly before sitting up and pulling the blanket around yourself. “Come here, sweetheart.” you said softly, patting the edge of the bed.

Megumi shuffled in, his little feet barely making a sound as he climbed up onto the bed and wriggled his way into the space between you and Toji. He immediately buried his face against your side, his stuffed animal squished between the two of you.

“What happened, bud?” you asked, stroking his charcoal hair gently.

“There was a big, scary monster…” Megumi mumbled, his voice muffled against your side. “It chased me, and it almost got me.”

You looked at your husband who sighed back at you. Toji pushed himself up onto one elbow, running a hand through his disheveled hair, looking towards his little son.

“A monster, huh?” he asked, his tone light but laced with mock seriousness. “Did it look like a giant turkey? ‘Cause I told you eating all that stuffing was a risky move.”

Megumi pulled his face away just long enough to glare at his dad, his little brow furrowed in unimpressed indignation. “No, Dad.” he said with a hint of exasperation. “It wasn’t a turkey. It was scary!”

“Scarier than me?” Toji teased, flexing his arm dramatically as if that would somehow settle the matter.

You shot him a look, biting back a laugh. “Toji, love. Please.” you warned softly, shaking your head.

“Okay, okay.” Toji relented, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s hair. “Listen, kid, no monsters are getting past me. You know that, right? They take one look at your old man and run for the hills.”

Megumi’s little body relaxed against you, his small hand clutching tightly at your shirt. “Promise?” he whispered.

Toji ruffled his hair. “Promise. Now get some sleep. You’ve got another day of playing with all those presents tomorrow, and I don’t want to hear any complaints about being too tired.”

Megumi let out a sleepy little hum of agreement, his breathing evening out as he drifted off within minutes. Toji flopped back onto his pillow with a long sigh, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“So, what do you think? Nightmare slayer and round-two initiator all in one night? I’m a man of many talents.”

You smirked, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re also a man with a very tired wife and a son snoring between us. Maybe tomorrow, Toji.”

Toji groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his face. “Tomorrow? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you settled back down, pulling the blanket up over the three of you. “Goodnight, Santa.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

Toji huffed but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to wrap an arm protectively over both you and Megumi. He looked at you both warmly.

“Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas to me." he muttered, his voice soft and warm. And despite his earlier grumbling, you could feel the contentment radiating from him.

For Fushiguro Toji, there was no better gift than this—his family, safe and sound, wrapped in the warmth of a love he’d never stop cherishing. Life was great.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 6 months ago

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Practical Demonstration

Kinktober Day 3: Exhibitionism Yandere Male Alpha Professor x Gender Neutral Omega Teacher Assistant CW: Noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, abuse of authority, knotting, musk, scent kink, biting, claiming bites, pheromones, overstimulation, a/b/o dynamics, slick, suppressants, manipulation, praise kink, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.6k (Okay guys, hope you enjoy this given how long you have waited for it! PLEASE comment, comments feed me <3)

You were the teacher's assistant for the renowned and well-regarded Professor Reid Sullivan. He had degrees involving anatomy and physiology as well as the psychology of alphas and omegas, and the college he taught at was prestigious.

Professor Sullivan was a bit of a prodigy, already being a highly respected academic despite only being in his early-thirties. His unkempt shaggy hair, dark circles around his eyes, and slight stubble made him appear older. His classes were popular, though he refused to teach large crowds. They reduced his efficacy. At most, he would teach 24 students at a time. This class, though, was limited to 20.

This meant students were always clamoring to sign up before all the slots were filled. Not only were people eager to watch him teach because he was so accomplished and good at educating but also because he was considered rather attractive by many students.

It didn't help that he was also an alpha, and despite his tired nerdy demeanor, he was actually quite fit.

But the main reason his classes were so popular was that he often incorporated live demonstrations into his lessons. In the past, he had omegas demonstrate heat and alphas show off knots while he pointed to and described the anatomy and the purpose for it. He even had an alpha and omega pair demonstrate mating on more than one occasion.

Working under him wasn't bad at all. You were an omega, so you were naturally pretty nervous at first. Working with an alpha superior could sometimes be rather hard. Even in this progressive age, there was still a degree of discrimination and power abuse.

Professor Sullivan was exceedingly kind to you. He even got you coffee and something to eat every morning, even though that would typically be a task more suited to you. He also let you sit in his large cushy chair and was quick to let you use his jacket as you rarely used one, and his classroom tended to be cold.

He was very patient and understanding, guiding you through lessons and helping you learn how to handle a class.

Then, on the day of the final lecture, his true colors were revealed.

He locked the door and then stood in front of it. He put on the display screen a presentation about seducing and breeding an omega.

"Omegas are instinctively attracted to mates that provide them with food. It doesn't have to be major, but a daily coffee and small bit of food will make them naturally more receptive to you..."

The lecture went into greater detail on the subject, also explaining how he microdosed the coffee to make suppressants less effective, but you weren't paying much attention. You were too busy staring at the screen that had pictures of you happily sipping coffee or nibbling on muffins or bagels. It was all so surreal.

"For a shy omega, you can't simply bombard them with your scent. It could scare them away or turn them off completely from your continued advances. Instead, get them acclimated to it..."

The screen now showed how he slightly scented his chair and jacket and gradually scented it more juxtaposed with images of you grading papers while wearing the jacket and sitting in his chair.

You were mortified. Professor Sullivan was a monster! You tried to push past him and get to the door. It almost worked as he was taken aback by your determination to escape, but the extra few seconds that you spent fiddling with the lock were all he needed to wrap his arms around you from behind.

"If your omega acts fearful before mating then the steps we took earlier will help us now."

“G-get off!”

You thrashed and squirmed, but he licked, sucked, and nibbled at your neck until the overstimulation clouded your mind and made your resistance much more feeble. After that, he turned you towards him and, after disrobing completely, pushed your head under his arm so that you got a full dose of his pheromones.

The students gave the professor their undivided attention. One or two omega students envied your place as they stared with wide-eyed fascination at Professor Sullivan's now throbbing cock. The rest were a bit uneasy because you clearly hadn't been willing. They weren't actually too shocked, though, this type of thing wasn't exactly uncommon.

"See how limp the omega is? That's because I canceled any bothersome suppressants, made them accepting of my scent, and subconsciously had them see me as a provider."

The professor had a student roll over his chair to the center of the class before locking the wheels in place. He sat you down tenderly after taking off all your clothing and setting it aside.

"Gather around class, feel free to masturbate as long as you pay attention. This is especially important for you alphas."

Some of the students rubbed their crotches. The alphas encouraged the omegas since it would be helpful later to get them all hot and bothered. After the class formed a circle around the two of you, he continued.

"Now, before an alpha inserts themself into their omega, they must make sure the omega is properly slicked up. Some was produced earlier, but we will want more."

He demonstrated the proper neck stimulation techniques as well as how to slowly stretch out and prepare an omega by inserting gradually more fingers. Then he showed them how to massage an omega’s entrance with their cocks before penetration.

Before he even slipped his cock into you, you were already drooling with a dazed expression.

"Okay class, I said today would be an interactive lesson. The 10 alpha students were each delegated an omega and as part of their final grade, they were tasked with doing everything to their omega classmate that I have done to the TA. Omega students will be granted a participation grade."

The alpha half of the class began pulling the omegas close, stuffing the omegas' faces into their musky crotches or underarms.

The omegas were all bewildered. One gladly accepted their fate, a few were shocked into inaction, and most struggled. Only one managed to escape and get out the door but was chased down and brought back.

These were all students with dreams and goals, most didn't want to be an alpha's property and cumdump. At least not before they did things with their lives.

"I made sure all of your desks were sturdy enough for this, you can prop your omegas up on them if you'd like, putting your clothes on the desk and laying your omega on that will make them more comfortable, like a miniature nest with your scent."

The alphas were all stoked and barely able to hold back.

"If you have your omega in a state like our wonderful TA here is demonstrating then you may slip your cock into them, go slowly though, at least at first."

Professor Sullivan was the first to sink in, causing you to moan softly, soon the entire room was filled with the gasps and moans of a room full of omegas mingling with the grunting and heavy breathing of their alpha lovers.

The air was heavy with pheromones, musk, and the scent of slick.

Your mind wasn't really able to process what was happening around you, though. Your nose was focused on the scent of the one mating you as you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him.

"Oh, don't forget to praise your omegas, they may not understand your words right now, but the tone will soothe them."

He kissed you possessively.

"You're such a good mate for me. A perfect partner. So good at helping me teach this lesson. Taking my cock so well~"

He cooed into your ear lovingly as the alpha students praised and complimented their mates. Occasionally, an omega shuddered and squealed in orgasm with their alphas not too far behind.

Sullivan sped the pace up for you, and you didn't last much longer after that. You spasmed wonderfully around his dick as you came hard. Not the only time, though, as he coaxed several more climaxes from your trembling body before he finally came himself and tied you with his big knot.

"Once you've knotted your lover you should bite their neck to mark them as yours. This is essential to making your omega feel safe and loved and will make you secure in the knowledge that everyone knows who they belong to."

The professor bit your neck hard, causing you to moan more even as you flinched in pain.

"You look so beautiful with my mark."

After all the mating had finished and all the knots had deflated, the omegas were all still pretty out of it. Mating and being claimed took a lot out of them and it would probably be an hour or two before they recovered.

"Don't forget your homework! Aftercare is ESSENTIAL!!! Take your omegas to your dorms and make sure they are hydrated, well fed, and praised. If they get cranky at today's events, they probably just need another round or two of breeding."

Which, as it turns out, is exactly what he determined you needed when you wouldn't listen to reason at his home later. He tried to explain that it was all to enhance his teaching. He had been looking for the right omega to fall in love with and help with his lessons for YEARS!

And he finally found you. A TA aspiring to work in his field! You had always wanted a career in academics, and now you had one as his permanent assistant and live demonstration participant!

#yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #yandere alpha x omega reader #omega reader #gender neutral omega #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #male yandere #yandere omegaverse #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #My OCs #My OC Professor Sullivan #My OC Reid Sullivan #Yandere professor #yandere college #kinktober 2024 #Yandere a/b/o #Yandere omegaverse

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ghost-with-a-teacup · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Summary: Everyone at HQ was convinced there was something going on between you and Miguel. Just...no one knew what. But one group of spiders were determined to figure it out.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of goofiness and a whole lot of fluff :3

When you have a superhuman with superior senses, they’re bound to be perceptive to their surroundings. Now when you have an entire lobby the size of multiple football fields filled with superhumans with superior senses, very few things will go unnoticed.

