#harem layout

[kilenavictwrites]

HAREM LAYOUT

CENTRAL HALLS

➺ HALL OF SUPREME HARMONY (TAIHE DIAN; 太和殿, TÀIHÉDIÀN)Think of this as the “stage of ultimate power”—the largest and most important building in the Forbidden City. It was where emperors hosted grand ceremonies like enthronements, royal weddings, and state celebrations. Its golden throne and dragon carvings radiated authority, reminding everyone of the emperor’s divine rule.

➺ HALL OF CENTRAL HARMONY (ZHONGHE DIAN; 中和殿 ZHŌNGHÉDIÀN)This smaller hall acted as the “emperor’s green room”—a place for the emperor to prepare and rehearse before major ceremonies. It gave him a quiet space to rest, finalize rituals, and mentally prepare to face the grandeur of the court.

➺ HALL OF PRESERVING HARMONY (BAOHE DIAN; 保和殿 BǍOHÉDIÀN)Known as the “hall of final tests,” this space was where imperial banquets were held and the top-ranking scholars competed in the last stage of the civil service exams. It symbolized the bridge between talent and power, as successful candidates earned coveted roles in the empire.

RESIDENCES OF THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS

➺ PALACE OF HEAVENLY PURITY (QIANQING GONG; 乾清宫 QIÁNQĪNGGŌNG) – The Emperor’s ResidenceImagine this as the “emperor’s headquarters.” Early in the Qing Dynasty, this was the emperor’s living space, but later it became a formal area for state affairs and meetings. Its ornate design reflected the emperor’s central role in ruling the empire.

➺ HALL OF UNION AND PEACE (JIAOTAI DIAN; 交泰殿 JIĀOTÀIDIÀN)Acting as a “symbol of balance,” this hall linked the emperor’s and empress’s residences, representing harmony between yin and yang. It also housed the imperial seals, tools of state authority, symbolizing unity in governance.

➺ PALACE OF EARTHLY TRANQUILITY (KUNNING GONG; 坤宁宫 KŪNNÍNGGŌNG) – The Empress’s ResidenceKnown as the “empress’s haven,” this palace served as the residence for the empress and a site for significant ceremonies like imperial weddings. Its name reflects her role in maintaining harmony and fertility within the imperial household.➺ IMPERIAL GARDEN (御花园 YÙHUĀYUÁN)This lush garden was the “royal family’s retreat.” Pavilions, rockeries, and ancient trees offered the emperor, empress, and consorts a serene escape from court life. It showcased traditional Chinese landscaping, blending art and nature into perfect harmony.

SIX WESTERN PALACES (西六宫, XĪLIÙGŌNG)

➺ PALACE OF ETERNAL LONGEVITY (YONGSHOU GONG; 永寿宫 YǑNGSHÒUGŌNG): This palace housed senior concubines or favored women, such as Imperial Noble Consorts or high-ranking Consorts. It is known for its richly decorated interiors, symbolizing the high rank of its inhabitants and reflecting the emperor’s wish for a long and prosperous life.

➺ PALACE OF ETERNAL SPRING (CHANGCHUN GONG;长春宫 CHÁNGCHŪNGŌNG): Home to Imperial Noble Consorts or highly ranked Noble Consorts, this palace is distinguished by its elegant and understated design, symbolizing longevity and prosperity. It represented the emperor’s favor and the well-being of the imperial family.

➺ PALACE OF GATHERING ELEGANCE (CHUXIU GONG;储秀宫 CHǓXIÙGŌNG): Once the residence of Empress Dowager Cixi, this palace is famous for its lavish decorations, including silk panels and intricate carvings. It was home to Imperial Noble Consorts and Noble Consorts, reflecting both opulence and historical significance.

➺ PALACE OF UNIVERSAL HAPPINESS (XIANFU GONG; 咸福宫 XIÁNFÚGŌNG): This tranquil residence was for Consorts and Imperial Concubines, offering serene gardens and a peaceful atmosphere. Its name symbolizes happiness and harmony within the imperial household, providing a retreat from the tensions of court life.

➺ PALACE OF MANIFEST BENEVOLENCE (YONGHE GONG; 咸福宫 XIÁNFÚGŌNG): A modestly decorated palace, it housed lower-ranking Concubines or Noble Consorts. It was less prominent than other western palaces but still offered a residence for women with less political influence in the imperial harem.➺ PALACE OF ETERNAL HARMONY (YONGHE GONG; 永和宫 YǑNGHÉGŌNG): Designed as a peaceful space for Concubines seeking quiet contemplation, this palace offered a retreat for reflection. It was a place for introspection and spiritual solace, away from the bustle of court politics.

SIX EASTERN PALACES (东六宫, DŌNGLIÙGŌNG)

➺ PALACE OF GREAT BENEVOLENCE (JINGREN GONG; 景仁宫 JǏNGRÉN​GŌNG): This palace housed the Empress Dowager or other influential women in the court, such as the emperor’s mother or heirs. Its decorations, symbolizing benevolence and virtue, emphasized the maternal authority and moral influence of its residents. ➺ PALACE OF CELESTIAL FAVOR (CHENGQIAN GONG; 承乾宫 CHÉNGQIÁNGŌNG): Reserved for Imperial Noble Consorts, Consorts, or Imperial Concubines who had borne the emperor’s children, this palace is known for its ornate design, reflecting the high status of its residents and the emperor’s favor toward them. ➺ PALACE OF ETERNAL HARMONY (YONGHE GONG; 永和宫 YǑNGHÉGŌNG): Similar to its western counterpart, this palace housed Noble Consorts or Concubines with a quieter role in the court. Featuring serene gardens and courtyards, it offered a peaceful retreat for personal reflection. ➺ PALACE OF PROLONGING HAPPINESS (YANXI GONG;  延禧宫 YÁNXǏGŌNG): Known for its European Baroque architectural style, this palace was a residence for Concubines and Noble Consorts. It was partly rebuilt during the Qianlong Emperor’s reign but later fell into disrepair, symbolizing Qing openness to foreign influences. ➺ PALACE OF PURITY AND TRANQUILITY (SUQING GONG;肃清宫 SÙQĪNGGŌNG): This simple and serene palace was designed as a retreat for lower-ranking Concubines or Noble Ladies, offering them a quiet space for reflection and solitude, away from the complexity of court life. ➺ PALACE OF LASTING BLESSINGS (YONGSHOU GONG; 永寿宫 YǑNGSHÒUGŌNG): Reserved for lower-ranking Consorts, Concubines, or retired women, this palace symbolized the emperor’s wish for enduring prosperity and blessings. It provided a peaceful residence for women no longer involved in the active imperial harem.

➺ THE COLD PALACE (冷宫, LĚNGGŌNG) was not a specific, singular palace but rather a general term used to refer to places where disfavored imperial concubines, consorts, or court members were sent. These women were effectively confined, losing the emperor’s favor and their political or social standing. The Cold Palace was often located in remote or less-maintained parts of the Forbidden City, far from the central Inner Court and main residential areas.

There is historical evidence suggesting that parts of the Six Western Palaces or other unused, deteriorating buildings within the Forbidden City were sometimes repurposed as Cold Palaces. One of the more commonly referenced Cold Palace locations is the Palace of Prolonged Happiness (Yanxi Gong) after it fell into disrepair following a fire during the Qianlong Emperor’s reign.

These spaces were intentionally isolated, with simple or dilapidated conditions, reflecting the loss of favor of those confined there.

[nishayuro]

Dr.Stone Stanley Snyder’s S/O getting harassed by Ibara

A/N: I am back…? Idk i’m trying to get out of a writer’s block again. Been playing a LOT of Minecraft! Me and my friends made a Dr.Stone realms and I’m playing as Xeno lmaoo, we are recreating KoS and the American colony’s base (its big as fuck????) anyways, here’s the prompt I wrote and special thanks to @animeotakuf0rlife for sending in this ask and furthering the idea! I accidentally deleted the ask when I was layouting this post 😭

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning: Manga spoilers, harassment, Ibara himself should be a warning, violence, use of guns,

Fem!reader (or Fem presenting, reader will be called a girl, use of they/them is still present but Ibara will refer to reader as she/her)

With society back up and running again faster after the moon mission’s success, people have been getting revived left and right. You were part of the American colony back before the 2nd petrification happened and was revived to help out with the rocket for the mission. As time passed, you grew closer with the members of the Kingdom of Science, they’d tell you all about the adventures they’ve been on, sailing the world, and the fights they faced before they set foot to America. You learned that a lot of the kingdom’s members were once their enemy, like Tsukasa, Hyoga, Moz, Kirisame, and others. Quite ironic because at some point, you were also their enemy.

When the people of Treasure Island visited Japan, Kohaku and the others were furious to see a tall, middle aged man with a weird goatee. “Oi! What is Ibara doing unpetrified?!” Ginro exclaimed, pointing at the man with fear. “When did this happen?!” Chrome added, also shocked to see the guy. “Who’s that?” you asked Ryusui who was next to you in the docks, helping unload cargo. “Ibara. The biggest enemy when we were at Treasure island.” he said, voice was void of its usual cheer.

“I’m so sorry! One of the newly depetrified islanders thought he was another innocent person. He’s been tame lately after revival and kind of helping around. But we couldn’t leave him at the island, who knew what he’d do without us to guard him?” A bald man, who you presume is Soyuz from what the others have described, said. You looked up at this Ibara man and saw that he was already looking at you, for some reason, you felt a chill down your spine. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him, y/n.” Ryusui warned, you nodded. “Y/N! Xee needs you in the lab.” your boyfriend, Stanley called out to you. “Oh, alright. Bye guys! Doc called.” you bid farewell, glancing at Ibara who was still eyeing you.

Stanley, who decided to assist in the unloading of the cargo, was approached by Ryusui. “Hey, Stanley!” the sailor called, “I’d look out for that man, Ibara, if I were you. He doesn’t have a good track record.” Ryusui informed. “Huh, why?” answered Stanley. “He petrified their island’s leader and tricked everyone in the island. He has harassed multiple women when the “harem selection” was happening in the island. He’s not one to respect women. And from the looks of it, he has his eyes on Y/N. My sailor’s intuition is never wrong!” Ryusui explained. That made the soldier’s eyes darken. “I need info on the enemy.” Stanley said, to which Ryusui told him everything.

Ibara claimed to have changed his ways, now that everything was too much for him to understand, he claimed to not have interest in ruling the world anymore, which was met by doubts, yet he was still tasked to help around the area with small work. He seemed okay at first, no incidents, no bad things. Your interactions with him were normal to a fault; he seemed friendly, too friendly. You still kept interactions with him brief, remembering what Ryusui and the others told you.

One afternoon in the lab, the science team and Stanley were working on an experiment, Stanley there as the “bodyguard” and you as Xeno’s assistant, like you were back in the modern day. “Y/N, mind grabbing some materials from the storage? Here’s the list.” Xeno asked, handing you a piece of paper. “Sure, I'll be back shortly.” you said, walking out of the lab and towards the storage area, you didn’t realise that Ibara was near and saw you walk into an empty room and decided to follow you. As you were gathering the materials, you heard the door open, revealing the tall man. “Oh, Ibara-san? What brings you here?” you questioned, uncomfortable about the fact that he was in a room alone with you. “Ah, hello y/n-chan! I’m here to pick up some materials for the 3rd floor. “Huh? But you’re on the basement floor, each floor has its own storage unit.” you questioned, wary of his movement.

“The unit upstairs was out of the material, they told me to check here.” he answered, a smile on his face as he moved closer to one of the shelves. He looked to see that your cart was mostly ores, and jars. “They’re letting a pretty girl like you do the heavy lifting?” he asked, a shiver ran down your spine as you looked up to see him staring at you. “Wha- no, it’s normal. I’m working as Xeno’s assistant after all.” You answered, defending yourself. “You have a nice figure y/n-chan~ don’t damage it by carrying heavy things~” He said.

The man moved closer, you started to move farther, trying to focus on gathering your materials. In a flash, the man was directly behind you, body sticking to yours caging you between him and the shelf. He was reaching up the shelf, presumably also gathering materials. You tensed up, and Ibara took this opportunity to hold onto your shoulder. “Why don’t we get to know each other better, hmm?” he whispered into your ear. “Get off of me! I have a boyfriend!” you tried to pry him off of you, as you shouted, hoping someone would hear you. “Kukuku~ back on my island, it didn’t matter if the girl was married.” He said with a smirk as he gripped your arm. “Let me go!” you screamed, thrashed, and tried to move away.

When Xeno sent Y/N to get materials, he didn’t think much of it as it was a normal occurrence as Xeno’s assistant. However, the usual 5 minute wait time became 7, then 9, then 10 minutes. He got concerned, and told Xeno he’d go see what’s taking y/n long. As Stanley exited the room, he bumped into Tsukasa and the others, “Have y’all seen Y/N? She should have been back 5 minutes ago.” Stan asked, “Nah, we just got he-” “LET ME GO!” a scream was heard, a voice familiar to the group which made them run towards the storage area.

BAM!

The door flew open as another man entered the room, “GET AWAY FROM THEM!!” Stanley shouted, his voice booming as he rushed towards the man on you and yanked him off hard, followed by a punch, making Ibara land on the floor. A few other people reach the door, those being Tsukasa, Ryusui, Kohaku, and Sai. “Stan!” you exclaimed, glad to see your boyfriend here. “You dirty piece of shit!” Stan held Ibara down when he tried to get up. “Stan! Not here!” you shouted, holding onto him. “Bring him out of the room, please.” You asked the bystanders, Tsukasa coming in and restraining Ibara. “Bring him to the yard, I'm gonna teach that piece of shit a lesson.” Stan ordered, his commanding voice leaving no room for arguments. “All right, we’ll be waiting for you.” Ryusui answered, leading the group.

Stanley directed his attention towards you, holding onto you and scanning you. “You ok? Did he hurt you?” he started fussing. “Stan, I'm fine. You got here on time.” you said, hugging him with your face on his chest. He hugged you back. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re safe.” he muttered into your hair. “I’ll go back to Xeno, you go handle Ibara.” You whispered and he nodded, escorting you back to the lab door and giving you a kiss before you entered.

“What took you long?” Xeno asked, still focused on his work. You bring the materials to him, “Ibara cornered me in storage, Stan is dealing with him now.” your confession got Senku, Xeno, Chrome, and Suika to look at you. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t mind having a human guinea pig. That is if Stanley doesn’t break him first” Xeno said.

When Stanley reached the yard where they usually trained at, he saw Tsukasa and Ryusui there with Ibara tied up. “You dare touch my partner and think you’d get away with it? Let me get you off your high and mighty self throne. You.are.powerless.here.” Stanley’s voice was cold as he pointed his gun at Ibara, who recognised the item as similar to the thing that shot him back then. Fear crept up his whole being. “N-no! Don’t!” Ibara begged. BAM! Stanley pulled the trigger, but aimed it at the target just behind Ibara’s head. The other man looked behind and saw the bullet hole in the middle. “You see that? that will be you if you dare touch y/n again.” Stanley said. Ibara was panicking at this point, he doesn't want to die. “S-she was giving me signs!” He tried to reason.

That angered Stanley more, sending another punch towards the man, “signs…? SIGNS?! You dare blame them?!” Stanley raged, punching Ibara to the ground, and kicked him hard. He knelt down and gripped at Ibara’s jaw, making him look up at him. His eyes were clouded with pure rage. Not even Tsukasa would want to intervene with this. “You dare touch, talk, or even breathe near them again, I will offer you up to the science team as a gift. And I’ll tell you now, Xeno ain't above using humans for his crazy experiments.” He tightened his grip on the man, “understand?” he asked, Ibara was choking at this point. “un.der.stand?” Stanley repeated, to which Ibara forced a ‘yes’. He asked the others to lock Ibara up for the time being as he talks to the leaders about what to do with Ibara. Stanley let go of him and walked off, but not without his final words to the man.

“Just because you almost succeeded before with taking down the team, you think you’d succeed in taking it down again. I’ll kill you if you try anything else to harm us. And don't take this threat as a bluff, because I can.”

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[brittle-doughie]

Going to outright admit it, this is my first time doing a request, but here goes:

This request is based on an April fools event in a game called Nikke: Goddess of Victory.

https://youtu.be/l1pWg-ujU-o?si=GKV12WISdeGSsluR

The above link may seem 18+, it’s not lol, it’s April fools and thus it’s simply chaos happening due to a harem of jealous women. (Although yanderes DO butter my toast very nicely.)

