#and you can /call/ natural disasters to you and have them show up as.... how he shows up: no change. nothing happening. what you expect.

[abyssalpriest]

Usual "what others do isn't my business, my blogs are diaries and I'm allowed to have thoughts without telling others what to do" disclaimer

I'm getting so irritated for personal reasons (building storm, memories, personal disagreements with how this time and place in history treats gods, etc) with the lack of connection the average most connected people have to gods nowadays. I feel like at some point if you want to connect with, bond with, Lev and make him a part of your life you should at least once do trancework dances with him, or some other means of total body possession or an attempt at it and/or merging consciousness and eyes briefly

Hes such a hands on god and to an extent he will mirror you, less in terms of his nature being mirroring but more so because he will put in what you put in. If you give him distant love and distant channelling, treating him like the moon: something you know always has an effect on the waters of your life and something you revere but rarely see and keep in the distant sky... you'll get that. You'll get him directing you and stepping in like a stern and - examples don't matter honestly. Lev will pretty much always be cordial and roleplay the god you want in your life, but at the end of the day you'll always just be serving a distant purpose if you just set up an altar and keep him distant with distancing prayers

To actually bond with him... Things like drums and dancing, actually understanding That Which Makes The Waters Dance, actually understanding the Lord of Consciousness as ever-permeating... If you want to understand him you need to feel him, because he understands through feeling and being. Take a session of intense drumming and throwing yourself into a trance to actually understand the way he makes your body move, to feel the waters of your own body - blood, cerebrospinal fluid, semen, tears, saliva, whatever you have inside you - flow and move into place. Understand the mind of the Sky itself

Take something guided by him - theres so many reasons he's heavily associated with cannabis and alcohol - move yourself into his sphere, cross the boundaries between you. Throw yourself into the black of the sky and you'll find it's water.

There's so many things that forge actual bond with him. The Earth-Shaker doesn't move the Earth in Christian-esque rituals of praying to hollow temples and ringing gentle bells, he's the force that aligns your blood flow with beats in music, the beat itself, he's the drumming of hooves across the earth that tear into it and reorganise it, the wild horses that eat flesh alongside the wolves, the black dogs seeping through the veins in creation, the animal awareness peaking like bloodlust in the rutting deer... You absolutely can sit there meeting him in fancy robes in front of an altar where he commands you like a father or a god-husband but... again. i suggest anyone looking to actually work with him has at least one moment where the Sun itself burns a hole through your ignorance (ignorance is something we all have, we all wear) and shines its blinding light on your consciousness so that you have an atemporal space of connection to him from then on

[justanotherbirdbrain-blog]

Geology of Natural Disasters and How to write them into your fictional universe.

So, you want to write about a natural disaster to advance your plot and torture your players/characters even more? Let me tell you how, accurately.

I feel like unless it is a volcano, natural disasters are a pretty slept on plot drivers, and some of them are really cool and unique! Today, I will talk to you about land slides, earthquakes (And earthquake related disasters), and volcanoes.

Landslides: Probably one I see the least in stories, but one that would be incredibly interesting to write into a plot where they believe in curses. Landslides can happen along ocean bluffs, slightly hilly areas, and highly mountainous areas, this means it is something that can happen in most landscapes. But what can trigger a landslide? Mostly all you need to trigger a landslide could be just abnormally large amounts of rain, excessive deforestation (with a little bit of rain), or an earthquake. If you don't want to use deforestation or an earthquake as a catalyst, a really cool indicator that the land is slipping and may be prone to a collapse is J hooked trees.

This indicates that there is soil creeping slowly over time, and it may lead to a major landslide.

2. Earthquakes: Probably one of the easiest things to write, earthquakes can happen anywhere, but they are most common in places that are tectonically active areas. There are about three types of environments you can expect earthquakes to be common. The first is just rugged mountains, if your landscape looks like this, you should write in earthquakes. Associated hazards could be landslides, avalanches, and large falling rocks.

The next landscape could be a thin mountain range, next to the ocean, very scenic, but very dangerous. Essentially, I am describing a subduction zone environment.

Earthquakes in these areas could equal a couple different associated disasters. Scenario one: A very large earthquake happens, and the ocean begins to recede. This is a tsunami, enough said. If you are writing a tsunami though, please, please, do not write it as a large wave, thank you. Also, a common way people are hurt by tsunami's are from them going into the ocean because they don't understand a tsunami is going to happen.

Scenario two: A large earthquake happens, your characters are in a valley and suddenly the ground begins to liquify as the ground shakes, once the shaking stops, the ground becomes solid like nothing ever happened, except everything has suddenly sunk into the now hard ground. This is called liquefaction and it typically happens in areas that have loose dirt or lots of saturated soil.

Scenario three: There are a lot of small earthquakes, they do not cause a lot of damage, but you begin to notice that one of the isolated mountains has a plume rising. Earthquakes can indicate lava moving underground and the filling of magma chambers.

The next environment that can host lots of earthquakes would be regions that have a lot of really deep valleys and small mountain ranges (not cone volcanoes), but overall seems pretty flat.

This indicates a transform fault like the San Andreas. If you want to hint at there being earthquakes in the area, you can show fence posts that are suddenly several feet out of line at a dilapidated farm or something similar.

(These earthquakes are different because they are cased from sideways movement, not an up-and-down movement this hint can only be used for this environment). Volcanoes would not be found here, but liquefaction and landslides could still occur here.

4. Volcanoes: If you thought earthquakes had a lot of information, volcanoes do too. First you have to ask yourself, what kind of volcano you want to have, what kind of eruption style? So lets break down the kind of eruptions you can have and what their landscapes look like. Hawaiian Shield volcano: This will produce a smooth fast lava, the landscape typically is pretty flat, but there will be small cones and the rocks can have a ropey or jagged texture and the rocks will be almost exclusively black to dark red.

Stratovolcanoes: These will be solitary mountains, typically, that look like perfect cones (Picture shown in earthquake section). These will have large ash cloud eruptions and pyroclastic flows, they may have some lava, but typically most damage is done from the pyroclastic flows (think Pompeii). Some hints of these, other than describing the cone features (which can be hidden by other mountains), would be to talk about petrified wood! Trees can get fossilized in the ash and I imagine it would be very strange to find this rock that clearly looks to be a piece of wood, but its a rock. Subcategory- Calderas: Used to be a large stratovolcano, but they erupt so explosively that the entire cone collapses and creates a basin.

There are a lot of kinds of volcanoes out there, so forgive me for just putting an infographic and then talking to you about these really rare types of eruptions that I feel like people should know about.

Okay lets talk about blue lava (kind of) and black lava

You will notice the lava is still red in the middle of this image, during the day these would look like a normal eruption, but at night the burning sulfur would make it appear blue. Some cool features other than this, would be that any water in the area would become very acidic and burn the skin due to sulfuric acid. This would again be really cool if you are trying to describe a 'cursed' land.

Black lava: This happens only in the east African rift I believe, but it is a carbonatite lava, but if you are writing in a rift valley (where the continent is tearing apart to form a new ocean) this might be a cool feature. The lava will cool white and will quickly erode, it makes for a very alien landscape!

Anyway as always, this is supposed to be an introductive guide for the basics of writing geology to create cool landscapes/features into dnd or fictional universes, if you are a geologist please understand my oversimplification of tectonics, I didn't want people to run away.

[tender-rosiey]

hello, love! i hope you're doing great! i love reading your works and thank you so much for writing such beautiful pieces 🫶🏻

soooo... i was thinking of making a request! i'm not sure if you've written about this or not and please feel free to ignore it if you're uncomfortable with writing it or if you've already written it but here's the request:

satoru with newborn twin daughters 🥹

i noticed that there are almost no twin dad gojo fics and we already know that he's a girl dad. plus, i love your writing style. hence this thought. again, thank you so much for your hard work, rose! stay hydrated and have a great day! byeeee!

twin girls (and gojo ig) — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: i cant believe it took me like 7 months to finally post this; i am so sorry 🙏 BUT i am so so happy that you like my works and srsly thank you for your sweet words. they mean the world 🥹 hope that you like this as well! have a wonderful day!! 🫶🫶

the only thing worse than having one girl you can’t say no to is having two.

add to that the fact that satoru is already a softie when it comes to his daughters, and it’s a recipe for disaster—if you’re not there to intervene.

"papa, I want a dress!" one of your twins looks up at satoru with wide, sparkling eyes, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

her sister quickly chimes in, her voice a little shyer but just as determined. "I-I want a dress too, papa!"

satoru crouches down to their level, hands on his knees as he looks between his two little girls, his white hair falling messily into his eyes.

“two dresses, huh?” his voice takes on a faux-serious tone. “what kind of dresses are we talking about?”

“sparkly!”

“twirly!”

“pink!”

“blue!”

their voices rise with excitement, and satoru’s grin only grows wider as he listens, nodding as though their demands are being carefully cataloged in his mind.

you can’t help but smile from the doorway, watching the scene unfold. his enthusiasm when it comes to them is both endearing and ridiculous.

"satoru," you call out, interrupting his train of thought. your arms are crossed, and a teasing smile plays on your lips. "we agreed they only need one dress each, remember?"

he turns toward you with a playful pout, the twins following his gaze.

“they’re my princesses, wifey! how can I deny them a little extra sparkle?” he says, completely unbothered by the parental negotiations you both agreed on just yesterday.

you raise an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer and placing a hand on his arm. “you’ll be sleeping on the couch if they come home with more than one each.”

satoru's expression shifts immediately, an exaggerated look of surrender plastered on his face as he straightens up, holding up his hands. "alright, alright. one dress each. promise."

later that evening, when you return home, your twin girls are twirling around in front of you in two dresses each—one sparkly, one twirly, naturally.

your gaze falls on satoru, who stands casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling as if he’d done nothing wrong.

“satoru,” you pout, “I thought we had an agreement.”

he gives you a cheeky grin and a shrug, completely unbothered. “they were on sale,” he says as if that justifies everything.

the girls, oblivious to your exasperation, giggle and show off their new outfits, spinning around in excitement.

"mama, look! don't we look pretty?"

"yeah, mama! we look pretty, right?"

you press your lips into a thin line, but the fondness in your eyes betrays you. you sigh and ruffle their hair, "yes, very pretty, both of you."

the girls squeal in happiness and run around the house in their excitement. your husband nudges your arm gently with a teasing smile. you quirk an eyebrow before pushing him away with a chuckle.

you can never deny that you love seeing them so happy, even if it means satoru has bent the rules—again.

of course, life with your husband and your twin girls is a whirlwind. even bedtime is an adventure (read: a battle).

one night, the girls are bouncing off the walls in their matching pajamas, their giggles filling the room as they run circles around satoru, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, utterly failing to get them under control.

"alright, time to settle down," he says, his tone light but lacking any real authority. the girls shake their heads as their dad is simply not cut out to be the strict parent in their eyes.

however, when he opens his arms, one of the girls takes the chance to climb his lap. his hand ruffles her hair, and she hums happily .

"papa, can we have three stories tonight?" the twin on his lap asks, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

her sister, not wanting to miss out, rushes over and clings to his other arm. "no! I want four stories!"

satoru sighs dramatically, glancing over at you for backup. you are sitting like the boss you are on the loveseat in the room. you look up when you feel your husband's eyes on you.

“they only get one story,” you remind him, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

satoru looks between the two girls, their wide eyes fixed on him. “alright, alright,” he finally concedes, holding up two fingers. “two stories. that’s my final offer.”

he hears you groan, and his heart breaks at disappointing you, but he can’t just say no to them. the twins cheer as if they’ve won a war, grabbing their favorite books from the bedside table.

it takes you a few moments before you smile helplessly as you watch him negotiate with them like it’s a high-stakes sorcery mission. it's not long before your daughters fall asleep. satoru's voice has always been comfort incarnate for them.

"you’re too soft," you tease as you walk over to him, pinching his nose—he yelps as quietly as he can, so you plant a soft kiss on his temple.

he leans into your touch for a moment, closing his eyes. "can’t help it," he mutters, "they’ve got your charm.”

afternoons are no less chaotic, especially at the park, where the twins drag satoru toward the swings, their little hands gripping his fingers as they bounce excitedly.

"papa, push me higher!" one demands, already settling onto the swing.

"me too! higher!" her sister echoes, scrambling onto the swing beside her.

satoru stands behind them, cracking his knuckles.

“higher, huh? I think I can manage that.” he gives the first swing a firm push, sending one of the twins soaring up, her laughter filling the air.

you sit on the third swing, smiling at the scene.

satoru looks over at you, his grin softening as his eyes meet yours. the way their laughter fills the atmosphere fills your heart, and you can tell that satoru feels the same.

at least, until he decides to push you and make you take full 360s on the swing.

“wow, mama is swinging!”

“in a circle!”

“satoru, I will kill you!!”

"waiting for that, wifey!"

dinner, as always, is an ongoing fight. tonight, the twins are in full protest mode against their vegetables.

"I don’t like broccoli," one twin pouts, pushing her plate away.

"me neither," her sister adds, crossing her arms as if this decision has been made final.

satoru, ever their ally in mischief, leans back in his chair, his expression far too relaxed. "well, I guess no one’s eating broccoli tonight," he says, clearly enjoying this little act of rebellion.

while you're proud of your girls backing each other up, you rather it not be right now. you shoot satoru a warning glance, shaking your head with a sigh. "they need to eat their veggies, satoru."

he shrugs, smirking lazily as he glances at the twins. “they’re gojo kids. I think they’ll survive without a little broccoli.”

the twins giggle, clearly siding with him. but you know how to play this game too; otherwise, you would have never been able to handle the man child beside you. “okay, fine,” you say with a sly smile. “no dessert if they don’t eat their veggies.”

the girls’ eyes go wide in horror, and they quickly turn to their father, their last hope. “papa, no! we want dessert!”

caught between you and the twins, satoru sighs dramatically, like he’s being asked to sacrifice everything.