It’s why people very quickly realize that you and Miguel have…something between the two of you. It’s just that no one is quite sure what.

Camaraderie? Maybe, you were one of the first spiders to join the society.

Friendship? Perhaps, but it was known that Miguel wasn’t one to do friends. Not with the amount of loss he has gone through.

A relationship? This one seemed the most unplausible. Miguel was, well, Miguel. Stoick, cold and calculating. Meanwhile, you were you.

You had a light that drew people in, kindness that knew no bounds and warmth like a fire on a cold winter’s day.

Everyone knew the saying ‘opposites attract’, but it was like comparing night and day with the two of you. Regardless, a small little group within the society were set on trying to figure the two of you out.

“Ain’t no way the two are together, she’s too good for him!” Hobie argues, his legs kicked up on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know, maybe that’s why they work together. Because she makes him better?” Miles says, but his tone of voice failed to hide his skepticism.

“I think you should just leave the two of them be. Besides, what happens if you figure it out or not anyway?” Peter says, feeding Mayday as he does. Immediately a chorus of arguments breaks out from the group.

“OKAY! Okay, forget I asked,” he says with a shake of his head, while Mayday just laughs at the commotion.

They spot the two of you walking into the cafeteria making conversation none of them could make out.

“Look at them,” Gwen says, “have you ever seen the guy happier than he is with her?” she asks, and Hobie snorts.

“C’mon mate, you call that happy? Mans got that frown tattooed on his face, can he even be happy?” he says, but they all continue watching intently.

You glance over to the table they were surrounding, and they all brush off your gaze pretending as though they weren’t just studying the two of you like specimens under a microscope.

You wave your hand, a bright smile on your face while Miguel only glances over for a moment before continuing to walk. You jog to catch up to him, grabbing a tray and picking up things you wanted for lunch.

They watch as they see Miguel pick up the empanada, the last one left. He pauses for a split second, holding it before turning to place it on your tray. Almost as though they were straight out of a cartoon, they freeze at the interaction.

You seem to be slightly surprised as you, saying something to him but he only brushes you off before continuing on.

“Did…that just happen?” Pavitr asks. Everyone at HQ was aware of Miguel’s fondness for the food (even if he did hurl one right at Miles when they first met), there was no way he would give one away so easily for just anyone, right?

“Somebody pinch me,” Gwen says, and Hobie jumps at the request.

“OW!”

Miguel never lets anyone help him out when he’s injured. That was just a known fact. He could walk into HQ battered and bruised and wouldn’t even look in the infirmary’s direction once. After depending on himself for so long, he wasn’t going to stop now. Besides, what were First Aid kits for after all?

The only way he was going to the infirmary was if someone dragged his unconscious body there themselves.

Well, unless you were there.

“Miguel O’Hara I swear to god, you better get your ass to the infirmary or so help me I will tie you up and drag you through the halls myself,” you say sternly as you both reemerge in the Lobby. The rest of the Spiders there continued with what they were doing, but their attention was zeroed in on you both.

“I’m fine,” he says, glaring at you as if trying to say ‘Just try’. Had you been anyone else, you would have backed down by now but you didn’t.

“You wanna test me right now? That was a nasty hit, I will not be letting it get infected under my watch,” you retort, and he puffs.

“This is nothing, I’ve dealt with worse,” he scoffs, and in an instant your finger shoots out, making contact with the side that got hit with the anomaly’s flames. Miguel can’t help the sharp intake of breath as the pain from the impact hits him.

Your eyebrow raises, an expression of disbelief on your face before it softens. Murmuring softly, you say something that only he can hear.

For a moment he studies your face before sighing, finally relenting. With a triumphant smile, you place a hand on the man’s broad back, leading him towards the infirmary with a gentle but firm hand.

There, Pavitr is laying in bed recovering from an awry mission of his own. The doctors had ordered bedrest for the next 2 hours at least. Superior healing or not, they were not going to risk it. So there he lay, slinging his golden bangles up and down bored before he hears the two of you come in.

“Mr. O’Hara-" a doctor’s voice can be heard, but he is quickly interrupted.

“She’s got it from here,” he says, Miguel’s tone final. A small “yes, sir” can be heard before footsteps fade away, the doctor’s office door closing once more.

“You know, you should really let the professionals help you,” your voice can be heard.

“You dragged me here, you can deal with the consequences,” he says, and you just laugh fondly before your voices quieten, murmuring too quietly for Pavitr to hear.

Curiosity builds as he recalls the conversation he and his friends had, and before he can stop himself he shifts silently to the side, just enough to be able to catch a glimpse of you both from the small gap between the hospital curtain and the wall.

There, Miguel sat on the bed, a disgruntled expression on his face but his eyes were soft as he watched you fuss over his side.

He only watches for a few seconds before pulling away, this being a clear invasion of privacy, and his boss’ privacy no less.

It wasn’t going to stop him from telling everyone else though.

“This is a bad idea. This is a really, really bad idea,” Miles says, grasping onto the ceiling like his life depended on it.

“It’s only a bad idea if we get caught, so Shut. Up,” Gwen says sharply, hanging from her place on the ceiling as they watched the fight from above.

Gwen had come up with the mighty fine idea of sneaking into a mission between the two of you. It wasn’t often that it happened, Miguel more often than not only went on missions with only Lyla by his side. But when he needed a partner, it was always you.

“Why did you have to bring me with you,” he whispers, “Miguel already doesn’t like me. He doesn’t need more of a reason to.”

“Because I needed backup and you can turn invisible. And let’s be real, Hobie would be laughing his ass off getting us caught, Peter would bring Mayday which would get us caught, and Pavitr is already on a mission, now shhh,” she whispers, turning back to watching the scene below.

You swung from pillar to pillar in the abandoned factory with practiced ease, a carefree laugh escaping your lips as Miguel stands on the ground fiddling with his watch.

“The anomaly’s last known location was here,” Lyla’s voice echoes out, and you let out a sigh.

“Why can’t villains have easy powers. Maybe a giant blob that is easy to take down? Why do they have to be so complicated? What’s this one again, a freaky shadow monster?” you think out loud.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Miguel retorts, glancing up toward you for a moment before turning back to Lyla. “Do a scan of the place, will you?”

“What do we say~” Lyla responds, and you giggle softly while Miguel huffs.

“Please,” he mutters.

“What was that?”

“Please, Lyla,” he says a little louder now, irritation growing in his voice.

“Already done,” the AI snickers, and he groans out loud as your laughter bounces off of the walls, a fist held out for Lyla to bump.

“The two of you will be the death of me,” he says lowly.

“Oh, don’t be like that, grumps. You’d be too stubborn to die,” you retort before tensing up, the hairs on the back of your neck rising with the familiar feeling of your heightened senses at work. The moment you sling yourself up is the moment a loud thud sounds out from where you once stood.

“Oh, I forgot to mention that the anomaly was in the far right corner,” Lyla says before disappearing.

“I really need to do a rewrite of her code,” Miguel mutters to himself.

In your previous spot emerges a dark figure, plumes of smoke emerging and dissipating from its form and allowing it to disappear into the shadows with ease.

With a simple nod, you get to work. Like a well-oiled machine, you work in practiced synchrony, bounding across the walls and slinging webs.

And just like that the anomaly is captured, the force field around it effectively trapping it for the ride back to HQ so it can be sent back to its own universe.

“That was…kinda lame,” you snicker, pulling off your mask

“Told you so,” Miguel says as he opens up a portal for you both, dragging the anomaly behind him.

“Don’t say that to me,” you pout.

“What, can’t handle the truth?” he retorts, a smirk playing across his lips as your bickering voices fade through the portal.

“…was that a smile,” Gwen asks as she watches the spot where they both had stood.

“Was that what it was?” Miles asks, a shudder racking through his body.

It was late at night at the HQ, and at this time everyone else had already gone back to their own universes. The few that lingered were the ones finishing up after a late-night mission.

Or, you were Peter B. Parker frantically searching through the kitchen for a bottle of milk for Mayday after a playdate with a select few spiders that went on for way longer than expected.

Mayday was an easy baby. Always happy and smiling, but that all disappears when she was hungry and you did not want a spider baby on a rampage.

“Alright, alright, give Daddy a few seconds to warm up your milk please?” Peter pleads as Mayday continues to babble angrily, crawling all over him.

She pauses for a moment, attention drawn elsewhere as she hangs off of her father’s back before leaping.

“Hey, lil spider!” You say with a laugh, catching her in your arms. “What are you doing here so late?” you ask.

“Playdate with Miles, Gwen and Hobie. Time really flew and she refused to leave until now,” Peter sighs tiredly, and you pat him on the back before putting her up onto your shoulders. “What are you doing here so late?”

You shrug, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Working late. Like you said, time really flew,” you say, but Peter knew that wasn’t the full truth.

“Working so hard that you need two cups of coffee?” he asks, holding out the bottle for Mayday to take, which is what she does happily as she snuggles up in her father’s arms.

“What can I say, caffeine doesn’t really work on me,” you grin, pouring the coffee from the machine. “Goodnight, Peter, Mayday,” you say, ruffling her red hair fondly.

And as quickly as you appeared, you disappear.

People didn’t often disturb the big boss man Miguel when he was working. Not if you wanted to stay on his good side.

It was even less often that someone barges into his room full of screens as he monitors the Archno-Humanoid Polymultiverse, let alone a group of them.

“We heard you talking to someone! And laughing,” Gwen says hesitantly as if she couldn’t even believe it herself. But she was invested in figuring out what the deal was between the two of you now.

“Well, do you see anyone around?” Miguel deadpans, his arms wide and gesturing around broadly. You could barely stifle the giggle as you sat on a beam high up on the ceiling, going unnoticed.

“W-well, no…But!” she says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow which makes Gwen shrink in her spot slightly before recovering. “But we heard you. There was someone here, wasn’t there?”

Hobie, ever the perceptive one tracks his eyes along the ceiling before spotting you swinging your legs with an amused look on your face. It seemed as though no one else had noticed though.

