#he remains impenetrably proper

[mermaidsirennikita]

My Autumn relisten is of the edited version because of that fun little thing where the original was replaced with the edited version retroactively on so many platforms without any sort of note or qualification, and can I tell y'all.....

Removing the dubcon scene from this novel kinda completely ruins it.

[edenesth]

Pride and Prejudice

Pairing: superior!Hongjoong x fem!reader

AU: office au

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Kim Hongjoong, the intimidating superior with an unreasonable prejudice against you, holds a grudge that seems endless. What happens when your paths collide in an unexpectedly heartwarming late-night encounter in the office?

ATEEZ Masterlist

Kim Hongjoong.

That was a name that sent shivers down most employees' spines.

In the bustling world of corporate offices, he was known as the intimidating superior that everyone dreaded.

From the moment you set foot in the company, you felt the weight of his prejudice against you. He had a stereotype against pretty girls, believing that you had only secured your position due to what he dubbed as "pretty privilege."

Despite his initial disdain for you, you had been determined to prove your worth. Days turned into weeks, and your hard work began to speak for itself. Your colleagues recognised your dedication and praised your quality of work.

But Hongjoong's pride remained an impenetrable barrier, preventing him from acknowledging your skills and contributions. Because of that, he's been out to get you for as long as you can remember.

Little did you know, things were about to change real soon.

One evening, after the office had emptied out, you found yourself still at your desk, engrossed in a challenging project.

It was then that Hongjoong, against his usual routine, returned to the office for some last-minute work. Surprised to see you there, he observed you from a distance.

He watched as you tirelessly poured over spreadsheets, crafted reports, and revised presentations. It was clear that your commitment went beyond any perceived privilege. Slowly, a realisation dawned upon him, shattering the preconceived notions that had clouded his judgement.

Too immersed in your work to notice him, you typed away, the soft glow of your computer screen casting a dim light on your face.

Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a growing sense of guilt.

He noticed the countless cups of coffee scattered across your desk, each one bearing the telltale signs of late nights and long hours. There was also a half-finished packet of cream crackers, a meagre attempt at sustenance in the midst of your dedication.

His initial irritation at finding you still at the office slowly gave way to concern. It was well past dinner time, and he wondered if you'd even had a proper meal that day. Clearing his throat, he approached your desk, his footsteps light but purposeful.

"You're still here?" He asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, the surprise of your presence evident in his tone.

Your head snapped up at his unexpected appearance, and you shot up from your seat, a reflexive gesture of politeness ingrained in you, "Yes, Mr. Kim," You replied with a polite bow, "Just finishing up some work. What are you doing here?"

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to the scattered coffee cups and the packet of crackers before meeting your gaze, "I had something I forgot to finish earlier," He confessed, his voice carrying a newfound vulnerability, "So, I came back to the office to settle it."

You nodded slowly, understanding the pressures of your demanding workplace all too well. Returning to your work, you couldn't help but notice the genuine concern in his expression. It was a stark contrast to the disdain and prejudice you had once faced from him.

Then, in a moment that would forever change your professional relationship, he spoke up once more, his words laced with an unexpected humility.

"I didn't realise how hard you work."

Surprised by his admission and the softness in his voice, you looked up again, a flicker of hope in your eyes. With a faint but sincere smile, you replied, "I've been trying to show you all along."

It was a turning point, a moment when the barriers between you and your superior began to crumble, replaced by a newfound understanding.

The awkward silence that hung in the air between you and Hongjoong felt palpable, a reminder of the distance that had separated you for so long. You decided to break the tension by resuming your work, murmuring, "I'll get back to this then."

He simply nodded in response, his eyes fixed on his own office room, but he didn't leave. Instead, he stood there, silently wrestling with his thoughts. He desperately wanted to ask if you had eaten, knowing full well that the late hour meant that a proper meal was long overdue.

However, his pride, which had been a formidable barrier between you two, still held sway over him.

Inwardly frustrated with himself, he cursed under his breath and forced himself to remember why he had returned to the office in the first place. With a reluctant sigh, he reminded himself of the unfinished work waiting for him in his office. Pushing past his internal turmoil, he turned on his heel and headed toward his workspace, determined to distract himself with the tasks at hand.

As he retreated to his office, the lingering sense of guilt and a newfound respect for your dedication continued to gnaw at him.

It was a moment of reckoning, and he wondered if breaking down the remaining walls of pride and prejudice was the path he needed to take to foster a more harmonious working relationship with you.

Hours passed, and the office had grown eerily quiet as midnight approached.

Hongjoong, convinced that you would have left by now, finally decided to call it a night. He stretched, shut down his computer, and began packing his things. But as he made his way towards the exit, he glanced over at your desk and was surprised to find you still there, diligently working away.

His surprise grew when he saw you reach for another packet of crackers, your stomach protesting loudly with a growl. The sight of your dedication and the audibility of your hunger pangs finally broke through the last remnants of his pride and hesitation.

He couldn't let you continue like this.

In a bold move that shocked both you and himself, he approached your desk and swiftly snatched the packet of crackers from your hands, "That's it," He declared, determination in his voice, "I'm taking you to have a proper meal."

You gasped, your wide eyes locked onto his, completely taken aback by his sudden change in demeanour. Without giving you a choice, he tugged you up from your chair, and you reached for your handbag, thinking you might need to pay for your own meal.

Shock and disbelief coursed through your veins as you followed him towards the 24-hour convenience store just downstairs from the office. He surprised you once again.

"Go on, pick whatever you want to eat. It's on me."

The realisation that your once-intimidating superior was genuinely concerned about your well-being left you in a state of utter astonishment.

You carefully selected a light meal, trying to be polite since Hongjoong was footing the bill. But he sighed in frustration when he noticed your restraint, and he swiftly grabbed a few more side dishes, silencing your protests with a stern glare.

Once he had paid, you found yourselves settled at a table and chairs in a quiet corner of the store.

You began, "Thank you for the meal, Mr. Kim."

He nodded in acknowledgement but seemed lost in thought. After a moment of contemplation, he finally spoke up, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red, "Just Hongjoong."

You froze, your actions of opening the food package momentarily halted, "What?" You asked, surprised by his request.

He cleared his throat, still blushing but determined, "I said, just call me Hongjoong. We're not at work now, you don't have to be so formal."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you noticed how cute he looked, flustered by the change in dynamics. You nodded, genuinely touched by his gesture, "Okay. Thank you for the meal, Hongjoong. I really appreciate it."

For some inexplicable reason, he felt his heart warm at hearing you say his name for the first time.

As you both shared the meal, he discovered a side of you he had been quick to overlook. He realised just how wrong he had been to judge you based on a shallow stereotype. It became evident that there was so much more to you than just your good looks, and he couldn't help but curse himself for his past behaviour.

He had needlessly made your life difficult from the moment you joined the company, and he felt a growing sense of remorse.