“alright, alright, princesses,” he concedes, hands raised in defeat. “but you’ve gotta eat the broccoli if you want dessert. we gotta listen to mama.”

the twins reluctantly pick at their plates, eyeing the broccoli with disdain, but determined to make it to dessert.

you exchange a triumphant smile with satoru, who just rolls his eyes playfully.

and in the quieter moments, when the twins are asleep, and it’s just the two of you, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs softly. “keeping us all in line.”

you smile, leaning into his touch, “someone’s gotta make sure we don’t end up with a house full of sparkly dresses.”

satoru laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “what can I say? I’m weak when it comes to you three.”

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[demusewriter]

Change Your Ticket

Summary: Jungwon has been missing you ever since the tour kicked off, the distance stretching across months like an endless road. Every late-night call, every fleeting messages, makes Jungwon longs for you more than words can say. So why not change your ticket home to surprise him? Pairing: Idol!Jungwon x Non-idol!reader Genre: Tooth rotting fluff! A Short drabble Warning: Still unedited because of jetlag (_　_)。゜zｚＺ Word Count: 2,586 Author's Note: I randomly wrote this while on a business trip, waiting to board my flight, when my favorite One Direction song started playing. (yass, I’m an og directioner!) That’s when the idea for this story hit me. (￣︶￣）↗　 After that, all I could think about was changing my ticket and flying to the next wtl tour stop. ＞︿＜ (I’m still having pcd from wtl bulacan (┬┬﹏┬┬) I miss them so much, please). So yeah, this is inspired by my favorite song that made me delulu during my teenage years—Change Your Ticket by One Direction. Enjoy! ♪(´▽｀)

Jungwon loved performing. There was no hesitation, no doubt, this was what he was born to do. Under the dazzling stage lights, with crowd's cheers echoing in his ears, he felt alive. Every move was second nature, every note resonated through his veins, and every glance into the sea of fans felt electric.

The stage was his home and the music is his heartbeat. From the moment he stepped into the spotlight, the rest of the world faded away. It was just him and the rhythm, the pulse of the bass guiding his body, the lyrics slipping from is lips like a secret shared between him and the thousands of strangers.

There was no fear, no weight on his shoulders. Even in the chaos of rehearsals, the endless flights, and the night with barely any sleep, he never questioned it.

This is life, the lights, the screams, the rush, it wasn't a burden.

It was a dream he chased with everything he had. The hours of training, the sacrifices, the pressure... it had all been worth it the moment he felt the heat of the stage lights and heard the first chords of the opening song.

And he wasn't alone. His members were right there with him, their presence steady anchor through the whirlwind. They understood the unspoken pressure came with the dream, the nerves before a performance, the exhaustion after long days, the quiet moments backstage where they'd catch their breath and share soft smiles.

They were his brothers, his family.

The playful teasing during practice, the shared excitement when they nailed a difficult routine, the late-night talks after shows... those moments kept him grounded.

On stage, they moved as one, each member feeding off the other's energy, every glance, and subtle nod speaking volumes. Off stage, they were his comfort.

Every member brought a piece of home to to his life. No matter where they went, no matter how far the tour took them, they always had each other.

But even with that comfort, there was still a part of him that longed for something more.

Because as mush as he loved the stage, the adrenaline, and the bond with his members, the silence that followed was deafening.

When the light dimmed and the music stopped, when he stepped offstage and into the solitude of his hotel room, the emptiness settled in

And lately, that emptiness felt heavier.

Because he missed you.

The hotel room was quiet, almost too quiet. The only sound came from the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional distant honk from the streets below. Jungwon lay on the massive king-sized, the blanket pooling around his waist, his phone resting on the pillow beside him.

The screen glowed faintly, casting a soft light across his face as your voice filled the space.

"...and then I spilled coffee all over my papers. It was a total disaster," you said with a laugh, your face lighting up the screen. "I hade to redo everything."

Jungwon smiled softly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He listened, hanging onto every word, but his mind kept drifting, not because he wasn't interested, but because he missed you so much it hurt. He missed hearing your stories in person, missed the way you'd curl up beside him, your head resting on his shoulder while you talked about your day.

"You're pouting again" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Jungwon blinked, lips pressing into a thin line before sighing. "Am not" he mumbled, turning onto his side to face the screen properly. His voice was quiet, almost sulky, making the corners of your lips tugged up into a soft smile.

"You totally are." You giggled, and his heart clenched at the sound.

God, he missed that.

Jungwon buried his face into the pillow for a moment before peeking at you again, his beautiful bobba eyes soft with longing. "I just... miss you, baby" he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your face softened, eyes flickering with understanding. "I miss you too, love."

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "It's just...after the shows, when I come back to the hotel, it feels so empty. The hyungs are around, but it's not the same. I keep wishing you were here. I got used to you being by my side, y'know?" He bit his lip, hesitating.

"I didn't realize how much I needed your constant presence until now."

You heart ached at his words. You could see it in his eyes, the quiet loneliness, the weight of the distance between you.

He tried to respect the fact that you had work, that you also have life and couldn't always be with him on tour, and you never heard him asked you to drop everything just to be by his side.

He love you so much to ask something selfishly.

But you knew, you knew him too well.

With every call, every soft "I miss you," he was one step away from asking you to pack you bags and join him.

And you missed him too.

Who wouldn't miss this adorable, sweet as strawberry with chocolate that you are lucky to claim as you boyfriend?

You giggled softly, turning onto your side in bed, you phone still in hand as you gazed at him. He looked so pouty and cute, lying there with the blankets pulled up to his chest, blond hair falling into his eyes.

If only he knew.

Because you weren't halfway across the world.

You were in the same country. The same city. The same hotel. Just a few floors away from him.

After you business trip overseas, instead of flying home, you changed you ticket and booked a flight to his next tour stop. With the help of his members, who'd struggled to keep the secret under wraps, given how easily your leader boyfriend could sniff out their lies, you'd managed to sneak in unnoticed.

You kept the conversation light, telling him about your day while Jungwon listened quietly. His eyes stayed on you, soft and heavy with longing. Every now and then, his gaze flickered across the screen, taking in the little details, the way your hair fell over your face, the curve of your lips when you smiled.

But then his eyes shifted past you for a moment, narrowing slightly.

"Wait..." He squinted at the screen. "What's that behind you?"

"Hm?" You tiled your head, trying to keep your voice causal. "What do you mean?"

Jungwon sat up slightly, his brows furrowing. "The wall." He pointed at the screen. "It looks...familiar."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Does it?" you asked innocently, shifting a bit to the side to block more of the background.

But it was too late. Jungwon's eyes darted back to the screen, scanning every corner. The beige walls, the faint texture of the wallpaper, even the soft glow of the bedside lamp, they all matched his room perfectly.

His breath caught.

"Wait...No way." His eyes widened. "Love... where are you right now?"

You bit your lip, trying to fight the grin threatening to spread across your face. "What do you mean? I'm at my hotel."

Jungwon's brows furrowed deeper. "Which hotel?" His voice barely above a whisper now, his mind racing. He shifted off the bed, glancing around his own room as if expecting you to jump out of the closet.

You giggled, shaking your head as you tried to keep your voice steady. "Baby, you're overthinking too much"

"I'm not" he shot back, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Tell me where you are."

"I told you," you teased. "I'm at my hotel."

"Which. Hotel."

You bit your lip, holding back another laugh. He looked like he was on the verge of losing his mind. His patience was running thin, and you could practically see the gears in his head turning.

Sighing dramatically, you pouted. "Can't you just wait until tomorrow?"

Jungwon frowned. "What? Why tomorrow?"

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just... because."

His eyes narrowed further. "Y/n..." He dragged out your name, suspicion lacing every syllable. His gaze flicked past you again, studying the background. And when he saw the same chocolates that the hotel given to them for free on your bedside table. His lips parted slight, and his eyes widened.

"Wait a minute." He sat up straighter. "Are we on the same hotel?"

You heart skipped a beat. "What? No!" you quickly blurted out, but giggles escaping you weren't helping your case.

"You are." He gasped, running a hand through his hair. "You're here. You're literally here."

"Jungwon—"

A sudden shake of the screen made you burst into laughter as Jungwon scrambled out of the bed, the phone slipping from his grasp before he caught it again. You could hear the shuffle of his footsteps, the rustling of blankets being thrown aside, and the soft thud of a door being swung open.

"Oh my god," you laughed, watching his blurry movements. "Love, wait—"

"Nope." His voice was firm, rushed. "Which room you are"

"Come on, Love can you just wai—"

"Baby" His voice softened, almost breaking. "I'm this close to going crazy if I don't see you right now. So please, pretty baby, which room are you in? I badly need to see your gorgeous face that I've been missing so much."

You heart pounded breath hitching at the raw emotion on his voice. The way he begged made your chest tighten, and you knew there was no point in hiding anymore.

The plan the members wanted you to do to surprise their leader were thrown out the window when you saw the desperation in your boyfriends face.

With a tenderness in your eyes and softness in your lips, you gave in.

"Room 1009"

Within a minutes, a loud knock echoed through your room. Without hesitation, you flung the door open.

And there he is, you adorable boyfriend that you misses so much, standing there, chest heaving, and eyed wide as they met yours.

For a split second neither of you moved. Then, in a blur, he surged forward, arms wrapping tightly around you. His warmth engulfed you as he buried his face in your neck, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“You’re really here,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly.

You clung to him, fingers gripping his shirt as you buried yourself in his embrace. “I’m here,” you breathed.

His arms tightened around you, as if making sure you were real. “God, I missed you.”

He continue clung to you like you were his lifeline, his arms trembling slightly as they tightened around you. You felt his heartbeat pounding against your chest, fast and uneven, and when you pulled back just enough to look at him, the sight made you heart ache.

His eyes were glassy, dark pools shimmering with unshed tears. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. He just stared at you, his gaze flickering across your face like he was trying to memorize every detail, the curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes, the warmth of your touch.

"You're really here..." he whispered again, his voice cracking. "Please, don't make this a dream" he begged as he shook his head.

You reached up, cupping his check gently. He leaned immediately into your touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "I'm here, baby. It's real. I'm not going anywhere."

A shaky breath escaped him as he opened his eyes again. One tear slipped free, trailing down his cheek. You wiped it away softly, your thumb lingering on his skin.

"I missed you so much, baby" he confessed, his voice barely holding together. "Every ight, I'd come back to the hotel, and it felt...empty. I'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing you were there beside me. Even when we'd call, it wasn't the same. I just wanted to hold you."

Your heart clenched. "I missed you too. Every day."

He swallowed thickly, pulling you closer until there wasn't a silver of space between you. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and shaku. "You don't know how much this means to me."

You smiled softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. "I think I do."

Jungwon let out a soft, shaky laugh, through it sounded more like a sob. He squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you again. You felt his tears soak into your shirt, but you didn't mind. You held him tighter, running your fingers up and down his back in slow, soothing strokes.

Jungwon sighed softly, his breath warm against your skin as he nestled deeper into your embrace. The weight of the past month apart melted away, replaced by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his cheek,

His arms held you close, fingers lazily tracing patterns along your back as the two of you settled onto the bed.

Jungwon buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, his hold tightening as if afraid you might slip away again. You felt his lips press a soft, lingering kiss against the top of your head, his warmth wrapping around you like a protective shield.

Slowly, the hotel room that once so cold and empty, now felt like home.

You shifted slightly, tucking yourself against his chest, and he immediately tightened his hold on you. The warmth of your body, the softness of your touch — it was everything he’d longed for.

It was everything he'd been craving for months.

No cameras, no crowds, no stage lights. Just you.

Jungwon pressed another kiss to your forehead, his eyes fluttering shut. His heart ached at the thought of you leaving again, of coming back to empty hotel rooms and cold beds. No. Not this time.

This time, he was going to be selfish.

As you slept soundly in his arms, Jungwon quietly reached for his phone. With careful fingers, he opened your flight details, scrolling down to the option he’d already decided on the moment he saw you standing in front of him.

Change return flight.

With a soft smile, he tucked the phone away and pulled you even closer, his heart finally at peace. No more waiting. No more distance. From now on, you’d face the world together.

As sleep threatened to pull him under, one final thought lingered in his mind, bringing a small, satisfied smile to his lips.

This time, we’re going home together.

©2025 Demuse Writer. All Right Reserved.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Shameless

Warning ⚠️; internalized homophobia, Homelander is his own warning, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, fluff. 🔞

Pairing; Bottom!Homelander/Top!Male!Reader

Summary; John and you are two opposites. He is a comedian and a liar, you are bluntly honest and direct. He cares about his image, you don't. He is ashamed of your relationship while you are shameless.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the sofa sipping at your drink, eyes staring at John with amusement. Still in his costume, your lover walked in circle while biting his nail. He looked ridiculous in your eyes. All those fake muscles and the cape were too much. He looked always better naked, natural, and not so fake.

- “You are going to get yourself dizzy, my love. Just get out of those ridiculous clothes and come sit with me.” You said, waving your hand to show his costume. “We have so little time together, I would prefer having you by my side than whatever you are doing right now.”

John stared at you, eyes glowing red and you just laughed at him. You weren't scared, never was, because John couldn't kill you. No one could. It was part of your power, your curse, but in a moment like this, it was a blessing. Watching your lover get worked up for nothing was funny.

- “How can you laugh in such a situation?” John asked, voice hissing at you as you rolled your eyes. “Its a disaster! I cannot be seen like… like…”

- “Like the man you truly are?” You finished his sentence, sighing. “John, no one cares about that picture. Everyone will call it fake and those who don't, well who cares? Just discredit them and forget about it.”

John said nothing and looked away, his eyes back to normal. You shook your head as he kept walking around the room, trying to find a solution. You didn't understand him. Why come to you when you couldn't help when you were the source of this situation? Well, you weren't fully responsible. It wasn't you who had decided to kiss on a rooftop where anyone could see, that had been John.

And now there was a picture of you two kissing, your hands squeezing Homelander’s ass, circulating around the internet. It was, for you, hilarious. For John? The end of the world was happening.

- “Can't you stop being overly dramatic for five minutes?” You asked, harsher than you wanted.

You gasped in surprise as the back of your head hit the floor, hard, making you see stars. John had pined you down after knocking over the sofa and sat on you. You shivered, licking your lips as you plunged your gaze into his glowing one.

- “And can't you take it seriously for once? Don't you realize how serious the situation is for me? I am supposed to be perfect with no weaknesses and I can not be seen like that with another man.” John spat, his hand grabbing your chin painfully tight.