Miguel watches Hobie spot you and his eyes narrow in his direction, as if saying ‘I dare you to say anything’ to which the spider only raises his hands in mock surrender.

“No. There wasn't." He says, his tone final. "If that’s all you’re here for, I have important work to get to. So why don’t you go bother someone else, yeah?”

“I give up,” Gwen says, slumping in her chair. “We’re never going to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Jess asks, walking up to the group.

“Whether or not there is something going on between those two,” Miles says, nodding towards you and Miguel talking over in the corner of the room.

Jessica only hums, a knowing look in her eyes but she doesn’t say anything. Only asks a simple question.

“What makes you think so?”

“Everyone here knows that there’s something there, even if they want to admit it or not. She’s one of the few people he tolerates, they’re together almost all the time and he actually seems happy around her,” Gwen reasons.

“You could have just asked, you know,” you say, coming up on their conversation with an amused look on your face.

Their expressions range from flustered to simply amused and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as you make eye contact with Jess.

“And to answer the question,” you reach down your suit, pulling out a simple chain with a ring dangling off of the end.

“We’re actually married.”

The group goes silent for a moment, eyes wide as they stare at the necklace in your hands, trying to process your words.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

A/N: Hehe, I'm quite happy with this one :3 This is my first attempt at writing Miguel, sorry if I butchered him but I am absolutely hyperfixating on him after seeing ATSV in theatres yesterday.

Based on the prompt by @imslightlycreative though slightly changed :)) I hope you all enjoyed <3

Part two out now!! Read it here.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #marvel

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steddiehyperfixation · 14 days ago

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not nothing

@steddiebingo prompt: friends to lovers | 1.6k words | T | 3+1 fic (three times steve and eddie kissed drunk + one time sober)

"Never have I ever...kissed someone sober," Eddie says, sitting on the floor in the living room of his and Steve's apartment with Steve, Robin, and Nancy. The girls are in town from college for a long weekend, and they've taken it upon themselves to fill Steve and Eddie in on the college experience of playing drinking games.

They all (except Eddie of course) take a sip of their drinks at Eddie's statement. They also all look at him with varying degrees of surprise, confusion, or maybe even concern at this information.

“What, really?” Robin asks.

“Uh huh.” He doesn't think it's that crazy. He certainly doesn't think it's all that unexpected from him either. They all know he's never had a proper boyfriend before or anything, and he’s not particularly looking for one either. He's perfectly happy with his life as it is and the people in it. A handful of drunken experiences at clubs and parties is more than enough for him.

Steve frowns at him. “No, that can't be true. You and I have kissed before.”

“Yeah, while drunk.”

“You guys have kissed?” asks Nancy, her eyes slightly wide as if she's more shocked by this fact than the previous one.

“Yeah,” Eddie repeats, “while drunk.”

“And how often does that happen?” Nancy continues to question. God, it's like an interrogation in here all of the sudden.

“It's only been like…” Steve shrugs, glancing at Eddie like he's trying to remember. “What, a couple times?”

“Three times,” Eddie says, “I think.” As if he could ever forget, as if he can't still recall each and every instance in vivid technicolor. No matter how drunk he'd been, kissing Steve Harrington has a way of burning itself into the memory of even the most alcohol-soaked of minds.

The first time it happened, Steve had been in a slump for weeks after getting broken up with, and Eddie, tired of watching him sullenly skulk about their apartment like a ghost, had finally dragged him out to the club, making it his own personal mission to find him a stranger to kiss to help him get over his ex. They took too many shots and danced to shitty pop music while Eddie kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they might be Steve’s type. Steve only frowned and shook his head at every girl Eddie pointed out.

After about 7 shots and Eddie’s 12th attempt to nudge him towards somebody, Steve had rolled his eyes in annoyance and shouted over the music, “If you want me to be kissed so badly, why don’t you do it?”

So Eddie did. No thought at all, just grabbed him and kissed him. Steve stiffened slightly in surprise like he hadn’t actually expected him to do it, but then he kissed back almost immediately, and there they were: making out messily on the dance floor with flashing lights and too-loud music thudding like a heartbeat all around them.

It felt like dancing; fun, mindless movements, heat and warmth and thrill. It felt like taking another shot; blood turned to fire and mind dazing over.

Eddie woke up the next morning still feeling it on his lips.

They talked about it, briefly, in the kitchen over coffee after commiserating together about their mutual hangovers. “It’s not weird that we kissed, right?” Eddie asked, just checking. He couldn’t tell yet if he felt weird about it himself or not.

“Nah, of course not,” Steve had brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured grin. “I used to kiss my friends all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

So it wasn’t a big deal. And they didn’t talk about it again.

The second time it happened was at a 4th of July house party thrown by a friend of an acquaintance, since all of their own friends were out of town. The place was full of people they didn't know who all knew each other, so they had a few drinks and tried to mingle but eventually they both ended up alone together on a balcony, relieved to be in only familiar company, quietly watching the beginnings of neighborhood fireworks crackle in the indigo sky.

“I’m bored,” Eddie announced, the quiet making him itchy and the alcohol in his veins making him want to do something.

“Me too.” Steve finished off his drink of about 90% vodka and 10% Sprite (which Eddie knew because he was drinking the same exact thing, having poured them both himself at the free self-serve bar), and glanced sideways at him. “Wanna make out?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agreed without question. He set his drink aside and Steve's lips were on his in a matter of seconds.

The third time it happened, they didn’t even need to ask anymore, not really. They were out, just the two of them, drunk on a nightclub dance floor again and Steve just wordlessly lifted his hands as if to hold Eddie’s face and raised his eyebrows. Eddie shrugged, why the hell not, and leaned in.

+1.

They were nothing, those kisses, just a fun thing with a friend. Brushed past and moved on from easily, not buried in shame or secrecy but simply inconsequential and not worth lingering on, then and now. Nancy’s still got this look like she thinks there’s more of a story here, but she too moves on with the conversation as the game of Never Have I Ever continues, and Steve and Eddie’s drunk kisses are brushed past once again. No big deal. Nothing.

Eddie is just fine with that. He doesn’t mind it all being nothing, because if it’s not nothing - if he lets himself think even for a second that it’s not nothing - then to him it would be everything. And that’s simply too much.

But anyways, he's not lingering on it. The party goes on and Eddie's taking a drink at Robin’s “Never have I ever kissed a man,” and it's all forgotten now.

At least, he expects it to be all forgotten. But then the next morning he's sitting in the kitchen eating fucking toast when Steve walks in, pauses for a second, and then asks, “Have you really actually never kissed anyone while sober?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie confirms, mouth full. “Really actually.”

Steve puts a bagel in the toaster then leans back against the counter as he looks at Eddie. “Would you want to?”

Eddie blinks, swallows his mouthful of toast. “What, are you offering?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs. Like it's nothing. “I mean, if you want. It's not like we've never kissed before.”

“Right, yeah.” Eddie sets down his half-eaten toast, the bread sticking to the inside of his mouth now, too dry all of the sudden. “I just, um. I think I’d probably be bad at it sober. You know, like, I’d get too in my head about it or whatever.”

Steve shrugs that off too, smiles and makes light of it, “I don't care. Even if you were bad at it, I’m willing to bet you real money you probably still wouldn't be the worst kiss I've ever had.”

Eddie laughs, grateful for Steve's humor and reassurance, but still he shakes his head. The mere suggestion is already making his heartbeat faster and his face feel warmer, and he can't let himself get like this, not over Steve. Not over nothing. “Yeah, I still just- I still just shouldn't though.”

“Okay,” Steve says simply. His bagel pops out of the toaster and his attention diverts to plating the two bagel halves and spreading them with cream cheese. Eddie, assuming that's the end of the conversation, relaxes somewhat and resumes his breakfast. But then Steve's turning around, taking his seat at the kitchen table opposite Eddie, and asking, “Not that it matters at all, but can I ask why?”

“I already told you-”

“Yeah, you think you’ll be bad at it, I know. But that's not the only reason, I can tell.”

Eddie shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth to avoid the responsibility of an immediate reply. He stands and takes his plate to the sink. Only with his back turned does he find the courage to answer honestly. “Because it wouldn't be nothing,” he admits as he rinses off his plate, hoping just a little bit that the running water might drown out his words. “If I kissed you sober, I think it would mean something to me. I think it would really, really mean something to me.”

A pause - an awful, agonizing pause in which Eddie, certain he's just fucked up a perfectly good friendship, seriously considers sticking his head under the faucet and attempting to drown himself - and then Steve says, barely louder than the water, “And you think it wouldn't to me?”

Eddie immediately shuts off the sink and turns to look at him. “Would it?”

“Yeah.” Steve's eyes have gone soft. “Eddie, it always has. Why do you think I'm asking? Why do you think I've been asking?” He smiles, a little sheepishly and with a self-deprecating shrug. “I was just…trying to play it cool.”

There are so many ways Eddie could respond to that, ranging from incredulous to teasing, but a wave of fondness rolls through him so completely there's really only one thing he can say: “Get over here and kiss me right now.”

Steve wastes no time in standing up and moving towards him, and Eddie rushes to meet him in the middle. They crash into each other, bodies colliding and hands gripping tight, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle.

Eddie's first sober kiss happens right there in the kitchen, barefoot in his pajamas with his roommate, his best friend, Steve Harrington; and it couldn’t be more perfect. And it's everything.

#they say write what you know and all i know is drunk kissing the homies #steddiebingo2025 #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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timmydraker · 3 months ago

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The Drake family has existed for a long time, originating from England and being proud doctors in the New World that was the America.

They were responsible for saving many of the soldiers in the war for their choice to be independent to be made true, even being responsible for training medics that saved Washington.

So naturally, with such an extensive (and possibly exaggerated) history filled with respectable and admirable people, they had rules to follow. The rules were meant to show respect for their heritage, for the way they helped push so much medical research and most importantly, reputation.

The Drake Family Rules had existed for over a hundred years. The original book made for young Drake’s and introduced family members was kept safe within a glass case in the centre of the Drake Mansion.

It started with 32 rules, though naturally more were added over time.

When Tim was born there was 122, and as he began to learn to read through the words of the much more modern looking book, his mother swapped it out six times as she added more books. As the one who originally had the Drake name, only she could, though Jack could make suggestions. By the time he was eight there was 173.