After the meal, you thanked him once more and wished him a safe trip home, intending to return to the office to finish your work. But his unease intensified as he watched you walk back toward the darkened office alone. He couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you after he had left, and he knew he would never forgive himself.

In an unexpected move, he followed you back to the office, stopping the elevator doors from closing and forcing his way in. You gasped in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes.

He cleared his throat, trying to appear nonchalant despite the racing of his heart, "What kind of a terrible boss would I be to let you work alone so late?" He stammered, "I... I'll help you. That way, you'll finish faster, and we can both go home."

Your heart skipped a beat at his thoughtfulness, a gesture you had never expected from the intimidating Kim Hongjoong.

With a grateful smile, you nodded, realising that beneath the stern exterior you had initially encountered, there was a caring and compassionate side to him that you were only just beginning to discover, "Thank you, Hongjoong. This means a lot to me."

From that day forward, the dynamic between you and Hongjoong shifted dramatically.

The next morning at work, an unexpected sight left all of your colleagues in shock. Hongjoong appeared next to your desk, holding a cup of your favourite coffee and a pack of sandwiches that he had clearly taken notice of you enjoying frequently.

His voice was unusually gentle as he greeted you, saying, "Good morning. Here, don't skip breakfast again."

Your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude as you stammered out a thank you, bowing slightly, "Morning, Mr. Kim! Gosh, you really didn't have to. But thank you so much."

You could see him trying his hardest to maintain his composure in front of your curious colleagues, who were all gawking at the unexpected display of kindness. With a quick nod, he turned and hurried into his office, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Once he was gone, your colleagues flocked around your desk, eager to hear the story behind this sudden change in Hongjoong's behaviour. They bombarded you with questions, excited to unravel the mystery of why your intimidating superior was now going out of his way to be nice to you.

The office buzzed with curiosity and anticipation, as the dynamics within the workplace continued to shift in surprising and heartwarming ways.

Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong had been discreetly observing you from the glass window of his office.

A smile spread across his face as he watched you finally enjoy the coffee and sandwich he had gotten for you. It was a simple gesture, but it held a deeper significance for both of you.

In the days that followed, everyone at work noticed the remarkable change in his behaviour toward you. He openly acknowledged your skills and contributions, and the two of you began to develop a professional respect for each other.

Your colleagues teased you relentlessly, speculating that there might be something more to his newfound kindness. They playfully suggested that Kim Hongjoong might have developed feelings for you.

But you would have none of it.

You firmly told them off each time they made such ridiculous claims, asserting that his change in behaviour was simply a result of him realising he had been wrong in his initial judgement of you. While the teasing continued, you remained steadfast in your belief that his actions were motivated by respect rather than romantic interest.

The office atmosphere had shifted from one of tension and prejudice to one of teamwork and support, thanks to the unlikely friendship that had blossomed between you and your superior.

Little did you know that your colleagues' playful theories about Hongjoong's feelings were not as far-fetched as you believed.

Frustration began to creep into his actions as he yearned for you to grasp the deeper meaning behind his gestures. He had become more attentive, consistently leaving breakfast at your desk and offering assistance with your workload, even when you hadn't requested it. These efforts were his way of expressing feelings he had only recently come to understand.

He was left bewildered by the evolution of his emotions.

He couldn't pinpoint when it had started, but his newfound respect and admiration for you had gradually transformed into something more profound and romantic.

As he continued to go out of his way to be a part of your life, he wished for the day when you might see beyond the professional facade and realise that his actions were driven by deeper feelings he was struggling to contain.

But Hongjoong had reached a breaking point.

That's it, I guess I'll just have to be more direct.

He couldn't continue to hide his feelings and yearnings any longer; he needed to be more forward about his intentions. The internal struggle was taking its toll, and he was determined to let you know how he truly felt.

On a day like any other, as he got you breakfast, you thanked him once more for the meal.

Gathering his courage, he decided to seize the moment, even if it meant doing so in front of all your colleagues. He cleared his throat and, with an air of determination, he spoke, "You can thank me by going to dinner with me."

A collective gasp rippled through the office as everyone realised that Hongjoong was finally making a move.

You, stunned by his unexpected proposition, gulped and blinked up at him, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. With a shaky voice, you croaked, "A-are you asking me out on a date?"

He nodded, taking a bold step closer to you.

He knew he was being unprofessional, and normally, he would care deeply about that, but his feelings for you had grown too strong to suppress any longer. At this moment, all that mattered was hearing your response, and he couldn't wait to hear you say yes.

As much as you longed to say yes, you couldn't ignore the weight of potential consequences.

The risk of having an office romance with your superior loomed large in your mind, and you feared the impact it might have on both your personal and professional life. You were torn between your heart's desires and the practicality of the situation.

However, your colleagues, growing impatient with your silence, began chanting insistently, "Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"

Their encouragement, combined with Hongjoong's pleading gaze, melted your heart. You knew that your happiness in the present moment mattered more than any potential complications, so you finally nodded and said, "Yes."

The office erupted into joyful cheers as his face broke into a radiant smile. He couldn't contain his excitement as he gently took your hand and pressed a tender kiss onto your knuckles.

"Great," He said, his voice filled with genuine happiness, "I'll catch you after work, then."

With a newfound sense of hope and anticipation, you felt that this unexpected turn of events might just be the beginning of something wonderful between you and Hongjoong.

Your first date with him had gone exceptionally well, and as you spent more time together, your connection deepened.

After a few more memorable dates, he finally gathered the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. You couldn't help but voice your concerns about how the relationship might impact your work dynamics.

He listened attentively and reassured you that he understood your concerns completely. He promised to do his utmost to keep things professional and not let your relationship interfere with your work. Trusting his sincerity and the strength of your connection, you took a leap of faith and agreed to be his.

From that point onward, everyone at work began to playfully thank you for transforming Hongjoong from an intimidating figure into a gentle and approachable one.

It was evident that he had become more friendly and open with all the employees, and the atmosphere in the office began to relax. The newfound harmony made everyone happier to work together, as the once-tense environment transformed into a more welcoming and pleasant one.

His transformation from a scary boss to a sweet and caring boyfriend was nothing short of remarkable. He made every effort to ensure that you felt loved and cherished in every aspect of your relationship.

Each morning, he would pick you up from your home with a warm smile and drive you to work, turning your daily commute into a shared adventure.

In his office, you would both enjoy breakfast together, savouring these precious moments before the workday began. As he walked you to your desk, he would often steal a quick, affectionate kiss when he thought no one was watching, leaving a subtle yet sweet reminder of his feelings.

Throughout the day, he would make sure that you never skipped a meal, even if it meant reminding you to take a break. Whenever the weather turned chilly, he'd drape his blazer over your shoulders, ensuring you stayed warm and comfortable.

One of the most significant changes was his commitment to ensuring you didn't stay late at work anymore. He would whisk you away for dinner, treating you to delicious meals before taking you home. And on nights when he was too tired to go home, he'd sometimes stay at your place.

Hongjoong's sweetness as a boyfriend was a stark contrast to the intimidating figure you had first met.