- “But you are not perfect John and you'll never be!” You replied with a sneer.

It was the wrong answer because next thing you knew John punched you and pain exploded in your jaw. Blood splashed all over your lover and you as your jaw hit the wall and fell onto the ground. From anger, John expression turned to horror as he realized what he had done. From amused, you became enraged.

You didn't gave John any chance and kicked him in the chest, sending the sup flying against the ceiling. You watched your lover fall loudly on the ground as you got up, spilling blood all over the place. You closed your eyes, pain swallowing you up as nerves, bones and everything else slowly regrew. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt like your lower jaw was burning in the fiery pits of Hell.

You heard John begging, swearing he didn't mean to hurt you like that and you didn't care. What mattered was how he still did it.

You opened your eyes staring angrily at the hero still lying on the ground. You walked up to him and saw John tensing and closing on himself before you grabbed the man by the collar. Without a word, you back-slapped like he was a bitch, splitting open his lip before grabbing his jaw like he did to you. You leaned down until your nose brushed his.

- “Listen here you pathetic excuse of a man; you are nothing. You are not a hero, you are not perfect and you are not an inspiration. The only thing you are is a childish man who can't take no for an answer and can't live without the approval of the world.” Your words hit home as you saw tears building up in John’s eyes and you sneered again. “You are pathetic. Truly pathetic. The world loves the fake image of you and would turn on you at the first opportunity. Their love is conditional unlike mine and yet you chose those worms over me. I who had always been here for you no matter what. I who helped you bond with your bastard son and helped you when no one wanted to. I bloodied my hands for you! And after everything that how you thank me?”

Venom filled your words as you stared at your lover. John was silently crying and looked away, not daring to look at you. You felt betrayed, and humiliated. You did so much for that man child and he turned against you so easily. You didn't want to see him anymore, wanted him gone from your sight.

- “Think about it John. Who will take care of you when you are old and your body is betraying you? Who will be there for you when the world cheer for a younger and more attractive hero? Them? Your so-called fans? No. They won't, but I would have.” You said, turning your back to him as you walked away. “Now get out.”

- “I’m sorry! I didn't…” John tried but stopped as you turned your head, eyes filled with anger.

- “GET OUT.” You snarled.

And just like that John was gone. A soft breeze caressed your face after he flew away. Sighing, you cleaned the room and threw away your jaw. The pain still lingered and you massaged your chin before sighing. You hated fighting with John like that, but recently it was every other day. The more time passed the more he became unhinged and impulsive. You could barely recognize the man who sought love and attention, the man who melted under your hands at night seemed gone.

It was late that night when John came back. He didn't call, didn't text. He just showed up. You were in bed reading a book in the light of a candle when you heard your front door opening. Only John had a spare so you knew it was him.

He didn't come up directly and you ignored him. You were still angry at his stunt and, frankly, didn't wish to see him. Not right now, not tomorrow. But there he was, walking into your home as if it was his.

After a few minutes, you heard John walking up the stairs and coming toward your room. You didn't look up when he entered nor when he called your name with a timid and soft voice. Instead you clenched your book harder.

- “I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my house, John. What are you doing here?” You asked, voice cold as you turned the page of your book.

Your lover didn't answer. Instead, John approached the bed and put down a mix of things; a gift basket filled with your favorite snacks and drinks and another full of books. Sighing, you closed your book and turned your attention on John.

There he stood in civilian clothes and his head low. His eyes were still red and puffy from crying. Had you not been angry at him you would have hugged John. But you were still pissed off.

- “I am so sorry for what I did and said.” John whispered, looking away as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I have no excuses and you are right. You've always been there for me and you didn't deserve any of this, but I did.”

You could see tears in his eyes and the sight was almost pitiful. Of course, John couldn't live up with what he did and would regret his actions. You didn't. The brat had deserved your words and hands.

- “I don't want… I can not lose you…” John whispered so low that you barely heard it.

You sighed and leaned back against your pillows, crossing your arms and studying him. John was clearly remorseful and you knew he had his lesson, for now at least. Shaking your head you gently tapped the mattress next to you and John didn't wait to lay down. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face against your chest. You brushed his blond hair with your fingers, heart almost getting softer as you saw how happy he was now.

- “You are losing me, John. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you, but stop it. I don't have the patience to deal with your childish tantrum just because a picture of us leaked on the internet. We are celebrities, it's going to keep happening.” You said and your lover held you tighter. “Hush now. I forgive you this time, but I might not give you another chance.”

John nodded and didn't let go. You kept brushing his hair and let your fingers down his neck. He was cold, colder than normal and you could feel his heartbeat racing. He was scared and terrified which pleased you. Maybe he wouldn't go against you anymore, maybe he would stop thinking he could do as he wished.

After all, he was your pet, yours to use as you wished and you couldn't have a bad dog by your side. As much as you loved John, you didn't want him if he was to lose his mind and become a liability. But at that moment he looked so small and delicate in your arms, almost broken and you couldn't resist him.

You smiled as you felt his body relax against you as he slowly fell asleep. Maybe you could use his fear and remorse against him. Maybe you could force him to come clean about your relationship. Not now, the fight was still too fresh but soon enough he might give in. And once you were out to the world, John would truly be yours entirely.

[ferritins]

Hi! I hope you’re all well :0 <3 May I please request Harvey Specter x reader!

anon I am so, so sorry that this has taken so long! I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless! the title is from Fiona Apple’s Criminal.

notes & content warnings: established relationship, non-descript vehicular accident, graphic description of haematoma bruising, non-sexual nudity. MDNI +18

GOOD DEFENCE (WHAT I NEED) | H. SPECTER

Harvey Specter sweeps into Mount Sinai’s Urgent Care department like a natural disaster in a Kiton suit, Mike hot on his heels and distinctly pale around the edges.

“Harvey! Mike!” You call, cringing as their attention snaps to you, heat-seeking.

As the duty nurse fills them in on your condition, you can feel their eyes pass over you, cataloguing the sling you left arm is in, the way that your trouser leg is sheared up to the hip, the expanding hematoma that creeps around the diameter of your mid thigh, the colour of a smashed cherry.

You can feel the impending fury rolling off of Harvey’s broad shoulders in waves, even as his face remains placid.

“I’m fine, honestly; you didn’t have to come.” You try to placate.

“Fine?” Harvey says, tone dark.

“Fine?!” Mike’s voice overlaps, high and incredulous. “You have a severe thigh haematoma, your collarbone is broken—”

“It’s a green stick fracture.” You protest.

“Oh, because that’s so much better!”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Mike! I was careful, okay? It’s not like I was jaywalking, it was a pedestrian right of way, the guy blew through a red light!”

“Jesus.” Mike says, passing a shaky hand through his hair.

Abruptly, you’re reminded of a late-night office confessional over case files and shitty takeout, the story of how Mike’s parents died.

Guilty nausea sours in your stomach.

Embarrassingly, your eyes sting with the heat of tears, the adrenaline sapping from you in an instant.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice catches on the apology; with that, the matter of your tears escapes your control completely, and they start streaming down your face swift and silent.

“Don’t apologise.” Harvey’s hand slips into your good hand, a silent show of support; you look up at him to find him watching you with an eerie intensity. The eye contact is… flustering, and you look away quickly.

“The freaking out is a me problem, not me trying to place blame. Sorry, this is the last thing you need right now. I’m gonna go hunt down your nurse and see about getting you your paperwork and post-discharge instructions—”

As Mike’s blustery concern washes over you, you glance back up at Harvey to find him still watching you.

You can’t help but feel like you’re stood on the edge of a volcano, like things are about to blow up in your face.

Bar his firm insistence that you accompany him home, Harvey is ominously quiet.

You feel something brewing in the tense silence, entire soliloquies happening in absentia.

Of course, because your day hasn’t been stressful enough, it doesn’t boil over until you’re attempting the feat of undressing for the night with one hand and pain creeping into your hip and knee, completely vulnerable.

As you fumble with the button clasp of your trousers, cursing under your breath, Harvey slips into the room and moves to your side.

His fingers brush yours out of the way and working the clasp undone with infuriating ease before moving to your shirt, unbuttoning it and slipping it from your shoulders with unbearable care.

Harvey goes to his knees, looking up at you through his eyelashes as he unscrews the cap of the arnica gel; you feel winded by the weight of the moment.

Harvey is not a man for whom the concepts of subservience and submission have ever existed outside of the abstract. This is an act that bears monumental weight.

His lips press to the skin just above your knee, unbearably tender; though it’s all you can do not to start sobbing as he smooths the bruise cream over your leg in gentle touches, it’s not from pain.

Neither of you speak until you’re in bed, a cushion under your thigh, another under your shoulder and wearing one of Harvey’s sleep shirts.

Harvey lies on his side, eyes tracing your face like you’re something holy.

“Getting that call scared the hell out of me.” He says, voice blown open like the hull of a shipwreck. “God, I thought—” He breaks off, swallows hard. “You’re never walking to work again, sweetheart. God. Fuck.”

(Months — and many arguments — later, Harvey relents on his moratorium on foot travel with a smile like he can smell blood in the water.

It isn’t until you get into work and Mike lets slip that he and Harvey got the hit-and-run driver’s licence permanently suspended that you put the pieces together.

Much as you shake your head disapprovingly, you can’t help but smile.)

[solxamber]

The Rhythm of Us || Jamil Viper

Through parties, desserts and disasters, you and Jamil find a rhythm that's uniquely your own.

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

w.c. 4.5k

Jamil’s voice is calm when he answers your call, though there’s a slight edge of surprise that he can’t quite hide.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jamil,” you begin, already smiling as you sit cross-legged on your bed. “I was thinking about your offer earlier, and I’d love to get lunch with you tomorrow.”

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Oh. That’s great,” he says quickly, the surprise in his voice replaced by his usual measured tone. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say.

After hanging up, you can’t help but think he sounded a little pleased, even if he tried not to show it.

The next day, you find him waiting at a quiet spot near the botanical garden. The area is shaded, with a small table set neatly for two, and Jamil stands beside it with his usual cool demeanor. His uniform is impeccable as always, but there’s a certain ease in his posture that puts you at ease too.

“Hey, Jamil!” you call out, waving as you approach.

He nods, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re right on time.”

As you sit, you notice the spread he’s prepared: a beautiful array of dishes that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end restaurant.

“This looks amazing!” you exclaim, eyes wide. “You made all of this?”

He waves a hand dismissively, though there’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks. “It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Jamil, this is art,” you say, reaching for a plate and immediately helping yourself. “You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking his head as you pile on the compliments. “Cut it out already. Just eat.”

But despite his words, there’s a small, satisfied smile on his face as he watches you dig in.

Lunch is lively. Between bites, you launch into a story about the latest chaos Ace, Deuce, and Grim dragged you into.

“So there we were,” you say, gesturing dramatically with your fork, “standing in Professor Crewel’s office, and Ace has the brilliant idea to blame the singed curtains on Grim’s ‘natural combustion reflex.’”

Jamil raises an eyebrow, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

“Oh, it gets better,” you say with a grin. “Grim starts running with it, claiming he’s going through some ‘highly dangerous fire-beast adolescence.’ Crewel didn’t buy it for a second, but Ace and Deuce looked so confident, you could almost believe them.”

Jamil shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by their nerve or disappointed by their lack of foresight.”

“Probably both,” you say, laughing. “But hey, we survived, and no one got detention—this time.”

As the conversation flows, you can’t help but notice how at ease Jamil seems. His usual reserved demeanor softens as he talks with you, and he even offers a few rare chuckles at your antics.

By the time dessert rolls around, only one piece of a delicate pastry remains on the plate. Jamil nudges it toward you.

“Here. You can have it.”

Instead, you pick it up and hold it out to him with a sly grin. “You made it. You deserve the last bite.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard. “That’s not necessary,” he begins, but you cut him off by leaning closer, still holding the pastry.

“Come on, Jamil. Just take it.”

He hesitates, his composure visibly wavering under your teasing smile, but finally leans forward and takes a small bite. For a second, he’s silent, likely trying to process the fact that you just fed him.

“That good, huh?” you say, laughing at the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his words.

After lunch, Jamil insists on walking you to your next class. As you approach the classroom door, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I had a great time today,” you say, looking up at him with a warm smile. “We should do this again sometime.”

His gaze softens, and he nods. “Yeah. We should.”

As you disappear into the classroom, he stands there for a moment longer, watching the door with a soft, uncharacteristic smile playing at his lips.

You and Jamil are having a nice, peaceful stroll back from lunch when it happens. One moment, you’re chatting about something mundane, and the next, Jamil freezes like someone just hit him with a petrification spell.

“What—” you start, but his hand shoots up, silencing you.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, his voice low and intense.

Alarmed, you follow his gaze, half-expecting to see a monster, an overblot, or at least Grim setting something on fire. Instead, you spot… a beetle.

Granted, it’s a big beetle. The kind that looks like it’s been hitting the gym and maybe has a side hustle as a bodyguard for ants. It’s perched on a bush, twitching its antennae like it’s sizing you both up.

“It’s just a bug,” you say, cautiously glancing at Jamil.

“Just a bug?” Jamil hisses like you just insulted his cooking. “That thing has too many legs. It’s unnatural.”

Before you can reply, the beetle takes two slow, deliberate steps forward. Jamil, in perfect synchronization, takes two steps back.

“Jamil, seriously—”

“I’m handling this,” he interrupts, pulling out his magic pen.

Oh no. You see the look in his eyes, the slight glow of magic sparking at his fingertips, and you realize he’s about to go full Avatar: The Last Bugbender.

“Jamil, we’re not setting the school on fire over a beetle!”

“It’s me or the bug,” he deadpans.

“No, it’s me,” you mutter, resigning yourself to your fate. Sending up a quick prayer to the universe, you step forward.

“What are you doing?!” Jamil whispers harshly, grabbing at your sleeve like you’re walking into the jaws of a lion.

“Saving the school grounds from you, Pyroclasmus."

You approach the beetle, heart pounding as it shifts slightly, its shiny, armored body glinting in the sunlight.

“Shoo,” you say weakly, flapping your hand at it. The beetle stares at you, unimpressed.

“Shoo?” Jamil echoes behind you. “That’s your grand strategy?”