Tim had known these rules his whole life and sees them the same way the pervade civilian sees laws.

Maybe even more so.

Some of the rules were obvious and made a lot of sense, such as Rule 5: ‘A Drake should never dishonour his or her’s spouse in any manner’ or Rule 27: ‘A Drake does not gamble away his or hers own money’.

But then there were some out dated ones like Rule 15: ‘A Drake should never been seen wearing a broken pocket watch, for this shows a lack of care to the time of others’ and Rule 11: ‘A Drake should accept the cane from a teacher with grace and decorum’.

Or the more entitled ones like Rule 26: ‘A Drake does not do the washing, that is the maids duty’ and the worst one as far as Tim was concerned, Rule 5: ‘A Drake does not fornicate with anyone of varying skin tones or the common folk’.

Then the bazar one’s…

Rule 112: ‘A Drake should not be seen in public past 11 PM’.

Rule 78: ‘A Drake does not drink out of anything that is not made of glass’.

Rule 102: ‘A Drake must keep a coin inside his or hers shoe when leaving home’.

And Tim’s favourite, Rule 98: ‘A Drake must not die of sickness lest this affect the trust of the public’.

A lot were about health, like Rule 3: ‘A Drake must study the science of medicine no matter his or hers biology’ . Some were about dedication to making a healthy society while others were just about committing to the family business.

Tim didn’t mind these rules all that much and only really learnt them because it was expected of him. He didn’t think all of them were necessary, a fair few due to the time period, but it didn’t really hurt for him to learn them all and keep them up.

Tim still kept a coin inside his shoe after all, because while it was super weird, it didn’t hurt.

He was sure if Bruce knew about The Drake Family Rules and how well Tim follows them he would be furious at the evidence that Tim can do what he’s told, he just doesn’t want to.

#batfam #bat family #dc comics #tim drake #batfamily #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #drake family dc #drake family #tim drake centric #tim drake hc #janet and jack drake #family traditions

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fushitoru · 4 months ago

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thinking about writing a reincarnated/isekai!gojo and reader series...

you and gojo were married in canon/jjk verse.

you’ve seen his mental health deteriorate because of the higher ups and how he’s perceived as a weapon and is a weapon. satoru’s mental health has been descending for a very long time, and by the end, when you’re soullessly watching his dead body projected by mei mei’s crows, you blankly volunteer to be next (ignoring all of kashmo's protests).

can anyone blame you? your life has no purpose anymore. you and satoru were never able to get the life you deserve. late nights spent waiting in bed for your lover, seeing the love of your life get burdened more and more from the weight of his responsibilities, and, in the end, even witnessing him volunteer his own body as if he were a doll, a weapon. you know damn well you're not going to spend the rest of your life replacing the flowers on his grave and try to reform the society that never even cared about satoru anyways.

you don’t last very long fighting sukuna, and you die, praying to whatever merciless god out there that, in another life, you and satoru get the happy ending you both deserved, that he wouldn't be the one that got away—

you wake up from your dream, gasping. you don’t know why it was so vivid; all you remember is that you were some kind of magician? like winx club? harry potter? hunter x hunter? and you had a husband and he WAS SMOKING HOT. also both of you died and you were kind of sad, because he was hot :(

so—as a college student—you head to your first lecture of the year. you’ve decided to switch majors and have to take this dumb math class that’s a gen ed and is filled with people. so you take one of two empty spots remaining.

the lecture goes on, until professor yaga rolls his eyes and suddenly everyone’s heads is turned towards the door, so you just follow the crowd.

and there he is.

a boy with the most stunning white hair and sheepish blue eyes upholding a charming grin, yelling out something undoubtedly snarky while taking his seat, some people dapping him up as he makes his way to the only seat—-the one next to you.

as he’s setting his stuff down, and he turns to look at you. blinks.

A breathless, “Hi.”

And then, your story begins again.

AHH COMMENT IF you want to be on the taglist <3

this is basically me giving you and gojo the rom com you deserve. does he remember you? did he get the same dream as you? and will he call the police if you chase after him, insisting he's your husband and the love of your life? stay tuned! prepare for angst (hurt/comfort), pining, and ridiculously horny reunion sex (at the end after i make you suffer and yearn, of course)

and to my bridgerton!gojo readers, i promise i will publish the first chapter only after chapter ten/eleven of bridgerton!gojo is out <3

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damnyousubdermalirritants · 8 months ago

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UPDATE: NOVAVAX NOW AVAILABLE!!!

Hi everyone, it's been about a year since I posted about updated COVID vaccines and it's time for another update if you are in the US:

THE BRIDGE ACCESS PROGRAM IS ENDING!!!!

If you are uninsured or your insurance does not cover covid boosters, please schedule a new booster appointment before the end of August because the Bridge Access Program (the way the government will still pay for your booster) ends in September. The updated mRNA boosters from Moderna and Pfizer are available now. Go Go GO!!!

Shitty, I know! If you can call your congressional reps, the FDA, the CDC, whomever to tell them you want this program to continue/be reinstated, that would be great. Also, while you're at it, call the FDA to tell them to expedite the approval for the updated Novavax booster (3017962640).

The new Novavax vaccine is designed for the JN.1 strain which is one of the most recent mutations of the virus going around. If you have insurance and can afford to wait, I highly recommend getting the Novavax booster when it becomes available.

We are currently in the largest Covid summer surge since 2021

If you haven't had a booster in the past six months you are essentially unvaccinated. New strains with different spike proteins keep evolving faster than vaccine development and distribution can keep up. All that said, getting Covid is not a moral failing. If you do feel sick, take a rapid test! If it's negative, test again a day or two later. It is better to know than not to know. Here's a refresh on how to take a rapid test correctly:

If you do get Covid, it is worth getting on antiretrovirals within the first week of symptoms to reduce the overall viral load your body has to fight. If your insurance doesn't cover Paxlovid or Remdesivir, here are other low/no-cost ways to access it:

If you get sick, rest radically even after you stop testing positive on rapid tests. Avoid exercising for at least eight weeks after the fact to reduce the risk of developing long covid.

Regardless of your vaccination status, masking with a KN95 or N95 respirator (or equivalent standards in your country i.e. FFP2/3 in the EU) is the most reliable way to protect yourself and others. If Covid protections are a financial burden, there is likely an active Mask Bloc near you doing free distribution of respirators and tests that would be happy to help you. Here's a global map of them from covidactionmap.org

Some quick tips: if you're wearing a bi-fold mask, flatten the nose-bridge wire completely, then mold it to your nose on your face for a better fit. The best mask is the one that you will actually wear regularly to protect yourself. I really like the selection of styles, sizes and colors from WellBefore:

As school is starting, getting you and your family boosted is one of the best things you can do to protect yourselves. Masking is perhaps even more important. If you can advocate for updating and regularly changing the HVAC filters at your local schools to MERV-13 or higher to keep the indoor air cleaner, that can also make a big difference. Better indoor air quality in schools helps protect kids from illness, allergies, wildfire smoke, and more per the EPA's website.

These are steps you can take to improve air quality at home as well. Corsi-Rosenthal boxes are low-cost and highly effective for cleaning the air indoors.

Here's a map of clean air lending libraries for getting access to air purifiers for events from cleanairclub.org

#covid #covid 19 #signal boost #boost #long covid #vaccine #wear a respirator #indoor air quality #covid testing

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xinganhao · 4 months ago

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🥊 older brother!soonyoung vs. boyfriend!jihoon.

@choco-scoups -> "what do we think about brother's best friend jihoon, but your brother is soonyoung"

ⓘ cussing, good-natured sibling bickering, suggestive joke. headcanons under the cut.

🥊 jihoon's notes on surviving the kwon siblings .ᐟ

The Kwon siblings are sulky as hell. Jihoon had thought that Soonyoung was the king of brooding, but then he met you. If he weren't dating you, he might even be impressed. As it is, though, he can only focus on managing the two of you's moods. Sure, Jihoon is a little biased. He thinks you're cute when you get all pouty; it makes him want to pinch your cheeks and hold you until that frown is gone from your face. When it's Soonyoung, though, he's a lot more exasperated. "You're a grown man, Soon. Get over it," he might grouse— right before turning to a sullen you and asking if you want a kiss.

The Kwon siblings bicker. A lot. Jihoon doesn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, so he spent quite a bit of time worrying if the two of you were normal. He quickly learned that most siblings tend to butt heads, though you and Soonyoung tended to be a little more... over the top than the average pair. One too many times, Jihoon has been caught in between the two of you's screaming matches. His three-step plan to coming out unscathed is to 1) not take sides, 2) only step in if/when physical altercation occurs, and 3) try not to insult either of you. Even if he is inclined to believe that you're right, more often than not.

The Kwon siblings can be clingy. Before he was your boyfriend, Jihoon was Soonyoung's best friend. And so Jihoon had grown used to Soonyoung's insistences for meals out, Soonyoung's need to be responded to lest he thinks it's the end of the world. When it turned out that you were more or less similar, Jihoon could only shake his head and sigh to himself. He should have known what he was getting into. Really, Jihoon has the patience of a saint in balancing your overthinking and Soonyoung's peskiness. It's a whole love language, and Jihoon is fluent.

Soonyoung loves you. It's not something he says often. Call it the tendency of brothers to brush off emotion or downplay their own sentiments. But Soonyoung loves you in a ride-or-die kind of way, in an if-anything-happens-to-you-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do kind of way. Jihoon knows this. He knows it well. When you and Jihoon had started dating, Soonyoung had been fully supportive. He made a couple of 'jabs' here and there— "If you break their heart, I'll never forgive you!"— but Jihoon knew from the look in his best friend's eye, the set in Soonyoung's jaw, that it wasn't that much of a joke. Jihoon knows that Soonyoung trusting him with you is no small thing. He makes sure not to take it for granted.

You love Jihoon. You love Soonyoung. You would never— not in a million lifetimes— choose Jihoon over Soonyoung. Even though you've threatened bodily harm on Soonyoung more times than can be counted; even though Jihoon is everything that you could want and more. Blood runs thicker than water. Jihoon knows that, too. That's why he never makes you choose. He's content to share the spot of 'favorite person' with your brother, the same way that there's no one else in the world that he trusts more than you two.