Basically my request goes:

Y/n pranking legendaries by sending letters to said legendary figures. Beasts, ancients, dragons, you can add whoever you want, just pls add Elder Farrie I am STARVING for content of this faerie fella, Y/N is terrified by the sheer amount of powerful cookies busting through their door, ceiling, etc etc, but also goes “welp, I’ve come this far, if I die, I’ll die with a bang” and pranks the godlike cookies because ✨CHAOS✨

Apologies if I seem too formal, too vague or just plain weird by the layout or wording of this request, it’s my first time and due to a change of events in my life, I’m currently very giddy and wish for chaotic joy by sending a request to my favorite reader x cookie run writer, thank you brittle!

I saw you mentioned two characters specifically, so I’ll focus on them.

Elder Faerie would’ve shook his head at your attempt of a prank. You know how risky it is to send a message like that to the entire Legend Chat, cookies with not so pure intentions could’ve gotten to you first and had done unspeakable things.

You were lucky he was quick to prepare his attire and weapon as well as making it here on time. If you had simply wanted some time with someone, you should’ve just brought the matter to him only and he would’ve came over.

Why he was in the Legend Chat when he’s a Super Epic was beyond you.

Xylitol Nova Cookie would show similar concerns when it came to just messaging something that outrageous in the board. Having to be alone with cookies Like Timekeeper or even one of the dragons would’ve been bad, you’d have to be decontaminated from head to toe!

It just so happens that he had been working on a security system that will ensure that nothing short of a Beast will be able to break through the made defenses. Of course, he’d have the clearance to enter the room unopposed if you ever messaged seriously about being lonely again.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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You never thought you’d be able to say this, but you’re officially a Jujutsu High student. 

It feels stranger than you can even put into words. The fact that right now, you’re living under the same roof as Itadori, Fushiguro, and technically even Gojo… in many ways, it’s a dream come true. 

As long as you don't think about the scary parts, that is.

You've finished unpacking and your dorm is now completely set up. Unlike Itadori, you didn't bring any industrial-size posters, and truth be told, you hardly have any attachment to your belongings since you've barely been in this world for a few weeks. There's a bunch of stuff you wish you could've brought along with you from the real world, but there's not much you can do about that at this point. 

I wonder if I'll ever find a way back to my old world.

Realistically, you know it's probably a lost cause. But maybe there is some kind of condition that needs to be met. Maybe if you see the story all the way to its conclusion, and once Itadori can finally rest easy, maybe your job will be over, and you'll be allowed to go home. 

Still, you know better than to hold out hope for a miracle. Your number one priority is to adapt to your new environment and survive. 

You’re sure you'll have plenty of time for an existential crisis along the way. 

It's nighttime now, and you’re just about ready to go to sleep. You finish all your preparations and change into your pajamas, but before you actually tuck in for the night, you can't help but creep out of your room and steal a peek down the hallway. 

“Itadori’s lights are still on,” you mumble. 

You know it's probably not polite to disturb him at this hour, but you decide you'd like to say goodnight and wish him sweet dreams. Gojo already told you earlier that tomorrow, you'll be picking up the last remaining first-year student—which is none other than Kugisaki Nobara, of course. 

Tomorrow is going to be pretty eventful, and you're bound to encounter some curses too, from what you recall. Just the thought of it makes your stomach clench. It won't be smooth sailing from here on out. 

Maybe that's why you want to enjoy the last bit of normalcy, while you still can. 

You knock on Itadori’s door as quietly as you can, not wanting to wake Fushiguro. At first you think he might not have heard you, so you raise your hand and prepare to knock again, but soon enough you hear the sound of his feet padding across the floors, and the door opens.

Itadori blinks, and it doesn't take long for him to sport a grin. “Oh, hey, [Name]! What's up?”

“I noticed you were still awake, so I just stopped by to say goodnight. I hope I'm not bothering you.”

“Not at all! To be honest, I'm a little too energized to go to bed right now anyway. Did you want to come in and talk for a little while?”

Hanging out in a cute boy's dorm room after hours?

Uh… hell yes.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling shyly as you step inside. His dorm layout is mostly unchanged from what you saw earlier. Like you, he didn’t really pack a whole lot. His Jennifer Lawrence posters are probably his most prized possessions, from what you can tell. 

“Can’t sleep either?” Itadori asks, lifting a brow. 

“I guess not. This is a lot to take in. I’m still in the process of adjusting.” 

Perhaps that might come across as a bit insensitive. He’s stuck dealing with Sukuna, after all. There are few things that can top becoming a vessel for the ever-powerful, malevolent King of Curses.

Well, other than traversing worlds, of course. 

It looks like you’ve got him beat in that regard. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Itadori sighs, plopping down on his bed. He pauses, then smiles as he pats the spot next to him. “Did you want to sit, too? The bed’s probably more comfortable than the crappy desk chair.” 

Damn. Itadori Yuji just invited you into his bed. Not literally, but still. 

You’re grinning like a goddamn fool.

“Th-Thanks,” you stammer. You sit down next to him, reminding yourself to be cool, to be normal (yes, you can do that sometimes), and by some miracle, you manage to reign in your erratic heartbeat. 

Itadori looks over at you. “Hey, [Name]. You can be honest. Now that I’m that Sukuna’s vessel… does it make you a little nervous? Being around me?” 

No. I’m more nervous about the fact that I’m in bed with you. 

“Why would I be nervous?” you reply.

“Earlier, Gojo made it sound like he was really dangerous. This is obviously all new to me, but I think it’s finally starting to sink in. That he’s hurt a lot of people until now. You were friends with me before all this happened, so I can’t help but wonder if you feel uncomfortable now. Because things are different. And I definitely wouldn’t blame you for feeling that way.”

“But you can suppress Sukuna. Because you’re strong. I’ve always known you were strong. Not only that, but you would never hurt anyone. So, please don’t worry,” you smile gently. “There’s no way I’d ever feel uncomfortable around you.”

Itadori’s eyes widen, and his expression seems to brighten a bit as well. Maybe he needed to hear those words. As cheerful and upbeat as he always tries to be… you can only imagine how afraid and frustrated he feels right now. His body isn’t even entirely his own anymore. He shouldn’t have to worry about losing his friends too. 

You’ve already decided that you’ll stay by his side, no matter what happens. 

“Thanks, [Name],” Itadori chuckles. “I feel like you always know exactly how to cheer me up. I’m glad I have you here with me. It really helps.” 

“I can’t promise that I’ll be as strong as you are, but I can promise that I’ll do whatever it takes to make things even just a little bit easier for you.”

Right. You can’t promise anything. Even with a bit of knowledge on your side, there’s no guarantee things will go to plan—as evidenced by the fact that they already haven’t. 

But at least you can try. 

And you’re damn well going to try your hardest.

“Hm, I’m still not sleepy,” Itadori admits. “Oh, but I’m not keeping you awake, am I? If you’re tired, don’t stay up too late because of me.” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t feel like going to bed yet either. You brought your laptop, right? Do you want to maybe watch something for a little bit? Maybe some kind of Jennifer Lawrence YooTube compilation?” 

“No way,” Itadori blinks, and he proceeds to stare at you in awe. “[Name], do you… like Jennifer Lawrence too?” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen a bunch of her movies. And she’s funny in a lot of interviews. Plus, she’s pretty.” 

Itadori continues staring at you with his mouth agape, and for a split second, he wonders if you might be his soulmate. 

“Yeah, let’s do it! One Jennifer Lawrence compilation coming right up!” 

It doesn’t take long for you two to get sucked into the black hole known as the internet, and you both lie in bed, flat on your stomachs, with Itadori’s laptop facing towards you. Every so often, you shuffle around and reposition yourself, bumping up against Itadori’s body in the process. By mistake, though—totally by mistake. Totally. 

Long story short, you eventually lose track of time, and it turns out that you’re being a lot louder than you thought, because Fushiguro eventually bursts into the room. 

“Will you two keep it down already?!” he fumes. “I’m actually trying to get some sleep!” 

You and Itadori turn around, and it allows Fushiguro to get a proper look at what’s currently blown up on the laptop’s screen. Namely, a collection of pictures, each featuring a half-naked Jennifer Lawrence. 

The Oogle search bar reads: jennifer lawrence bikini hot. 

“I-It’s not what it looks like,” you desperately insist, but of course, your efforts are in vain.

Fushiguro is already closing the door, and the last thing you see is that trademark disgusted expression of his. 

This time, you can’t really blame him. 

“...hey. I said, hey. Wake up, already. We’re going to be late.”

Your eyelids slowly lift, heavy from morning haze, and it takes a little while for your blurry vision to clear. 

When it finally does, you find Fushiguro staring down at you with his arms crossed—looking somewhat like a disapproving mother when their child oversleeps for school.

“G’morning,” you mumble groggily. A quick glance down at your slightly damp pillow tells you that you were drooling in your sleep, and you hurry to wipe your face and fix your bedhead, mortified to have been seen in such a disheveled state. 

Fushiguro sighs. “I’m sorry for barging into your room like this, but you really need to start getting ready. I had to go wake up Itadori earlier, too. Being late on your very first day of school sets a terrible precedent, doesn’t it?”

“Sorry. I’m… not really a morning person.” 

“I figured as much,” he sighs again. There’s a pause, and his gaze briefly flickers down to the front of your pajama shirt. One of the buttons must have come undone in your sleep, and the fabric is hanging off your shoulder a bit, revealing perhaps a bit too much cleavage. 

It only takes a second for Fushiguro’s face to turn bright red. 

“A-Anyway, just hurry up,” he splutters, quickly turning away from you. “We seriously need to get a move on. I left your new uniform by the door.”

Fushiguro leaves in a hurry, nearly tripping over his feet in the process. You feel a bit embarrassed that he had to see you looking all sloppy like this, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’s judged you. 

Pressed for time, you finish getting ready as quickly as possible, but you make a point of stopping to look back at your reflection in the windows. Now that you’re all decked out in the Jujutsu High uniform… it feels even more real. You struggle to reel in your excitement, but ultimately fail, and out in the hallway, Fushiguro can hear you happily giggling to yourself. 

“So ridiculous,” he scowls.

Yet again, he can’t fully bring himself to admit that you’re absurdly cute. In kind of a stupid way, but still.

Eventually, you and Itadori both finish getting ready, and the three of you head down to Harajuku Station, where you’ll be picking up the last addition to your group, Nobara. Itadori buys some popsicles while you wait for Gojo to show up (Fushiguro refuses to have one, of course), and you suck on the iced treat while glancing all around, eagerly searching for a short-haired brunette. 

“I still feel like four people is way too little for a first-year class,” Itadori absently remarks. 

“Other than [Name], have you ever met anyone who could see curses?” Fushiguro points out.

“Well… I guess not.” 

“That’s just how much of a rarity jujutsu sorcerers are.” 

You bite into the last chunk of your popsicle, briefly shuddering from how cold it feels against your teeth. Right as you’re finishing it off, you hear a familiar voice, and you turn your head towards the station’s entrance. 

“Sorry for the wait,” Gojo greets, lifting his hand in the air. He tilts his head as he walks over towards the three of you. “Oh. Looks like the uniforms made it on time. How are they? Comfortable?” 

“Mine’s a perfect fit,” Itadori nods. “My uniform looks different from Fushiguro’s, though. It’s got a hood, for one.”

“You can put in requests to have your uniforms customized,” Gojo explains. 

“I’m pretty sure I never requested that.” 

“That’s because I did it for you, of course!” Gojo proudly sticks his thumb in the air, and his grin gets even wider when he turns towards you. “Yours too, [Name]. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I did my best to come up with a cute design. How is it? In my opinion, it suits you really well.”

“Does that mean you’re also calling me cute?” you gape incredulously. 

“Sure, sure,” Gojo laughs. “You look super cute. I guess I’ve really got an eye for this kind of thing, huh?”

You press your palms to your flushed cheeks and somehow manage to bite back a squeal. Meanwhile, Fushiguro’s expression turns to his disgust yet again. It’s practically a superpower at this point.

“Sleazeball,” Fushiguro mutters. 

“Who, me?” Gojo points. “What’d I even do?”

“You started hitting on a high-schooler.” 

“Hey, now. I was just complimenting one of my students. I’m being a supportive teacher. You know, positive reinforcement and all that.” 

You nod enthusiastically. “The positive reinforcement is definitely working. Keep it up, sensei. I can feel myself getting stronger already.”

Fushiguro shakes his head in disbelief. 

“You’re all a bunch of idiots.”

Since Nobara specifically requested that you meet up in Harajuku, there are plenty of shops to hit while you wait for her to show up. Itadori holds your hand as he excitedly leads you through the crowds. Fushiguro refuses to partake in anything fun, of course, so you and Itadori treat yourself to yummy crêpes, needlessly complicated drinks, and try on silly accessories like comically oversized sunglasses and animal ears.

“Itadori, you’ve got some whipped cream on your cheek,” you say. 

“Huh? Oh, shoot. I didn't even realize.” Itadori pauses, then leans closer to you and smiles. “Would you mind getting it for me?” 

“S-Sure,” you reply, and even though the gesture is innocent enough, your face feels ridiculously hot as you gently swipe your finger across his cheek, picking up the leftover whipped cream. The deranged part of you briefly considers licking the cream off your finger, in true clichéd anime fashion, but you ultimately wipe your finger with a napkin, proud of yourself for not giving in to your fangirl urges. 

Fushiguro grimaces. “They’re basically just on a date. And we’re being forced to watch. Also, why didn’t she just use the napkin to wipe his cheek in the first place? I swear she’s got a few screws loose.” 

“Ah, young love,” Gojo muses. 

You finish off the last of your treats then throw away your garbage, and apparently, just in time to watch a familiar scene unfold. 

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” a suited man asks, smiling politely as he approaches a woman walking on the street. “You see, I’m looking to scout potential models. Here’s my business card. Would you be interested, by any chance?” 

“I’m busy right now,” the woman curtly replies, clearly not willing to give him the time of day. 

“Please, just hear me out. Even a short chat would be more than enough—”

“Hey, you.” 

The man is roughly grabbed by the shoulder and pulled back, and he turns, coming face to face with the girl you’ve been waiting for this whole time. 

“Forget about that woman. What about me?” Nobara asks, with the sort of confidence you can only dream of having. 

Panic immediately seeps into the man’s expression, but naturally, Nobara doesn’t let up. 

“For the modeling gig, duh,” she continues. “I’m asking what you think about me. I’m pretty, aren’t I?” 

“Oh, um… e-excuse me, but I’ve got some urgent matters to attend to, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way…” 

He tries to escape, but she forcefully pulls him back again, and her tone of voice becomes significantly more confrontational than it was just a few moments ago. 

“What the hell, man? Don’t run from me. If you’re got something to say, then come right out and say it!” 

“We’re about to go talk to her?” Itadori blinks. “That’s kind of embarrassing, not gonna lie.” 

“You of all people shouldn’t be talking,” Fushiguro mutters. 

“Hey, hey, over here!” Gojo calls out, waving his arms so that Nobara spots him. She turns around and catches a glimpse of you through the crowd, giving that poor man the chance to finally run away. 

Nobara approaches the group, one hand resting squarely upon her hips. “So, you’re the other first-years. I’m Kugisaki Nobara. You should feel honored to be able to spend time with me.” 

She’s very self-assured, no doubt about it. Well, you already knew as much from watching the anime, but actually meeting her is a whole different story. You almost feel a little bit intimidated by the sheer magnitude of her presence. Some might go as far as to call her arrogant, but you know that deep down, she cares deeply for her friends and is willing to risk her life for them.

“I’m Itadori Yuji,” Itadori introduces with a grin. “I’m from Sendai.” 

“Fushiguro Megumi,” the other boy says—and that’s it. Full stop. 

Nobara narrows her eyes as she looks them over. Even without her saying it aloud, you already know exactly what’s going through her head right now. Based on first impressions alone, she thinks Itadori is dorky and unsophisticated. The type who ‘definitely ate his own boogers as a kid’, to quote her word-for-word. As for Fushiguro, she seems to think that he’s stuck up and considers himself superior to others, based on how blunt and unenthusiastic his response was. 

Anyways, since she judged them so harshly, right from the beginning, you fear to imagine what she must think of you. 

“I’m [Last Name] [Name],” you introduce, bowing politely and offering a small smile. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m from Sendai too. Itadori and I went to the same high school. It was only for a little while, but we kind of know each other from before. Also… I think you could definitely do it. The modeling gig, I mean. That guy from earlier was clearly blind.” 

Nobara blinks, visibly surprised, and suddenly, her haughty expression does a full one-eighty. 