Before you can come up with something better, the beetle’s wings buzz ominously, and it launches itself directly at your face.

You scream. Jamil screams louder. And somehow, in the chaos, he practically climbs onto you like a human backpack.

“Kill it! Kill it now!” he shrieks, his voice breaking into a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible.

“MAYBE A LITTLE HELP?!” you yell back, snatching up the nearest object—a notebook—and swinging it wildly like a deranged baseball player.

With a loud thwack, the beetle goes flying into the distance, vanishing into the horizon like Team Rocket blasting off again.

There’s silence. You’re panting, clutching the notebook like it’s a holy relic. Jamil is still clinging to your back, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a death grip.

“...Did you get it?” he whispers.

“Yes, Jamil. I got it. The school is safe.”

He slowly detaches himself, his feet hitting the ground as he smooths out his uniform with a dignity that absolutely does not exist anymore.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “thank you for your… assistance.”

You blink at him. “Assistance? You were hanging off me like a terrified cat!”

“I don’t recall that happening.”

“Oh, you don’t recall climbing me like a tree? Want me to ask the security cameras?”

He glares at you, his face carefully blank, but his ears are redder than Riddle after someone breaks a rule.

“Fine. You’re my knight. Happy?” he mutters, turning on his heel and stalking off.

“Anytime, your highness!” you call after him, grinning.

The next day, you find a small, ridiculously fancy cake on your desk. The note attached simply reads:

For my knight. Do not speak of this.

You laugh so hard you nearly choke.

You’re not entirely sure how it came to this. One moment, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace, and the next, Crowley had materialized out of nowhere, looking dramatic as ever.

“Ah, my most resourceful prefect!” he’d declared. “I need your unparalleled skills for a mission of utmost importance!”

You hadn’t even had a chance to ask questions before you were handed your task: retrieve his hat, which was somehow stuck at the very top of a tree on the campus grounds.

So here you are, clinging to a branch like a very confused and irritated squirrel, glaring at the offending hat above you.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, trying to edge closer to the hat without looking down. “Everything is fine. This is just my life now.”

A voice interrupts your inner monologue. “Should I even ask how you got up there?”

You twist around—bad move, the branch wobbles—and spot Jamil standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and wearing an expression that’s equal parts confusion and mild exasperation.

“Crowley,” you call back, as though that single word explains everything.

It does. Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why am I not surprised?” He pauses, looks at you precariously perched above him, and sighs. “Stay still. I’ll help you down.”

You watch as he starts climbing the tree with an ease that feels unfair. Within seconds, he’s beside you, balancing effortlessly on a nearby branch.

“Give me your hand,” he says, extending his arm.

“I don’t know, Jamil,” you tease, even as you grab his hand. “Does this make you my knight in shining armor?”

He freezes for half a second, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, before recovering. “It makes me someone who doesn’t want to watch you break your neck,” he replies, voice dry but a little flustered.

With his help, you manage to climb down safely, landing on solid ground at last. You glance up at him as he dusts himself off, his expression as composed as ever.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remark, folding your arms. “Tree climbing must be one of your hidden talents.”

Jamil snorts softly. “Someone has to be prepared for situations like this. And by ‘situations like this,’ I mean you.”

You’re about to retort when something hits you. You stare at him, then at the tree, and back at him.

“Wait a second,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes. “You could’ve just used magic to get me down.”

Jamil freezes mid-step, a guilty flicker in his eyes before his calm mask slips back into place. “...And?”

“And you climbed the tree manually?” you say, incredulous. “Why?”

He shrugs, his tone carefully nonchalant. “It seemed faster at the time.”

You gape at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God. You wanted to show off, didn’t you?”

“I did not,” he protests, though the faint flush creeping up his neck suggests otherwise.

You lean closer, grinning. “Sure, Sir Jamil, whatever you say. Next time, I expect you to storm the tree with a sword and shield.”

“Please stop talking,” he mutters, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

As the two of you head toward Crowley’s office, a new question pops into your head. “Actually, now that I think about it—why didn’t Crowley just use magic to get his own hat back?”

Jamil goes quiet, clearly considering this. After a long moment, he shakes his head. “Who knows what goes on in his mind?”

“Maybe there’s nothing in there at all,” you muse, and Jamil snorts softly, trying to cover it with a cough.

When you finally deliver the hat to Crowley, he praises you with an exaggerated flourish, and you’re pretty sure Jamil rolls his eyes behind you.

As you walk away, you glance at him and smirk. “So, does this mean we’re even? You rescued me from a tree, I rescued you from...uh, your dignity?”

“Keep talking, and I might leave you in the next one,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you grin.

The aftermath of Kalim’s latest impromptu party is, as usual, chaos incarnate. Streamers hang from every surface like overzealous jungle vines, discarded cups litter the floor, and a suspiciously sticky patch near the dessert table seems to defy all attempts at cleaning.

In the center of it all is Jamil, shoulders squared, looking ready to singlehandedly wrestle the mess into submission.

“You don’t have to help,” he says, not for the first time, as you sweep a pile of crumpled napkins into a trash bag.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. “I like cleaning.”

The blatant lie rolls off your tongue so smoothly that you almost convince yourself. Almost.

Jamil pauses, giving you a look that clearly says, I don’t believe you for a second, but he doesn’t argue further. Maybe he’s too tired to fight you on it. Maybe he’s just glad for the company. Either way, you both fall into a rhythm, clearing tables, collecting discarded decorations, and righting toppled furniture.

It’s the final stretch, and the kitchen is the last battleground. You’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in soapy water. Scrubbing dishes isn’t fun at the best of times, but these plates seem particularly vengeful, coated in some unholy combination of caramel and glitter.

You’re attacking a plate with the kind of intensity usually reserved for mortal enemies when you notice Jamil glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His hands move automatically, rinsing a glass, but his gaze lingers on you.

“What?” you ask, not bothering to look up as you keep scrubbing.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but his voice carries a strange, soft warmth.

You glance over and catch him staring. There’s something odd about his expression—soft, unguarded, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t expected.

“What?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“...You hate this,” he says simply.

Your hand pauses mid-scrub. “What are you talking about?”

“You hate cleaning,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been glaring at that plate like it insulted your entire family.”

You scoff, but there’s no denying it—he’s onto you. “I do not!”

Jamil just raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug for someone who just spent hours cleaning up Kalim’s hurricane of a party.

You huff, realizing you’ve been caught, and turn back to your task. “Fine. Maybe I don’t like cleaning. But I wanted to help, okay?”

His hands still briefly in the soapy water, and when you glance at him, his face is unreadable.

“You stayed,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You frown, confused. “Of course I stayed. I wasn’t gonna leave you to deal with this alone.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingers on you a moment longer, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you standing there, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a plate you very clearly despise.

And then it hits him, like a tidal wave. He’s absolutely, hopelessly smitten.

His chest tightens, and for once, Jamil Viper has no plan, no clever rebuttal to distract himself. He’s just standing there, fully aware of how utterly doomed he is.

“What’s with the staring?” you tease, breaking the silence.

Before he can recover, you scrunch your face into the goofiest expression you can muster, sticking out your tongue for good measure.

Jamil blinks, caught off guard. And that’s the moment he knows. There’s no going back.

He’s absolutely, irreversibly fucked.

The basketball court echoes with the rhythmic squeak of sneakers and the thud of a bouncing ball as you step inside, Ace's notebook in hand. He’d left it in your bag—typical Ace—and since you were passing by anyway, you figured you’d return it.

But the moment you enter, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. He’s in the middle of a play, effortlessly weaving through defenders, his movements fluid and sharp like a dancer’s. There’s a precision to everything he does—the way he pivots, the way his hands cradle the ball before shooting. The arc of the shot is perfect, and when the ball swishes through the net, you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

You don’t even notice the whistle blowing for a break until Floyd’s voice cuts through your trance.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Shrimpy!”

He’s already striding over, towering above you and grinning like he’s just caught something interesting in his net. Before you can say a word, he leans down, practically draping himself over you.

“Whatcha doin’ here, huh? Come to watch us play? Or maybe—” he pauses, his grin widening mischievously, “—you’re here to cheer for me?”

“Actually, I’m just here to give Ace his notebook,” you deadpan, though you’re slightly thrown off by how casually he’s leaning into your space.

Floyd hums, completely ignoring your response as he tugs at your sleeve. “Y’know, you should stay. It’d be more fun with you watching.”

Across the court, Jamil’s gaze flickers toward the two of you. His expression is as composed as ever, but the moment Floyd leans in closer—laughing about something you didn’t even catch—there’s a subtle twitch in his jaw.

Jamil tells himself he’s not bothered. It’s just Floyd being Floyd, right? And you’re here for Ace, not… anything else.

But the longer Floyd stays glued to you, the tighter Jamil’s grip becomes on the water bottle he’s holding.

With his usual smoothness, Jamil walks over, casual but purposeful. “Floyd,” he says evenly, “coach is calling for you.”

“Huh?” Floyd tilts his head lazily, but his grin says he knows exactly what’s happening. “Didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, you won’t if you’re not paying attention.” Jamil’s tone remains calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it as he places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from Floyd.

“Ohhh,” Floyd drawls, straightening up but not stepping back just yet. His eyes dart between you and Jamil, and his grin becomes downright predatory. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Jamil asks, though his voice is just a touch too sharp to be casual.

“Nothing~” Floyd sing-songs, finally retreating. But as he walks off, he throws a glance over his shoulder and mutters just loud enough, “Jealous, jealous, Sea Snake~”

Jamil’s composure falters for half a second before he fixes his expression. Jealous? Him? Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous.

“You okay?” you ask, clearly amused as you watch him struggle to maintain his usual cool.

“Of course,” he replies smoothly, brushing nonexistent dust off his uniform. “Floyd’s just being… Floyd.”

You can barely hold back a laugh. As composed as Jamil tries to seem, the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes avoid meeting yours tell a very different story.

By the time Ace saunters over to collect his notebook, you’re grinning like you’ve uncovered the world’s juiciest secret.

“What’s so funny?” Ace asks, glancing between you and Jamil, who’s pretending to inspect his water bottle with far too much interest.

“Oh, nothing,” you say lightly, though your grin doesn’t waver.

Ace squints, then sighs dramatically. “You’re just gonna let him suffer like this, huh?”

“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh, already planning to put him out of his misery soon.

Kalim’s parties have a reputation. They’re always loud, chaotic, and somehow manage to defy the very laws of reality. Tonight is no exception—music booms, people laugh and cheer, and the smell of rich food wafts through the air.

You’re leaning against a table, sipping on some mysterious (and surprisingly good) drink, when Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere. Typical.

“Shrimpy!” he drawls, flashing that sharp-toothed grin of his. “Wanna dance?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Uh—”

“It’ll be fun!” Floyd insists, leaning in closer. His voice drops into that playful, teasing tone that promises something is about to go horribly, hilariously wrong. “C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Before you can even attempt a polite refusal, another voice cuts in, firm and unmistakably annoyed.

“They’re already dancing with me,” Jamil says, stepping between you and Floyd with a smoothness that almost masks the sharp edge in his voice.

Floyd pauses, blinking at Jamil. And then he laughs.

“Ohhhh, really? I didn’t see you on the dance floor yet, Sea Snake,” he teases, his grin only growing.

Jamil doesn’t flinch. His face is calm, composed, but you can see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenches slightly at his side.

Floyd shrugs, backing off with a mischievous chuckle. “Guess I’ll just find someone else, then. Have fun, Shrimpy!”

As Floyd disappears into the crowd, Jamil turns to you, clearly ready to explain himself.

“I just didn’t want him to bother you,” he says quickly, eyes darting to the side. “You know how Floyd gets—”

You raise an eyebrow, not letting him finish. “Oh, so you were just saving me? That’s so sweet of you, Jamil. I don't really mind so I guess I’ll go dance with Floyd, then.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, Jamil Viper—master of control, unparalleled tactician—looks completely and utterly panicked.

“You—you don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically uneven as he grabs your hand.

You blink, taken aback by the desperation in his expression. He looks like the idea of you dancing with Floyd is physically painful to him.

You can’t do this to him. Not anymore.

“Come with me,” you say, tugging his hand and leading him toward the balcony.

The cool night air greets you as you step outside, the distant hum of music muffled by the doors. Jamil follows, quiet but tense, his hand still wrapped around yours.

You turn to face him, and he immediately starts talking, his words tumbling out faster than usual. “I just didn’t want Floyd to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupt, squeezing his hand gently. “Stop. It’s okay.”

He blinks, caught off guard.

You take a deep breath, smiling softly. “I like you, Jamil. I’ve liked you for a while now. And you don’t need to be jealous or worried or...whatever it is you’re feeling. Because there’s no one else. No one who even compares.”

His lips part slightly, and for a moment, Jamil Viper is completely speechless.

“You—you like me?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.

You laugh gently, stepping closer. “Yeah. I like you. A lot.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. But then he looks back at you, his eyes warm and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

Before he can say anything else, you lean in and kiss him, your lips brushing against his softly. He freezes for a moment, and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant but firm.

When you pull back, he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire universe.

“...You’re really something, you know that?” he murmurs, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face.

You grin. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

And for once, Jamil doesn’t have a single witty comeback. Instead, he just kisses you again.

The moment the words “Jamil and I are dating” leave your mouth, the reactions are immediate and chaotic—exactly as you’d expected.

Kalim is the first to respond, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just told him you’re planning a surprise party in his honor. “Really?! That’s amazing! I knew Jamil had it in him! Oh, this is great! We have to celebrate—wait, should I throw another party?”

Jamil, standing beside you, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kalim, please—”

But Kalim’s already planning out loud, “I’ll get the musicians, some fireworks, maybe even—”

“NO!” you and Jamil shout in unison, and Kalim looks momentarily sheepish before settling for bouncing on his heels in excitement.

The rest of your motley crew, however, isn’t as quick to jump on the “Happy Couple” train.

“Wait, Jamil?” Ace blurts out, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re dating Jamil Viper?”

Deuce chimes in, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Isn’t he... I don’t know... a little serious for you?”

Sebek, always ready to yell about something, crosses his arms and scowls. “Jamil Viper, the ever-scheming right-hand man of the Asim heir? Human, are you sure this is wise?!”