+ When the three of you are able to get it together long enough to go somewhere without gauging each other's eyes out, it's those moments that Jihoon secretly adores the most. He sometimes falls quiet, letting you and Kwon fill the conversation at the table, and he thinks of the time you forced him to watch that one Disney movie. Looks like the princess was right; Jihoon is spoken for. Everyone he's ever loved is here, within these walls, at this table, and he couldn't be more happy about it.

✉︎ jayyy! i know you said i could "keep this for a while," but when the req features two people on my bias line.. well! (ᗒᗨᗕ)

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

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areislol · 1 month ago

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being transported into their world 3

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, proofread, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! sahau (selfawarehonkaiau)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they’ve been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. i have returned!

►— wordcount. 8.5k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpart 2

As the grand airships soared through the boundless expanse of the Astral Sea, anticipation and reverence filled the hearts of those aboard. The people of Penacony and the Xianzhou Luofu had poured their devotion into every offering, ensuring that when they stood before their Creator, they would be worthy of Their gaze.

Among the passengers, figures of great renown—leaders, warriors, scholars, and artists—whispered among themselves. Some exchanged theories, others clung to their hopes, but all shared the same longing: to be in the presence of the one who had shaped their existence.

The Vidyadhara of the Xianzhou spoke of celestial ripples, unseen but deeply felt. The Dreamweavers of Penacony murmured about visions more vivid than any illusion—glimpses of a figure bathed in ethereal light, watching over them. It was as if their Creator had never truly left but had merely observed from beyond the veil of reality.

And then, the first sign appeared.

A shimmer in the fabric of space, a fleeting disturbance in the gentle hum of the Astral Sea. The air itself seemed to vibrate with an unfamiliar presence, neither hostile nor kind—simply vast, unfathomable, divine.

Aboard one of the lead airships, a courier from the Xianzhou clutched their chest, eyes widening as a foreign yet familiar warmth settled deep within their soul.

“They are near,” the courier whispered, breath hitching. “The Creator… is watching.”

Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire. The High Elders of the Luofu exchanged knowing glances, and the Dream Alchemists of Penacony trembled, their own visions now aligning into a singular truth.

Some fell to their knees in silent prayer. Others clutched their offerings closer, as if desperate to prove their devotion.

And then—

A voice.

Distant yet clear, carried by the unseen currents of the universe itself.

A voice that resonated not in their ears but in the depths of their souls.

“You have come far.”

For the first time in millennia, their Creator had spoken.

And the universe itself seemed to hold its breath.

—

The moment your feet touched the ground of the Xianzhou Luofu, the world around you erupted into chaos.

One second, you were merely stepping off the grand airship that had carried you through the Astral Sea, and the next, you were utterly surrounded—crowded by eager citizens, high-ranking officials, and even a few Vidyadhara elders who had abandoned their usual serene composure in favor of absolute devotion.

“Creator! Oh, most divine one! Please, accept this humble offering—”

“These are the finest silks woven by the most skilled artisans of the Luofu! Only the best for Your Holiness!”

“My family has worshiped You for generations, O Creator! Please, take this—no, no, take all of it—”

Hands thrust forward gifts of all kinds: shimmering jade ornaments, scrolls filled with poetry written in your honor, delicately embroidered robes infused with strands of blessed gold, and even towering platters of delicacies so elaborately prepared that you had no idea how one was supposed to eat them without ruining the artistry.

The crowd pressed in, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of praise and desperate pleas. Some people knelt in open worship, while others trembled on the verge of tears, overcome by the mere sight of you. You barely had time to react as more and more hands stretched out, some daring to reach for you—only to quickly withdraw as if touching you would be a sin beyond redemption.

You felt the weight of it all crashing down at once. Their overwhelming adoration, the suffocating attention, the sheer amount of stuff being shoved into your hands—your arms were already full, and yet gifts kept piling up, stacked precariously as people kept insisting, “Please, You must accept this!”

Your mind reeled. How were you supposed to carry all this?

Just as you were about to be buried alive under the sheer number of offerings, a smooth, amused voice cut through the chaos.

“Now, now, everyone, let’s give our dear Creator some space to breathe, shall we?”

A familiar figure approached with a casual, almost lazy gait, his golden eyes glinting with mirth despite the serene smile on his face.

Jing Yuan.

Finally.

The tension in your shoulders immediately lessened at the sight of the Arbiter-General, who effortlessly slipped through the throng of devotees, his mere presence enough to make people step back—reluctantly, of course. His relaxed demeanor only added to the contrast between the fervent crowd and the calm authority he exuded.

In one smooth motion, Jing Yuan plucked several stacked gift boxes from your arms and, with the ease of someone entirely too used to handling excessive burdens, passed them off to a group of hesitant Cloud Knights standing nearby.

“Ah, such generosity from the people of the Luofu,” he mused, resting a hand on his chin. “Truly, your devotion to the Creator is admirable. However, burying them under a mountain of offerings seems a bit… excessive, wouldn’t you agree?”

A few people had the decency to look sheepish, but others still gazed at you with unwavering reverence, eyes shining with the desperate need for approval.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly and sighed. “If you all truly wish to show your love and respect, perhaps you should allow the Creator to rest after such a long journey. Don’t you think they deserve at least that much?”

There was a moment of silence—hesitation, perhaps—but then the crowd finally, finally, began to disperse, albeit begrudgingly. The most devoted still lingered at a distance, hands clutched to their chests as they whispered prayers under their breath.

Jing Yuan turned to you then, his smile softening as he regarded your exhausted form. “That was quite the welcome, wasn’t it?”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. “I was two seconds away from getting buried alive.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, a rich, warm sound that was oddly comforting. “I noticed. Hence my timely rescue.”

He extended an arm toward you, a silent offer of escape from the still-hovering masses. You didn’t hesitate to step closer, and with that, he effortlessly guided you through the streets, keeping the lingering devotees at a polite yet firm distance.

As you walked, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “I must admit, I almost didn’t intervene. The sight of you balancing all those offerings was rather amusing.”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I will actually smite you.”

Jing Yuan only grinned. “Oh? That would be quite the divine punishment.”

Despite his teasing, you could feel the protective undertone in his presence. He never once let anyone get too close, subtly positioning himself between you and the most overzealous worshippers. His touch, though light, was grounding—a reminder that you weren’t alone in handling this overwhelming situation.

Somehow, you had no idea how, you were totally not freaking out. I mean seriously, you, the supposed "Creator" of this world was being escorted by the one and only Jing Yuan.

You always found him handsome, gushing over him every time you saw him ingame and in the oh so beautiful edits. Now that you're thinking about it you lowkey miss scrolling through edits...

Finally, after weaving through the grand avenues of the Luofu, Jing Yuan led you to a quiet garden, a place of respite where the gentle murmur of a koi pond replaced the incessant praises and frantic devotion.

You sighed, shoulders sagging as you flopped onto a stone bench. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Jing Yuan sat beside you, stretching lazily. “Think nothing of it, Creator. It is, after all, my duty to ensure your safety.” His golden eyes twinkled with a teasing light. “Even if that means saving you from an avalanche of gifts.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “This is only the first region. How am I supposed to survive the rest of this journey?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully before leaning back with a smirk. “Well, if you ever feel like you’re drowning in worship, you could always hide behind me.”

You looked at him, deadpan. “So I should use you as a human shield?”

“A most noble purpose,” he said solemnly. “I would be honored.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A genuine, amused laugh that made the weight of everything seem just a little lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

That evening Jing Yuan made it his speciality (well, there was no other perfect for this role) to help you around and set you up in the finest hotel they have, though he was contemplating whether or not to let you stay in his home.

Oh well, another time.

After a much-needed moment of peace in the secluded garden, Jing Yuan finally stood, stretching with a satisfied sigh.

"As much as I enjoy our quiet escape, we can't keep the officials waiting forever. Besides, there's still one more matter to attend to before you settle in."

You gave him a wary look. "Please tell me it doesn't involve more people throwing things at me."

Jing Yuan chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "No, no, nothing of the sort. This is merely a... welcome gift, of sorts. One befitting your divine status."

With a flick of his wrist, he signaled a Cloud Knight nearby, who quickly bowed and stepped forward, handing him an ornate jade key embossed with golden inlays. Jing Yuan twirled it between his fingers before offering it to you.

"The finest lodging in all of the Luofu awaits you, Creator. We've taken the liberty of preparing the most luxurious accommodations—handcrafted furniture, celestial silk bedding, a private garden, and, of course, an entire team of attendants at your beck and call."

You blinked. "You got me a palace?"

Jing Yuan hummed. "Did you want a palace? I can certainly..."

"No! It's alright!"

Your escort back into the main district of the Luofu was far more controlled this time, thanks to the Arbiter-General’s presence. Though citizens still peered at you with awe, none dared to swarm you again under his watchful eye.

Eventually, you arrived before an exquisite structure that towered above the rest of the district. It was more than just a hotel—it was a masterpiece.

The building gleamed under the warm glow of Xianzhou lanterns, its architecture a perfect blend of ancient artistry and modern refinement. The entrance alone was grander than any palace you had seen, with enormous wooden doors adorned with gold filigree and jade carvings of divine creatures bowing in reverence.

A faint, pleasant floral aroma wafted from within, and even from the threshold, you could tell that the entire establishment exuded luxury.

A team of elegantly dressed attendants stood in perfect formation, their heads bowed respectfully as they awaited your arrival.

The head steward, an elderly but refined man with a neatly tied beard, stepped forward, his expression filled with practiced grace.

"O Most Revered Creator, it is our greatest honor to welcome You to the Celestial Pavilion, the pinnacle of hospitality in the Xianzhou Luofu. Every suite, every meal, every service within these walls has been prepared with Your divine comfort in mind."

The doors swung open, revealing an interior that was almost too stunning to believe.

The floor was made of polished white jade, reflecting the warm glow of floating lanterns that hovered like soft stars above. An artificial river ran through the grand lobby, its waters imbued with luminescent koi fish that swam in mesmerizing patterns. Exquisite tapestries depicting celestial beings hung from the walls, woven with real gold and silver threads.

Jing Yuan leaned down slightly, whispering near your ear, "Too much?"

You turned to him with an incredulous look. "Jing Yuan. This is not a hotel. This is an imperial palace in disguise."

He laughed, clearly entertained by your reaction. "Well, nothing but the best for our dear Creator. Besides, would you really prefer a lesser place after all the trouble of traveling here?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I just feel like this is… way too much."