He had evolved into a caring and attentive partner, demonstrating his love not just in words but also through his thoughtful actions, it made your life more meaningful with each passing day.

"Thank you, Mr. Park. I look forward to our collaboration."

As you shook hands with the client, a polite smile on your face, Hongjoong felt a twinge of frustration. He was so close to winning over Park Seonghwa for the latest project.

Fine, you win this round.

A year had passed since you started dating, and your professional paths had taken an unexpected turn. You had been promoted to his level and were now working in a different division, putting you in direct competition with him at work.

He remembered the days when he used to be your intimidating boss, and the thought of you becoming his professional rival both intrigued and challenged him.

While he couldn't deny his pride in seeing your career flourish, the competitive spirit within him burned brightly, as he prepared himself for the battles that lay ahead in your evolving relationship, both in and out of the office.

That evening as you both settled down in the home you now shared, a mischievous grin spread across your face.

You watched with amusement as Hongjoong grumbled and struggled to remove his tie. He wore a look of mock envy as he tried to get rid of the professional attire that now seemed like a burden.

Unable to contain your laughter at his sulking, you approached him, gently helping him remove the tie, "I'm sorry for stealing your client, Joong. I thought you'd be proud of me." You teased, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

He blinked in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

"I'm just playing with you, silly." He said, his voice filled with affection.

"You didn't steal Seonghwa from me. You won him over fair and square with your skills. And I am incredibly proud of you, my love. You continue to prove me wrong about my past stereotypes every day, and I love you so much for it."

Your boyfriend's sweet words had a way of melting your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't resist the overwhelming rush of affection you felt for him, "I love you too, Joong." His arms around your waist made you feel safe and loved, and you leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his lips.

His lips met yours with a gentle warmth, and the kiss deepened, filled with all the love and passion that had grown between you over the past year. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer as the world faded away, leaving just the two of you lost in the sweetness of the moment.

Time seemed to stand still as you relished the connection, your hearts beating in sync.

If someone had told you a year and a half ago that you and Kim Hongjoong would eventually fall in love, you wouldn't have believed them. But as you held each other in that moment, you couldn't help but marvel at how far you had both come since those days.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Lord, this turned out so much longer than I'd planned.

No regrets though, I realised I had to write this after seeing all the recent photos of Hongjoong in Paris. The sight of this man in suits just does things to me. Like, just imagine having him as your boss.🧎🏻‍♀️

This is personally one of my favourites. Hope y'all liked it too! Thank you for reading and as always, do share your thoughts with me! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[rahuratna]

Love Thine Enemy

The JJK sorcerers find themselves faced with a slippery customer - a cursed spirit with the worst pick-up lines imaginable ...

CW: Suggestive and explicit language.

Characters: Ijichi, Nanami, Ino, Kusakabe, Gojo, Yuuta, Miwa, Rika.

Genres: Crack, humour.

It was Ijichi who encountered the cursed spirit first. He was, in fact, probably present for the series of events that had birthed the unfortunate being into existence.

The exorcism he was assisting on was currently taking place in a well-known photography studio, known for its high production value photo shoots of models, actors and sports stars. Somehow, this place had become a breeding ground of negative energy. Ijichi could feel it, soaking into the very fabric of the building, saturating it until it came flooding out in a sickly, sour-edged aura.

The exorcism had gone successfully enough, with Ijichi producing his well-practiced veil, covering the area in a dense, impenetrable curtain. It was when everything was seemingly over, when the grade two sorcerer, Kiryu, had spoken in crackly fashion into his ear piece, that Ijichi felt it.

That sly, barely perceptible winging of cursed energy just within his radar. Spinning on his heel, Ijichi scanned the area where he stood, just outside the building. Something was here. He had no doubt. He'd felt it, and he trusted his instincts.

Warily entering the small alleyway where he'd felt the presence, Ijichi knew that Gojo would have his head on a platter if he knew the risk that he was taking, but he couldn't very well leave without investigating fully. What if there had been something the sorcerers had missed?

That something was eerily evident when he felt it coalesce in the alley behind him. Before Ijichi had any chance to react, something brimming and fetid with cursed energy brushed his ear, and a voice whispered to him.

"Hey, cutie. Want me to fog up those glasses of yours?"

Ijichi, who had been preparing for a quick getaway, froze in place.

"Wha - "

"You heard me. Hmmmmm. I like that little pocket organizer. Got something else in your pocket for me?"

"Are ... are you - "

"You're stuttering right now, but did I? Don't think so. What're you packing, hot stuff? I like my men skinny, timid and begging for a spanking - "

There comes a moment, in everyone's life, when their most primal survival instincts kick in. There is a shutdown of unnecessary bodily functions as a fight-or-flight response asserts itself, lending unnatural speed or strength.

This was one of those times for Ijichi. The discarded newspapers in the alley fluttered gently in the aftermath of his very speedy exit.

Ijichi did report it, of course, being the stickler for proper mission protocol that he was. Thus it was that the next unfortunate encounter with the dastardly 'flirting curse' occurred with none other than Kusakabe.

The curse had moved on from the photography studio, to some hotel in an upmarket area nearby. Not good for business, obviously. Atsuya thought it would be excellent practice for the students, however, and so had brought Miwa along. While Ijichi's experience told him that the spirit hadn't been particularly dangerous, evolution was a possibility, and so he intended to stick close by.

Prowling through the airy, marble floored corridors, Atsuya unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it between his teeth. This hunt was taking a little longer than expected. The spirit was good at remaining concealed. Yawning a little, he linked his fingers and stretched his arms overhead, hearing a satisfying crack.

"Sensei!"

Miwa's warning shout was entirely unnecessary, as Atsuya's sword was already unsheathed, glinting menacingly as he faced off against the dark cloud that descended from the ceiling, adopting a vaguely feminine shape. The voice that spoke was indeed an evolution, sultrier, with a husky cast.

"My my. I do love a man in a suit. I bet that lollipop takes the shape of your tongue, just like my pu- "

"Cut the crap," Atsuya growled. "Miwa, stay alert."

"Easy, tiger. You're a little rough around the edges. Are you rough between the sheets too, big boy?"

Miwa let out a surprisingly martial yell, springing forward and slashing at the fog-like miasma. Her attack was true, but the spirit was obviously talented at evading.

"Stop harassing sensei, you cow!"

A hushed giggle reached their ears.

"The kitten has teeth. Wonder if you bite too, my Trenchcoat Tomcat. Wanna get to the nice, creamy centre of my lollipop?"

Despite Miwa's impressive efforts, Atsuya was growing increasingly annoyed with this spirit. Couldn't it just shut up? Discreetly, he let a near-invisible slash from his sword reach the end of the room. Part of the wall crumbled; gilt wallpaper sliced to shreds. The spirit was now on the other end of the hallway, that irritating cackle now echoing, elusive.