Epel, meanwhile, tilts his head thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s kinda scary... but also kinda cool?”

Jack simply stares at you, his arms crossed and his tail flicking. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and cautious.

Grim, predictably, jumps in with his usual brand of over-the-top indignation. “Hold on a second, henchhuman! You’re dating that snake? What about me? Your most important ally!”

Before you can respond, Grim’s eyes narrow as if he’s about to deliver a fiery rant... but then he pauses. “Wait... didn’t he give me that plate of grilled fish last week?”

You nod slowly, unsure where this is going.

Grim strokes his chin, as if in deep thought, before finally shrugging. “Eh, he feeds me, and you seem happy. Works for me!”

Jamil, for once, looks both exasperated and amused. “Glad to have your approval,” he says dryly, earning a triumphant nod from Grim.

Meanwhile, Ace is squinting at Jamil like he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem. “Actually... wait. He’s not bad. He’s smart, he can cook... he did save my butt in Alchemy class that one time...”

Deuce rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah... and he’s pretty reliable. Like, way more reliable than Ace, for sure.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, but Deuce ignores him.

Even Sebek, though still frowning, grudgingly mutters, “He is competent. For a human.”

Epel shrugs, grinning. “And he’s good at keeping up with Floyd. That alone deserves respect.”

Jack nods in agreement. “As long as he treats you right, I don’t see a problem.”

You glance at Jamil, whose ears are faintly pink despite his calm expression. “Wow,” you say, grinning at him. “You’ve won them over. I didn’t think it’d be this easy.”

“Neither did I,” he mutters, shooting a pointed look at Ace and Grim.

Kalim, still practically vibrating with excitement, claps Jamil on the back. “See? I knew they’d all come around! Oh, I’m so happy for you two!”

Jamil sighs, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Kalim.”

Grim jumps onto your shoulder, wagging his tail. “Alright, henchhuman, now that this is settled, how about we celebrate with some snacks? Jamil, you’re cooking, right?”

Jamil gives him a flat look. “Don’t push your luck.”

As everyone laughs, you reach over and squeeze Jamil’s hand, and he glances at you, his expression softening. The chaos might be exhausting, but with you by his side, it’s a little more bearable—and, dare he say it, even enjoyable.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

Gonna pick up the pace with the milestone fics now! I'll be posting Riddle next, so after that:

[jinmindeulle]

die with a smile | jeon wonwoo

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 4.1 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 well, it's the end of the world and walkers (zombies) are around --- but nothing too sad happens here!

this piece was highly inspired in the song that gives it its title and one of my favorite shows before they ruined it --- the walking dead.

When they said the end of the world was close, naturally, you didn’t believe it. It had happened multiple times throughout your lifetime, so you knew it would be no different.

Except it was.

Although it was hard to keep track, you estimated that chaos had erupted about five years ago. It had been a pretty normal day — and your birthday.

You had woken up to your alarm clock and your mother’s smile, congratulating you with a small chocolate cupcake covered in pastel pink frosting and heart-shaped sprinkles, with a white candle already lit. She had sung Happy Birthday with her soft voice and had waited for you to think about your wishes and blow it out. 

“Bea said she’s coming over tonight,” she had whispered as she hugged you. That was the last thing you had heard coming from her.

Because you had never seen your mum again. And your sister had never come. Only God — whether He existed or not was something you still had trouble with. How could He let this happen? — knew what their fate had been that treacherous morning.

Now, looking down at the half-cut strawberry pieces that were adorned with a single match emulating a candle, tears welled up in your eyes. You hated this, but Wonwoo had insisted, and you couldn’t find the courage to fight him. He liked to make people feel good and cared for, even when they felt like they had nothing left to do on this Earth.

“Do you think they are still out there?” you asked him, shutting your eyes and getting rid of the tears. You felt his calloused thumb caressing your right cheek, and this time, you decided to let him in — your birthdays were an emotional rollercoaster.

“We have to keep fighting. That’s the only way we'll know.” As he took your shoulder and nudged you to press against his side, you placed your head on the crook of his neck and enjoyed his warmth. It was not so bad after all. 

Because at first, you had evaded him. He had wanted to break down your walls, and you had shoved him away. You didn’t want to get attached to someone who could die the next day. Who could abandon you just like your mom and your sister had. But sometimes, in vulnerable moments like this, Wonwoo was your only comfort.

“Who is doing rounds tonight?” you asked, hanging on to the fabric of his sweater. Winter was close, and you had realized that it was getting colder and colder as the years went by.

“Either Soonyoung with Jihoon, or Jared with Gael” he whispered against your hair. “It’s been awfully quiet lately.”

“That’s no good,” you sighed, moving away from him to take a piece of the strawberries that laid in the plastic plate in front of you. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I stayed with them? I know the area better than they do, and I can dissuade walkers faster.”

“You don’t get to boss me around” he gave a soft but deep laugh and took the strawberry from your hand to shove it into his mouth “They have to learn. I will be near”

You had wanted to boss him around ever since you got to the safehouse. But to be fair, Wonwoo was too natural at it — he was deeply observant and an analyst at heart, characteristics that you lacked, which made him clearly fit for a leader role. And at that, he was extremely good. You had noticed those traits of his ever since you met him.

After everything went downhill, you had woken up laying on the floor of your bedroom, curled up under your desk. Your room had seemed to have been destroyed by an earthquake or a similar natural disaster. Your head and your jaw were hurting. You had a busted lip. Something had hit your skull and you had collapsed head first — that had been your assumption. When you called for your mother, silence had hit you.

You had tried to leave the house, but it was quite literally upside down. The door had been blocked by a concrete pillar and you had to force your sore body to climb out of the biggest window. 

No matter how dark it was, you had meant to find your mother at her workplace and, if possible, Bea at her apartment building which was on the way. 

To your surprise, both of them had been empty. The city was empty. How long had you been laying there? Where had people run to? What had exactly happened?

Fear had frozen you for hours, silently staring at your mom’s workplace building. Silence had slowly started to hurt your eardrums. The realization that you were all alone in a place that you had called your home for twenty two years had hit you, and you had collapsed, landing hard on your knees, sobbing.

Millions of questions clouded your mind as you felt your throat tightly closing up, air barely getting to your lungs. You had gasped and fisted your hands in the gravel, your breath getting faster as you tried to concentrate on each movement to finally take control.

“Hey!” 

Everything that had happened next had felt like a blur. A man — that you now know to have been Wonwoo — wearing round glasses, dressed in a baby blue shirt, dress black pants and shoes was kneeling in front of you, taking your wrists with his hands and helping you get back to your normal breathing. 

“That’s it. Breathe.”

As you look at him munching on your birthday strawberries, you silently thank whoever decided to put him in your way to help you breathe all those years ago. People had come and gone, some with good intentions, some trying to take advantage of you and your hard work to survive. But Wonwoo had stayed — he had fought to stay. And he had taken care of you even when you had treated him like trash.

“I know it’s late” you whispered, following his movements with your eyes as he cleaned up his fingers with a piece of cloth “But I’m not sleepy-”

“You’re not doing rounds” he interrupted, taking your face with his hands and staring at you “We can stay up to talk and giggle, but you are not working on your birthday” he sentenced, pressing your cheeks together.

“I cbnt tbolbk” you whined through your squished cheeks “Bwonbwoo!!”

When he bursted into laughter and finally let you go, you took your time to admire how his eyes lit up when he was happy — a rare occasion, if you may add. In times of chaos, happiness was not on the plate. 

“I’m gonna do my check ups. Finish your incredible birthday cake in the meantime” with a soft smile, Wonwoo kissed your forehead and stood up from the floor, where you had been sitting for your 12:01 surprise.

In these circumstances, getting ready to go to bed depended on how well things were going — when explorations were on the go, less people were around the safehouse, which meant that you wouldn’t be sleeping at least two nights a week to keep an eye on the surroundings. 

Children were part of your community now, and Wonwoo and the rest of the leaders had decided to double up the people that stayed alert during dark hours. The safehouse was still big enough to house everyone altogether, as he had preferred ever since the beginning. 

Leaving the building had merely started as a way to collect food and water, but as time went by, it had become a way to help people and grow the community — your community.

Tonight, however, you knew that Wonwoo had stayed back to be with you on your ‘special day’, even though there was nothing special about it. He rarely missed explorations, and when you stayed back, he trusted your safety to Seungcheol, that amazing brother-from-another-mother that he had helped a couple of months after he had found you, partnering with you as soon as he met you. But you were Wonwoo’s weakness and he wasn’t afraid of showing it to anyone, let alone you, so he had declared that he was spending the night with you. Whatever that meant. 

Laying on your back, you stared at the ceiling. On the rare occasions that Wonwoo decided to accompany you, he had been silent. By that point, you knew each other like no one else, but there were parts of your past lives that had remained hidden, and you both were aware of that.

One question had been caught on your throat for quite some time, and as he came back to your side and laid next to you on the mattress on the floor, you put your weight on the left side of your body and supported your head with your hand to look at him.

“Everything alright?” You asked, following his movements as he mimicked you to look at you in the eye.

“Yep. The group reported a signal, they found some walkers trapped behind a fence not too far away. Took care of them. Now they are on the food quest” his voice was low, signaling that people were already asleep. The small rooms were one next to the other, so quietness was a must during rest hours. 

“Any news on Chan?” 

“Nothing” he shook his head, softly taking a strand of hair out of your face “It’s like the Earth swallowed him” 

You felt how your eyes flooded with tears, and at the mere sight of your sadness, Wonwoo brought you close to his chest. “I hope he’s okay”

Chan was like a little brother to you. You had found him trapped on a roof, trying to get away from the then new threat — the walkers. You were still figuring out what they were, how they behaved, and most importantly, how to get rid of them. But by that time, some things were clear — walkers, or the dead, as some people called them, were looking for people who were alive to turn them into one of theirs; movement (and smell?) triggered them; aiming at the head was the safest way to get them over with.

Chan was surrounded by them, but thankfully, your group outnumbered the walkers, and all of you had weapons.

You had been the first to get to him and offer some water before you ran to the exit, where Wonwoo waited for you with his rifle ready to shoot. The youngster had held your hand all the way, and he had spoken to you and you only. After you had safely gotten to the building you had recently started to call ‘home’, Chan hardly ever left your side. 

But the only time he did, you never saw him again.

“I bet he is. He was getting better everyday” he whispered, caressing your hair. “He even started using my rifle. That’s a wild move coming from him”

“You never let anyone touch it. Not even me”

“Chan needed confidence. I’m glad I let him.” You sighed and slid your arm around his waist, getting closer to Wonwoo’s body warmth. “Woah. That’s new” he gave a small smile, welcoming your touch with a caress to your cheek. You never showed signs of wanting physical contact, so you were as surprised as him. 

“I guess turning twenty seven is making me clingier… and more curious” 

“I like that.” Wonwoo nodded, placing a hand on your waist. “What are you curious about?”

You slowly took your arm away from his body and hugged his hand with yours, caressing his fingers with a newly found confidence “Your ring”

When you heard Wonwoo sigh, you understood that that was a sensitive topic. He had let you brush his fingers with yours, but he didn’t move. So you did, returning to your initial position.

“You had it on for two years. You have never used it ever since I turned twenty-four.” you started, your hand still on his “May I ask why?”

He stayed silent for some minutes, and you decided not to push him. He usually took his time to answer, especially when he was in charge of big decisions. It seemed like this one was another one.

“I was engaged” he confessed, returning his eyes to yours. “When everything happened… She and I had a fight. I saw some things I wished I didn’t, she said some things I hoped no one ever said to me. But I was worried about her, and my heart weighed more than my brain when it came to her.”

“Were you looking for her when you found me?”

He nodded, gently squeezing your hip for support. “I was hopeful I would find her at home, but when I got there she had taken some of her basic stuff. So my only conclusion was that she had left me behind. I put two and two together”

“But… Why did you keep the ring for two years? If you knew she was being untruthful?”

“I took my time to make the decision. For how things were going, I was not gonna see her anytime soon. So every time we were not busy surviving, I just went back to what I had and analyzed every little moment, ever since we met until the day we last saw each other. I gave her a chance for two whole years. But the night of your birthday it all became clear to me.”

He slid his hand away from yours, and placed it on your cheek, giving it soft strokes. “It was the first time you had let me in. I saw you crying because I made you a birthday cake with an apple and a match. You hugged me, and clung to me. You said everything I had wished for her to have said that day. And by that, I just mean the ‘I appreciate your efforts to make me happy’ part. I realized I was not asking for a lot. She just wasn’t willing to give it to me. But you were.”

“Wonwoo…” you whispered, touched by his honesty, by his gentleness. 

“You must know by now how much I like you. I fell for you and the team we are. We work so well together. We find time to lead, to care for the community, and to come back to one another like we did at the beginning of this torn world. I am certain that you are the partner I have always wanted to have by my side. But I also know that you are not easy to fool into this romantic thing. That you have fears, that finding your family and Chan is your priority. So that’s why I have laid low, testing the waters. I just want you to feel safe around me, and come to me when you need me. I will wait forever if it means I get to have you like this from time to time”

You had sensed that he had become more and more concerned and attentive to you ever since that birthday apple cake day, but you had brushed it off as him being the responsible leader he was. You were, day by day, less hopeful to find your mom and sister alive, so he had naturally been by your side on those harder days. You just never realized Wonwoo had been looking at you with heart eyes from that moment on.

When you opened your mouth to speak, he interrupted you “You don’t have to say anything now”

“But I want to” you nodded, placing your hand in his, still on your cheek. “I am a little taken aback, not gonna lie. I thought you were just being you.” you chuckled “You know me so well that you are aware of my fears and priorities, and I appreciate you considering my feelings before advancing. But… I lost a mother, a sister, and Chan. He was here, and the next day he wasn’t. How would I keep on living if something ever happened to you? If my partner suddenly disappeared, leaving me and all these people behind? My heart won’t be able to handle it, Woo” you shook your head, tears already making their way down your skin, and your hands. “I don’t want to lose a boyfriend” 

“You won’t lose me” he brought you back to his chest, legs tangling with yours “I promise, y/n. I have fought for this community and for us for a long time. I want this to work out so we can get our lives back, but I don’t want any of this if you’re not gonna be with me every step of the way”

“I will always be here, Wonwoo”

“You know what I mean. I’m afraid I won’t be able to contain myself any longer. I want to kiss you whenever I want to. To have the right to call you mine. To hold you and lay here with you. To give you some hope for the future.”