Jing Yuan smirked. "You underestimate how deeply the people of the Luofu revere you. To them, even this is barely enough."

Before you could protest further, the head steward gestured towards an awaiting elevator, its interior lined with intricate carvings of constellations.

"Please, allow us to guide You to Your private suite. The entire top floor has been reserved solely for You, ensuring the utmost privacy and security."

Jing Yuan made a teasing gesture towards the elevator. "Shall we, O Divine One?"

You shot him a look but stepped inside regardless, allowing the attendants to lead the way.

When the elevator doors slid open, you were greeted with a sight that made your previous awe seem insignificant.

The suite was enormous—practically a mansion in itself. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the Luofu, where floating islands drifted lazily against a sea of stars. The decor was luxurious yet tasteful, blending rich Xianzhou aesthetics with divine motifs. Silken drapes billowed gently from the breeze of an open balcony, where a koi pond glowed softly in the moonlight.

The centerpiece of the room, however, was the massive bed—practically a throne of luxury. The sheets were woven from celestial silk, rumored to be softer than clouds, and the pillows looked as though they could swallow you whole.

You turned to Jing Yuan, your voice deadpan. "Did you guys handpick the softest, most luxurious materials in the entire universe for this?"

He hummed. "More or less. The mattress is filled with the down of a rare celestial bird said to bring pleasant dreams. The silk was harvested from dreamweaving moths, whose threads are softer than air itself."

You stared at the impossibly extravagant bed, then back at him. "This bed alone is worth more than my entire existence, isn’t it?"

Jing Yuan grinned, tilting his head. "Perhaps. But as the Creator, what is wealth to You?"

You groaned, flopping onto the bed despite your previous complaints. The moment your body sank into the heavenly softness, a deep sigh escaped your lips. "...Okay, fine. This is actually incredible."

Jing Yuan’s chuckle was smooth, triumphant. "I thought you’d come around."

Just then, an attendant entered with a respectful bow. "Creator, your evening meal has been prepared. Would you like it served in the dining hall, or shall we bring it to you here?"

Her voice trembled ever so slightly, and you noticed.

You were about to answer when Jing Yuan sat down beside you with an easygoing smile. "I can join you, if you’d like. Of course, I’d understand if you prefer to dine alone after such a long day."

You hesitated, then gave him a small smirk. "Stay. I think I need someone to keep me from drowning in luxury."

Jing Yuan let out a laugh, leaning back on his hands. "Very well. Consider it my continued duty to ensure you survive this overwhelming hospitality."

As the attendants set up a feast of delicacies, you allowed yourself a rare moment of relaxation. The overwhelming attention, the endless gifts, the suffocating devotion—it was a lot to handle.

But at least, for now, you had Jing Yuan by your side to make it all a little more bearable.

And with Penacony as your next destination, you were going to need all the support you could get.

—

That night, after a long and overwhelming day, you finally let out a deep sigh as you sank into the impossibly soft mattress. The pearly silk sheets draped over your body like the gentlest of clouds, but even with all the luxury surrounding you, something felt… odd.

Not bad, just unreal.

You had spent the entire day being treated like something divine—worshipped, adored, and overwhelmed with endless gifts and reverence. While you knew the people of Xianzhou Luofu meant well, the sheer intensity of their devotion had left your mind reeling.

Sitting up, you pulled at the silky robe you had been given earlier, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. It was exquisite, made from rare materials woven by expert hands, but it wasn’t what you needed right now.

So, with a decisive nod, you slipped out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe. As expected, it was massive—filled with handpicked garments of the finest quality, likely tailored specifically for you. But you ignored the silken robes and intricate gowns, your eyes searching for something softer, fluffier—something that felt normal.

And, to your relief, you found it.

A set of plush, cozy loungewear—still elegant, but far more comfortable than the regal attire you had been given throughout the day. You wasted no time changing into it, sighing in contentment as the soft fabric hugged your skin.

Much better.

Now properly dressed for relaxation, you returned to the bed, slipping beneath the covers once more. The dim golden glow of the lanterns cast warm shadows across the room, the faint sound of running water from the koi pond outside filling the air with a serene ambiance.

You had a couple of weeks here before moving on to Penacony. That thought alone was enough to make you sigh again—two whole weeks of this level of treatment. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful, but it was overwhelming. How were you supposed to act when everyone saw you as something so divine?

Just as you were beginning to spiral into your thoughts again, there was a polite knock at the door.

A soft voice spoke from the other side. “Apologies for disturbing you, O Revered One. General Jing Yuan has sent a message regarding tomorrow.”

Curious, you sat up. “Come in.”

The door slid open, revealing a neatly dressed servant who carried a delicate scroll sealed with golden wax. They bowed deeply before presenting it to you.

You accepted it, offering a small nod of thanks. The servant hesitated, as if debating whether to say something, but ultimately decided against it and left as silently as they had arrived.

Breaking the seal, you unrolled the scroll and began reading.

Dearest Creator, I imagine today has been rather… intense. I would say you’ll grow used to it, but I doubt anyone could adjust so quickly to such unrelenting devotion. Fortunately, I have taken it upon myself to provide a reprieve from the overwhelming fanfare. Tomorrow, allow me the honor of showing you the Xianzhou that few ever see. Beyond the grand halls and bustling markets lie hidden wonders—sacred places, untouched beauty, and sights reserved only for those deemed worthy. I assure you, this will not be an ordinary tour. You deserve to witness the true splendor of the Luofu, not just the grandeur they parade before you. Rest well, and anticipate a journey unlike any other. —Jing Yuan

A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips.

For the first time since arriving, you felt something besides pressure—excitement.

The idea of seeing the true beauty of Xianzhou, beyond the formal ceremonies and excessive tributes, sparked something warm in your chest. Jing Yuan wasn’t treating you like some untouchable deity—he was inviting you to experience something.

And you couldn’t wait.

With that thought, you carefully set the scroll aside and curled deeper into the blankets, a quiet sense of anticipation settling over you.

Tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow, you wouldn’t just be the Creator.

You would be you.

As the warmth of sleep wrapped around you, your thoughts drifted into a haze of anticipation. The soft embrace of the plush blankets, the faint trickle of water outside, and the distant hum of the city lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

And for the first time since arriving, you truly rested.

But something was… different.

The dream came suddenly—so vivid, so distant, yet unbearably familiar. You were surrounded by muffled voices, warped as though you were underwater, their words blurred beyond recognition. Faint beeping echoed somewhere in the background, rhythmic and steady, like the slow, deliberate ticking of time.

A sharp scent filled the air—antiseptic, sterile.

Hospital.

Your fingers twitched. No silk, no embroidery, no luxurious warmth. Instead, there was something stiff beneath you, something thin and uncomfortable. You tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy, weighed down as if submerged in an invisible force keeping you still.

The voices grew clearer.

"—stable for now."

"Still no response?"

"Nothing. But brain activity is... unusual."

There was a pressure on your chest—something tight, restricting. Panic clawed at your throat, and you tried to force your eyes open, but the dream was cruel, keeping you trapped in its grasp.

A shadow moved beyond the blinding hospital lights. Someone leaned over you, their features blurred beyond recognition, but there was an undeniable concern in their presence.

"Come back to us."

The voice sent a chill down your spine, a foreign familiarity creeping in. Come back? Where? To what?

Your heart pounded. The dream was suffocating, pressing against you with a weight that felt far too real. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in your flagship, on your way to Penacony, celebrated and revered as the Creator.

So why did it feel like something—someone—was pulling you back?

The beeping quickened, an alarmed voice sounded somewhere beyond the veil of unconsciousness, but before you could grasp onto anything, the dream collapsed in on itself.

You shot up in bed, gasping.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the celestial glow of the stars outside the massive windows of your chambers. Your chest heaved as you struggled to regain your breath, hands trembling slightly as they gripped the silk sheets. The sensation of the dream lingered, the sterile scent, the voices, the weight of something unseen—

But it was gone.

You swallowed hard, pressing a hand against your forehead. It was just a dream.

…Right?

—

A gentle knocking stirred you from your dreams.

At first, you barely registered the sound, your mind still caught between the lingering remnants of sleep and the waking world. The knock came again—soft, patient, yet firm enough to rouse you.

You blinked blearily, shifting beneath the covers as the morning light seeped in through the ornate windows, casting golden rays across the room.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

The voice was familiar—smooth, rich with amusement, and unmistakably belonging to Jing Yuan.

That woke you up completely.

Still groggy, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The memory of last night came rushing back—his letter, the promise of an exclusive tour, the excitement that had lulled you into such a deep sleep.

He’s here already?!

Panicked, you glanced down at yourself, relieved to find you hadn’t tangled yourself in the sheets or drooled all over the pillow like some sleep-deprived mess. Your fluffy loungewear was slightly rumpled, but nothing too embarrassing.

Clearing your throat, you called out, “Come in.”

The door slid open smoothly, revealing Jing Yuan.

He stood at the threshold, hands folded neatly behind his back, his usual composed yet knowing smile resting on his lips. The morning light framed him perfectly, highlighting the silver strands of his long, flowing hair and the sharp yet relaxed features of his face. His robes, though still formal, were noticeably lighter than the ones he wore during official duties.

Even his very presence exuded effortless grace, like he had all the time in the world.

“I see you’ve rested well,” he mused, taking in your cozy state with an amused glint in his golden eyes. “It would be a shame if the Creator themselves were sleep-deprived in my care.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded approvingly. “Good. You’ll need all your energy for today.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That makes it sound like you’re planning to make me run a marathon.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “Nothing so drastic, I promise. But I do intend to take you places that require a bit more… mobility than sitting on a grand throne accepting gifts all day.”

That piqued your interest. “You weren’t joking about showing me the real Xianzhou, huh?”

“I would never joke about such a thing,” he said with a smirk. “I value my life too much to deceive the Creator.”

You snorted at that but were already feeling more awake and eager for the day ahead.

“I’ll get dressed,” you said, swinging your legs over the bed. “Give me a few minutes.”

Jing Yuan inclined his head, stepping back toward the door. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting just outside.”

As the door slid shut behind him, you let out a breath and stood up, stretching as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Today was going to be different.

And you couldn’t wait.