"Oh goodness. What a hairy temper. Wonder if you're hairy everywhere, huh? I like a bit of manhandling from a big, hunky - "

"Ewwwwww!"

Miwa's horrified scream was a tad juvenile, but Atsuya couldn't really blame her. The curse evaded them this time, escaping through a nearby window, leaving him with the strong desire to scrub himself clean. He almost didn't unwrap another lollipop.

Inexcusable.

And that was how Nanami and Ino ended up dealing with the flirting curse next. At this point, it had become a running bet in the grade one sorcerer group chat as to who would run into it in their upcoming mission.

Gojo would win some cash. Not that he needed it.

Ino was the first to come across it. They'd found themselves in a country club of sorts, the kind only present in this kind of affluent area. Out near the pool and suana, Ino had tugged off his shirt, diving into the water and performing a rapid check for traces on the pool floor. Finding nothing, he'd re-emerged and climbed out, water dripping down his bare chest, when he heard it.

"Damn, sugar. You got me so thirsty on a hot day like this."

There was a woman seated on one of the poolside chairs, shaded by a parasol. She hadn't been there just a few minutes ago. Ino tensed, fists bunching at his sides. Unperturbed, she pulled down her sunglasses, her dark, dark eyes tracking the droplets of water as they made their slow pathway down the young man's abs. She licked her lips.

"Want me to dry you off, honey? Or make you ... more wet? I bet I can show you a thing or two."

Ino opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, the woman's eyes widened, and she vanished in a wisp of smoke as a powerful slash of electric blue energy bisected her chair and destroyed the wall behind her. Nanami strode out of the wide glass doors, rolling up his sleeves, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. If Ino didn't know any better, he'd say the stoic sorcerer looked annoyed.

Nanami straightened his glasses and inspected the ghostly movement of the spirit with predatory menace.

"I'll thank you to leave my colleague out of this. Now why don't you take a more corporeal form so we can see how ... appealing you are."

A soft shriek of laughter reached their ears.

"And what do we have here? A real daddy, looks like. Coming to protect your cub? I'll let you fill me up so much. I bet I can give you ten more cubs like him."

"Unfortunately for you, unprotected sex with cursed spirits is not one of my preferences. Now stay still, please."

Nanami was undoing his tie, and Ino saw this as his cue to make a hasty retreat to the entrance, because things were bound to get dangerous. The spirit hadn't received the same signal, because it was still speaking.

"I can be a human for you. Heck, I can be anything you want me to be. Why don't you tie up my wrists and make me feel how hard you can - "

"How hard? Here, let me show you."

The sheer power of the blast sent bricks and mortar rocketing across the paved driveway beyond the wall of the pool area. Ino gave silent thanks that they'd evacuated the building first. Nanami wasn't usually this reckless with his strength, but something about this spirit was obviously pushing his buttons.

In the chaos that followed the settling of dust and rubble, the spirit had made a hasty escape once again. Sighing, Nanami re-did his tie, making his way over to Ino. The younger sorcerer eyed him curiously.

"You good?"

"Yes."

Nanami's angry mumbling wasn't fooling anyone however. Ino caught the tail end of his complaint.

" ... as if I didn't have to deal with harassment at my other job. And here we are, having to listen to this drivel. Didn't even have the decency to introduce itself ... "

Lips pursing tightly, Ino hid his amusement as he followed Nanami back into the country club, snatching up his shirt as he did so.

Gojo was not a good match-up for the spirit, when he inevitably did encounter it. Unlike the other sorcerers, he couldn't be bothered to take it seriously. The spirit registered as a bothersome house fly in his periphery as he stalked bigger prey through a deserted shopping mall, one that had been evacuated due to Jujutsu Tech's influence.

Gojo was hunting a rogue curse user, one that had plagued the market district at night, consuming his victims in alleyways he had dragged them into. A real piece of work.

When he eventually found the curse user, holed up in a frozen meat section, sharpening his tools, Gojo did take note of another brief, flitting presence that wove in and out of his perception. Another curse. But one unrelated to his current mission.

With his usual power, flair and panache, Gojo dispatched the curse user, dodging and weaving gracefully around the other's lightning fast strikes and dealing a concussive blow to his opponent's head. Someone in the background was cheering for him.

"Oh, God damn, aren't you just in a different league? That hair, that face, that body. Mmmmm hmmmm. Whip his ass, boss man. Show him who's in charge. Make him crawl. Make him beg."

Gojo turned slightly towards the direction of the voice, smile simultaneously pleasant and flippant.

"And who are you, pretty gal?"

The curse, for the first time ever, faltered.

"Uh ... I'm ... well, I'm me. Your number one admirer. Ahem. Yes. You sexy beast. So tall. I'll bet you're really long everywhere."

At this, Gojo's lips curved into a cocky smile and he flicked his wrist, sending the curse user careening into a nearby wall, smashing into the bricks with force, head lolling as the pain of consciousness was given up for blissful darkness. The crystalline flame of Gojo's gaze danced with flickering intensity in the shadow of the dimly lit storefronts.

"Hell yeah. Didn't know you were kinky like that, babes. I got a pretty sizeable monster, right here, behind this zipper. Wanna come see?"

The spirit laughed, but something about it sounded nervous, uncertain.

"And what's in it for me, big boy?"

Gojo spread out his arms, grin growing more feral by the second.

"But sweetcheeks, I thought we had an understanding. I was gonna try out my new technique, that's all. The one where I turn my cum into tiny bullets and fire them right into your mouth so you explode."

There was a brief silence.

"E - explode?"

"From pleasure, of course!" Gojo let out an unconvincing giggle, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah. Can't believe I forgot that part."

Needless to say, Gojo didn't hear anything more from the curse. Its presence had disappeared from his perception fairly quickly. Tapping his chin, Gojo reflected on the fact that Nanami was right. This was one slippery customer.

The young man hadn't seemed like much from afar. Just another sorcerer on its trail. It had escaped all the others, including that powerful one in the deserted mall, so the curse now had a healthy dose of confidence in its ability to exit the stage.

Of course, even astute cursed spirits, like the Flirting Menace, faced their Waterloo at some point. Sometimes fate favours spirits, enabling a series of evolutions that render them more powerful. Sometimes, they pick the wrong victim entirely.

Slipping out of the laboratory at the medical centre it had been recently inhabiting, the curse took on the voluptuous form of a technician, her sizeable cleavage all but spilling from the low cut shirt she wore beneath a lab coat. The young man turned slowly, shadowed eyes taking in the shape of his opponent. The spirit spoke.

"Now you look like a treat, little lamb. Wanna come sit in my lap? I bet I can show you all kinds of things with my probe and pipette."

The response was certainly not one the spirit had been expecting. There was something in the sorcerer's eyes that was kind, pitying almost.

"Oh, there you are. How about you give up now and come quietly. It'll probably make things easier."

The spirit dissolved in a fit of giggles.

"Me? Come quietly? Baby boy, I have a much better idea. How about I discipline you with a paddle on your naughty, naughty, tight little ass until you obey your mistress? Even good boys need some discipline from time to time."