“Aw, you really think so?” she grins, latching onto your arm and pulling you into a hug. “Right? That’s what I’m saying! I swear most people can’t recognize talent even when it’s staring them right in the face. Thank god there’s another girl in the group. I don’t know what I’d do if it was just me stuck with those stinky boys.” 

“She just randomly called us stinky,” Itadori gapes. “But… we don’t even smell bad. Right, Fushiguro? Right?” 

Unsurprisingly, Fushiguro ignores him. 

“Are we going somewhere from here?” he asks. 

Gojo chuckles. “I’m glad you asked. Well, since I’ve finally got all of my students together, and it just so happens that most of you are from the countryside… there’s really only one thing to do. We’re obviously going to go sightseeing in Tokyo!” 

Cue a wave of excited cheers from both Itadori and Nobara. They’re dancing around Gojo and yelling out all the different places they’d like to see. In this world, you started off in the countryside, yes, but back in the real world, you’ve lived in big cities pretty much your whole life. There’s not really much appeal here. 

Besides, you already know that Gojo’s letting them get their hopes up for nothing. 

“I will now announce our destination,” Gojo says, and you watch as Itadori and Nobara both drop to their knees in subservience. “We will be visiting none other than… Roppongi!” 

The pair of fools stare back at each other, eyes all glossy, wide, and hopeful. Poor things. They’re in for one hell of a disappointment. 

You pout. “Sensei, are we really going sightseeing? Are we actually going to get to do fun things?” 

“What do you mean?” Gojo hums, feigning ignorance, of course. “What else is there to do but let loose and have fun? Look at how excited your classmates are!” 

“Uh-huh…” 

For obvious reasons, you don’t trust a word he says, and when you arrive in front of the abandoned building that’s teeming with cursed energy, Itadori and Nobara can only wail in desperation. 

“I knew it,” you say, pouting again. “Sensei, you’re a liar. I saw this coming from a mile away.” 

Even though I technically used cheats, but still. 

Gojo crosses his hand over his heart and pretends to look hurt. “You wound me, [Name]. Weren’t you just saying the other day that you trust me completely? I didn’t expect you to doubt my intentions.” 

“I can just tell,” you shrug. “Good luck lying to me. I’m pretty sure I’ll know.” 

“Hm. Is that so?” 

Gojo’s lips pull into a smile. You’re incredibly perceptive, it seems. Fushiguro’s known him for a long time, so it’s no wonder he’s not surprised with this outcome, but he was expecting you to be convinced, just like how Itadori and Nobara were. 

Perhaps he’s reading into things too much, but he wonders if this perceptiveness of yours has anything to do with how you knew Itadori was supposed to eat Sukuna’s finger. How you had full confidence that he’d survive. Maybe this is just a stretch, and it might just be that he’s not as good of a liar as he thought he was, but still. 

He’s got his eye on you, and from now on, he won’t let you out of his sight. 

More chapters are available on Quotev and Ao3!

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[zolass]

Detectives Attraction Ch. 06 Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Didn't know what to do with the chapter- but another one down and some sprinkled past trauma- yes M/N is 28 all characters are late twenties or early thirties.

Also I took yesterday a day off of writing from almost two weeks going strong with writing- and thanks for 500 followers <3 I don't know if I should make a special thing but first I'll probably redo my request page TvT

cw: Mention of past trauma, murder, usage of drugs followed by overdose. 1.4k words.

“The guy mentioned the Serpents, that he was loyal to them–” M/n felt how the honey brown eyes of his partner seemed to burn a hole into the side of his face, most probably in shock, “What? The Serpents have something to do with the break ins in your apartment? That seems– dangerous…” Elias eyebrows furrowed, as he looked back at the road from the passenger seat, leaning back into the sun warmed leather. 

M/n only let out a grunt, “They’re not fond of the idea of me getting closer to their shady business– even if I’m most definitely sure they would get away scott free with this shitty system we have,” Both of them knew it was true, “If they suddenly say I resigned to a different station– don’t believe it, I’ll mostly be gutted like a fish in same shady underground warehouse–” Elias pulled a face of disgust, “But I’ll advise you to then lay low– I know you’re a good man– a little naive that you think that you simply can change this place without doing any harm…” M/n continued, before he stopped in front of the building of Alicia Wallace.

“But in this world– it’s not possible to achieve good without doing bad,” M/n mumbled before he got out of the car. Elias sat in the passenger seat for a little longer– the words of his partner echoing inside his head, making him unable to not glance at the man that just got out. Following suit, Elias rounded the car after getting out and closing the door, “Does that mean you’ve–” Elias didn’t continue his words, as if they were suddenly stuck in his throat, but M/n knew what he wanted to know.

“Yes I have– a few times… obviously not against any of these people we’re trying to protect– the ones that only have people outside of the corruption of these groups,” “But what if they were forced?” Elias mumbled, honey brown eyes laced with concern. “That thought crossed me once too– but if you were forced… you wouldn’t take someone’s life with a smile on your face,” M/n grunted as his e/c eyes landed on Elias. “It was pretty early in my life when I had to– realize it. It was in a cruel way too– I lived with a happy family, a mother, a father and two siblings, a sister and a brother,” M/n glanced at the house in front of them– it looked perfectly cut out of a story. 

But slowly it turned into a different one– the paint and layout slowly changed, into the house he lived in as a child. The facade was beautiful– just like the one his family wore. “I’m the oldest of us three kids– I was basically the protector of my siblings and I liked to know with me they were safe,” M/n spoke- his arms crossed over his chest. “It was in the middle of spring in which everything seemed to turn worse for me and my family. I came home from school when I was twelve, I thought it would be a day like always– coming home, getting ready for lunch with my family, going out to play or study– just a normal life, but it was suddenly so far from that.” M/N grinded his teeth at the memories.

Elias looked at the detective, who looked so lost in thoughts that he didn’t know what to do so he simply continued to listen– slightly confused why the other even told him his story. “When I stepped into the house– the first thing I noticed was the smell– it was thick and disgustingly clinging to my tongue and nose, it was blood I had found out moments later– when I stepped into our dining room that was connected I found them, my mother, my siblings and my father,” a short heartbeat of silence, “Only one of them was alive– the other three laid dead on the floor– blood pooling underneath them while their empty eyes simply– started in a state of shock into nothing.” Clearing his throat from the feeling of the tightness that squeezed his throat, “You might wonder who it was– it was a surprise for even myself back then– my father. I still remember how– traumatized he looked even if he was the one to pull the trigger, after all he was the one with the gun in his hand,” 

There was a moment of silence between them, the fresh breeze sending a few shivers down Elias’ spine, additional to the story. “Well after he seemed to realize I was there– he only told me to call the police and I did– they took him with them he’s in a prison since– sixteen years now, since this unfortunate thing happened, I never visited him– it might be because I want to believe that he couldn’t have possibly done it– after all he basically worshipped the ground my mother walked on he loved us all dearly, they had disagreements of course everyone has– but they never fought, hell even got violent with each other was not a possibility,” M/n spoke, “That’s why I’m still doubting if he really was it– if he wasn’t just a pawn in a larger game. It came out after investigation that he indeed was in trouble because he stood with one foot in a syndicate,” E/c eyes met the honey brown ones, “It was always strange– of course he could’ve been acting and suddenly snapped but I never tried to get behind it, but what I did was get rid of the syndicate my father was associated to,” his hands clenched into fists.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Elias asked confused, which made the other raise an eyebrow, “Because while all of this happened there were news reporters who put all of it to freely read, if it was on paper or on the internet– ‘The L/N murder’ or whatever they called it back then–” “Isn’t your last name Howard?” Elias suddenly asked, which made a small chuckle ripple from M/n, “Well after I got sent away– and the rest of the relatives and reporters jumped onto the scandal like starving hyenas, I changed my name at that time I didn’t want to have any connections anymore that tied me to it– now all that’s tying me to them is my blood,” M/n muttered. 

Elias honey brown eyes were focused on his partner, before he silently nodded. “Let’s go in– maybe Alicia feels up for a few more questions,” the taller man spoke before he stalked up to the steps of the house, the other detective following him close behind. The H/c male was ready to knock on the white colored wooden door, when he noticed that the door wasn’t even fully closed. With a frown he pushed against the door, which opened with a scraping and squeaking. 

Both men drew their guns, before walking in with slow and silent steps. Their eyes scanned over the place in case of someone lurking and waiting with a weapon in their possession. But soon the only place they didn’t look in– after finding the house basically abandoned, was the bathroom. After they both stood in front of the door, Elias gave a nod towards the other who kicked the door harshly. 

Yet what they saw was– not what they thought.

Laying in the bathtub was Alicia, her eyes unresponsive, and as they walked closer M/n checked her pulse– none. Glancing at her wrist, he could only sigh. Small needle imprints. Said needle laid beside the bathtub, “Looks like an overdose,” Elias mumbled, before he sighed and took a few steps out of the bathroom calling for reinforcement, before stepping back in. “Everywhere we go death seems to have already taken root, huh?” M/n on the other hand didn’t respond immediately.

“She was the last one that could’ve been a resource to getting closer to the Serpents– they really are efficient in what they’re doing,” The detective grumbled, before he stepped out of the bathroom after hearing the nearing sirens.

“Looks like I have to take a different approach,” M/n mumbled to himself as he glared at nothing in particular.

After putting Elias up for informing the closest relatives of Alicia Wallace’s, M/n was glancing at the lit up screen of his phone from time to time. He was wearing a dark coat, button up shirt, a pair of good fitting pants in which he still could run and boots– just as he stopped outside of a club. 

He knew it was a place where he could either gain information– or simply have a hit put on his head.

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [MASTERLIST].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. GENERAL WARNINGS. too much swearing, references to/jokes about sex but i will not write smut, an awful amount of secondhand embarrassment, all of the boys are pathetic (check each chapter for specific warnings).

UPDATE SCHEDULE. there is no update schedule. i'll update whenever i want so send an ask/dm if you wanna be tagged in future chapters!

NOTE. i am very passionate about my asshole/loser idol agenda. this reads like a bad sitcom in written form so don't expect anything to make sense.

questions about the bitchless gang are very much welcome. feedback is also very much welcome and appreciated. hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1 — this is too much underwear for a first meeting. CHAPTER 2 — the inevitable disasters of living with six men. CHAPTER 3 — it takes a lemon related accident to get a man to talk. CHAPTER 4 — kisses? kisses. CHAPTER 5 — staring contest of death. CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode. CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish. CHAPTER 8 — hot, drenched, and sweaty.

. . . more chapters tba!

tracking tag: #home for the bitchless

click here to check out the house layout.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[rookmeo]

Welcome to… the Rookmeo Anniversary Event!

Happy 4 years of me being an editor online!! Yay!! Thanks for sticking around :D ! I genuinely appreciate you all!! So for the anniversary, I’d like to celebrate with a prompt event which is. All about me. Sorry for being egotistical >_<

Rules

The event starts on February 1 and ends on February 20!

Make edits based on what you think the answer to the following questions are. Any edit type is allowed.

You can only have one answer per question. When posting an answer, write it somewhere on your post.

You may do these in any order.

You are allowed to ask for hints for whichever question. I’ll only provide one hint for questions that already have a hint provided and two hints for questions that don't have hints provided.

You need to answer at the minimum, 5 questions to be added to the raffle, it doesn’t matter if you were right or wrong.

Have fun ☆ !

Preferences (two possible answers unless stated otherwise)

What is my favourite colour?

Which is my favourite vocaloid/vocal synth?

What is my favourite edit type to make?

What is my favourite school subject?

What is my favourite flower?

What is my favourite sport? (one possible answer)

What is my favourite article of clothing?

What is my favourite weather?

What is my favourite dessert? (three possible answers)

Trivia (one possible answer unless stated otherwise)

What was the first anime I’ve ever watched? (hint: reverse harem, aired in 2006 but i watched it with a dvd player)

What kind of animal are my pets?

Which character was my first layout on my first edit blog? (hint: genshin character)

Which character was my first layout on my current edit blog? (hint: genshin character)

Which character have I rethemed to the most? (hint: prsk character, 4 times. bonus points if you could tell me which times i did)

What was the first musical I have ever listened to? (hint: it was based off a movie that was released in 2004 and the musical itself was released in 2018)

How many psds are in the psd folder on my phone (excluding the ones I have posted on my psd blog)?

What programs do I use to edit?

What piece of media made me make a tumblr account in the first place? (hint: mobile otome game released in 2016, bonus points if you could guess who was my fave)

Which character was my first ever acrylic stand? (hint: genshin character)

Prizes

I will select 3 people from the raffle with anyone else participating getting 1 edit! The prizes can be any edit type that I have done before even if it's not on the list! Any media could work as long as it's not on the blacklist!

3rd place - 3 edits of your choice

2nd place - 4 edits of your choice

1st place - 5 edits of your choice

once again, thank you for your continued support of me and I hope to improve even more in the future ^_^

may i ask for a promo?

@hiddencircus @pink-sugar @lovesick-level-up

@delicaqe @rekindle-the-flame @hauntina

@sweetnusshoyo @strawberrysnipes @frurin

@fluemashi @pink-sugar @utaicon

@s-sanite @scythidol @cobaltpegasi

[yoongsriverandme]

♛ : MAZZO DI FIORI ― chapter i

❝ gardenia ; secret love, elegance, mystery. ❞

⤑ pairing: vampire!ot7 x fem human!reader

⤑ status: ongoing

⤑ genre: smut, fluff, angst, polyamory!au, polycule!au, reverse harem, soulmate!au, non-idol!au, supernatural!au, vampire!au, royalty!au, fantasy!au, fated mates, vampire politics.

⤑ wc: 2.3k

⤑ chapter warnings: slight blood mention and minor injuries.

⤑ author's note: WOW hey people 😸 totally did NOT mean to disappear on you guys like that, so here's the first chapter as an apology! (please cheer). yes, this chapter is shrouded in mystery, and yes the flowers are important so PAY ATTENTION PEOPLE!!!

🥀 masterlist | series masterlist | next!

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

Your feet hurt.

You could feel the blisters forming on the back of your ankles every time the material of your shoes rubbed against them. You're sure your socks are a bloody mess right now, but hey, things could be worse.

“Order for table ten!” 

The sound of plates hitting the server line window met your ears, and you looked up from your notepad, your scrawling of a previous order halted.

“The hell’s this?” You can't help but ask with a raised brow. “They want their food still alive?” 

The meat on the plate was absolutely oozing with blood, and you can't help but be a little concerned for the consumer. That could not be considered good for you.

The chef just shrugged, wiping his hands on the stained white towel over his shoulder before picking up a knife.

“The man said to make it ‘as rare as you could’ and Soomi had to tell him she couldn't just give him a raw Ribeye, so he settled on a little sear on the outside.” 

He dabs at the sweat on his forehead with a hairy forearm, “I only did it just in case the guy gets food poisoning and tries to sick the FSIS on us.”

“Huh.” You hummed, your lips pursed and brows raised, impressed. “Let's hope his teeth are sharp enough to cut through this thing then.”

You don't blink twice at the strange request or the fact that there’s no sides, just the borderline raw piece of meat, putting your paper and pen in your waist apron, and grabbing the plate. 

You were grateful for the reprieve of the light dinnerware because you were on hour ten of your shift, and you’ve had at least four parties come in the last two hours as it nears dinner-time.

The restaurant has always been ass-busting like this, but really, you think you’ve hit a new level of exhaustion. It was only eight and you got off at ten; a full twelve hour shift. At least you don’t have to stick around to clean anything, the owner of the building had a night crew for that.

Dodging tables in dim lighting was always difficult when you felt like your feet were going to give out from under you. Your knees gave a little wobble when the side of your foot almost clipped the leg of a chair. 

Sigh. 

Fuck this godforsaken layout.

“I’ve got one order of the rawest steak I’ve ever had the pleasure to serve in this establishment.” You spoke with a playful grin as you finally approached the table.

Just because this place was fancy and you had to have your shirt buttoned all the way up to your throat, that doesn’t stop you from making a little joke – more for your sanity than for the customers' amusement, but you digress.

When your eyes finally met, your smile slipped off of your face and melted into one of… awe, a wave of warmth washing over you, anchoring you to the polished hardwood that you stood upon.

The man seemed to be no better, frozen in place as he gazed back at you.

Ethereal.

That was the only thing you could manage to think of to describe this guy against your better judgement. His dark irises dug into your very soul, searching, seeing, and you weren’t sure if there was any air in your lungs.

Your eyelashes fluttered when he finally looked away first, seemingly ripping you out of your affection – could it even be called that? – filled gaze.

Even then, you would be an idiot not to notice how attractive the man is.