Once you were dressed and ready, you stepped outside, greeted by the soft morning breeze that carried the delicate scent of blooming flora. The Xianzhou Luofu was already stirring with life—merchants setting up their stalls, artisans practicing their craft, and the faint hum of ships soaring above the bustling city.

And, of course, Jing Yuan was waiting for you.

Leaning casually against one of the elegant wooden pillars just outside your quarters, the general looked completely at ease, as if he had all the time in the world. His golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he watched you approach.

“I was beginning to wonder if the Creator was the type to sleep in,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the light outer robe draped over your shoulders. “I think I deserve some extra rest after yesterday.”

Jing Yuan let out a soft chuckle. “That, I can’t argue with. But I did promise you an unforgettable tour, and I intend to deliver.”

You tilted your head. “So, where are we going first?”

He turned slightly, motioning for you to follow. “Somewhere only a select few have the privilege of visiting.”

Intrigued, you walked beside him as he led you through the city. The streets were lined with towering buildings adorned with intricate carvings, the scent of freshly brewed tea and steamed buns wafting through the air as street vendors called out their morning specials. You could feel the weight of countless eyes on you—some reverent, some awestruck, and some barely able to hold back their excitement.

Word had spread, fast.

Whispers followed in your wake. Citizens knelt as you passed, their expressions a mixture of devotion and disbelief, as if they couldn’t believe they were standing in the presence of their revered Creator.

You felt your steps falter, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their gazes.

Jing Yuan must have noticed, because without hesitation, he shifted closer to you, his voice low and reassuring. “Ignore the crowd. They mean no harm, but I understand how suffocating such attention can be.”

You exhaled, nodding as you did your best to focus on the path ahead.

Before long, you reached a secluded area near the edge of the city—a vast, hidden garden surrounded by towering cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering gently in the wind. A sacred place, untouched by the bustling city, where the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chime of wind bells hanging from the eaves of an ancient shrine.

Your breath caught.

The sight before you was breathtaking.

A grand koi pond stretched out before you, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the soft hues of dawn. The koi swam gracefully beneath the surface—some golden, some shimmering like silver, and a few so rare they seemed almost ethereal. Stone pathways curved around the pond, leading to delicate wooden pavilions shaded by vibrant red maples.

Jing Yuan stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back as he observed your reaction. “This place has existed for centuries, long before my time. Few ever set foot here.” He turned to you, a knowing glint in his eyes. “But I thought it was only right for you to see the beauty your world has inspired.”

You swallowed hard, a strange warmth blossoming in your chest.

It wasn’t just the scenery—it was the meaning behind it.

Jing Yuan had personally chosen this place, not as a grand spectacle for the people to see, but as something meant only for you. A place where you weren’t the revered Creator burdened by endless expectations—just you.

Your fingers grazed the petals of a cherry blossom branch as you took a deep breath. “…It’s beautiful.”

Jing Yuan smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, letting the peace of the garden settle around you.

Then, with a small smirk, he added, “Of course, this is only the beginning. There’s much more to see.”

You turned to him, curiosity sparking in your gaze. “Oh? You have more surprises?”

He chuckled, his golden eyes glinting playfully. “Would I really be a good host if I didn’t?”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, General. Impress me.”

Jing Yuan was nothing if not an exceptional guide. From the moment you left the tranquil garden, he took it upon himself to show you everything—from the grandiose to the humble, from the historical to the modern, ensuring you experienced Xianzhou Luofu not as some untouchable deity, but as someone meant to live within it, even if only for a short while.

The two of you strolled through vast, open courtyards where swordsmen trained with unwavering focus, their movements so precise they almost looked choreographed. Some paused mid-strike when they noticed you, their expressions flickering between awe and disbelief before quickly bowing in reverence. Jing Yuan simply chuckled, assuring them they need not falter in their training.

From there, he led you through the bustling markets, where the scent of incense, fresh herbs, and sizzling skewers filled the air. The shopkeepers, upon realizing who had stepped into their midst, nearly fell over themselves to offer their best wares.

Silken fabrics embroidered with golden threads, delicate porcelain tea sets, and finely crafted accessories were all presented to you with utmost sincerity and a touch of the Xianzhou. But despite their efforts, what truly captivated you was the food.

Jing Yuan, ever the indulgent host, made sure you tasted everything.

Steamed dumplings filled with fragrant broth that burst the moment you bit into them. Crispy duck brushed with a glossy, caramelized glaze. Fluffy lotus seed pastries, subtly sweet and impossibly soft. You were handed skewers of spiced meat, bowls of fresh noodles, and warm cups of floral-infused tea before you even had time to finish what was already in your hands.

"You should pace yourself, Your Grace," Jing Yuan remarked, amused as he handed you yet another delicacy—a delicate mooncake with an intricate design pressed into its golden crust. "I fear the entirety of the Xianzhou’s culinary scene might end up on our table at this rate."

You swallowed a bite of your current dish, shaking your head with a grin. "You're the one accepting everything on my behalf."

He feigned innocence. "I would never refuse a citizen’s heartfelt offering to their beloved Creator."

You gave him a flat look, but there was no real irritation behind it. Truth be told, it was nice—to walk freely among the people, to experience their world through their senses. The energy of the marketplace was vibrant, filled with life and laughter, and for once, you didn’t feel like an unreachable deity. You felt... present.

And Jing Yuan?

He never rushed you, never made you feel overwhelmed. He kept a comfortable pace, his tone always light and teasing but never overbearing. He shared small stories about the vendors—how one particular old man had been selling candied fruits in that very spot for decades, how a certain tea house had once been a hidden meeting place for strategists during past conflicts. Every bit of history he wove into the day made you feel more connected to this world.

After what felt like hours of exploring, the two of you eventually found yourselves in a secluded, open-air pavilion overlooking the sprawling city. The view was breathtaking—elegant rooftops stretching into the horizon, sky-faring ships gliding smoothly between them, the setting sun dipping the entire city in warm hues of orange and gold.

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the railing as the cool breeze caressed your skin. "I think I’ve walked more today than I have in months."

Jing Yuan chuckled, standing beside you with his hands clasped behind his back. "That only means you’ve truly experienced the Xianzhou as it should be—through movement, conversation, and indulgence." He turned his gaze toward you, his golden eyes gleaming with something softer, more genuine.

"You’ve granted us your presence, but I wanted you to see that this world—your world—has flourished because of what you created."

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words.

Despite the reverence, the titles, the endless offerings, this was the first time you truly felt the impact of your presence—not as some untouchable being, but as someone whose influence had shaped the very lives of these people. And the way Jing Yuan presented it… it was less about worship and more about appreciation.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "You’ve done a good job showing me that, General."

He hummed, satisfied. "Then my work is far from over. We still have more to see in the coming days."

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. "So this was only the first course?"

His smirk returned. "Consider it the appetizer."

You rolled your eyes but felt something warm bloom in your chest. For the first time since arriving, you weren’t just thinking about the responsibilities or the expectations placed upon you.

As the day stretched on, you couldn’t help but notice something—Jing Yuan was close. Not in a way that was immediately obvious, but in the quiet, lingering touches, the way his presence seemed to loom over you no matter where you went.

At first, it was subtle. A guiding hand resting on the small of your back when maneuvering through the crowded marketplace. The barely-there brush of his fingers against yours when handing you a small pastry.

The way his arm always seemed to find its way near your shoulder whenever you paused to admire something. You thought little of it at first, assuming it was just his way of ensuring you weren’t overwhelmed, but the more you paid attention, the more you realized—he wasn’t just watching over you.

He was hovering.

Even when he wasn’t touching you, he was there—standing just a little too close, his broad frame shadowing yours, his golden eyes flickering toward you with an almost unreadable expression. It wasn’t suffocating, nor was it entirely unwelcome, but it was… noticeable.

When you stopped to observe the koi fish in a serene garden pond, he stood beside you, leaning in just enough that his shoulder nearly touched yours. When you reached for a delicate silk scarf at one of the stalls, his fingers grazed the fabric just a second after yours did.

When you felt a cool breeze pass through one of the higher balconies, he draped a light shawl over your shoulders before you even had a chance to shiver.

And then there were the moments where his presence felt deliberate.

Like when he reached past you to pick up a small trinket, his chest nearly pressing against your back, voice a low murmur as he commented on the craftsmanship. Or when he guided you through the lantern-lit streets as dusk settled, his hand barely ghosting over your wrist, as if he was waiting for you to take it instead.

You weren’t sure if it was intentional.

Jing Yuan was a man of strategy, after all—calculated, deliberate—but he was also known for his easygoing nature. Maybe this was just how he was with everyone, always exuding warmth and familiarity. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

But then came the moment that shattered any doubts.

As you stood atop a high balcony, gazing at the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky, you sighed contentedly. "It’s beautiful here," you murmured, resting your arms on the cool stone railing. "It almost feels unreal."

Jing Yuan stood beside you, his gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Many things feel unreal when one has been apart from them for too long," he said softly.

You turned to glance at him, and that’s when you realized—he was already looking at you. Not just watching, but studying. His golden eyes held something deeper, something unspoken.

Before you could react, he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. The touch was fleeting, barely more than a whisper against your skin, but it left something in its wake—a slow, creeping awareness that settled deep in your chest.

He withdrew his hand just as quickly, offering a lazy smile, as if the moment hadn’t just sent your thoughts spiraling.

"Shall we continue, Your Grace?" he asked, voice as smooth as ever.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. "Y-yeah."

And as he turned to lead the way, you found yourself gripping the railing for just a second longer, steadying yourself against the sudden, undeniable realization—Jing Yuan wasn’t just being protective.

He was close because he wanted to be.

The days in the Xianzhou Luofu stretched into weeks, each one filled with discovery, leisure, and the constant, undeniable presence of Jing Yuan. True to his word, he showed you the hidden beauties of the region—secluded gardens filled with bioluminescent flora, floating islands where the sky stretched endlessly beneath your feet, and ancient archives containing records that spoke of your existence in reverent detail.

Despite how grand it all was, it was his company that made it truly memorable. You shared countless conversations, indulged in the finest foods, and walked through the streets as if you were simply another traveler—rather than the Creator they all revered. But no matter how relaxed the days seemed, Jing Yuan never strayed far. His presence lingered like an unspoken promise, his touches, though subtle, never accidental.

But tonight… tonight was different.