The look on the sorcerer's face had shifted to something like pained expectancy. He sighed and grimaced.

"If you stop doing that, she might not get so agitated, you know."

"She? Oh my. Don't tell me you're already taken. I mean, she's probably nothing compared to me - "

The spirit's words cut off abruptly as something large, vast and powerful, moving with ferocious speed, shot from inside the boy (how was that possible?) and coalesced in the middle of the foyer. Spiny white and purple flesh, an eyeless mask of menace, a presence that filled the building with sheer dread, the lesser cursed spirit could recognize an apex predator when it beheld one.

A moment of deep, existential fear gripped the flirting spirit as the young man addressed the spectre that had come from inside him.

"Rika?"

"Yuuttaaaaaa. I'll kill, kill, killkillkillkill. Don't look at Yuta. Don't talk to Yuta. Don't exist near Yuta!"

The nightmarish voice lashed through the foyer like a whip, buffeting the smaller curse with such malice that it was blown back.

Oh boy. Now this was ... unexpected. Time to beat a hasty retreat ...

As it had done countless times before, the cursed spirit slipped through a handy crack in the nearby elevator doors, seeking out the grate above through which it could ...

A sudden, white-hot pain lanced through its form, rendering it immobile. Panicking, the spirit glanced back, perceiving the hideous talon that had shot with unnatural speed across the space, through the doors, and speared its 'body' in place. In this incorporeal form, nothing should have been able to hold it down, besides ...

The elevator doors suddenly buckled under extreme force and the spirit found itself tugged back across the glossy tiles, towards the sorcerer and his ... companion. Slowly, surely, the spirit was dragged towards the jagged teeth of that gaping white maw, horror and finality warring as its brief existence flashed through its own memory.

The sorcerer was smiling now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in charming helplessness, such that the spirit could discern (too late) the terrifying and implacable steel behind those sweetly curving lips.

"I'm awfully sorry. You're kind of cute, for a spirit but ... Rika? Take care of this, would you?"

And so, the brief, but bright career of the Flirting Menace faded slowly from the memory of the sorcerers it had tormented. It had been unique, after all.

Even with their packed schedules and the increasing tension now permeating Jujutsu society, there were still occasions when Kusakabe would glance at the creamy centre of his lollipop with distaste, when Nanami would remember with fondness what it was like to destroy a millionaire's poolside aesthetic, when Gojo would wonder how much money he could have won if he'd just bet on Yuuta in the first place.

As terrible as those pick-up lines surely were, they had found a rightful place in posterity.

And in the mysterious depths of Rika's stomach, of course. 

[paganprankster]

Chance Encounters (Kylo Ren x GN!reader) (SFW)

Summary:

(Y/N) is one of the highest-ranking officials employed for the overseeing of the Death Star construction- a plan ordered by Kylo Ren. They stayed clear of him but could no longer as a sudden breach of an Imperial force supply base was reported- resulting in their paths crossing for the first time.

In the distant future, humanity has expanded its reach across the galaxy, eventually forming a vast alliance known as the Imperial Forces. This alliance occupies a variety of planets, with their influence reaching the farthest edges of the galaxy. Each planet was accompanied by its unique cultures, technologies, and species. However, the Imperial Forces rule was threatened when a military force- known as the Rebellion- began to rise in (population). They were in direct opposition to the Imperial forces, often trying to (ruin) technological research in response to the rumor that they were attempting to recreate the infamous Death Star. Should they succeed through their trials and tribulations, it would be the end of the Rebellion. Wherever the resistance has influence, the planet would be eradicated immediately without remorse- simultaneously serving as a reminder for the rest of the galaxy to never show resistance against the Imperial Forces.

 (Y/N) took another glance at the holographic map in front of them, slowly circling and analyzing the data concerning a recent attack on the Imdaar galactic supply base. To hide progress made on the Death Star, the blueprints were stored safely on the Finalizer under guard of thousands of imperial employees- making it near impossible for spies to find and successfully steal. The supplies used in the construction were scattered throughout most Imperial bases to hide them. The most valuable of which, the near indestructible Quandanium Steel and its alloys, were concealed within the confines of the Imdaar base; and now, they were destroyed. (Y/N)’s face conformed into a scowl. “Who knows how much money we lost in this attack,” they quickly used their fingers to zoom out of the base’s location and onto the nearby regions, “Do we know where they attacked from?” General Hux appeared beside them. “The stormtroopers on site didn't give any information that was useful,” he began, “After the bombing after the battle of Yavin, you would expect that our defenses there would be near impenetrable after it was rebuilt. But here we are-” Hux let out a halfhearted chuckle. (Y/N)’s eyes did not leave the map. They could feel the sensation of Hux’s eyes on them- following their movements- but they paid no mind. Being one of the highest-ranking officials employed for the overseeing of the Death Star construction, it was your job to help recoup after this loss. “General Hux, we are going to need a team to get together and survey the area- see where the infiltration may have occurred and see what may remain. The material there is essential to our project- and if nothing remains in the rubble, we will need proper funding to build from scratch. Another Imperial officer, part of (Y/N)’s operation team, nervously cleared his throat to garner attention.

“We will need to inform Master Ren about this-” he said, and immediately General Hux turned to face him, striking a fear into your poor coworker's body, and silencing him. “You’re overstepping your authority- and by informing Ren,” informally using his name, “Will only create a larger problem than we already have.”

“With all due respect, General,” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the growing tensions in the room, “Not informing him would warrant a bigger problem. We need a team, and funding- It will be impossible without the support of Master Ren.”

General Hux turned to face you, focusing his eyes onto yours. You watched as your coworker gave a small sigh of relief and returned to documenting the net loss of the attack with the rest of his group a safe distance away from Hux. General Hux is notorious for the need to be in control; Rarely anyone defies his orders, and if they do, they suffer the consequences. (Y/N) confidently stood their ground, maintaining their unwavering eye contact. (Y/N) straightened their posture, challengingly. Hux’s eyes searched theirs, not used any show of defiance.

“Ren-”

“Listen to them, if you know what’s good for you.”  

All heads swiveled towards the location of the robotic-like voice- a voice unmistakable. At the door to the meeting room stood Kylo Ren, donning his black mask and matching robes. Quickly, everyone in the room lowered their heads as a show of respect. Only Hux, and (Y/N) raised their heads again. (Y/N) smirked upon noticing the red look creeping its way onto Hux’s face. Whether it be from embarrassment, or anger, they were unsure. The smirk quickly left as they gazed back at Kylo Ren and met where his eyes would be- obscured by his mask. A chill went down their spine, simultaneously breaking eye contact upon noticing the closed fists of Kylo Ren shaking in anger. ‘Shit,’ they thought, ‘Hux has him pissed.’  If Hux’s comments had not pissed him off enough, the news about the attack on Imdaar would surely be his last straw. (Y/N) was the first to break this silence. “Master Ren, there’s been an attack on the supplies base on Imdaar-” nearly immediately, Kylo Rens murderous aura filled the room. He briskly walked to the holo-map that displayed the areas of damage.