The way your body fit with his and seemed to not want to let go anytime soon gave you the idea that you had always wanted him like that too. The panic that you felt every time he left for an exploration and the relief that travelled down your spine when you saw his smile flashing through the entrance on his way to hug you was making sense now. But that same panic was the one keeping you at bay — if you started loving him a little more than you already did, the day he never again walked across that door, just like happened with Chan, was going to come. And you would lose the only reason you had to wake up everyday in this fucked up world. 

“Can you let me think about it?” you asked, afraid of breaking his heart just now. 

“Of course. It’s been three hard years. I am a patient man, darling” The endearing term melted your heart, so you let yourself loose on his warm caresses, hoping this moment to last forever.

But you knew better, and in times like these, emergencies were more common than you’d like them to.

“Sorry to bother you” a voice was heard behind the thin wooden door. Jihoon “But the team is on their way back. They found Chan”

You had never ran that fast. Not even when walkers were behind you.

When Chan wrapped his freezing arms around you, you felt your heart regaining some of the life it had lost over the years.

“Happy birthday, noona” the tremble in his voice was heartbreaking and relieving at the same time. 

“Oh Chan” you sobbed, hugging him with all the care you could muster “You’re my gift”

It hurt to feel how thin he had gotten over the three weeks he had been missing, but now that he was under your care, you knew Chan was going to get better. He was your responsibility and you swore to yourself that he was never going through anything similar ever again. 

You heard as Wonwoo and Seungcheol commanded everyone around you to help in some way — getting the first aid kit, some warm food and a new set of clothes to help the young man recover his normal body temperature. 

A calloused hand hugged your shoulder and without even having to turn around, you knew Wonwoo was asking you to step back a little. 

“Wrap this around him” he handed you a blanket, and you thanked him with a small smile and tears in your eyes. 

You spent your first hours as a twenty seven year old watching Chan finally sleeping under as many blankets as you had deemed necessary, softly pressing your hand on his forehead from time to time to check his temperature. He had tolerated some warm can soup and water while one of the older girls, Savannah, had warmed some water for him to wash up.

After finally being sure that he was breathing normally and was not dying of hypothermia, you headed to Wonwoo’s small place, right next to yours. 

You saw him fast asleep, with his glasses still on and his old and torn notebook open and spread on his chest. A silver pen was lying by his hand, and you remembered how he had found it in one of your first explorations after joining the community. He had kept that in his pocket even since then. 

You didn’t want to wake him up, but at the same time, your answer couldn’t wait any longer. Chan was back. He had proved that not everyone disappears. And if they do, they eventually find their way back to you. Your mother and your sister were on their way — even if it took them years. They were out there looking for you.

And you also knew that the man sleeping in front of you was the first one to have found his way to you. He had never let you down — Wonwoo was not only physically there for you, even if it was just by lying next to you a feet apart, but he was also keeping his feelings from you in order not to put pressure on you and increase your hardships. He had given you time to see who he was to you, and to prove that you would never find anyone like him.

You would die if he died. No matter the label of the relationship you had. 

It was going to hurt the same. Because you had already fallen for him the day he had saved you.

“What are you doing here?” His question took you out of your trance, and when you saw him sitting up and rearranging his glasses to see you well, you found the courage to sit on the mattress next to him.

“Chan is sleeping like a baby. Looks like he will recover pretty fast”

“He’s young. And athletic. I’m just worried about the struggles he had out there”

“I’ll talk to him as soon as I see him ready” you nodded, looking down to your fidgety fingers.

“But that’s not why you're here for, though” 

You hated how well Wonwoo knew you. He could read you like a book and as much as you wanted to glare at him, your shyness was overpowering you.

“Mhm” you muttered, trying to find the words. “Getting Chan back got me thinking”

“I like when you think” he gave a soft smile and you had to raise your head to look at him.

“That was not a compliment, if you were thinking of it as one” you pouted.

“I have better ones, yes” he chuckled, and slowly took one of your hands in his “Stop the fidgeting. Talk to me”

You had to fight the urge to press your lips to his, because he would need an explanation first — that was how Wonwoo worked. But… maybe not this time. You really didn’t know how he would act around you as his girlfriend.

His girlfriend. Wow. That sounded great.

“What I said earlier. About you ever leaving me”

“I won’t leave you, y/n” he shook his head, eyes still bored into yours. 

“I know. And even if you did… It would hurt the same. Whether you are more than a friend or if you keep being my friend, I would cry the same. I would let myself die the same. So…”

“That’s too tragic for a love confession, darling” Wonwoo gave you a wide-eyed grin and you couldn’t help but laugh too.

“That’s me. Take it or leave it”

“I’ve been waiting exactly three years for you to let me take it. Pouring my heart out here” he wiggled the notebook on his other hand “so I didn’t have to say all that to you. So bold of you to assume that I would leave it”  

And with that, he freed his hands to cup your jaw and guide your way to his mouth. When they finally met, you felt a warm explosion in your chest — Wonwoo was gentle, caressing your lips with his to make you feel safe first. But you wanted more, and when you parted your lips, he swiftly transformed it into an open mouth kiss. 

And you melted.

“Thank you” he muttered in between kisses “Thank you”

If this was the end of the world, you were glad you had found Wonwoo before it finally ended. Maybe it had taken the Earth to collapse, and dead people to come to life in the form of zombies for you to get to the one and only man you would let in.

Even though you were still fighting to get the rest of your family back, you were sure that you would die with a smile if Wonwoo was next to you.

[itsharleystuff]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it. 

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too. 

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping onto his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

[xkiralix]

The Divine Creator

Part 1 part 2 part 3

(Name) had never anticipated this would be the outcome of his choice for rebirth instead of resurrection, it worked but in exchange of a lot of trauma that a being like him shouldn’t even have been able to feel. Being born in a lower middle class household with a single mother for half of his life before his father got tired of other cunts and went to play house with his mother. (Name) wouldn’t lie and say he had been happy about it, in his eyes he had no father.

He didn’t know what a father’s love was if it meant his father was only there to receive his A+ calcifications and then vanish.

Then he came across a certain game. His 12 year old self was eager to play the game that had fascinating art and allowed him to forget about his life. Here’s the thing… he was more often than not sulky. Perhaps it was because he had been bullied for smiling at “stupid manwhas”, perhaps because his father beat every smile out of him when his mother was away.

Playing Genshin kept him from jumping off a bridge, he knew it was stupid but he had genuinely gotten attached to them. He told the characters encouraging words from time to time and got furious when violence or any type of harm came their way.

Obviously he freaked out when he started receiving body parts on his mail, more so when he witnessed Zhongli cut off a hand for him and calling him “your grace” while begging for forgiveness through the screen.

…

“Your grace, this lowly servant can’t bear serving you without admitting one’s crimes.” The brunette spoke, interrupting a scene from Fontaine’s mission. (Name) would’ve normally skipped but decided to keep listening, Zhongli appearing on Fontaine’s mission, why had no one made a fuss about this on Tik Tok? He however was taken by surprise when Zhongli pulled out a dagger.

“I need to be forgiven and the only way I can do so is by showing you just how sorrowful I truly am.” He said before raising his arm and cutting his hand off.

“What the fuck?!” (Name) yelled in a shock and disgust and stood up. His eyes widened when the characters that had previously been out of the screen suddenly appeared and tried to pull Zhongli away. (Name) couldn’t handle seeing anymore how blood dripped out of Zhongli’s arms while he begged for forgiveness, Wriothesley trying to pull him back along the lunch guy. All of it stopped when (Name) turned off the game.

…

He stopped playing after that. Then his 15th birthday came, that same day he woke up with a fever but was forced to still go to school. He passed out while crossing a road. And now he was here.

In Teyvat. With his memories.

He had spent the last 2 days on this temple, thinking of what he was supposed to do. He was far too weak to use his powers, his body needed to be “molded”, he should unify (Name)’s body to his own to at least have a decent shape, or he wouldn’t be able to use his powers. By now his acolytes must be running back and forth, going crazy over the where he is. He could barely shut up the voices of their prayers.

Sleeping became a challenge because of the whispers, and because he really wasn't tired anymore. Either way it sucked. (Name) took all his mental strength to bother rising from bed, he needed to eat. 2 days had passed since he last ate. (Name) stretched his limbs and yawned, he walked out of the temple that went back to being a mere rock as soon as he left.

Without any rush he started walking towards Mondstadt, he was definitely in the mood of exploring it this time. When he got to the city he took the time to recognize its beauty, the stone walls certainly looked quite intimidating, it made a good defense against enemies or natural disasters. 2 knights were at the door, (Name) acknowledged their watchful yet concealed eyes, it was clear they took their job seriously but made sure the people wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

When he walked in he was greeted by a stand of flowers, the vendor however was missing. To his left was a blacksmith diligently working and to his right there were other stands. The stone construction added a special touch to the town, it reminded (Name) of one of the earth countries, Germany. It seemed like a place where those romantic moments were bound to happen.

Moments that even his human reincarnation wasn't able to experience. How pitiful.

(Name) wandered through the cobblestone streets of Mondstadt, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of blooming flowers from the nearby stands. The city was alive with activity—children playing, merchants haggling, and adventurers preparing for their next journey. It was a stark contrast to the quiet, desolate temple he had just left.

The windmills turned lazily in the breeze, and the statue of Barbatos stood tall in the plaza, its serene expression almost mocking him. He wondered if Venti, the carefree bard who was secretly the Anemo Archon, was somewhere nearby, strumming his lyre and singing songs of freedom.

He headed closer to certain individuals who he had attracted his attention ever since his reincarnation saw them through that screen for the first time, he wondered how they’d treat a stranger to their lands who held no particular talent unlike the blond haired one.

He wondered off to them and pretends to bump into them. “Oh, my apologies. I did not notice you.” He said with a worried expression as he faked embarrassment.

Jean, the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius, standing before him. Her blonde hair was tied back neatly, and her blue eyes held a warmth that contrasted with her authoritative demeanor. “It’s fine Mr,” She paused as she seemed to not know him and realization flashed her… another traveler?

“Welcome to Mondstadt, sir. Is this your first time here?” She was accompanied by Kaeya, the Cavalry Captain, who leaned casually against a nearby wall, his usual smirk playing on his lips.

“Ah, yes,” (Name) replied, offering a small smile. “I’ve heard much about this city. It’s even more beautiful in person.”

Jean nodded, her expression softening. “I’m glad to hear that. If you need any assistance or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask the Knights of Favonius. We’re here to help.”

Kaeya pushed off the wall and stepped forward, his eye glinting with curiosity. He took notice on the stranger’s unique and unknown attire… much like Aether’s. “You seem... different. Not your average traveler, are you?”

(Name) chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Just a wanderer passing through. Nothing special.”

Kaeya’s smirk widened, as if he didn’t quite believe him, but he didn’t press further. “Well, if you’re looking for a drink or some entertainment, the Angel’s Share is the place to be. Just don’t let Diluc catch you slacking off.”

Jean shot Kaeya a disapproving look before turning back to (Name). “Ignore him. If you need anything, feel free to visit the Knights’ headquarters. We’d be happy to assist you.”

(Name) thanked them and watched as they walked off. His friendly and nervous smile vanished. These were the characters that were willing to do such atrocities for his attention, and oh he knew that if. they knew who—or what—he truly was he’d be dragged somewhere “safe” by them as soon as they noticed his current form was quite useless in terms of fighting.

As he continued his exploration, (Name) found himself drawn to the sound of music. Following the melody, he arrived at the plaza, where a crowd had gathered around a bard with a lyre. It was Venti, his green hat tilted at a playful angle as he sang a lively tune. His voice was soothing, and for a moment, (Name) forgot about his troubles.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, and Venti took a dramatic bow. His eyes met (Name)’s, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of recognition in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual carefree smile.

“Thank you, thank you!” Venti said, waving to the crowd. “Your support is always appreciated. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ve earned myself a drink.”

The crowd dispersed, and Venti approached (Name), his lyre slung over his shoulder. “You’re new here, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you around before.” (Name) nodded. “Just arrived today. Your music is... captivating.”

Venti grinned. “Why, thank you! Music is the soul of Mondstadt, after all. Say, would you care to join me for a drink? My treat.” (Name) hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to engage in casual conversation with someone who could potentially recognize him easily. But the earnest look in Venti’s eyes made it hard to refuse. He was still but a weak man to his creations.

“Sure,” he said finally. “Lead the way.”

As they walked to the Angel’s Share, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dooming himself more, the wind of Teyvat hadn’t betrayed his will yet. Yeah, that’s why Venti invited him, to see why Teyvat’s wind refused to spill the secrets of his past. With that he relaxed more, reassuring himself that the bard wouldn’t notice how different he was from the local human.

Mondstadt was just the first step. Liyue awaited.

Took me long enough ik, I also got lazy at the end 🫠 hope you enjoyed it though

[probablyasocialecologist]

Gyan Abhishek is standing in front of a giant touch screen, like Jim Cramer on Mad Money or an ESPN talking head analyzing a football play. He’s flicking through a Facebook feed of viral, AI-generated images. “The post you are seeing now is of a poor man that is being used to generate revenue,” he says in Hindi, pointing with his pen to an image of a skeletal elderly man hunched over being eaten by hundreds of bugs. “The Indian audience is very emotional. After seeing photos like this, they Like, Comment and share them. So you too should create a page like this, upload photos and make money through Performance bonus.”  He scrolls through the page, titled “Anita Kumari,” which has 112,000 followers and almost exclusively posts images of emaciated, AI-generated people, natural disasters, and starving children. He pauses on another image of a man being eaten by bugs. “They are getting so many likes,” he says. “They got 700 likes within 2-4 hours. They must have earned $100 from just this one photo. Facebook now pays you $100 for 1,000 likes … you must be wondering where you can get these images from. Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to create images with the help of AI.”

[...]