He appears to almost be otherworldly, dark brown hair styled smartly to show off his forehead, his lips plump and cheeks plush. The honey colored lights did wonders of highlighting his tantalizing tanned skin. He was more god than human.

Holy shit, what’s gotten into you?

“S - sorry.” You apologize quickly, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite meet your eyes as you place his plate down in front of him.

You don't miss the way his nostrils flare and shoot down to look at your feet.

You stand there unsurely, face flushing in embarrassment when you realize how dirty your shoes are.

You try to hide the stained and scuffed loafers by tucking one foot behind the other before realizing your attempt is fruitless and you resettle them to your original idle.

His eyes lock back on to your face, more specifically the flush of your face, and your nerves are vibrating out of your skin. 

There’s a strange impulse of familiarity between you and him, a rightness of your meeting that you don’t understand but gives you the incentive to do what you do best, run.

“I hope everything is to your liking!” The words tumble out of you quickly, and you turn so fast you don’t feel the loose skin on the back of your heel peeling off.

You know he’s still looking at you. You can feel it.

Your strides are strong and you don’t stop until you’re in the kitchen shielded away from the handsome man.

Your lower back hits one of the steel counters and you grip the edge of it, blinking down at the burnt orange tiled floors in an attempt to screw your head back onto your shoulders.

Your mind felt fuzzy, like there was an amalgamation of thoughts swarming, fighting for dominance in your brain, leaving you completely and utterly disoriented.

Most of the thoughts – which appear to be more like memories than anything – don’t feel like yours, rather, you’re watching someone else’s life through their point of view.

The ground swam below you, the colors and everything else around bleeding into one big ball of blurriness. It’s loud, too loud, but the sounds aren’t coming from around you.

You had no clue when the rest of the room had faded out, or how long it had been – probably a few minutes at most – until Soomi touched your shoulder, her concerned face breaching your peripheral vision, and eventually your hearing.

It was like trying to listen through water as she asked, “(y/n)? Are you okay?”

You stared at her with furrowed brows. “What?”

“I said are you okay?” She places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been standing here for a minute. You’re kinda freaking everyone out.” Now that she mentions it, you look up to find the chefs and dishwasher throwing you concerned glances. You’re grateful for the dinner rush, because you aren’t sure you’d be able to answer any of the questions they may have had for you.

“Yeah…” But even your voice sounded unsure to your own ears. “I’m fine - jus’ tired.”

“Are you sure?” Soomi implores. “Because if you’re tired, you can go on break.”

And miss out on the potential tips? Yeah, no thanks.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You attempt to wave her off.

You can’t help but repeatedly blink, because your head doesn’t feel clear enough right now to even function; but hey, those tables weren’t going to serve themselves.

Your co-worker doesn’t look like she believes you, but there’s not much she can say to convince you otherwise, so she just presses her lips together and nods skeptically.

“If you say so.”

She delivers your shoulder one last worried squeeze before going off to pick up a tray of food that’s been sitting in the server window for a concerning amount of time.

“Seriously, (y/n),” Sounds the Chef. “If you got some shit goin’ on you can pop a squat whenever you want.”

That makes you grin.

“Thanks, Chef.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

By the time you had gotten back to the floor, the mystery man was nowhere to be found, and a large part of you didn’t know whether or not you felt relief or disappointment due to his absence.

You had never freaked out like that before, but the idea of your thoughts not truly being your own left you on edge for the rest of your shift.

Shuffling to hurry and get your things out of your locker as your other coworkers crowded around you in the small ‘employees only' room, you stumbled through the back entrance and sat on a few empty storage boxes that were stacked on top of each other.

The night was cold, and a gust of wind blew through the alleyway as you slipped off your loafers with a hiss. You curled and uncurled your toes, desperate to ease the ache that spread throughout your feet. 

You sighed.

The thought of coming back here tomorrow to do the same grueling twelve hours made you want to cry. 

You see this godforsaken restaurant more than you see your own apartment, ugh – your own bed. Just thinking about the springy mattress made your mouth water.

Peeling off your socks, you see a pool of red where your heel was, and you release yet another sigh.

If the last couple of screws in your head had gotten knocked loose through the duration of your extremely baffling night, you would be half-inclined to walk home barefoot, but you’d be begging for an infection at that point.

Huffing, you slipped the sock back on, along with your shoe – which you’re sure is stained at this point – much to your displeasure.

You searched through your shoulder purse to find your pack of cigarettes, placing the last one from the box in between your lips as you looked for your lighter.

It seems that the universe seems to be against you today, because you can’t find the damn thing and you’re one step closer to just damning it all to hell and going sober. Not like you can afford to keep up a nicotine addiction anyway.

You’re sure you lent it to someone on your break and just forgot to ask for it back, so you instead just throw it in your bag and hope it doesn’t break when you find something to light it with.

You ignore the pain in your feet as you begin to walk down the block to the nearest bus station.

The next one doesn’t come until ten-thirty, so you have thirty minutes to waste before you get to go home.

The temperature must have dropped another degree, because the wind had picked up, and you shoved your hands deep into your pockets, shivering.

What a life to live, fighting to pay bills and waiting for a bus that you could barely afford to pay the fare for.

You sit on one of the benches and lean your head back against the plastic structure, sucking in a huge breath before releasing it. You close your eyes sleepily. Yeah, you were most likely going to sleep until it was time to go to work.

“Rough night?” Sounds a voice from beside you.

Your eyelashes flutter open in irritation, but the bubbling feeling disintegrates when you come face to face with the man from your job.

Your lips part.

“Something like that.”

Large, plump lips pull over his teeth in a charming smile, cheeks puffing. “How vague.” He comments, intrigued.

“Not purposefully.” You say with a shrug. 

You want to look away, but it’s like his features are pulling you in, keeping you trapped there, like a mouse and glue. 

Well, maybe trapped isn’t the right word; because you’re not being forced to look at him, if you were to take a moment to search deep down inside yourself, you’d come to find that you want to… admire him.

How otherworldly.

A moment of silence settles between the both of you, before you smirk. 

“How was your steak?” You can’t help but ask. “It was delightful.”

Huh. What an odd way of speaking.

“Delightful? I’d like to think you had a hard time tearing through the damn thing. It was barely cooked!” The man chuckles, shrugging bashfully. “I have sharp teeth.”

“Uh huh,” You hum. “I’m sure you do.”

His brow raises, and you can tell that he finds your skepticism amusing. “I’d rather you take my word for it.”

“Oh, really?” You scoff playfully. “No offense, but with the way you’re dressed, I don’t think that you’re the type of guy that should be waiting for a bus at –” You take a moment to turn on your phone to look at the time. “ – ten-ten at night.”

“Truthfully, I was escorted to your establishment at the beginning of the night, yes, but…” His eyes soften, and you squirm in place when he speaks. “Something changed.”

“Oh.” You breathe.

When you shift your feet to tuck them further under the bench, his nostrils flare once more, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you hurt?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly.

“Your feet.” You look down to see what he’s talking about, but there’s nothing but the faux brown leather.

You twist your ankle around to see if maybe the back of your foot got further chaffed. When you don’t see anything, you stare at him, bewildered, but also a little suspicious.

“I…” You begin, unsure of what to say. “No. I’m not.”

He looks at you, to your feet, then back up at you again. “Are you sure?” He sounds almost worried, and you’re taken aback by his vehemence.

“Yeah.”

A brief bout of silence settles between the two of you, and you can’t help but be baffled at the fact that he knows how fucked up your feet are, and he hasn’t even seen them.

There’s an internal battle within yourself of being intimidated by his presence, but also flattered, happy, that he cares enough about you to inquire about your well being.

Finally, the bus pulls up, and though you’re reluctant to leave him, you get up, but he doesn’t follow, he just watches you.

“It was uh… nice to meet you.” You nibble on your lip nervously.

“And I you.”

With nothing else left to say, you turn around, but you’re stopped by him saying, “Make sure to bandage your ankle.”

You spin around, but you’re greeted by nothing but open air, the handsome man no longer sight.

Huh.

What a weird day.

© yoongsriverandme 2025-26

[xxfaithlynxx]

Inheritance of the Broken (P1)

Word Count:

Hearts in The Static

Evol Sparring... and other stuff

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Isekai, OC insert, Polyamory / Polyamorous Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Chronic Illness, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Found Family, Emotional Healing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, body image issues, Unreliable Narration, Protective Male Characters, rivals to lovers (sort of), past trauma, Everyone Loves Her But She Doesn’t Know Why, Heavy Angst, Fix-It Fic (but of the soul) Mental Health Themes (Depression, ADHD, pcos, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome), Suicidal ideation (past), Self-Harm Mention (Non-Graphic Flashback), Emotional Abuse (Referenced past) - Freeform, Body Dysmorphia, Trauma Recovery, Discussion of Medical Symptoms, feelings of worthlessness, Slow Healing & Difficult Conversations, themes of death, Survival, and identity, reverse harem

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

Chapter 19: Part One

The metal groaned as the door opened.

Not loudly. Just enough.

Enough to feel like breath drawn from a grave.

Inside, the air was still. Cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature—just abandonment. There was no dust. No rot. The building hadn’t been left long enough for nature to reclaim it, but it felt forgotten all the same. Like memory had turned its face.

We stepped inside as a group.

Six shapes crossing the threshold, each footfall echoing across the hollow interior with the soft slap of boot on smooth concrete.

Caleb and Sylus moved first, silent and automatic, like the layout was still stitched into their bones. Zayne came next, sweeping the space with a predator’s eye. Xavier followed with Rafayel at his side, the latter already looking around like he’d been dropped into a cursed museum.

“Chic,” Raf murmured, his voice bouncing gently off the walls. “Nothing says ‘bonding experience’ like government-grade trauma. I half expect to see blood samples and repressed memories in tasteful shadowboxes.”

“Raf,” Zayne warned, voice low but not sharp.

“I’m just saying,” he said, hands up, “if we’re going to cleanse the emotional palate, I am available to decorate.”

His voice was light—but not mocking. If anything, I could hear the thread of discomfort beneath the sarcasm. This place made even Rafayel uneasy.

And it wasn’t hard to see why.

The entry hall was plain. Too plain. No furniture. No visible wiring. Just sterile walls, two doors long-since welded shut, and a heavy steel elevator at the far end that seemed to drink light instead of reflecting it.

My boots hit the floor with too much sound.

Every step deeper into the space felt like it should’ve echoed with the screams of what had been done here. But there was nothing. No ghost stories. Just the hollow of what had been scrubbed clean.

I stayed close to Caleb and Sylus, positioned between them like instinct. I didn’t want to ask how many times they’d been dragged through this space, bleeding or worse. I didn’t want to know how many times this silence had swallowed them whole.

But I felt it.

Felt it in the way Sylus’ jaw stayed locked, shoulders tense, like he was bracing for a shot. In the way Caleb's eyes moved constantly—not frantic, but hyperaware. Every shadow cataloged. Every vent remembered.

The others gave them room.

Even Rafayel, as mouthy as he was, stayed close but not too close. He kept glancing at me, his usual glittering eyes dimmed just a fraction.

Then we reached the elevator.

It loomed ahead, set into the back wall like an apology that came too late. The button panel was old, the light above it blinking with slow, deliberate red pulses.

My foot caught on a hairline crack in the floor, and I faltered. Just a step.

But it was enough.

Zayne was beside me in an instant.

He didn’t grab me. Didn’t say my name like a warning. He just moved in close, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine and his hand came to rest—gently, deliberately—on my lower back.

His voice was barely a breath. “You don’t have to go first.”

My heart jumped in my chest.

I turned to him, and he wasn’t looking at the elevator. He was looking at me—that calm, storm-lit gaze of his softened just slightly around the edges.

“I’m not scared,” I said quietly. “Just… it feels wrong. Going down.”

Zayne gave the faintest nod. “Because it is.”

Then he leaned in, and I felt the whisper of his breath against my temple as he said, “But you’re not going down alone.”

The elevator dinged—sharp in the stillness.

A silver flash across the old concrete.

Sylus stepped forward and pressed his hand to the panel.

The doors slid open with a sound like the beginning of a nightmare.

And we all stepped in.

Together.

The elevator doors slid shut with a pneumatic hiss, sealing us inside a metal box that hummed faintly beneath our feet.

The moment they did, the air changed.

Not in temperature—though it felt colder—but in pressure. As if the weight of the place pressed in from all sides. Like the walls themselves remembered.

No one spoke.

We were six people crammed into a space designed for half that. Shoulders brushed. Breath mingled. The only sound was the low mechanical growl of the ancient lift descending floor by floor, each flickering light above the door ticking down like a heartbeat.

F6.

F5.

F4.

I shifted slightly, the tension in my limbs betraying my stillness. My fingers twitched at my sides.

That was when Rafayel moved.

He stepped in beside me, close enough that I felt the heat of his body before his arm snaked gently around my waist. His other hand rose to brush my hair behind my ear, and then, without asking, without fanfare, he pulled me against his chest.

He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

I let him.

Let the warmth of him fold around me like a shield, his hand resting at the base of my spine, the steady thud of his heartbeat a quiet reminder that someone—someones—were still here. Still real.

Sylus stood across from us, his frame coiled and bracing. His eyes were fixed on the panel above the door, but I wasn’t fooled. He wasn’t watching numbers.

He was watching ghosts.

The tension between him and Caleb stretched tight in the confined space, the weight of shared memory pressing sharp into every breath. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but it felt like they could crack steel between them.

And then—without looking at anyone—Sylus spoke.

Voice low.

Clipped.

“You should know,” he said, each word measured and exact, “we’re going to F2.”

The light above flickered.

F3.

None of us breathed.

“That was the training floor,” Sylus continued. “Where they built the sims. The sparring chambers. The feedback tunnels. And where they watched—every single movement I made.”

My stomach dropped.

“I had my first controlled kill down there,” he added, so calm it made my blood ice over. “Didn’t know it at the time. They told me it was a sim. It wasn’t.”

Caleb jolted.

The shock in his face was pure and unguarded. “They never told me that.”

Sylus looked at him now. Just once.

“They didn’t tell me either.”

The silence after that wasn’t silence—it was suffocation.

Even Xavier, still as ever, shifted slightly. His jaw was tight. His hands, loose at his sides, had curled into quiet fists. Zayne’s eyes flicked between Sylus and Caleb, his body language unreadable but ready. Coiled and waiting.

I felt a tremble I hadn’t noticed start to take over my limbs.

Raf felt it too.

He drew me in tighter, one arm wrapping fully around my back now, the other resting lightly on my head as he pressed his lips to my temple. He didn’t try to stop the shake.

He just held it with me.

The elevator dinged softly.

F2.

A green light blinked on the panel.

The doors part to reveal a corridor bathed in pale, flickering LEDs. It’s colder than above, sterile and suffocatingly clean. The sharp scent of antiseptic still lingers—not in stale decay, but in synthetic sterility.

The floor glistens, polished to a false shine. Panels of black glass line the walls, so dark they reflect the six of us like statues carved from obsidian light, each framed in fear and resolve.

Overhead, the ceiling is a labyrinth of exposed conduits, each marked with pale arrows and PVC piping— a blueprint of long-forgotten machinery repurposed after reclamation. Here and there, the flush of greenery peeked through in cracked planters: ferns—placed during refit for psychological benefits, I assume.

At the corridor's end, an automated door hissed open, revealing a wider chamber—still rectangular, but deeper. The room smelled of concrete and fresh-turning earth, as if someone had hauled in memory and scrubbed it clean.

White floor tiles stretched out in a perfect grid, interrupted only by a black rectangle at the center—an access hatch. Surrounding it were faded yellow warning stripes. And beyond those, lab benches and offices, all refurbished: fresh paint, intact glass, sanitized surfaces.

But I can still feel the ghosts.

Raf stepped aside and gestured with theatrical finesse: “Behold: your customized torture spa, now with pastel healthcare vibes and 20% fewer tears.”

He stopped when Sylus’s gaze locked on the hatch. That small square of floor felt bigger than the entire room, and pointed.

Sylus took a breath, stepping forward. “This is the old training floor. The feedback chamber.” His voice was clipped, hard. “The one where they watched me train. Where they tested me.”

Raf’s humor died on his lips.

Caleb froze—face paling. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists around his duffel strap.

I watched Sylus’s chest rise with slow control, the muscles at his jaw tightening like steel coils.

Zayne and Xavier moved to flank him, silent and respectful.

I let go, letting Raf’s arm fall away. Instead, I crossed the floor and stood at Sylus’s side. I placed a trembling hand on his arm. Not for comfort—I didn’t want to fix it. Just to anchor him here, in this place, with me beside him.