“What did we lose?” he asked, turning towards one of the officers on your squad. Terrified, the officer began anxiously scanning the data on his holo-pad. “N-nearly 5.6 million credits worth of damage to the base. Certain areas of the base remain... but all the Quandanium steel has been destroyed. If there are any that remains in the rubble,” He shook his head, “It would be severely damaged and unusable.”

The silence filled the room, save for the increasingly heavy breathing emanating from Kylo Ren. In a rage, he wielded his lightsaber, illuminating the room with a blinding red glow. He angrily brought it down on the meeting room table, quickly splitting it in half, causing the table to collapse on itself and the holo-map to shut down. Everyone recoiled in fear and shuffled closer to the door leading to the halls of the Finalizer- their escape. Sweat began to drip down General Hux’s face as he readjusted his uniform out of nervousness.

“Get out.” Ren commanded. (Y/N)’s squad quickly left the room, hastily handing them the holo-pad displaying the analyzed data of the supply base attack. They would not need to be told twice- observing the anger of Ren was terrifying enough; delaying a response to his orders would be a death sentence. “Including you, general,” He hissed. General Hux held a scowl, before bowing his head and leaving the room. You followed behind, only for the door to be slammed shut before you could pass through. Was that the use of the force?

“Not you- I need you to debrief this attack.”  he said while re-holstering his saber.

(Y/N) took a sharp inhale due to their growing anxiety. Alone with the leader infamous for his anger, they thought, and I must disclose the carelessness behind our defenses that day. (Y/N) cleared their throats before making their way to the (now broken) meeting table. “Well,” they began, placing their teams holo-pad onto a nearby chair and displaying the map of the base that day, “when asking the stormtroopers deployed there, they were unable to give any information about things that may have seemed amiss.” (Y/N) pressed a few buttons to reveal the entirety of the base and pointed to three locations. “When this base was rebuilt, it was rebuilt with strengthened building materials with the previously flawed architectural decisions kept in mind. These locations were considered more vulnerable to attacks,” (Y/N) slightly shook their head, “but surveillance of the area pre-breach didn't show anything out of the ordinary-”

Ren approached and stood directly in front of (Y/N), looking down at them due to their height difference.

“If you can maintain eye contact with Hux,” Kylo ren nearly spat, “Then I expect the same for me.”

Shit, they thought, was my avoidance that noticeable? (Y/N)’s eyes shifted before locking eyes onto Kylo Ren’s mask- where his eyes (assumedly) would be. In an instant, a cold chill traversed through their spine, hairs on the back of their neck standing on edge. A few moments of silence brought the room to a standstill, before (Y/N) cleared their throat before responding, “Y-Yes, sir.” They cringed internally upon hearing the crack in their voice- a betrayal of their body.

Kylo Ren tilted his head slightly- analyzing the person before him. Upon hearing their response, he let out a gruff “Good ... and what have you deduced from this attack?”

(Y/N) maintained their eye contact and nervously fidgeted. No matter the performance, their anxiety would always show through. “...It means there must have been an internal breach. There are spies within our ranks and informed the resistance- at least about the materials. I am unsure if more classified information was leaked.”

Kylo Ren tensed before them, infuriation growing by the second. “Spies?”  His hands closed into fists again, with increasing shaking. He furiously turned, gesturing towards the holo-pad with his hand and used the force to fling it into the wall, causing it to shatter upon impact. (Y/N) jolted in response.

“Get out.” he murmured, back now turned to them. He re-ignited his saber.

I live to see another day, (Y/N) thought, and quickly stumbled over to the meeting room door and opened it via fingerprint. Before exiting the room, they gave a quick bow to Ren, and stammered: “We can discuss further plans at a later time.” (Y/N) hesitated for a moment. “Look after yourself,”

(Y/N) quickly left the room, hesitating no longer without waiting for a response. The door shut behind them, and they could hear the muffled sounds of breaking equipment and furniture from within. (Y/N) began to briskly walk away from the room, heart racing as the anxiety began to overflow.

(Y/N) cursed aloud and began biting their nails. Look after yourself, they mocked themselves in their subconscious.  What overcame me? They let out a heavy sigh. This was the first-time meeting Kylo Ren. And it was certainly not the last.

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Azula has made no progress since she was sent back to the asylum. Ty Lee believes she can help her, with proper disciple. Tyzula.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

CH31: Familiar Faces

Azula was not going to passively accept her reimprisonment and the Dai Li knew as much. Deep below the ground and covered in numerous stone hands, Azula fought furiously to free herself. As soon as she ripped one stone hand away two more would replace it. A circle of impenetrable blue flame surrounded her as she tried to melt the stone hands off herself. A set quickly flew to her eyes to cover them. She lashed out blindly in all directions. Blue flames filled the tunnels but it was no use.

A hand clamped over her nose and mouth. Azula struggled violently, her firebending becoming more and more erratic. The Dai Li were already reburying themselves in the dirt to protect themselves from their intense heat. Growing increasingly lightheaded from the lack of oxygen Azula sank to her knees. The flames flickered and died as she fell forward. There was a moment's pause before the Dai Li carefully reemerged from the earth. They kept their distance as they waited.

One earthbend a rock to Azula's left, letting it fall with a soft clatter. She didn't respond. Just as one of the Dai Li was about to take a step forward, another held their hand out stopping him. There was a sudden blinding crack of lightning that illuminated the whole tunnel. Several more stone hands grabbed Azula as two of the Dai Li fell. Azula was barely conscious as the constricting stone pushed the last of the air out of her lungs. Lights were popping behind her eyes as she passed out.

When she finally reawoke her head was pounding. Without thinking she unleashed a whirlwind of blue flame in all directions. It immediately hit the stone walls of her cell and dissipated. Azula rubbed her eyes and got to her feet, holding a small blue flame in her hand. She appeared to be in a small cylindrical room with no doors or windows. Her lip twitched in annoyance. Her prison had been earthbent around her. She placed her hands along the walls and took a slow breath.

If her prison was earthbent around her that must mean that the Dai Li had to be close by. Someone had to be monitoring her. She closed her eyes and focused on sensing the heat around her. She exhaled slowly. If someone was nearby she'd be able to sense it. Everybody gave off heat, their heart was the source of it, like a tiny beating flame. She inhaled as she felt out further. However, everything remained cold.

She grit her teeth. She needed to be patient. Someone had to be close by. They wouldn't have just buried her and abandoned her, right? She exhaled. The air around her felt heavy and stale. She swallowed. How were they ensuring new air was being pumped into her cell?

The minutes dragged by as she continued to feel nothing but cold emptiness around her. Azula's mind was racing as she tried to think of a plan. She knew she needed to remain calm as she could taste her own breath in the thick air. She sat down cross legged and began to meditate.

"How are there holes?" Aang said in confusion as he felt along Ty Lee's chi pathways.