Jing Yuan had been called away on urgent matters. It was rare for him to leave your side for long, and while his parting words had been gentle—“Don’t wander too far without me, Your Grace.”—you had never been one to follow orders blindly.

And so, under the veil of twilight, you walked alone.

The streets were quiet, the usual bustle of the marketplace replaced with the distant hum of lanterns swaying in the night breeze. The Luofu was beautiful at this hour, bathed in soft, golden light that made the world feel almost suspended in time.

But you weren’t alone.

You felt it before you saw him—a presence, heavy and sharp, like the edge of a blade hovering just close enough to cut.

Instinctively, you stopped, your gaze drifting to the shadows near the entrance of a closed tea house. And then you saw him.

Blade.

He stood partially obscured by the darkness, his crimson eyes gleaming even in the dim light. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable intensity to the way he looked at you.

He had been watching.

How long had he been there? How many times had he watched from the shadows, unseen?

Your heart should have pounded in alarm, but it didn’t. Because Blade did not feel like a threat.

He felt like something else—something foreign yet familiar, like a whisper of something long forgotten.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," his voice was low, carrying easily in the stillness.

You tilted your head slightly, taking a careful step closer. "Are you watching over me?"

Blade didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flickered over you—not in reverence, not in fear, but in something far more unreadable.

"You walk freely," he finally murmured, "yet you are not free."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, he moved.

A sudden shift of air, and then—he was closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you could see every detail of him—the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the almost imperceptible tension in his stance.

"Why do you care?" you asked softly.

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. But then—

"Because you are not theirs," he said, voice quiet yet resolute. "You are not Jing Yuan’s. Not the Xianzhou’s. Not the worshippers’." His eyes met yours, unwavering. "You are your own."

The words settled in your chest, heavy yet oddly comforting.

But before you could respond, a sudden gust of wind stirred the loose strands of your hair—and in the blink of an eye, Blade was gone.

Only the lingering weight of his words remained.

And for the first time since arriving, you realized—you were being watched, not as a deity, but as something far more human.

—

The final night of your stay in the Xianzhou Luofu was nothing short of grand.

A lavish banquet had been arranged in your honor, stretching through the ornate halls of the palace, adorned with glowing lanterns and the soft hum of ancient melodies. The long table was filled with exquisite dishes, each one crafted with painstaking detail—delicate dumplings shaped like blooming flowers, glistening seafood (Xianzhou specialty) drizzled with golden sauces, and rice wines so rich they lingered on the tongue like warm silk.

At the head of the table, you sat in a throne-like chair, a position that left no doubt as to who the night was dedicated to. Across from you, Jing Yuan, dressed in formal robes lined with gold, his usual lazy demeanor softened by something far more sincere.

To your sides, familiar faces—generals, officials, scholars, and even common citizens granted the honor of attending.

The night was filled with laughter, music, and endless toasts to you, to your presence, your existence, your return to their world, no matter how fleeting. Even as the gifts piled before you—intricately woven silks, handcrafted jewelry, rare artifacts from distant planets—you knew it was not the gifts themselves that mattered. It was the devotion.

And yet, as the night stretched on, you found yourself meeting Jing Yuan’s gaze more times than you could count. There was something in his eyes, something different than the adoration the others held. A quiet certainty, a claim he never voiced aloud but one you felt all the same.

You weren’t sure how much of the wine you had actually drunk by the time the night ended, but your body felt warm and exhausted when you finally retreated to the sanctuary of your chambers.

The moment your head hit the plush silk pillows, you felt your limbs grow heavy, your mind already drifting into half-consciousness.

And then there was a knock at your door.

Gentle, but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered ignoring it. But somehow, you already knew who it was.

With a tired sigh, you rose from your bed, pulling a loose robe over your nightclothes before padding toward the door. As it slid open, Jing Yuan stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the corridor lanterns.

Unlike before, he had shed his formal robes for something simpler, though he still looked effortlessly regal.

"Still awake?" his voice was low, carrying the warmth of someone who already knew the answer.

"Not really," you murmured, rubbing at your temple. "Do you need something?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, ornate box. The deep red lacquer gleamed under the soft light, adorned with intricate golden filigree.

"For you," he said simply, offering it to you.

Curious, you took the box and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled against deep velvet, was a necklace—a delicate yet intricately designed pendant, shimmering under the dim lighting. It was clearly no ordinary accessory. The craftsmanship alone spoke of its importance, but beyond that, there was something about it that felt… personal.

"For safety," Jing Yuan murmured, stepping closer. "It’s embedded with a warding charm, one that will protect you even when I am not at your side."

You swallowed, fingers brushing over the pendant’s cool surface. "You could’ve just given this to me at the banquet," you said, voice softer than you intended.

"I could have," he agreed, stepping even closer. His fingers ghosted over yours before gently taking the necklace from your grasp. "May I?"

Your breath hitched slightly. "Go ahead."

He moved with deliberate slowness, stepping behind you as he lifted the necklace. You felt the cool brush of metal against your skin as he draped it around your neck, his fingers barely grazing the sensitive skin at the nape. The warmth of his hands, the quiet closeness of him—it sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine.

The clasp clicked into place, but Jing Yuan didn’t move away. Instead, his fingers lingered, lightly adjusting the chain, his breath warm against the side of your face.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost… intimate.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of just how close he was. "For safety, huh?" you muttered, touching the pendant lightly.

"Of course," he said smoothly. But when you turned to glance at him, his golden eyes held something that betrayed the simple explanation.

This was not just for safety.

It was a claim. A silent, unspoken tether between you and him, you wondered if you were truly prepared for the implications of it.

—

The morning was bright and bustling with activity as the final preparations for your departure were completed. Servants and attendants moved swiftly, ensuring that every last detail was accounted for—your flagship had been polished to a pristine gleam, your outfits carefully selected and packed, luxurious meals prepared in case Penacony’s cuisine wasn’t to your liking (though you doubted that would be an issue), and of course, the countless gifts you had received were securely stored aboard.

It was as if the entire Xianzhou Luofu had come together for this moment, ensuring that your transition to the next region was nothing short of perfect.

You could feel the excitement thrumming in your veins. Though your time here had been unforgettable, a part of you couldn't wait to see what awaited you in Penacony. The mere thought of their reaction upon your arrival filled you with anticipation. You imagined the vibrant city streets, the glimmering neon lights, and the joy on their faces when they finally laid eyes on you.

The grand port was lined with citizens gathered to bid you farewell. Banners waved in the morning breeze, and the scent of incense and fresh flowers filled the air. As you walked towards the boarding ramp, countless voices called out their well wishes, their adoration evident in every word.

Some had tears in their eyes, others clasped their hands in reverence, and a few even dared to step forward, pressing gifts into your hands until your attendants had to take over.

Jing Yuan, ever composed, stood at the forefront of the officials sending you off. His golden eyes held their usual warmth, but there was something else hidden beneath his lazy expression—something unreadable. As you approached him, he inclined his head slightly, a small yet knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"You will be missed," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Do enjoy your stay in Penacony, but don't forget—there are still places in the Luofu you have yet to see. Perhaps, one day, you’ll return."

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten slightly. Still, you smiled back, unwilling to linger on the strange feeling. "We’ll see," you teased.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, but before he could say anything more, your gaze was drawn elsewhere.

Amidst the sea of people, standing slightly apart from the rest, was a figure draped in dark colors—silent, unmoving, yet unmistakable. Blade.

His crimson eyes watched you, sharp and unreadable as always, but you could tell—he had been there for a while, lurking just beyond the crowd’s reach. He was always watching, always within the shadows, yet never too far.

You hesitated for only a moment before meeting his gaze, offering him a quick, subtle smile. His eyes flickered slightly, something almost imperceptible passing over his face before he looked away, melting back into the crowd.

You knew you would see him again in Penacony.

With one final glance at the people of Xianzhou Luofu—at Jing Yuan, at the devoted citizens, at the hidden figure that had already disappeared—you stepped aboard your flagship.

As the engines roared to life and the grand vessel began its ascent, a sense of exhilaration filled you.

A new journey awaited.

And you couldn’t wait to see what Penacony had in store for you.

—

As you settled into the luxurious chambers of your flagship, attendants fluttered around you, ensuring everything was in perfect order for your departure. The soft hum of the ship's engines filled the air, a gentle reminder that soon, you'd be soaring through the stars toward Penacony.

Draped in the finest clothing prepared for the journey, you admired yourself in the full-length mirror. The intricate embroidery, the shimmering fabrics, the way every piece sat perfectly on your frame—it was clear that nothing had been left to chance when selecting your attire.

You felt regal, effortlessly exuding the presence expected of someone of your status.

And yet, as you reached for your travel cloak, one of the attendants hesitated before stepping forward. “Apologies, Your Grace,” she said, bowing slightly, “but General Jing Yuan has requested that you wear this for the journey.”

She lifted a garment encased in a protective silk wrap. You blinked, curiosity piqued. As she unfolded it, your breath hitched slightly.

It was stunning.

Made of Xianzhou’s most exquisite silk, the fabric was impossibly smooth, flowing like liquid in the light. Intricate embroidery of golden threads adorned the sleeves and hem, depicting celestial motifs reminiscent of the Luofu’s heritage.

The colours—deep blues and shimmering silvers—reflected the elegance and authority befitting someone of your position.

But what struck you the most was how perfectly tailored it was. The moment the attendants helped you into it, the fabric molded to your body like a second skin, highlighting your form in a way that was neither restrictive nor excessive.

Every detail, from the precise fit of the collar to the effortless drape of the sleeves, felt as though it had been measured with exact precision.

And yet… you didn’t recall Jing Yuan ever taking your measurements.

Had he arranged this long before your arrival? Had the tailors studied you from afar? Or had he simply known—without needing to ask—what would suit you best?

You turned slightly, admiring the way the silk cascaded with every movement.

Oh well. It was beautiful.

With a soft sigh, you allowed the attendants to fasten the final clasps, running your fingers over the delicate embroidery. If nothing else, Jing Yuan had impeccable taste.

As the flagship made its ascent, you couldn’t help but wonder—had this been merely a gift of fine craftsmanship? Or yet another way for the general to ensure his presence lingered with you, even as you left his domain?

note: hi..hey.....well this is a bit awkward considering i haven't posted part 3 in like months...hopefully this was alright for you guys!

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