Raf and Caleb closed in behind us, forming a triangle around the hatch, their presence raw and protective.

All at once, I understood.

What had been cleansed outside had never left inside.

And here, on F2—the old heart of the Ever Group’s cruelty—we stood on reclaimed ground, but still haunted by the layers beneath.

Zayne stepped away from the group, boots clicking against the grid-tiled floor as he moved toward the row of offices at the edge of the training level. The glass doors hissed open at his approach, motion sensors still functional after all this time. Dust rose faintly around his silhouette in the doorway.

“I’ll set up a med bay,” he said over his shoulder. “Even light training runs can push limits, and I don’t want to be scrambling if someone gets wrecked.”

He meant it pragmatically. Efficient. Thoughtful, even.

But something in me twisted.

Med bay. Injuries. Wrecked.

The words hit like cold water down my spine—memories of blood, of glass, of Sylus’s voice strained with effort as he held me against the storm of the mirror fracture. Of pain that didn’t belong. Of skin split for reasons I couldn’t see.

My chest tightened. Breath shortened.

The fluorescent lights overhead flickered once.

And then something deeper than sound rippled across the room.

Like the air bent around itself.

Like reality shifted, strained, fractured—a groaning, glass-like creak that didn’t echo off walls but through bones.

The pulse of it came from me.

Everyone stopped.

Caleb’s hand went to his sidearm instinctively. Xavier rose slowly from where he’d crouched by the central hatch. Zayne froze in the doorway, looking back sharply.

Sylus didn’t turn.

But I saw his shoulders tense.

I swallowed hard and forced my breathing to slow.

The sound stopped.

The air settled.

But the tension didn’t.

All eyes turned toward me.

Rafayel was the first to move. Smooth as breath, he crossed the space and reached me—this time without asking, his hand slipping around the back of my neck, thumb brushing softly behind my ear.

He leaned in, his lips barely brushing the edge of my hairline as he murmured, “If you wanted my attention, Button, you only had to ask.”

Despite myself, a shaky breath escaped—half laugh, half something tighter.

“I didn’t—”

“You felt something,” Caleb interrupted, scanning the ceiling, the walls. “The integrity of the structure held. That’s good. Means the lower support’s reinforced enough to handle amped Evol activity.” His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of alertness now. He was watching everything. Cataloging it.

A flash of movement caught the edge of my vision.

Sylus.

He turned and walked away. Not sharply. Not angrily. But with that lethal kind of silence only Sylus could wield—controlled and absolutely unreadable.

He headed for the far end of the room where the reinforced windows looked out into the corridor beyond, the light casting his shadow like a brand across the floor.

He didn’t say a word.

I felt the shift in the air behind me as Xavier moved—quiet, always—but purposeful. He knelt again at the hatch, running gloved fingers around its seal, brushing faint particles of dust from the edges.

“What triggered it?” he asked softly. Not accusing. Just… searching.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, leaning into Raf’s touch more than I meant to. “Zayne said med bay. I just… thought of the fracture. The pain. How fast it happened. What it could’ve done if no one had been there.”

My voice dropped to a whisper. “What if next time I don’t catch it fast enough?”

Raf didn’t answer right away.

But his hand didn’t leave me.

And behind us, the silence stretched—until the room felt like it was listening.

Sylus didn’t come back right away.

He remained at the far edge of the room, framed by the reinforced glass. His back to us. His profile sharp in the cold light as he stood utterly still—one hand braced on the windowpane, the other curled loosely at his side.

He wasn’t gone.

He was just… apart.

And none of us questioned it.

Instead, Caleb shifted into motion. Smooth. Methodical. Like he'd done this a hundred times before.

He pulled open one of the long, black equipment crates they'd brought from the Bronco, removing an array of compact sensor pods, palm-sized monitors, and small tripods with magnetic bases. The cases clicked open one after another, no wasted motion.

“Zayne,” he called. “Run diagnostic syncs with the scanners once I plant them. Make sure there's no lag between surge and readout.”

Zayne nodded and moved without hesitation, already flipping open the second monitor tablet.

I watched as Caleb walked the perimeter of the room—planting sensors with fluid, soldier-like precision. One by the hatch. Two near the old feedback mirror, now just a sleek, black slab of glass embedded in the wall. He positioned another near where the synthetic matting was rolled out for my use.

“Each one of these will track energy levels, spatial distortion, pressure flux, and core temperature,” Caleb explained. “We’re not pushing your limits today—we’re mapping them.”

The words should have helped.

They didn’t.

My heart was still thrumming too loud in my ears, my palms damp.

Then I felt a hand slide into mine.

Rafayel.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just tugged gently, guiding me to the far corner of the room, away from the activity, away from the tech. Away from Sylus’ silence and Caleb’s data.

He turned me to face him, our backs to the others.

“Eyes on me, Button,” he said, voice soft but anchoring. “Not the sensors. Not the ghost floor. Just me.”

I met his gaze.

Blue-pink irises, impossibly warm. Just like his hands, which now cradled mine between them.

“I know it feels like the air wants to crack again. Like every breath might shatter glass. But you’re not a fault line, love. You’re a tuning fork. And I’m right here—listening.”

My throat tightened. “What if I slip again?”

“Then we catch you.”

“And if I fracture?”

“Then we hold the pieces until you’re ready to come back.”

He smiled then. Crooked and sincere. “You don’t scare me. Not even a little.”

I let out a shaky breath and leaned forward until my forehead touched his collarbone. Just for a second. Just enough.

He pressed his palm to the center of my back.

“Three deep breaths,” he murmured. “No performance. Just presence.”

I inhaled once.

Again.

A third time.

And the buzzing in my ears quieted—just a little.

Behind me, Caleb’s voice rose again, briefing the others on the system readouts. Zayne responded with a clipped update. Xavier double-checked the hatch’s structural integrity.

But here, in this corner, Raf’s hands stayed steady around mine.

The calm before the storm.

The air shifted before we even saw him.

A low hum rippled through the room—not from the tech Caleb was calibrating, but from something deeper. Denser. Like the pressure before a storm.

Then Sylus stepped back into my peripherals.

And he was the storm.

Gone was the man who had turned away moments ago, carved from silence and restraint. What returned was power incarnate—shoulders squared, jaw set, every step a deliberate challenge to the very ground he walked on. The glint in his dark eyes was sharp enough to cut steel.

No more ghosts. No more hesitation.

Just control.

“I’ve decided how we’re going to do this,” he said, his voice carrying across the chamber, cool and precise.

Everyone looked up—Xavier from the hatch, Caleb from his monitor, Zayne from the office threshold. Rafayel’s hand tightened subtly around mine, but he didn’t speak.

Sylus came to a stop at the center of the room.

“My Evol can dissect molecular structure,” he continued, his tone measured but relentless. “I can absorb and neutralize energy—rebuild it if needed. When you lose control, I won’t collapse. I’ll adapt. None of the others can match that. Not Caleb’s gravity, not Zayne’s ice, not Xavier’s light, and not even Raf’s fire.”

His gaze locked with mine then, steady and unblinking.

“I’ll face you,” he said. “Here. Now. No simulations. No filters. Just your Evol… and mine.”

His words echoed in the open space, ringing with absolute certainty.

Caleb straightened, arms crossed, a hint of reluctant agreement in the dip of his head. “He’s right. No one else can dampen and reshape her surges in real-time. We don’t know what happens when she peaks.”

Rafayel leaned close to me again, voice warm and teasing, even if I felt the tension in his body. “Tell me you’re not turned on just a little right now.”

I elbowed him, but my face burned.

Because Sylus was terrifying.

And beautiful.

And ready.

My feet felt frozen to the floor.

Not from cold—no, that would’ve been manageable. Predictable.

This was something else.

Something far more familiar.

Panic.

The kind that rose like static in my chest, warping thought, stalling breath. I hadn’t fought Sylus before. I hadn’t even sparred with him. He’d taught me in the studio at Onychinus—spoken to me. Corrected my footwork. Adjusted my breathing with a touch to the shoulder, the hip. Showed me how to stand. How to fall.

But we’d never crossed that threshold.

Not like this.

Not with him standing in the center of the room, equal parts calm and lethal, his body singing with readiness, his Evol already coiled beneath his skin like lightning waiting for the sky to split.

I couldn’t move.

Until Rafayel stepped in.

As usual.

He drifted to my side like a breeze with teeth, fingers finding mine and lacing them easily as he leaned in with a smirk that didn’t quite hide the concern behind his eyes.

Raf’s fingers tightened slightly around mine as we lingered at the edge of the training floor.

He leaned in again, lower this time, breath warm against the shell of my ear.

“Darling,” he whispered, velvet-wicked and entirely too perceptive, “do you know why he looked like that when he left your bathroom this morning?”

I blinked, heat crawling up my spine. “Like what?”

“That flushed jaw. The messed-up hair. That half-second delay before he opened the door like he’d just been—” Raf made a vague gesture with his free hand, “—handling something delicate.”

I stared at him.

He grinned.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred. “He touched himself. Because of you. Probably right after you left the room.”

My brain stalled.

A full, static-laced silence screamed between my ears as memory assaulted me in crystalline flashes:

—Sylus turning from me in the bathroom, flushed and wide-eyed after I’d kissed his cheek. —The way he hadn't followed immediately. —The way he hadn’t followed.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

Rafayel chuckled darkly, tugging gently at my hand. “And now you're glowing. Fascinating.”

Because I was.

My Evol had surged before I even noticed. The lights in the chamber buzzed once—overhead bulbs trembling as the air took on a subtle shimmer, a thin distortion in the space around me.

Goddamn it.

I tried to rein it in. To bury the heat and pulse and shame and curiosity and want back under my ribs where it belonged.

Too late.

Across the room, Sylus—poised and focused—snapped his head up.

His eyes locked with mine.

And his expression changed.

Just slightly.

A barely-there narrowing of the gaze.

A half-breath catch in his throat.

He felt it.

He knew.

But he didn’t know why.

And that made it worse.

Raf cleared his throat with faux innocence. “Might want to bottle that reaction for later. Could bring a man to his knees.”

“Raf—”

“Come on,” he said, guiding me forward again. “Time to put that tension to use.”

I stumbled a little as I walked, legs still loose and awkward. My Evol hadn’t surged this way before. That I knew of, only from anger or fear.

This was different.

And Sylus was watching every step like he was trying to read me frame by frame.

I came to a stop across from him. The circle of the training mat warm beneath my feet, despite the cold steel and concrete surrounding us.

He tilted his head, expression unreadable now.

“Are you ready?” he asked, voice low.

No teasing. No mockery. Just the quiet pulse of control, of energy waiting to meet mine.

I swallowed.

I didn’t know if I was.

But my Evol had already answered for me.

Rafayel drifted behind me, far enough that only I could hear him murmur to Caleb in that lyrical, infuriating voice:

“Tell me this doesn’t feel like foreplay with higher stakes.”

Caleb didn’t respond aloud.

But I heard the sigh.

And that was enough.

My pulse slammed through my veins like a freight train as my traitorous body lit up—heat blooming low in my abdomen, my legs tightening without warning, fingers twitching with residual charge.

Goddamn you, Raf.

My Evol flared again—not violent, not dangerous.

Sensual.

The air shimmered faintly around my shoulders as if the atmosphere itself were leaning closer. Wanting to listen. Wanting to touch.

Across the training mat, Sylus tilted his head slightly.

He’d felt it again.

And this time?

He didn’t question it.

He used it.

His stance shifted subtly—shoulders squaring, boots silent on the floor as he started toward me, slow and deliberate. Not charging. Not attacking.

Stalking.

“I want you to lean into it,” he said, voice steady but low, that dangerous calm threaded through every word. “Don’t fight the spike. Let it rise.”

He took another step.

“Let your Evol respond to mine.”

My breathing hitched.

Another step.

“Let it crave.”

Jesus.

My skin flushed hot and cold all at once.

I could feel him—not physically, not yet—but in the pull. The magnetism of his particles against mine, his field brushing up against my fraying edges, coaxing. Calling.

“You’ve never used it this way before,” Sylus murmured, another step closer. “You’ve let it react to fear. Pain. Panic.”

His gaze sharpened.

“But desire?” A faint smile touched the edge of his mouth. “That’s where your control fractures. Isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

My Evol pulsed outward again, the lights overhead flickering with the sudden pressure drop. The glass console to the left let out a high, warping whine as if it too were struggling to hold shape under the weight of what I was becoming.

Sylus stopped just a few feet from me now.

“Breathe,” he said, softer now, voice coaxing.

But not safe.

“Let it surge.”

My fingers curled at my sides as the air thickened, pressing against my skin like a second layer.

My thoughts stuttered.

Because this wasn’t a spar anymore.

This was combustion.

And Sylus knew exactly what he was doing.

The room bent around us.

Not visibly—not yet—but I felt it. The air had weight now, density. A molecular shift like pressure building before a storm. It soaked into my skin, crackled against my teeth. My Evol surged again, not in a wave but a thrum—tight and low, like a wire pulled too taut.

Sylus took another step toward me.

And the room shuddered.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes said everything—dark, focused, just a hint of something dangerous behind the calm. And he knew what he was doing. Every movement, every pause, calculated. Precision incarnate. He could disarm a bomb or start one—and I was both.

I took a step back without meaning to.

He mirrored it.

A slow, deliberate step forward.

Stalking again. Closer now. Too close.

The heat rose—not metaphorical. Actual. My skin flushed and the overhead fluorescents buzzed once, faltered, and then flared brighter than before. Somewhere behind us, Caleb muttered under his breath. Rafayel laughed, low and breathless.

Then Sylus lifted his hand.

And used his Evol.

Not to shove. Not to shield.

But to touch.

The air around me changed. Particles vibrated—no, responded—to him, to the way he reached through the air like he was painting invisible sigils around me.

And then it hit.

A pulse—not physical, but felt. A tether drawn straight from the center of his palm to the base of my spine, as if he’d dragged his fingers across my skin without ever laying a hand on me.

My back arched instinctively, a gasp slipping through my lips.

“Good,” Sylus said, voice just above a whisper. “Stay in it.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The room pulsed again.

Cracks—thin, hairline fractures—spread along the reflective paneling near the back wall. Like glass splintering from within, but not shattering. Not yet.

He stepped closer. So close now.

The warmth from his body teased mine. His Evol buzzed through the air between us, an extension of his will, brushing along my jaw like a question.

“Your control slips when you feel too much,” he murmured.

Another flick—his fingers twitched just slightly, and the tether pulsed against the front of my thighs, my ribs, my collarbone. Not touching. Just pressing. Testing.

My Evol howled in response—rising like a storm surge, like static on the edge of lightning.

“You think we’re all afraid of that,” he said, low and even, his mouth dangerously close to mine now. “We’re not.”

His eyes locked on mine.

“I’m the one who can meet it.”

The next pulse came without warning—stronger, sharper, as his Evol skimmed along my skin again, stealing breath and thought. Light fractured behind my eyes as the crackling panel behind us groaned from the pressure.

I staggered.

He caught me.

Not in some noble arms-wide gesture.

One hand.

On my waist.

Hot. Firm. Grounding.

It didn’t help.

It made it worse.

Because his hand wasn’t trembling.

Mine was.

My voice broke before I even meant to speak. “Sylus—”

“Breathe,” he whispered, close enough now that his breath warmed the curve of my mouth. “And fight me.”

I couldn’t tell if he meant with my Evol.

Or with what was left of my restraint.

But one of them had to give.

And it wasn’t going to be him.

It didn’t burst from me.

It unfolded.

My Evol bloomed like a flower of light and fracture, a slow, sensual unraveling that trembled against the skin before sinking through it—warm and raw and endless. It pressed outward in concentric waves, spreading from the space between Sylus and me in soft spirals that rippled through the atmosphere, kissing the edges of the room but never breaching its center.

Only we were touched by it.

Only we were inside the pulse.

It wasn’t the chaos I’d feared. It wasn’t teeth and glass and screaming fissures like before.

This was different.

This was mine.

It shimmered between us in breathless tension, like light bending on the cusp of breaking. A high, crystalline note vibrated through the floor tiles. The reflective surfaces behind Sylus fractured along invisible veins, like frost blooming across glass in winter—but slower. Deeper. More intentional.

My hands had lifted without thought, fingers splayed in the air between us, and Sylus—

God.

He didn’t move a muscle.

He let the pressure wrap around him, let my power trace the line of his cheek, skate across his collarbone, curl around his ribs like a second skin. His Evol didn’t resist it. Didn’t try to contain it.

He welcomed it.