"I don't know." Katara said, running cooling water along Ty Lee's feverish body. "Spirits?"

"But how?" Aang said, more to himself than Katara.

"Can we close them?" Katara asked. Aang furrowed his brow.

"I need to speak with my past lives." He said, letting his hands fall.

"Which ones?" Katara asked curiously.

"Yangchen." Aang said without hesitation. "She was a healer and dealt with spirits."

"Didn't Kuruk also spend a lot of time with spirits?" She asked as she remembered something.

"Yes, but he was mostly fighting them. I don't think he would know anything about healing though."

"But he's water tribe?"

"Northern." Aang said.

"Ah." Katara responded with some disappointment. "That makes sense." Aang nodded solemnly. "Who else?"

"I don't know, maybe Roku?" He said, shaking his head. "But he hasn't had much experience with spirits and admitted he's not the best healer…" He shared a meaningful look with Katara who sighed.

"I know you don't like talking to Kyoshi." She said bracingly.

"She's killed so many people." Aang shivered with disgust. "Like it was nothing." He glanced at Ty Lee. "But she does share a connection with the Kyoshi Warriors."

"Like when she appeared to Suki when she was imprisoned." Katara said as she remembered. "I didn't know your past lives could just wander like that."

"Luckily it doesn't happen too often." Aang said with a sigh as he sat down. He placed his fists together and closed his eyes. "Avatar Roku." He called softly. A moment later he felt a small part of himself tear away to appear before him.

"You seek guidance with healing the Kyoshi Warrior." He stated, his brow slightly furrowed. "I'm afraid my knowledge is rather limited in such matters."

"But you have to know something." Aang pushed. "Anything."

"Perhaps Kuruk would be better suited if you suspect spirit involvement." Roku said as he withdrew.

"Wait!" Aang called after him but he had already been reabsorbed. He huffed and focused inward. "Avatar Yangchen." He called. Instead of feeling his spirit divide he heard a voice inside his head.

"Let me see through your eyes." Yangchen asked. Aang nodded and felt himself detach from his body. Where he had once sat he watched Yangchen get to her feet. Katara's eyes widened slightly. She had seen Aang's past lives possess him before but it was still a somewhat unnerving sight. She looked down at Ty Lee and raised her hands.

"Kavik, the water." Yangchen said instinctively. Katara blinked. Yangchen looked up. "Ah, my mistake. The water if you please." Katara withdrew the water from her waterskin. "We need more." Yangchen said, chewing her lip as she looked around. She could sense a source nearby and blew one of the palace windows open. A large blob of water snaked its way in. Yangchen let it completely envelop Ty Lee. "I need you to hold it in place." She instructed as it began to glow faintly. Katara nodded and raised her hands. There was a long stretch of silence as Yangchen moved her hands back and forth. With each pass her jaw tightened.

"What is it?" Katara asked curiously.

"Spirits." Yangchen said bitterly.

"So a spirit did do this." Katara said quietly.

"Spirits." Yangchen clarified. "And they're still inside her."

"What?" Katara said in shock. "Why couldn't Aang or I sense them?"

"They're small. Very small." Yangchen said coldly. "Worms." She answered Katara's questioning look. "I've faced this spirit in four lives now. It seems he has grown smaller each time."

"Who?" Katara asked. Yangchen's hands started to shake. The glow of the water started to fade. Katara quickly sent the water back out the window as she rushed forward to catch Aang before he fell forward.

"Father Glowworm." Aang whispered as his eyes started to droop.

The air was growing heavier with each passing moment as Azula sat in her cell meditating. She could feel her heartbeat slow further with each exhale. Something in her gut was telling her to focus on clearing her chakras.

"Insight. Blocked by illusion." She thought to herself. What illusion was she failing to recognize? Her brow creased. What was a known truth or fact that she accepted without question? She found it hard to focus as the air grew thicker around her in her small prison. She opened her eyes suddenly as the revelation hit her. She wasn't imprisoned, not completely anyway, just her body. It was a strange feeling to step outside of her body and into the spirit world. A gentle breeze played across her face and she took a moment to breathe deeply. She had a plan.

Taking one look at her surroundings she took off. She needed to find a spirit. A big one. One that could destroy her prison by merely being pulled into it. She walked through vast empty meadows. Only the occasional small spirit flitted by. She clenched her fists as she kept looking. The unending landscape was starting to drive her mad. She glanced behind her. She couldn't tell where she had started from anymore. Everything looked the same as it stretched out in all directions.

Maybe that was just how the spirit world worked? She started to grind her teeth but stopped herself. Illusion. She closed her eyes. She was only seeing an illusion, right? She opened her eyes again and found herself at the base of a tall mountain. She didn't know why but she knew what she seeked would be at the top. Without hesitating she began to trek up the mountain. The landscape grew harsher the further she climbed. The plants became more sparse and the rocks more jagged and pointed. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted a familiar figure ahead of her.

"Grandfather?" She asked uncertainly. Firelord Azulon turned around. His face was as lined and weathered as she remembered it. His long white hair and beard cascaded down his gold trimmed robes.

"Ursa…" He said with a frown.

"No! No! I'm not her!" She said running forward. "I'm Azula, remember?" She said with half a smile. He looked her up and down then scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. Azula is a child." He said dismissively as he turned his back on her and continued walking up the mountain.

"That was years ago before you-" Azula trailed off. Azulon ignored her as he kept walking. "What are you doing here?" She asked as she sped up to keep pace with him.

"What does it look like, Ursa?" He snapped. "I'm climbing this wretched mountain so I can punish Ozai."

[wannaeatramyeon]

SAMUEL SEO FLUFF >>>>>>

Honestly. Why are we all simping for this unhinged man? Present company included. He's an absolute menace to society but for some reason I just want him to be happy and at peace.

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spectacles

You hover in the store, trying on different pairs of glasses as a way to kill time.

Lucky for you, your vision remains 20/20. No matter how many times you were scolded to not sit too close to the television, stare at a screen too long, or read with proper lighting, you have avoided the need for specs.

Still, it's fun to accessorise.

An arm snakes its way round your waist while you admire your reflection. An outlandish and aggressively pink pair of frames rests on your face.

"Beautiful as ever," Samuel eyes follow your movement, "But I'm not sure you need those."

You feel your lips lift at the compliment as you return them to the stand, "How did it go?"

"Fine, still the same prescription. We can go grab some lunch now if you prefer?"

"Wait, hold on," You wander to a collection a few displays over. "I found some glasses that I think would really suit you!"

You hold out a particularly obnoxious pair, horn-rimmed and tortoise-shell. Samuel lets out a snort, and indulges you. He takes off his own stylish and sophisticated glasses and hands them over, his eyes flashing playfully.

As soon as he wears them, you can't help bursting out laughing. He inspects himself in the mirror and snickers too.

"I've worked my way up, just to have my reputation destroyed by these. I'm not sure anyone at work would or could take me seriously."