Abhishek has 115,000 YouTube subscribers, dozens of instructional videos, and is part of a community of influencers selling classes and making YouTube content about how to go viral on Facebook with AI-generated images and other types of spam. These influencers act much like financial influencers in the United States, teaching other people how to supposedly spin up a side hustle in order to make money by going viral on Facebook and other platforms. Part of the business model for these influencers is, of course, the fact that they are themselves making money by collecting ad revenue from YouTube and by selling courses and AI prompts on YouTube, WhatsApp and Telegram. Many of these influencers go on each others’ podcasts to discuss strategies, algorithm changes, and loopholes. I have found hundreds of videos about this, many of which have hundreds of thousands or millions of views.   But the videos make clear that Facebook’s AI spam problem is one that is powered and funded primarily by Facebook itself, and that most of the bizarre images we have seen over the last year are coming from Microsoft’s AI Image Creator, which is called “Bing Image Creator” in instructional videos.

[...]

The most popular way to make money spamming Facebook is by being paid directly by Facebook to do so via its Creator Bonus Program, which pays people who post viral content. This means that the viral “shrimp Jesus” AI and many of the bizarre things that have become a hallmark of Zombie Facebook have become popular because Meta is directly incentivizing people to post this content.

6 August 2024

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 18: Bewitched

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Disclaimer: Please note that this is set in the 60s (like the original series) so there are some traditional dynamics. Also, some of the pairings were just made for plot convenience, I support all the ships without prejudice!

You woke up feeling like it was an important day. It was an important day.

You had received your first invitation to a neighborhood party after a few months of living there, and you were excited about it. Your husband was used to all those human rituals, but you, only since your marriage, had been exposed to them and didn’t know what to expect.

Your friendly and somewhat gossip-loving neighbor, Penelope Alvez, had been the one to extend the invitation. Your husband and hers had the same job and were quite good friends, so she thought it was a great idea to organize a gathering to strengthen the bond.

“I’m home!” called a male voice, as always, exactly at 6:30 p.m.

Your husband had chosen a black suit, white shirt, and a black tie with silver stripes that he had received for Christmas. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his beard was starting to show. You loved any look he had, but the element of maturity his facial hair gave him had always been a weakness for you. He was one of those men who aged like fine wine.

“Good to see you, my love,” you said softly, in the midst of the mess that was your kitchen. He approached to greet you with a kiss on the lips and smiled as he noticed all the ingredients scattered on the table, the counter, the floor…

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Something to take to the Alvez's house. Isn’t it customary to bring something when you’re invited?”

“Yes, but… you don’t know how to bake.”

“Of course I know how to bake!” you squeaked, feeling offended. It was half-true, as you usually used magic to get decent meals. “I mean, I’m learning, but I’m trying hard.”

“I know, I know. But you could have told me, and I would’ve bought something on my way home, so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Let me do this, okay? I know I can.”

Spencer smiled compassionately, touched by your attempt to make a carrot cake. After the shocking revelation (for him) that you came from a powerful line of witches, the two of you had tried to live a life without magic to keep your marriage peaceful. Of course, your mother didn’t agree with this, upset that you were, in her words, lowering yourself and denying your nature.

However, you loved him enough to sacrifice the use of your powers if it meant being able to have a family with that man. No matter anyone’s opinion, it was just the two of you.

Of course, you didn’t completely abandon the use of your abilities, but you mostly did so when he couldn’t notice. After all, household chores were much easier with a little magical help.

“Okay, do you need me to help with anything? It’s almost time to go. I don’t know if you want to shower, get ready, or…”

“No. Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

You were stubborn—your husband knew that and accepted it when you decided to marry. That’s why he stepped out of your space, not wanting to create any unnecessary tension. You just needed time to calm down and carry out your plans.

Half an hour later, he came to check if you were ready, only to find you on the verge of tears in the kitchen. There was a nearly burned cake on the table, a poorly made frosting, and decorating items scattered everywhere. It was chaos.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

“It’s horrible! I’m a disaster,” you sobbed, approaching him to let him wrap you in his arms.

“You’re not a disaster; you’re learning,” he reassured you, holding back laughter. Gently, he removed some carrot bits that had somehow ended up in your hair and stroked your back sweetly. “It doesn’t look that bad. We can still save it.”

“I’ll bring it in a container, and… I don’t know, maybe that way it’ll look less awful.”

He encouraged you to do just that, and after helping you pack it up, you got ready to go. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t use a little magic to look better and change your outfit in a couple of minutes. And although your husband suspected it, he didn’t say anything.

Spencer offered you his arm to help you avoid tripping in those little blue heels you were wearing, and then you both walked to your neighbors’ house. You looked nervous when you realized you weren’t the only family attending, and your husband urged you to relax, somewhat amused by how much importance you were placing on it all.

“Good evening! Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Come in, come in!”

The blonde woman with glasses hugged you as soon as she saw you and took the liberty of kissing your cheeks. Behind her was a man who greeted your husband, whom you assumed was Mr. Alvez.

“Thank you for inviting us…”

“Don’t mention it! I was dying to meet my new neighbor,” Penelope murmured, giving you a mischievous look. You felt as if she was trying to tell you she knew your secret.

Spencer encouraged you to enter, placing his hand gently on the small of your back and nudging you forward. Once inside, you met several people: the millionaire, divorced, and eccentric Mr. David Rossi, the LaMontagne family—husband, wife, and two kids—the Morgans, and lastly, a man named Aaron Hotchner, his son Jack, and Jack’s stepmother, Emily Prentiss.

The men were already drinking whiskey and champagne, while the women were chatting peacefully. You asked the hostess where you could put the container with the dreadful creation you had made, and she accompanied you to the kitchen.

“Penelope is obsessed with your wife. She doesn’t even pay me this much attention,” Luke teased once the women had left. “She’s convinced your wife makes things appear out of thin air and says the flowers in your garden are so beautiful because your wife takes care of them with magic and all that.”

“What… what things, that’s ridiculous,” he laughed, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling strange about Penelope’s deduction.

Had she really seen you practicing magic?

“She has a very active imagination. And sometimes she gets bored at home,” he murmured. The truth was, he didn’t believe the woman: he thought she was just pulling his leg.

But your husband, being more perceptive, started to reflect on what it meant for someone in the neighborhood to already be suspecting your particular condition. You both stayed somewhat apart during the gathering, as he wanted to give you a chance to socialize with the women. You know, to get out of the routine a bit.

At some point in the night, he saw Emily coming out of the kitchen with a slice of meringue cake that looked simply delicious, and Spencer excused himself from the other men to investigate.

“Where did you get that?”

“Uh… your wife brought it?” she laughed, a bit confused.

“My wife?”

“Ugh, men. You didn’t even notice what she baked!” the woman exclaimed, scolding him playfully. “It’s delicious, by the way,” she added, tasting the strangely perfect white meringue cream.

Spencer figured it wasn’t a matter of distraction—he knew you hadn’t brought that with you. He went in search of the dessert and saw that, indeed, a beautiful pastry was sitting on the table.

“She’s got a gift, Spencer! It’s almost like she has magic in her hands!” Penelope laughed as she cut a piece for herself before leaving the kitchen to rejoin the group.

He had a glass of champagne in hand as he approached you.

“Ladies, may I steal my wife for a moment?” he asked politely toward the group of women you were with.

You knew something was wrong when he looked at you, and as you walked over to him, you mentally reviewed what could have upset him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why is it that all of a sudden we brought a perfectly baked cake to the gathering?” he whispered through his teeth, keeping a calm expression. Everyone could have easily thought you were having a loving conversation.

“I can explain…”

“Love, you know the whole no-magic thing is for our safety. It’s not just some whim; it’s an agreement we made.”

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” he immediately replied, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying you can do that at home, but… I don’t want anyone to find out, okay? I’m worried it could put you in danger.”

“No one will die because I fixed a cake, darling,” you exclaimed, pouting. Spencer feared you might be misunderstanding his words and getting upset, so he leaned in slightly to kiss your lips.

“Don’t be mad,” you said, looking at him in that way that made him melt, as you placed your hands carefully on his chest, almost at his neck “We’ll talk about this at home, okay?”

You sighed discontentedly, then glanced aside. The glass in his hand was almost empty, so you thought it would be a good idea to refill it with magic, even though he had explicitly told you not to use it in public a second ago. He said your name in a scolding tone.

“No one’s paying attention, Spence,” you defended yourself, nodding toward the group of people happily chatting. “But fine, I won’t do any more magic. It’s just that… everyone here brought such beautiful things, and I was afraid they wouldn’t like what we brought.”

Your husband, a bit calmer now, smiled briefly and leaned in to kiss you again, more deeply this time.

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t fit in without your magical abilities. But I also don’t want you to deny who you are. I just want to protect you, my little witch.”

You fell silent, unsure of how to respond to that, and then you leaned against his chest, silently asking him to hold you. He kissed the top of your head, and then you heard someone laughing.

“Save that for home, tiger. You’ll have plenty of time to spoil her later.”

Everyone laughed at Derek’s joke, and you both pulled away, your cheeks slightly flushed from embarrassment.

“Come join us. Reid still hasn’t told us the story of how you two fell in love, and I’m sure everyone’s dying to hear it,” Emily encouraged, sitting on the couch next to her husband.

Spencer took your hand to lead you over, and you both joined the conversation. Later, when you saw him arrive with a slice of meringue cake, you couldn’t help but give him a reproachful look, but he just shrugged and winked at you.

If you had already used your magic, you might as well enjoy it.

[pompomchihuahua]

Genya's Role in the Family

So, today, because I never shut up and I love Genya, I wanted to talk a little more about Genya, specifically his role in his family from the little we see of them and the conclusions I've personally drawn from that.

First of all, from what I can gather, it looks like Genya filled in more a homemaker role than a "man of the family" or traditional gender normative older brother role. In fact, it seems like he's taken up the burden of what you'd normally expect to be placed on the eldest sister.

I find it so interesting that in our first shot of the whole family together where they're all sleeping, we can already glean a lot of their situation. But what I want to focus on is how everyone gets their own futon, even Sanemi! Everyone except Genya, who's sleeping with baby Koto.

We know why he's not sleeping with his mama but wouldn't it make the most logical sense for him to go with the eldest? Sanemi is older than Genya by at least five years (21 to Genya's 16 in canon) ergo he would be the most responsible. Or, if you want to be gender normative since this is the very early 1900's, why not with his eldest sister?

Well, first of all, we know Sanemi trusts him above all the other siblings. We know this because Genya is the one he chose to confide in when making the promise to protect everyone. We also know that when Sanemi goes to go looking for their mother, he trusts in Genya to watch over the kids while he's gone. Which brings me to another point.

Just look at how all of them turn to him!

How he cradles baby Koto back to sleep, Genya warning them away from the door just before disaster strikes.

Even in official art, Genya is the one carrying the baby while Sanemi does the hard labor. Which brings me to Sanemi's role. Legally in this time period, he is the head of the house, which means he and Shizu are likely their main bread-winners. In the flashback, Sanemi is the one pulling the cart with the heaviest load while Genya carries a small knapsack.

During Genya's monologue he says this: "My mother was always working, from morning until night. Not once did I ever see her sleeping."

So if Shizu is always working and Sanemi is always working, who's taking care of the babies?

Well, based on how Genya interacts with the younger siblings, I would place my bets on him!

And siblings caring for their younger siblings or just young children in general was so common in rural areas they were called Komori, though they were typically little girls caring for the children of wealthy people. Simply put, by placing the burden of child-rearing on a Komori, you could free up more time for you to work.

And, it's shown that Genya does have the gentleness and patience for it. He's fiercely protective of his siblings (punching the landlord's son for making Sumi cry, standing up the caterpillar girls in One Winged butterfly). The corps record book states that Gyomei helps him regain his "gentle nature", something you'd definitely need for child rearing. He also has the patience and attention to detail needed for it as shown by his love for bonsai.

I find it so interesting that Genya has so many parallels to Nezuko from him being the only survivor out of all the little siblings while the older sibling was away, to the demonic ties to even their gentleness. And I know this was intentional: just like Gyutaro and Daki are meant to show "what could have been," Sanemi and Genya are also meant to be a "what could have been" scenario as well.

But I find Genya so much more fascinating, not just because of how he defies gender norms just from the little that we see from his past but from littlest details of his character. I could make a whole different post just on his speech patterns and how it reflects his emotional stunt in growth and how he's forcing himself to be more of a man to get closer to Sanemi.

He wears his emotions on his sleeve but he's still a private and reserved person, he's fierce but he's gentle. He's a walking dichotomy and just an excellent character with a very interesting ability that I could go on and on about too.

I would like to give a special shout out to @princeblue and boff and bepp and rose and everyone else on the blue corps server! I never would have been able to put these thoughts into words until they let me ramble at them endlessly and they rambled back!!!!!

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

I really like your Nefero. How about a story where he helps femReader with her look. Like, one day, I'm talking fashion disaster. Reader is going through it and to make things worse it's picture day! And Reader and Nefero planned also do it couples photos! When Nefero gets a call from his girlfriend that in desperation, he comes to recuse with a army of help from his home's staff

Thank you for your time.

Thanks for the request (^v^)

This sounds AMAZING!!

Love our fashion couple,this is gonna be good.

____________________________________________

Male! Nefara x fem!reader

Prompt- reader has a bad makeup & outfit  morningd and needs immediate help from her boyfriend and it's senior picture day with also couples pictures in the next few hours! We have code fashion emergency

Using [Name] as substitute for (y/n)

Fluff/ comfort/kisses

Nickname for the reader- my jewel or my queen

(Readers Nickname for nefero in here with I'll probably use from now on for any fics with him hehe)

(H/c) Hair color

(H/t) Hair type

(There's not that much fanart so I'm using what I find so it may repeat sometimes.)

*Art not ime found it on pinterest*

____________________________________________

___________________________________________

It's 6:30 am senior picture day and a ghoul is stressing more than ever before.

We see [Name] in her lush (f/c) bedroom, she is seen frantically rushing back and forth to the mirror and the closet, she holds up different skirts and crop tops in a rush.

"What to wear what to wear"

She tried one look "ugh no" and another "disgusting" and one more out of a hundred she had tried on "this is unmatchable and not what I need for our photo shoot"

She wears shorts and a crop tank top to help her see easier what would work but as she picks up and throws clothes all around it's quickly becoming stuffy in the room.