And when his voice broke through the tension, low and slow and so damn close, it was pure fire across my skin.

“That’s it.”

Two words.

Praise.

And I shuddered.

He noticed.

The corner of his mouth twitched—just the barest hint of a smile, intimate and knowing.

“You feel that?” he asked, tone quieter now, velvet over steel. “That’s control.”

I could only nod, breathing shallow, as the power inside me rippled again, this time curling tighter to my spine, controlled and clean and entirely focused on him.

He leaned in—not to press closer, not to kiss, not to overwhelm—but to observe. To learn the shape of me in this new state. I could feel his Evol skimming beneath mine like a riptide under still water, steadying my surge with the gentlest countercurrent.

“You’ve been hiding this,” he murmured, gaze locked to mine, every syllable coiling like smoke. “Burying it under panic. Under pain. But this?”

His hand found my jaw, fingers skimming the edge of it, and my Evol surged toward the contact—curling against his palm like it wanted to be held.

“This is something else.”

I blinked, breath caught between lips that couldn’t form words. Couldn’t speak through the ache or the heat or the slow crack of something ancient inside me splitting open to reveal a core I hadn’t known was still alive.

Because it was alive.

That part of me—the one that craved being seen, wanted to be known, that hadn’t been touched in years by anything but loneliness and shame—it opened.

And his praise?

It fed it.

“You’re doing so good, Aven,” he said, and it was the way he said my name—like a sacred thing, like something he’d waited years to hold. “You’re not breaking the world.”

His hand shifted slightly, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.

“You’re shaping it.”

The room trembled in agreement.

But nothing shattered.

Not this time.

I exhaled slowly, and my Evol curled back against my skin like silk gathering at my throat, not withdrawing, but settling.

Still mine.

Still present.

But obedient.

Controlled.

Loved.

I hadn’t felt this powerful in years, if not ever.

And Sylus?

He smiled—not wide. Not smug.

But proud.

Like he knew.

Like he’d seen that part of me I was just starting to remember existed.

Their voices reached me like distant thunder, layered behind the hum of my Evol still draped across the room.

Zayne’s was the first I could make out—low, warm, and undeniably smug.

“Well, damn,” he drawled, from where he leaned against one of the structural supports, arms folded tight across his chest. “That was one hell of a show.”

My face burned instantly, Evol flickering with heat, and I didn’t dare look over my shoulder to see the exact brand of satisfaction written across his stupidly handsome face. I could hear the smirk.

“You gonna start charging admission for that?” Caleb chimed in next, casual and too charming, like this was just another morning briefing and not a total psychic stripping of my soul. “Because I’d pay. Front row, premium tier, no notes.”

Rafayel, of course, whistled.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you just did, but I need it bottled,” he purred. “And maybe poured over ice. With me beneath it.”

“Raf—” I groaned.

“Hey, I’m just appreciating the art. Which, by the way, includes you. Fully.”

Behind them all, I could feel the quietest of them stirring.

Xavier.

Silent, steady Xavier, still crouched near one of the support terminals, fingers gone still over the touchscreen. But his head was turned toward me now. Eyes hooded, unreadable.

But not unmoved.

Because I felt it.

The echo of my Evol still laced faintly around the chamber had touched him too—skimmed along the edge of his being, and something in him had responded with a depth I couldn’t quite reach.

His voice, when it came, was quiet. But heavy.

“It’s never felt like that before.”

No judgment.

No threat.

Just truth.

And weight.

Then Sylus moved.

I turned back toward him—and he was already in motion.

Circling me.

Slow, predatory steps, but not to intimidate. Not to unnerve.

To test.

To see if I could hold it.

“I’m going to try something,” he said from behind me, voice silk over voltage.

I didn’t even nod. Couldn’t.

My mouth was dry.

My Evol thrummed again, curling instinctively around me like a defense, even as it simultaneously reached for him.

Sylus stopped behind me. So close. I could feel the heat of him again, the charge of his Evol brushing the outermost layer of mine.

“Keep it contained,” he said, lower now. Right next to my ear. “Breathe. Feel. But hold.”

And then—

A touch of breath against the shell of my ear.

A pause.

And a nip.

His teeth grazed the edge of my earlobe in a single, shocking motion.

I gasped—

—and the room shattered.

Not literally. But it felt like it.

Fractures bloomed in the air around us—soft, iridescent lines crackling in slow motion across space like spiderwebs catching moonlight. Four. Five. Seven distinct mirror fractures spun out around us like petals unfurling.

Each one showed a different version of the room.

Slightly off.

Slightly wrong.

In one, Raf stood with his hair loose instead of tied back.

In another, Xavier wasn’t at the console, but standing behind Zayne with a blade in hand.

And in the closest one—

Sylus was still nipping my ear.

Except he wasn’t stopping.

My breath caught. My knees nearly buckled.

And still—

I held it.

The fractures shimmered, hovered, and pulsed outward like living things.

But they didn’t collapse.

Sylus pressed his palm to the center of my spine.

His Evol surged like a heartbeat.

And the mirrors stabilized.

“I knew you could do it,” he murmured against my neck.

And gods help me—

I wanted him to do it again.

The fractures shimmered like suspended breath.

Each one a jagged halo of glass-thin reflections, impossibly precise, impossibly delicate. They rotated around me, orbiting slow and dangerous, like planets held in place by the tension between want and restraint. I could see through them—see the others watching from the edge of the room, wary and curious and cautious—but they were on the other side of the line now. The air around Sylus and me had become something else. A barrier. A boundary. A space only we could occupy.

And he hadn’t even touched me.

Not really.

Not with his hands.

That was the worst—best—part.

His Evol was like silk on fire, wrapping around me in filaments that trailed across my skin, mapping the curves of my back, the slope of my ribs, the shallow divot just beneath my throat. My body responded like it had been waiting for this, aching for this—years of repression, of trauma, of self-loathing pulled tight like a coil, and now, unraveling one fiber at a time under his precision.

I couldn’t breathe.

But I didn’t need to.

I was becoming something else.

And Sylus was the only one who saw it happening in real time.

“Now,” he said, voice thick with heat but sharp with purpose, “pull it back.”

I shivered.

“I—” My voice broke, breathless. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do.” His Evol whispered against my scalp, down the line of my spine, tracing me with the intimacy of breath on bare skin. “You already do. I can feel it.”

One of the mirror dimensions crackled behind him, a flicker of light and wrongness warping the angle of his jaw in its reflection. I could see my own face in another, flushed, wide-eyed, almost fevered. My fingers twitched at my sides.

“I’m going to help you,” he said, stepping closer again. Not closing the distance, not yet—but enough that his presence was everywhere. “But you have to let me in.”

“How?” I whispered.

“Feel me.”

And then he did touch me—but not skin to skin.

His Evol moved like breath and static, like pressure and pleasure, sliding beneath my Evol with sinuous intent. It coiled around my ribs, lifted my hands by the wrists without actually grasping them, until my arms hovered outward, open. Vulnerable.

Exposed.

I gasped again, but it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t shame.

It was the realization that I was still in control.

That even with my arms spread, my pulse racing, the heat in my chest and between my thighs singing with too much—I was the one deciding.

Not my trauma.

Not my panic.

Me.

His voice came again, low and dangerous.

“Close them, Aven.”

His Evol trailed over my stomach, a whisper of pressure that sent a shock through my legs. My knees nearly gave out. I whimpered and felt it—the shift.

One of the mirror fractures shivered.

Then flickered.

Then winked out of existence.

“That’s it,” Sylus breathed, praise crackling in his tone like lightning waiting to strike. “That’s how.”

Another brush of his Evol over my pulse point, just beneath my jaw, like a kiss without contact. My eyes fluttered shut. Heat bloomed through me like a sunrise from the inside out, and another mirror closed.

Two more.

Three.

My breathing staggered, body trembling as the overload danced along every nerve ending.

“You’re doing so good,” he said again, softer now, reverent. “You’re stronger than you think.”

Another mirror fracture vanished.

Only two remained.

But these last ones trembled harder, resistant. Not with danger, but desire. They wanted to stay. To linger. They were forged not of panic—but of longing.

“I can’t,” I whispered, the heat in my chest threatening to choke me. “Not these…”

Sylus moved.

Suddenly closer.

And this time, his Evol dragged low along the back of my thigh, up the edge of my hip, pressing against the center of me through nothing but air and energy and intention.

I cried out.

And the last two mirrors shattered in reverse—folding in on themselves like dying stars and disappearing into the room's stillness.

Then there was silence.

No more fractures.

No more distortion.

Just me.

Breathless. Aching. Whole.

Sylus stepped forward—finally closing the distance. His Evol receded just enough for the space between us to normalize. For the first time in what felt like hours, I could feel the room again.

But I didn’t care about the room.

I cared about him.

He looked at me like I’d become something rare and terrible and precious all at once.

And I—

I didn’t look away.

I stood there, frozen in the echo of what we’d just done.

Not a real fight.

Not even close.

Not fists or fire or the kind of sharp-edged pain I’d braced for.

No—this had been something else entirely.

A slow, intimate unraveling.

And I hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t wanted that, not here, not now, not in front of them.

And yet—my body hummed like a tuning fork struck by God himself. Every nerve ending vibrating with memory. Every breath tasting like the heat of his praise. Like friction and restraint and skin I hadn’t touched but felt in every part of me.

My Evol stirred again, lazy and pleased and traitorous.

Sylus finally stepped back.

Not far. Just enough.

But it was enough to snap the cord I’d been balancing on, the tension that had stretched me taut and kept me upright.

I exhaled sharply. One second. Two.

Then turned—

And ran.

Not with grace. Not with poise.

I darted out of that room like I’d been caught naked in front of a firing squad—heart pounding, heat flushing hot down my spine as the automatic door swished closed behind me. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed out.

Away from Sylus.

Away from all of them.

Especially—

God.

Especially Caleb. Zayne. Rafayel. Xavier.

Men I had fantasized about.

Men I had touched myself to.

Men whose images had lived rent-free in my browser history and now stood in flesh and blood and smirking commentary watching me get emotionally manhandled by my own unhinged libido and some metaphysical spark show.

And Sylus? Sylus had used his Evol to—

I slapped both hands over my face as I turned down a hallway that seemed less lab-like and more residential. Doorways. Blank walls. One closed door at the far end. Perfect.

My mind was screaming what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck as I stumbled toward it, yanked the panel open, and slipped inside. It was dark. Cool. Empty.

A former dorm room maybe. Spartan and plain, but not threatening.

I leaned against the wall and let my head fall back with a dull thud.

“I thought this was supposed to be training,” I muttered to the ceiling.

Instead, it’d been… foreplay.

With praise.

And restraint.

And him.

And I—

I liked it too much.

My face flamed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groaned, dragging my fingers through my hair, pacing like a caged animal. “I need a cold shower and a time machine. Preferably in that order.”

Because the worst part wasn’t that I’d gotten off on it.

It was that I wanted more.

And I didn’t know what the hell that said about me anymore.

I pressed my palms to my cheeks, but the heat wasn’t going anywhere.

No amount of cool air or concrete solitude could pull it from my skin. It had rooted itself deeper—down into the marrow, through my chest, blooming low in my belly like fire kissed by oxygen. Lingering.

God.

How had it even started?

It wasn’t like I hadn’t known what I was walking into. Sylus said “training,” and I’d nodded like an idiot. I thought I’d be dodging kicks or practicing breathing patterns, maybe grounding exercises again like we’d done in the sparring ring at Onychinus.

But this—

This had started with a comment.

Rafayel, velvet-voiced chaos incarnate, had whispered about foreplay in that ridiculous lilting tone, knowing exactly what he was doing.

And Sylus—Sylus had picked it up.

He’d felt it.

Maybe he hadn’t heard the words, but his Evol… it caught my reaction like a hand around my pulse.

He tuned to it.

Pushed it.

Pressed into that space with scientific precision and emotional lethality and pulled me apart with praise and frictionless touch until I didn’t know where his energy ended and mine began.

Until I was fracturing in ways that didn’t hurt—but ached.

I groaned again and turned in a slow circle before my knees buckled, and I let myself slide to the floor, back braced against the smooth wall, arms looped around bent knees as if I could squeeze the heat out of my bloodstream and back into something less… volatile.

But it didn’t go.

The echo of it curled in my gut. Need, not panic. Not pain.

I hadn’t felt this in years.

Not since before—

Before the therapist with the fake sympathy.

Before the ex with the knife.

Before the boy in high school who stole my breath and crushed it between a wall and his palm.

I hadn’t felt desire without fear.

But now?

Now I was sitting in an abandoned facility after manifesting dimensional shrapnel and nearly combusting on the mat while five of the most emotionally repressed men in this fucked-up world looked on with varying degrees of approval.

And I still wanted more.

What is wrong with me.

I dropped my forehead to my knees, exhaling shakily.

That’s when I heard the door.

Soft. Deliberate. And slow.

I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Xavier didn’t need sound to make an entrance.

It was the way the air shifted that gave him away. Gentle pressure, like the gravity of a moon pulling at the tides of my thoughts. Constant. Quiet.

Comforting.

He didn’t speak right away. I felt him stand there, just past the threshold, as if asking permission with his silence. My fingers flexed against the floor, and I lifted my head slowly, meeting his gaze in the low light.

He was crouching now.

Not close.

Not looming.

Just there. Like an anchor waiting to be held.

“You okay?” he asked, voice soft enough to be mistaken for thought.

I didn’t answer right away.

My throat tightened.

So I just nodded.

Barely.

And he didn’t press.

Didn’t say I was brave.

Didn’t joke or offer platitudes.

He just sat with me.

Letting the silence speak.

Letting me breathe.

He didn’t look away from me. Just sat there—knees drawn up, forearms resting loose across them, as if crouching down beside a girl trying to piece herself back together was as natural as breathing.

I could still feel the echo of my Evol humming beneath my skin. Not violent. Not disruptive. But coiled. Potent. Like a match still warm from the strike.

Xavier finally spoke, voice low and smooth, like the surface of dark water before a storm.

“The others needed a minute.”

I blinked. “A… minute?”

He nodded slowly. His gaze flicked away for the first time, toward the closed door behind him, his expression unreadable—but not indifferent.

“You shook something loose in them.”

I stared at him, unsure what to do with the way my stomach immediately twisted at the thought. “Like—what. Emotionally?”

He exhaled through his nose. A huff of dry amusement.

“Physically.”

My head dropped back against the wall with a groan of mortification. “Oh my God.”

Xavier didn’t move. Didn’t mock. Just let the silence stretch, weighted with everything unspoken.

I dragged my hands down my face until I could peek at him through my fingers. “So, wait. They’re just… what? Out there? Dealing with a group boner?”

Xavier’s mouth twitched—just slightly. The barest hint of a smirk that ghosted through his stoicism like a ripple on still glass.

“You’re not the only one whose Evol is synced to emotion, Aven.”

I buried my face in my arms, groaning again. “I didn’t mean to… sexually awaken the entire group. I thought I was here to throw a punch, not—fractal seduce the team.”

He let the silence hang again.

But it was warm now.

Comforting.

Present.

Then finally, with a steadiness that struck me harder than if he’d shouted, he said, “They wanted to see you.” 

He looked at me again, gaze steady.

“And they did.”

I blinked again. Slowly. My heart kicking against my ribs.

“But you...” I started, cautiously. “You weren’t affected?”

Xavier’s head tilted slightly, that smirk ghosting back again.

“I didn’t say that.”

He shifted then—closer. Not enough to startle. Not enough to unnerve.

But enough for me to feel the subtle heat coming off of him. The tension carefully wound beneath his usually unreadable exterior. Enough to feel the truth in what he wasn’t saying out loud.

I swallowed hard. “Then why aren’t you out there with them?”

His eyes pinned me.

Not cold.

Not heated.

Just true.

“Because you matter more than a hard-on.”

The words knocked the breath clean out of me.

Not because they were crude.

But because they were so simple.

So brutally sincere.

No pretense. No swagger. No flirty grin.

Just a truth offered in a quiet room by a man who always knew when to speak—and more importantly, when not to.

My throat tightened, and I couldn’t look at him for a long moment.

Because that was the first time in a very long time someone had said I mattered—without needing anything in return.

The silence after his words wasn’t empty.

It ached.

It curled into my chest and pressed up behind my ribs like a weight made of molten glass—beautiful and heavy and sharp.

Because it wasn’t just the words that hit me.

It was the way he said them.

Matter-of-fact.

Grounded.

Like there wasn’t a single goddamn question in his mind that I mattered. Not to him. Not to them. Not because I could unravel space or fracture mirrors with a thought, but because I existed.

I inhaled shakily, staring at the floor like it might help me pull the heat out of my face.

But I could feel him beside me. Still crouched. Still watching. That strange, slow-burning warmth rolling off of him in waves. And underneath it—

Restraint.

The kind that felt a little too taut.

A little too precise.

I shifted slightly, hugging my knees tighter to my chest, trying to make myself smaller. Trying to tuck the flushed heat of my thoughts back into whatever corner of my mind wasn’t already saturated with Evol-induced arousal and lingering embarrassment.

But Xavier moved.

Not much. Just a slight lean toward me.

Deliberate.

Anchored.

It made my breath catch.

“You remember what I said to you?” he asked, voice softer now. Almost private.

“Which part?” I managed, wary.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t look away.

“In your apartment,” he said, and I felt the memory like a whisper on the back of my neck. “Yesterday morning, after I left the first time, when Zayne came over. You were curled up with him on the couch.”

I blinked hard.

That had happened. Yesterday, my period started. Zayne brought me painkillers and supplies and draped the blanket over me like it was nothing after I’d fallen asleep with him on the couch. Xavier had walked in and caught us together, and instead of storming off or making some snarky comment, he just looked at me with those unreadable eyes and said—

“We’ll continue this conversation later.”

My eyes flicked up to his.

His expression hadn’t changed.

But his body was more still now. Poised.

“I remember,” I said quietly.

“I’d like to continue it now.”

My breath caught again.

I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

Or both.

I glanced at him. “You’re sure now’s the best time? With my Evol probably dragging you toward the edge of sanity and my legs still jelly from... whatever that was?”

He let out a low exhale, not quite a laugh. But there was a curve to his mouth now.

“It’s not ideal,” he admitted. “But it’s honest.”

He leaned in again—closer now. Still not touching. But I could feel him. The way his presence filled space even without making a sound.

His next words were barely above a whisper.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you in that hospital bed.”

Oh.

My heart stuttered. I swallowed hard.

He didn’t stop.

“I’ve watched you make room for everyone’s pain but your own. You act like you don’t know what you’re doing to us. To me. But I see you. I feel you. You crack reality without meaning to and still look surprised when we fall for you.”

I felt like I’d been pinned in place without a single finger laid on me.

“Xavier…” My voice broke around his name.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he said. “I don’t even need you to choose. But I needed you to know. I needed to say it—before it gets any harder to pretend I can keep this locked down.”

I made the mistake of looking at him again.

And I saw it.

The hunger.

The need.

But more than that—the restraint.

He was holding himself back like he was afraid touching me would break something. Like I was too sacred to ruin with want.

And somehow, that wrecked me more than any flirtation ever could.

I groaned softly and dropped my head back against the wall.

“This week is trying to kill me,” I muttered.

Xavier’s smile was ghost-soft. “You’re surviving it.”

“Barely.”

“That’s still surviving.”

I looked at him again.

Still crouched.

Still watching me like I mattered more than the ache in his body.

Still willing to let me breathe.

Even though his own was unsteady.

Even though his hands were trembling just slightly where they rested on his knees.

The quiet between us softened, but it didn’t lose its weight.

If anything, it shifted—the tension folding inward instead of crackling across my skin. Like gravity changing direction, drawing me toward something not dangerous, but inevitable.

Xavier hadn’t moved much. Not yet. But I felt the current curling tighter between us. It wasn’t electric like it had been with Sylus—there was no sharp jolt or reckless energy. This was slower. More like the hush before dusk settles, or the way warm water crests over skin just before it’s deep enough to pull you under.

And still, he waited.

Waited like he had all the time in the world.

Like I was something sacred.

My fingers curled slightly against the concrete floor. My pulse thudded in my ears, in my chest, low in my belly. I could feel the slow burn of my Evol simmering again, called not by force or challenge, but something far more disarming.

Want.

Not demand. Not desperation. But that steadfast want I’d forgotten could exist.

Xavier’s eyes didn’t leave mine as he moved—just slightly, just enough to let his knee brush against mine, like he was asking without words if I’d flinch, if I’d break, if he should stop.

I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Instead, I breathed out shakily and tilted my head toward him, lips parting around the edges of something that wasn’t quite speech.

“I’m not used to this,” I whispered.

He didn’t look surprised.

“I know,” he said softly.

There was no pity in it. No rush to fix. Just knowing.

Knowing the kind of history that lives in muscle memory.

Knowing what it means to be touched without tenderness, and to flinch even when there’s no reason to.

He moved again, slower than before. His palm rose, paused mid-air like he was debating whether I was ready for the rest of this, then finally—finally—his fingers brushed my jaw.

Warm. Steady. Reverent.

The contact didn’t ignite fire.

It melted ice.

My eyes fluttered half shut.

“You want the rest of what I didn’t say that day?” Xavier asked, voice closer now—low enough I could feel the breath of it against my cheek.

I nodded, throat too tight for words.

“I walked in,” he murmured, “and saw you curled against Zayne, soft and half-asleep, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if it were me.”

His hand slid down, fingertips just barely grazing the curve of my throat. Not pressing. Not demanding. Just there.

“And not just to hold you,” he went on. “But to make you feel safe enough to fall asleep like that. Like you weren’t afraid to need someone.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

Because no one had said that to me.

Ever.

“I wanted to pull you against me,” he continued, each word exhaling against my skin now. “Wrap you in my arms. Feel your heartbeat under my hand. And not because I thought you’d give me anything. Just because… gods, Aven, you looked so tired. And I wanted to be the place you could rest.”

I felt my Evol shift inside me again. Not surging this time—unfurling. Like it was stretching toward him, answering his honesty with resonance of its own. Want and trust and that aching ache for relief.

“Xavier,” I breathed.

He didn’t press.

Didn’t move further.

But he didn’t back away either.

“I need you to know,” he said, softer still, “that this isn’t just Evol attraction. It’s not just the heat or the power. I see you. Through the bruises. Through the cracks. Through all of it.”

I blinked, and felt tears prick the corners of my eyes.

Not because I was sad.

But because it had been so long since someone looked at me and didn’t flinch.

Didn’t try to fix.

Didn’t try to own.

He just was.

Still and grounded and present.

My hand rose—uncertain, trembling—and found the edge of his hoodie sleeve. I curled my fingers in the fabric, tugging him just a little closer.

Just enough for our foreheads to touch.

The sigh that left his chest was nothing short of reverent.

“I’m not asking you to choose,” he whispered again. “But let me stay close. Let me be here—when you fall, when you rise. When it hurts. When it heals. All of it.”

I nodded, slowly, eyes shut, breathing him in like the only oxygen that didn’t sting.

“Okay,” I whispered.

And in that moment, I didn’t need to run.

I didn’t need to hide.

Because Xavier wasn’t trying to take from me.

He was offering something I didn’t even realize I’d needed.

Sanctuary.

We stayed like that for a while.

Foreheads touching. Breathing synced. The silence between us transformed into something softer, warmer, more true than anything that had come before. It wasn’t laced with tension now, not weighted with the unspoken.

It just was.

And it felt like the first real stillness I’d had since arriving in this world.

Xavier’s hand cupped the side of my face, thumb gently grazing just beneath my cheekbone. His other hand shifted between us and came to rest lightly over my wrist, where my pulse betrayed the fragile rhythm of my heart—fluttering like something delicate caught in the cusp of wind and wire.

“I could stay here,” he said after a long beat, his voice low and curved around the edges of wonder. “Right here. With you.”

The words weren’t a demand.

They weren’t even a request.

They were an offering.

Something laid down at my feet without expectation or strings.

I swallowed. The feeling inside my chest coiled tighter, not painful—just full.

Full of him.

Full of the slow, molten awareness that I’d let him in further than anyone in years. And not because he pushed. But because he waited.

“You have no idea,” I whispered, voice trembling, “what that means.”

He pulled back just slightly, just enough to see my face. His eyes searched mine—unhurried, steady. And then, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it:

“Can I kiss you?”

The world stilled.

And something in me ached to say yes.

Everything in me that had gone cold, gone quiet, gone guarded—it all leaned toward him. Toward that voice, that presence, that gaze that held me like I was more than just a vessel for grief.

I wanted to close that last inch.

I wanted to fall forward and let the moment catch me.

But I didn’t.

Not yet.

Because even as my body sang for him, even as my soul curled closer like petals to warmth, there was a whisper inside me. A soft, instinctive voice that said not here.

Not in this room, tucked in the ghost ribs of a bunker that once broke boys and shattered gods.

Not surrounded by concrete walls and haunted echoes.

Not where pain still clung to the air like dust.

I exhaled and pressed my hand gently to his chest, fingers spread over his heart—feeling its steady rhythm against my palm.

“I want to,” I said softly, honestly. “God, I want to. But not here. Not yet.”

His breath hitched.

And for a heartbeat, I was afraid I’d ruined it.

But then he smiled.

Not with disappointment. Not with frustration.

Just that same quiet knowing.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, covering my hand with his. “When you’re ready.”

I nodded.

My thumb traced a slow circle over his heartbeat.

“I’ll let you know,” I whispered. “And when it’s right… you won’t have to ask.”

His eyes flickered with something warm and rich, something reverent.

“I’ll wait,” he said. “For as long as it takes.”

And there it was again.

That sanctuary.

Not a place. Not a building.

Him.

We lingered for another beat, the quiet of the room wrapping around us like gauze. My hand was still in his, fingers threaded with a kind of intimacy that didn’t shout or burn—it simply existed, real and solid and chosen.

When Xavier rose to his feet, he didn’t tug me along.

He just waited, his hand still there, still warm, a silent anchor.

I stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from my pants, even though I hadn’t moved from the floor in ten minutes. My legs felt steadier now. My head a little clearer. The ache in my chest still pulsed, but it wasn’t unbearable.

Not when he looked at me like that.

Not when he’d said he’d wait.

We stepped into the hallway together, our pace slow but unhurried. His hand remained in mine. Not possessive. Not performative. Just present. Like a promise resting between our palms.

About halfway down the corridor, his thumb brushed over my knuckles.

“You know,” he said casually, tone a little too dry, “the second we walk in there, someone’s going to ask what took us so long.”

I sighed, head tilting back just enough to stare at the low concrete ceiling. “You mean Raf is going to ask what took us so long.”

He didn’t deny it.

He didn’t need to.

I could already hear the flirty lilt of Rafayel’s voice in my head, dripping with mischief and more than a little suggestive sarcasm.

Xavier glanced down at me with the faintest twitch of a smile. “He’s going to say something inappropriate.”

“I’m shocked,” I deadpanned, “truly.”

“You know he won’t let it go.”

“I’m already cringing.”

“Zayne, or Caleb might try to rescue you.”

“Only to tease me later.”

“And Sylus...?”

I groaned again, this time with genuine, preemptive embarrassment.

Xavier chuckled low in his throat.

I didn’t even try to pull my hand away. I just shifted closer, almost burrowing against his side as we reached the doorway to the training chamber. My shoulder brushed his ribs. His arm curled protectively behind me.

“If anyone says anything,” I murmured, “I’m throwing you under the bus.”

“I can take it,” he replied, tone light, but I could hear the steel beneath it. “But you might not want to look directly at Raf if he’s grinning. It’s how he traps people.”

“Like a fashion-forward Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Exactly.”

I huffed a breath, not quite a laugh, but not a groan either. Just somewhere in between—as if I couldn’t quite decide if I was mortified or... giddy.

And then, still curled slightly into his side, I stepped with him through the door.

The training room hadn’t shifted much. Still humming with quiet static from the earlier session. Still carrying the weight of our Evols in the air. But the moment we crossed the threshold, all four heads turned.

Zayne—arms crossed and back to leaning against the wall—arched a slow, knowing brow.

Caleb, seated on the edge of a cleared table, smirked like he’d been waiting.

Sylus didn’t react at all—on the outside. But his eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked between our linked hands for a fraction of a second too long.

And Raf?

Rafayel tilted his head and grinned, blue-pink eyes gleaming with the exact level of chaos I’d been bracing for.

“Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence,” he said, in a sing-song tone that was somehow both charming and mildly feral.

I curled further into Xavier’s side, practically hiding behind his shoulder now.

“Ten credits says there was tongue,” Raf added, to no one in particular.

“There was not,” I barked, voice muffled against Xavier’s arm.

“Oh, sweetheart, denial looks so good on you,” he teased, fanning himself like the drama queen he was.

“Raf,” Zayne warned, though there was amusement dancing at the corners of his mouth.

“Just saying! We’ve all had our little spiritual moments today, I think it’s lovely that Aven and our resident cryptid shared theirs behind the drama curtain.”

I reached out blindly and swatted in Raf’s general direction, missing.

“I will use my Evol,” I warned.Raf only grinned wider. “Oh, I hope so.”

[harvestmino]

hey remember 11 years ago when i was going to make a harvest moon clone starring minoriko but it didn't go anywhere because I was too busy doing absolutely nothing of value instead?

well say hello to the week 1 build of HARVEST MINO, complete with dogshit tiles and the ability to grow a turnip. we're doing it man. we're MAKING THIS HAPPEN. me and my esteemed investors, that is!

I've created this dev blog to talk about the game, so follow if you're interested in seeing this get made from the ground up.

read on for more details!

HARVEST MINO* is Studio Hexeye's next project! it's a touhou-themed farm sim starring Minoriko Aki! The release is targeted for summer 2025.

*(working title that will change later; i doubt natsume's lawyers would like this one very much)

THE STORY

With more youkai and gods seeking refuge from the outside world, Gensokyo's population is growing! That means they need more humans to go around, too. To address this, a number of big name youkai have gotten together and agreed to back off from the HUMAN VILLAGE for a few years and allow it to expand.

Although they're causing fewer incidents, that doesn't mean some of them aren't keeping busy! For instance, KANAKO YASAKA has built YASAKA RESORT TOWN on the side of YOUKAI MOUNTAIN to bring in money from wealthy youkai finding themselves with too much time on their hands.

You are MINORIKO AKI, Gensokyo's lowest-ranking harvest god. With the HUMAN VILLAGE growing, this is a prime opportunity to increase your popularity! KANAKO YASAKA has decided to invest in your venture by granting you a prime piece of farmland near YASAKA RESORT TOWN. If you can ship enough of your divinely-blessed(?) produce to the HUMAN VILLAGE, you're certain to make a name for yourself, leading to faith and riches beyond your wildest dreams! Good luck!

HARVEST MINO DESIGN GOALS

Alternate gameplay modes: CASUAL and SERIOUS

despite being a genre in which you essentially cannot lose, a surprising amount of people find farm sims stressful due to the time management aspects. i intend to cater to this audience with some simple rules changes in an alternate gameplay mode.

SERIOUS is your standard farm sim experience - each day is on a timer, and you'll complete the game and have your performance evaluated after two years. this mode also includes a few additional restrictions to make the resource management of the game a bit more involved.

CASUAL removes the time limits. the clock on each day stops when it hits midnight (like in SNES harvest moon!) so you have all the time you need to wrap up before going to bed, and you complete the game by reaching a certain story goal, whenever you get around to it. it is also more friendly towards filling out your farm with automated stuff like sprinklers, since time doesn't matter anyway.

More choice/depth in farm design

lemme get this out of the way: i hate stardew's endgame. the biggest moneymaker in the game is filling your greenhouse with ancient fruit and turning it into wine; the bulk of your profits come from tossing your fruit into kegs once a week and ignoring your farm otherwise. i think this sucks and one of my design goals is to make the value of income sources proportional to how much manual effort they require.

another thing that has always bugged me about farm sims is that the way you lay out your farm is generally decided for you by the way your tools work. if your watering can upgrade targets a 3x3 of tiles, then all your plots are going to be 3x3. in harvest mino you'll be able to choose from multiple upgrade patterns for your tools, so you can have crops in rows, blocks, the ol' C pattern, or whatever you like. we're going back to old harvest moon rules, where you can't walk through crops after they sprout, so plan your layout well!

Harem end??

let's get real, when it comes to farm sims, the girls are what we're really here for, right?

to be forthcoming, I'm not planning to have marriage in the game per se - I don't think it makes a lot of sense for creatures that are hundreds of years old to make a commitment like that after knowing each other for only a year or so - but the end goal is functionally the same, to get them to move in with you.

now, few, if any, farm sims feature the coveted HAREM END. this is understandable, it would be a design nightmare to have 5+ NPCs pathing through your house at any given time. however, by planning around it from the start, we can make it a reality! in this game, in addition to the usual requirements, each girl you're interested in will require you to build her a specific addition to your house to accommodate her. this gives them their own space to move around and will really improve the vibe that you're living together.