She curses under her breath and instantly thinks "maybe if I do my makeup first I can pick my picture Day outfit more easier" rushing to her vanity , picking up the essentials she quickly makes a base for her eyeshadow, she looks through her drawer picks up the eyeshadow pallets she recently got from her boyfriend as a in his words "a pallet with reds and greens that show my two favorite thing,  money and you since you are my scarlet fire that burns within me"

She smiled as she applied the vibrant and rusty colors on her eyelids. Moments later she looks at herself and frowns

It all looks wrong. The way it looked so smeared like a toddler was the one to help her, the shimmers were all over the place, the blend was outrageously horrid and why did she start with red instead of green to be easier to show up!

"Ughh what is going on with me!" She screeched throwing the makeup brush strongly to the ground, [Name] grabs the makeup remover and reusable rag and dunks a ton of it, she sneers at her reflection. Then vigorously wiped her face in anger.

Stopping for a second looking at herself again she noticed her long (h/c) (h/t) was not as good now as when she started this horror show.

Tears start to sting and drip down from her cheek down to the vanity  "w-why now *sob* i- I can't be this bad at doing something so easy...it's second nature to be good at this *snif* *hiccup*"

She looks at the clothes discarded on the floor and walks to them, "i need to call Nefie *sniff* i-i need him" she thought of how they were supposed to be doing a couples photo shoot and she wouldn't disappoint him it was special for him and her

Going through the piles of clothes she finds her phone in the small plush seat she had in front of the mirror that got forgotten at the start of her panic.

She drops to her knees onto the soft lavish rug she got as a gift from him as she makes the call.

                           RING RING-

it takes only two ring for her loving boyfriend to pick up the phone "my jewel good morni-" he stops as he heard her sniffling "WHO HURT YOU" he demands making her slightly laugh be it breathy between sniffles "N-no one Nefie I'm *sigh**snif* I'm having a terrible time getting ready and- can you come I need you here" her voice was soft yet rigged, tired & honestly done with today even if it hadn't started "I'll be there in five" he states before hanging up

5 minutes exactly [Name] hears the familiar sound of Nefero's limo and another one?

And as fast as she question there where rapid footsteps going up from the stairs and straight to her room "SLAM" the door opens to reveal Nefero dressed as handsome and beautiful as he is with dark green velvet bell bottoms with a matching suit, a dress shirt opens to reveal his chest, adorn with layered golden dainty necklaces with one that had a crimson red diamond to represent his darling.

"My queen" he said with extreme tenderness Nefero gets on his knees and embraces her in his strong gentle arms, caressing her back as she cries new tears not of frustration as she did only moments ago but of happiness that he was here to comfort her and help, truly touching to her ghoulish soul

She hugs him tight her grip strong it seems to dumb but this is just good

"Take deep breaths with me jewel" and she did in and out, holding him and vice versa after a few minutes she lifted he head up and looked at his purple eyes, smiling "thank you for being here" [Name] leaned forward and kissed him,  broke the kiss "whatever the cost I'll gamble my way yo see you" he proclaimed "now let's help you up" taking her by one hand and another on her back he pulled her up from the ground.

Nefero looked at her up and down "now let's see what we can do, you up for being my model this morning?" Grinning [Name] replied "always... especially now haha"

Nefero claps his hands and comes in a group of professional fashion artist, makeup artists.

"Now let's get this going for you my queen" he took her hand and lead her to her vanity that was immediately cleaned out except for foundation, pallets and other things, Nefero sat her down went straight to the makeup artist told him the theme, the artist came in front of [Name] and got straight to work.

He did greens & golds with red shimmers and eyeliner that could kill and lashes that fitted on top of the ones you had.

Nefero was seated next to you as the fashion artists worked and got his approval for dresses, skirts, tops all while having one hand on his lap and the other on your thigh,squeezing  just right, every once in a while when he found something he definitely approved of being a specific dress or looking at the progress on your gorgeous face but mostly looking at your lips.

"I'm loving this my jewel~" he held a hand to his mouth practically foaming, looking at her made his mad and week at the knees, the overbearing feelings to just worship her as many did when he was alive was a thrilling feeling he liked, to be on his knees for only her~

"Thank you Nefie~ I like anything you put or take off me" She lowered her tone leaning towards his face as the makeup artist was looking for something to the far side of the long vanity

Nefero blushed, his eyes filled with desire. He took a long breath, his chest heaving, hands itchy to touch.

"Alright just the setting spray and we are done" they came back and sprits her face.

"Good now for my favorite part♡" Nefero jumped up from the chair took [Name]'s hand and to the front of the tall mirror, there were three stylists holding different clothes that she hadn't seen before which means Nefero had for sure got for her before the original mess.

They were lined up with one holding short and long dresses, the second holding short skirts and long shirts, the third holding tops cropped and not.

Nefero went up to the first one and said "my jewel this one if most definitely for today" he held up a red velvet short dress with a backless heart and a green velvet bow that tied around her waist, he signed for everyone to leave.

" i thought the green would be a good reminder that you are my crimson fire and I will always be the fool who marchers toward it holding it for warmth" he held her face delicately, [Name] smiled " and I'll for the rest of my being subside my radiant flames to keep you within my embers"

They embrace each other with a kiss soft and warm just the way they liked

  ~~~~                                                     ~~~~

At the room for the pictures it was empty after everyone had gone, the happy couple liked that it was just them.

And as they held eachother close & intimate, smiling calmy just enough it reach their eyes you could see a glint in them both since they only looked at eachother.

__________________________________________

Nickname for nefero is Nefie

I'll fix some grammar that passed me later but here it is!

@myjerseygirlblog

[anthurak]

You know that "Mundane super power" aspect you mentioned?

Another thing I like about crossing over RWBY characters with other settings is how easily their nature as basically coming from an apocalyptic hell-world can bleed through.

This is hard to articulate, but like.

The casual way in which towns disappear, that ruins dot the landscape, that people like Ruby & Yang grew up immersed in a culture that trended towards violence and early graves.

There's a nifty Naruto/Stargate crossover, (Its complicated) where Himawari kind of subtly disturbs the Stargate crew cos she knows exactly how best to behave in a dangerous situation, doesn't really seem bothered when enemies die and has been taught stuff like "Reading the battlefield."

I think RWBY characters would be similarly off-putting in their own way unless they were incredibly sheltered like Jaune or rich enough to have not ever encountered a Grimm until the the Beacon Test like Weiss. & even then, the lived experience, training and cultural awareness means they'd likely still come off as a little off-putting.

This also plays into how Ruby and Yang are seemingly quite... Not comfortable, but functional about the prospect of causing death or grievous bodily harm in a way most Shounen/action protags aren't.

Ruby, as far as she knew, sent Neo hurtling to her death in V3 and was at most momentarily shocked when Roman died & forgot all about it. Yang processed killing Adam in a very straightforward manner, she's not cavalier about it, but she'd made peace with it being a them or us situation right quick.

There's plenty of other examples but I think we've discussed it before.

But yeah, I just think its fun, even in series that can have similar degrees of destruction or death, their relative youth and manner with it would likely still make many locals be like (oO) & I think that's fun.

Oh yeah, this has always been a great idea for RWBY crossovers.

And one of my favorite/most interesting parts about is, as you touched on, how subtle Team RWBY’s whole vibe is and how it can potentially sneak up on others.

Like Team RWBY and really most of the show’s characters generally DON��T give off any real obvious ‘I come from a fucked-up deathworld’ vibes like being real dark, broody or even just looking anything the part. For anyone from a much more mundane setting/background, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang generally come off as a friendly, likeable, good natured bunch without really anything all that offputting.

For about… eighty to ninety percent of the time.

But then you’ve got those 10-20% moments where the dark, serious ‘fantasy war-veteran’ sides of Team RWBY slip out. Like they might not even have been trying to hide it, it just comes out when things get serious.

Like maybe there is some big disaster or some other terrible event perhaps caused by the villains that leaves the more ‘normal’ characters/heroes frozen in shock and horror, meanwhile RWBY are just immediately jumping into the fray to fight or help however they can. With perhaps one or more doing the whole ‘slap the shock’ out of the other characters with a ‘We got work to do!’. And it’s just kind of… unsettling how Team RWBY takes these events in stride.

Or to build off your point on Ruby and Yang, as well as Blake and Weiss, being ‘functionally alright’ with hurting/killing people*, there’s a LOT of juicy potential there for when Team RWBY goes up against more mundane villains.

Like just picture a situation where a villain is threatening innocents in a classic ‘you’ll have to KILL ME to stop me!’ standoff that has the heroes freezing up… only for Ruby to almost immediately just shoot said villain.

She certainly looks like she didn’t enjoy or even want to do it, but both how quickly she did it and how easily she seems to role with it afterwards are just REALLY unsettling.

And then there’s what I’d call the FLIPSIDE to all this in how Team RWBY deals with being in a world that might NOT actually be filled with monsters who are an ever-present existential threat to humanity.

Like even for someone who grew up more sheltered like Weiss that is almost certainly going to be a MASSIVE culture-shock. Not to mention that the only people with a frame of reference that Team RWBY would be able to talk to about this would likely be each other.

Even in settings that might have some kind of monsters threatening humanity such as most magical girl shows, the appearance and threat that these monsters pose are almost always a very RECENT occurrence that most people might not even know about. Generally in these settings, the ‘normal, mundane world’ IS the norm, with the dangerous and supernatural merely popping up on and off in isolated places.

It could really create this interesting contrast where Team RWBY finds the mundane world that their new friends consider ‘normal’ to be just a bit uncanny and unsettling. And even finding it a bit comforting when monsters or some other supernatural threat to fight shows up because that feels more NORMAL to them.

This is actually something I tried/am still trying to explore in my Kingdom Hearts crossover fic. Like Ruby musing on how to explain her whole huntress background to Sora, Kairi and Riku when to them, monsters are things that have existed in storybooks, while for Ruby monsters have always been REAL. Or Ruby even noting a comforting ‘return to normal’ when she starts fighting the Heartless.

I’ve even got ideas for Ruby, as well as Weiss, Blake and Yang further on, idly musing on whether the Grimm or Heartless are the worse to fight, with some of their new friends being just a BIT weirded out.

And that’s not even getting into the potential of Team RWBY interacting with various Disney movie settings. Like I’ll admit that I kinda REALLY want to have Ruby boom-headshot at least one Disney villain XD

*I will say, I’ve had a theory for a while that Ruby, even more so than her teammates, has particular ideological reasons to generally avoid killing people, specifically when we consider how Ruby specifically DOESN’T use her ‘walking grimm-blender’ style of fighting against human opponents. Personally I imagine Ruby seeing it as ‘I hunt MONSTERS, not people.’ That being said, I don’t see Ruby as having some strict ‘no-killing’ ‘one rule’, but rather that she views taking a life as a last resort.

[horizon-verizon]

People who see the dragons as nukes who must die are completely misinterpreting the story. Let’s apply this analysis to the books though. Does Daenerys receive 3 deactivated nukes as a gift in her wedding day ? Does she press a nuke against her pregnant belly and the chemicals inside of it reach out to her unborn child ? Does she lay 3 nukes in her husband’s funeral pyre to honor him ? Does she lovingly hold and breastfeed 3 nukes ? Does Jon Snow wish that he had a nuke to fight off the freezing cold ? Does Arya consider nukes to be her friends ? Does young Tyrion beg his uncles for a nuke so he can be less lonely ?

Dragons aren’t single purpose objects, they’re living, thinking, breathing creatures, and Daenerys specifically views them as such, she literally thinks of them as her children. Historically, the dragons were essentially enslaved by the blood bond and the problem was that they were used by people who viewed them as weapons first and foremost. Daenerys (a character who is extremely invested in liberation by the way) being mother of dragons, specifically, as in giving them life and literally nursing them herself, is meant to show how her relationship to the dragons is unique from her ancestors. They aren’t just a bunch of flying weapons to her.

Dragons are the living embodiment of a primordial natural magical force (fire), and their extinction was caused by misogyny, human ambition, greed, and by people in the story doing exactly what the “dragons are nukes” crowd does, which is look at them as just Big Weapon (e.g. Aemond and Daeron), and said extinction is heavily implied to be the reason winters are getting harsher (“the summers have been shorter since the last dragon died, and the winters longer and crueler”, “the real enemy is the cold”).  Calling them nuclear weapons is wayyyy missing the point. It was the greater Valyrian sin of trying to control and dominate nature/magic and bend it to their whims that lead to chaos (hello The Doom and hello Valyria Fanboy Euron), which manifested in the dragon lords like the Targaryens as them controlling dragons, but “dragons are nukes” flattens the theme and misses the forest for the trees, and it’s why you get absolutely mind numbing takes like “yeah George brought back the dragons after centuries of extinction just to kill them all off again after two years in existence because Magic Bad”.

I talked about dragons, their symbolism, etc. HERE.

George at one point did compare dragons to nuclear "deterrents" when he speaks about Dany being the most powerful person in the world in 🔗a Vulture article:

When civilizations clash in your books, instead of Guns, Germs, and Steel, maybe it's more like Dragons, Magic, and Steel (and also Germs). There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies. Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world. But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I'm trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn't mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn't give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.

and GRRM does bring it up to express that dragons are so destructive that one can't use their fire for everything, for every problem when it might spell so much disaster. I think you can use dragons more often if the situation will not spiral out of control--Dragonfire does not persist when one attempts to put it out (like with wildfyre) so its destructiveness is not in the exact same scope or horror as a radioactive nuclear missile that can leave behind radiation/devastation for years afterward...nor does it have the sort of reach these modern weapons have.

Dragonfire remains relatively within tighter confines of its targets unless you got really dry ground and don't put it out in time. The reason why dragonfire is compared to nuclear warfare is because like nuclear weapons now in the real digital-age, modern world, for the world it exists in dragonfire is the most powerful possible weapon of war.

It's about how Dany or anyone uses and regards dragons and others' own conceptions of magic and strength/danger that will make/break how they will perceive dragons. Not that dragons are innately evil; you sound like an overly superstitious and hypocritical Seven septon/over zealous Christian that way.