(don't forget that you will need a steadily-increasing bed size as well.)

Fast travel!

you're a 2hu! you can fly! you'll be able to open up your map, just pick a spot, and fly there! (in SERIOUS MODE, this will cost a small amount of daytime).

Adventure!

you're a 2hu! there's gotta be shooting! the game will feature "adventure zones" where you can blast through enemies while searching for forage and loot. exactly what this gameplay will look like is still up in the air, but right now I'm thinking room-based twin-stick shooting, Smash TV style. (don't worry about the difficulty, it'll be approachable for anyone. ASTROLANCER was a learning experience.) plus you'll be able to bring a girlfriend along to help!

Additional note concerning the cast:

the game is currently in very early planning and as such is in roster hell!! the cast is not set in stone so I won't be revealing too much yet. i have to limit how many characters are in the game to keep dev time under control so try not to be disappointed if your favorite 2hu doesn't show up.

[kabukinomoe]

𝐼𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝒹𝓊𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

Hello, I am a shifter from tiktok. I want to become more serious about shifting so I've decided to try and move to tumblr!

Basics ;

17 years olds (be mindful!)

Way too many dr's

Aroace/Ambiamory

I love reading manhwa, especially if it has a reverse harem with poly ending.... Don't get me started on how much I love an overpowered female character!

I would like to say that I'm quite creative, though I do go through many blocks because of being Autistic and having ADHD

I mainly go by she/they pronouns but I don't mind being called anything else! (pls use it/its for me I will literally hug you if you do!!)

Questions??

Go ahead! As long as it isn't anything weird. I'm just getting more serious about my shifting journey, despite having known about it for so long… Open to suggestions and post requests too! Overall just here to have fun ^^

DNI ;

Regular dni criteria, Anti-shifters, people who kill for fun, people who shift themselves to be younger just for romance with a younger person, uhm… I can't think of anything else currently but I might edit this ^^;

DR's that I will post about!

Athengale Boarding School

Better CR (main dr)

Demon slayer

Naruto(??)

Edited this to change it to the new theme, please excuse any horrible layouts in the future ^^;;

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

inspired by ; @lalalian (shes amazing, please check her out!!)

[guilty-pleasures21]

The heretic princess

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

BONUS

Warnings: kissing.

----------------------------------------------------------

     He grabs your wrist once you are alone, pulling you down the corridor with him. 

     “Duckie!” you laugh, stumbling along after him. “Duckie, calm down!” But he doesn’t, keeping up his unrelenting pace until finally, you stop outside his rooms. 

     He stood in front of the doors, your hand in his, his heart pounding in his chest with anticipation. Then he slid his gaze over to you. 

     This was it: this was what you had been waiting for. He wouldn’t have brought you to his private chambers if he had simply wanted to discuss politics with you. Your gaze flickers up to his and he looks at you in question, waiting for your assent. You turn your attention back to the doors and inhale slowly, standing tall. Then you nod.

     He pushes his door open, giving you the space to walk inside. You’d never been inside his room before, not even as a child. It was slightly bigger than yours, but with a similar layout: a receiving room in the middle with a door that led to the bath on the right and another that led to his bedroom on the left. The colours were more muted than yours, too: dark greens, calm yellows and earthy browns. You step onto the carpet, heading for the cushions at the end of the room by the balcony, but Miguel grabs your wrist, stopping you.

     “Not there,” he told you quickly, starting to get nervous again. What if you didn’t want him in the same way that he wanted you? In the same way that he’d started dreaming about since the women of the harem had begun instructing him on how to touch his lovers in the bedroom? Well, lover singular. Although there would only be one queen, it wasn’t unusual for a king to take more than one woman as his wife - to ensure the passage of his seed and the conception of his heirs. But he’d seen how much it had affected his mother, having to hold her head high whilst his father lay with some other woman in the harem across the palace. You turned to face him, a confused expression on your pretty face, and his insides twisted at the thought of you having to experience that same pain because of him. He wouldn’t do that to you, never. He swallowed hard and nodded to his bedroom, his eyes staying fixed on you to gauge your reaction. “In there.” 

     Your heart pounds in your chest as you break his gaze to glance over at the door. His bedroom; he was inviting you into his bedroom. He had to know what that would mean; how you - and anyone who might find out - would interpret such a gesture. You look up at him, his copper eyes wide with hope as he holds his breath, waiting for your response. Then you turn back to his door and again, you nod.

     He led you into his bedroom, his body already hot with excitement. He’d always assumed that you would be his wife one day: you were a princess of his own kingdom, after all, it only made sense that you would marry him once you had come of age. And why else would his parents have let you spend so much time together since you were children? No one would ever know him in the same way that you would - would anticipate his moods and know how to soothe him after years of growing up with one another. But he hadn’t known back then what it truly meant to be married - what the difference was between a husband and wife and two childhood friends. 

     But then he’d been told which parts of a woman’s body would bring him the most pleasure; which parts he would like to stroke and kiss and … and join together with so that he might ensure the continuation of his lineage. He’d toss and turn in his bed at night, his sheets dampening with his sweat as he’d dream about your lips and your breasts and your touch. How would you have grown, he’d wondered, trying to imagine you a little older. Would your features be sharper? Your lips plumper and your body fuller? 

     And then he’d seen you, standing there in the middle of the Great Hall, more perfect than he could have ever imagined. He turned to you now and raised his hand to your cheek, leaning over so your lips were just a breath apart. “Why did you leave, kitty? You didn’t even say goodbye.”

     A lump forms in your throat at the sorrow in his words. He was right: how could you have left your best friend? The boy whom you had loved since you were a child? You swallow hard, your eyes falling to his lips, your head tilting back to try to close the distance between you.

     “I-I … I …” You place your hands on his chest and lower your gaze, sucking in a breath to regain control of your thoughts. “I didn’t say goodbye … because I knew I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave if I saw you again.”

     “Then why did you?” he questioned immediately. He took hold of your hands and the abruptness of his gesture caused you to look up at him. “You should have stayed. Here. With me.”

     Your heart squeezes at the sadness evident in his eyes and your gaze falls to the way he clutches your hands in his. You look up at him again and your eyes land on his lips, so close to yours. But you swallow down your desire, reminding yourself not to give in to him until he'd given you what you’d been working for. 

     “And serve what purpose, Miguel? Some … forgotten princess? Just waiting to be married off to a foreign prince in a strange land faraway?” You shake your head at the thought, your expression turning resolute. Then you think about your next words, choosing them carefully so as to guide your best friend’s thoughts. “At least if I remain at the temple, I might-”

     “No.” His tone is forceful and you frown in puzzlement at the intensity of it. 

     “You are not returning to the temple, Y/N,” he continues firmly. “I will not allow it.”

     You scoff indignantly, taking offence at his command. “And why is that?”

     “Because!” Why didn’t you get it? Why was it so difficult for everyone in this palace to understand?! He guided your hands to his shoulders, then lowered his to your waist, his brows still scrunched together in a frown. He leaned over you and his lips moved closer to yours with every sentence that he spoke. “Your place is here. With me.”

     He paused for a moment as his lips finally brushed against yours, so lightly you both might have missed it. Then he murmured against them. “As my queen.”

     You gasp and Miguel follows the movements of your mouth, maintaining the barest contact between your lips. This was it. Iset would have told you to seal the deal immediately; to give yourself over to him and ensure that he could not go back on his word. But to you, he was still your friend - still the boy who had defended you from your classmates when they’d mocked you as ‘Princess of the Heretics’ - and you wanted to be sure that he wasn’t just acting on his lust. “But … But duckie … You can’t make that decision in one night-”

     “I haven’t.” He wrapped his arms around you, delighting in how deliciously soft you felt against him. Gods, he wanted to taste you. He wanted to touch you and be touched by you and show you exactly how much he’d missed you in the time that you’d been gone. But you still didn’t believe that his feelings for you were true. “I have always thought that you would be my queen.”

     You turn away from him and he reluctantly pulls his lips away from yours, running through the list he'd perfected in his mind. “You speak many of the languages across the continent and are well-educated in most of our allies’ cultures as well. You bring a smile to the face of everyone you meet, putting them at ease so that they trust you with their secrets. You are wise and fair and I know you would always put our people first.”

     He bends over and his lips graze yours as he continues to speak. “You are the princess of this kingdom, my little kitten. Who would make a better Queen than you?” 

     His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips harder against yours. But you turned your head away, still dissatisfied by his answer. He sighed and slid his hands up your back, pulling you into his chest. 

     “You said you wanted me to have a fulfilling companion, kitty,” he reminds you, holding you close to him. “Someone who would share my burdens and support me in whatever I did. Who would …”

     His lips skim the edge of your jaw and he groans as you shudder against him. “Y/N …”

     His hands fall back to your waist, holding you in place as his lips make their way down your neck, stopping occasionally to suck lightly on your skin. 

     “Promise … Promise me … my love …” Your head falls back as he brushes his nose up to your ear and you whimper in surprise as he tugs on your lobe with his teeth. “Promise me that you’ll be my queen.”

     His lips land back on yours and you can stand it no longer. You stretch onto your toes and close the distance between you, your fingers twisting into the front of his robes as you kiss him. Miguel smiles as he kisses you back, his hands sliding across your body slowly, carefully. One of his hands drops down your back, landing on your behind, and he squeezes you gently.

     “Y/N …” He pulled away from you and grinned at the dazed look he found on your face. “Turn around.” 

     He spun you around, then swept your hair over your shoulder and unhooked the back of your necklace. You were so soft and so sweet and he was even more eager now to know what your bare skin would feel like against his.

     You cover your chest with your hand and twist your head to see him placing your necklace on his dresser. He takes his crown off as well and you give him a curious look as he moves back over to you. “Miguel? What are you doing, my darling?”

     Oh, he loved hearing that. He grinned as he combed his fingers through your hair, carefully undoing your braids and tugging out the ribbon of gold. 

     “I am making sure that no one can ever take you from me again,” he tells you calmly, setting the ribbon down beside your necklace. He turns back to you and takes your hand, pulling you to him before sliding your bangles off. “Not some priestesses locked away in a temple somewhere, nor some foreign prince from a faraway land.”

      He takes both your hands in his and strokes the backs of them with his thumbs as he gazes down at you. “I won’t let anyone ever take you away from me again, my kitty.”

     His eyes trailed down your body and the saliva pooled in his mouth as he took in the ample curves of your breasts, the tops of them exposed by the low cut of your dress. He hadn’t even touched you yet and he could already feel himself getting excited! He cupped your cheek in his hand and walked you backwards to his bed as he began kissing you again, his tongue sweeping across your lips as he sought permission into your mouth. 

     You part your lips, just enough for him to slide his tongue into your mouth and brush it against your own. A whimper escapes your throat at the taste of him, and he bends over to keep his mouth pressed against yours as your head falls back with pleasure.

     You tasted so sweet, exactly as he’d imagined you would. He felt some resistance suddenly as the backs of your legs hit his bed and he straightened, pulling his mouth away from yours. He brushed your hair behind your ear, his heart fluttering at your adorable little face, then he took a step back from you.

[sgiandubh]

Miss Canada and Canada Day

Dear 'Oh Canada, Our Home and Native Land' Anon,

I, too, wiped a fond, sentimental tear, while being reminded it was Canada Day today. Such beautiful personal memories of a totally impromptu Sweet Sixteen party, somewhere in Nova Scotia!

Ahem. Back to our monotheme, I hope you also noticed the MPC logo on top of the perfunctory 'Happy [insert country name here] Day':

The layout gave me airline magazine, not harem vibes, Anon. And yes, I know once upon a time June Brunette was Miss Universe Canada. In 2006.

Who the hell remembers Sarah and Lauren, anymore? Thinking of The Brazilian Fan who could have sworn her little💘out that she saw an organic couple having lunch on that Fateful London Afternoon. And then proceeded to publish a lengthy Shipper Insult 101 for everyone to see (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/750212524028362752/five-minutes-of-instagram-fame). I hope she really felt reality bite and her looking like the Global Fool she really is, now.

Oh, how the mighty quickly fall to oblivion! Who remembers Purse Holding S, @ Hyrox London, anymore? Who remembers the rabid Anons, demanding to know where Scottish Xena was, and with whom and why?

*crickets*

And for all of the above, in the unforgettable South Park parlance...

I have to say, it's spot on, at times. At least until The Next UFO hits the fandom with renewed hysteria and collective amnesia, that is.

[yanderefarm]

IM SO DOWN FOR ILLAD BRO HAREM ACTUALLY I THINK I LIKE THAT

Like i just imagine, if the events really went like what other anon said, you can have a reason (while not dying because you're protected by 2 bros) and you'll go like "ok. You know what.. What if i marry all three of you. Ares, i love you, and these are your brothers. Don't kill me, i won't leave you, and share. We'll get to therapy in a bit. Ajax, these are your brothers you should not kill them, and i don't think you should bring any girls in here ares would kill them. Achilles.. Um, try to be less clingy or we'll both get killed by your brother."

honestly like itd be the weirdest polycule.

you have achilles being the only responsible and reasonable one like 90% of the time because if his brothers are around he won't want to show his weak side. no more silly little masochist he doesn't have the time. which means he's actually more stressed than normal and desperately wants torture time.

ares would try he would! he tries to be a good wife even with everyone else pissing him off. he'll take care of the house he'll cook dinner for you and him and conveniently forget his brothers- he would absolutely lose it if you showed any preferential treatment. he's the main reason achilles can't have torture time because being alone with you for that long would make ares go crazy.

ajax has to struggle the most here i think because he's got all these complicated feelings but now he can't do shit because he does not wanna get on ares bad side. he would probably bring more girls over but for himself only to get passive aggressive comments about how he clearly shouldn't be here he doesn't actually care about you from ares.

ares is a problem child idk if I've stated that enough before.

i think! maybe if you were the one to really put your foot down with ares and like clearly layout what you want the harem could work out. you'll have to make a schedule for who gets what day but like it could work. it's just also messy af

[doedipus]

idk how to dunk screenshots underwater on desktop but pretend I did

first of all, azumanga is shonen! a lot of harem anime/manga are also shonen! shonen is a publishing demographic various magazines aim for akin to the way american publishers talk about the "middle grade" or "young adult" demographics rather than being a genre. if you see manga listed as shonen anywhere, that doesn't mean that it's a battle-adventure-whatever naruto-like series, it just means that it's published in a magazine that's primarily aimed at middle school and high school aged boys.

azumanga daioh was published in dengeki daioh, one such magazine.

love hina is a harem manga that was published in weekly shonen magazine, which one might gather is another shonen magazine.

jojo's bizarre adventure is a battle manga that used to be published in jump, a shonen magazine, but is now published in ultra jump, a seinen magazine aimed at the next age demographic up. it's not shonen because it's aimed at young men of college age and up

also, what is the point of a graph if one extreme is just shrugging anyway??? are we making a clear statement here or just pointing out obvious flaws in a way that feels weirdly suspect? like, the layout of this thing implies that it's safer to assume any given shonen series is going to be especially misogynistic than not, which is kind of a weird thing to say!

[fullmoonandstar]

*throws a carrier pigeon with a message towards you and then runs away*

Hi! Just wanted to say that I always enjoy reading your stuff about Raphael! You especially write his dialogue and his perspective very well. I actually come back to reread "Little Spoon" every now and then because it is soft and cute and I love how the devil-man doesn't even think to try to convince himself that he doesn't like it.

Thank you for writing what you have! I hope to read more from you in the future but I will also always be happy with what you have written and shared with us. Bye!

As a writer it's always so awesome to hear that people re read your stuff. Thank you so much 🥺

It often feels like I'm posting into the void so this really made my day and I don't have words to express my gratitude 🙏

I'm sort of in weird place atm. I lost my job and the job market sucks. I'm taking an online course on my own time now and I will start a Project Management course next month (that the agency for labor (?) pays for). My partner makes enough money so we won't go hungry or anything like that but it won't be as comfortable as it was.

Tangent: how do "men" expect women to stay at home when one (above median) salary is not enough to even cover two people? (My partner would love it if I made enough money so he doesn't have to work xD)

So, yeah, I haven't really sat down to write in a while. The only thing I have worked on were original stories but none of them have reached a stage where I can just write either. (They are fantasy and fantasy-romance stories, some even polyam/reverse harem bc I too want to be adored by multiple attractive men xD) It's fun to work on, especially since there is the possibility to self publish at some point in the future. Maybe I'll put some on my website a la Andy Weir.

TL;DR not sure when I will post fanfics again

Ps. Raphael & Haarlep zine will be out soon-ish when the layout is done