One after another, you hand him multiple styles. Each somehow more distasteful and objectionable than the last - round and owlish ones, excessively thick purple frames, another comically oversized that takes over half Samuel's face, aviators reminiscent of dodgy men from the 80's.

Between your giggling and his chuckling, the next 30 minutes passes by in a blur.

Upon returning back the final pair, you couldn't help but comment earnestly, "You're so handsome, Sammy. I think you actually could pull off any of these."

Samuel rewards you with a self-satisfied smile, "Come on Y/N, are we done here?"

"Hmm... What about contacts?"

"What about them?"

"Just at the weekend or whatever. Maybe it would be nice to actually see your eyes y'know," You hesitate slightly, "Without a barrier."

Without a barrier? All his life, Samuel had been building a wall around him. An impenetrable fortress. His glasses have become his shield to the world. And now you want him to start to break this down for you?

He reflects on the past 30 minutes of silliness, the days and nights and months and years spent with you. Both the deep, meaningful conversations and the light hearted banter. The secrets and hopes and dreams shared with promises to always remain loyal.

Maybe it would be nice, he agrees.

[laladellakang]

insecurities

masterlist | wattpad

italics dialogue = english

della doesn't let most hate get to her, but that doesn't mean she's impenetrable

contains: angst, insecurities (anxiety), unintentional self-harm. just dark stuff.

i've been through it lmao. sorry it's really triggering.  a few of you requested angst and i'm not really good at that so i bring forward stuff that's inspired by what i've gone through (altered because della's problems are different from mine)

after 'we missed you'

"Guys! Come out!" Jake yelled out. "Gather in the living room! Everyone!" he made his way to the couch while holding Della's hand.

"I'm scared..." she told Jake timidly.

"It's okay. Just get it done and we'll go back to normal in no time," he didn't want to tell her that it would go well, as he himself won't know just how angry his other members will be. "Good luck."

Besides, she was greatly at fault.

Jake could see the amusement and relief on the guys' faces as they slowly came to the living room. On the other hand, Della only stared at her lap with wide eyes, trying to hold back tears and a potential panic attack..

"What is it?" Jungwon asked, closing the master bedroom door behind him.

"Della has something to say," Jake leaned back with crossed arms. "Lala?"

"I-" she took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry for ignoring all of you," short and simple.

The seven men stayed quiet while patiently waiting for an explanation, yet the girl was as still as a rock.

"Is that it? Tell them what you told me," the sternness in Jake's voice was evident, though not to the point of being mistaken for anger.

"A.. sasaeng- a crazy fan got a hold of my Katalk contact and they said some things that really got to me," her eyes were starting to tear up again.

"She didn't report to the company or to us," Jake added.

"It was so fucking dumb. I was hoping that I could have you guys hate me and eventually break up with me so you can move on and get proper girlfriends who's not shitty and fucked like me and have them all to yourselves-" Della suddenly went on and on.

"Della stop," Jay cut her off.

"But at the same time, I don't want that at all and I want to keep things as they are-" Sunghoon called her name next, yet she still kept going. "But then that's incredibly selfish of me because who the fuck has more than one lover and just lets them share?"

"Kang Della," even Heeseung resorted to her full name.

"It's incredibly dumb and I should've just talked to you guys about it if it really bothered me that much but I was just thinking that getting you all to hate me was best for you to move on but then I didn't consider our group dynamic and-" that's when Niki had enough, so he shut her up with a kiss.

'Shit- I was about to do that," all six remaining boys thought.

"Della, listen.." Niki pulled back to let the girl focus on Jungwon's words. "I'm not going to lie, what you did was really shitty. All of us just felt like shit for the past few days," anyone could tell the leader was mad and serious.

"None of us will blame you for getting hurt over some stranger's words or for having insecurities. It's more about how it doesn't seem like you trust us enough," Jungwon continued sternly. "You have one, two, three, four, five, six, seven boyfriends. We're your members and best friends, you can tell us anything."

"Jungwon-ah," Sunoo shook his head at the leader.

"Look, I don't want to make you feel worse or anything but we gotta make that clear first," Jungwon continued. "We love you, Della! We won't leave you that easily! You can ignore us for months and we'll still come back to you," he pulled her head into his stomach (as he was still standing in front of her) and caressed the sobbing girl's hair.

"Don't do that again, okay? You trust us, right?" Heeseung rubbed her back, and the girl could only nod in response. "I don't wanna add fuel but doing that is never going to work. All it does is just hurt us- hurt all of us including yourself."

"I'm sorry," Della kept sobbing into Jungwon's shirt. "I'm so sorry."

"Anything else? The ones who didn't speak?" Heeseung looked at the other members.

"I just want all of this to be over and done with. Don't ever do that again please. That's a stupid reason to break up," Jay had his arms crossed and let one hand go to stroke her hair for a bit.

"That's right. Della don't do that ever again please, just talk to us. Any one of us," Sunoo just stared at the many hands comforting her. "You're not fighting this alone. This hurts. It really does."

"I have nothing else to add. I just want this done," Niki managed to sneak an arm to her thigh to gently rub up and down.

"Ack! That tickles," Della's thigh suddenly shoots up, causing the members to chuckle.

Heeseung noticed that one member remained silent and was physically further away compared to the others.

He focused his gaze on Sunghoon and saw that the guy looked really angry, more so than the leader, who immediately let out his feelings. He was spaced out and had his jaw clenched. It was clear that he had a lot on his mind.

The younger seemed to feel the pair of eyes on him, for he snapped out of it to meet Heeseung's stare. The two stayed that way until Jungwon eventually broke it.

"Sunghoon-hyung?" Sunghoon looked over at everyone else. They were all (including Della) looking at him.

He sighed before opening up his arms for Della to enter.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm really angry right now," he whispered into her ear. "I thought that you trust me, trust us- any of us. I wouldn't be mad if it wasn't a big deal but it is and you brought seven other people down with you. You shouldn't do that," he could feel Della's tears soaking his shirt. 

"You trust us, right?" he continued. The girl could only nod frantically. "You love us, right? We're not just members, are we?" she nodded again with an additional whine. "Don't do that again, okay? Talk to us. You always said communication is key. It'll save everyone the heartbreak and emotions, yeah?"

"I'm sorry, oppa," Della hugged him tighter. "I'll try my hardest," Sunghoon let out a sigh.

"Honestly, I would have probably asked for some space right now but since you already gave me- gave us that, I just want things back to normal. Make it up to us, I'm sure they're also still pissed. They just miss you too much to admit it," he stroked her hair. "Alright?" she let out a small 'okay' "Okay. Let's stop crying. Let's talk or something. Go cuddle with someone," he kissed her head before pulling away and directing her back to the couch.

"Can we see the texts?"

[kdl]

2023 is shit already.

I hate myself.

I hate myself so fucking much.

No matter how many negative comments I get, no one could ever hate Della as much as Della herself.

It's true that hate can barely get to me, though that doesn't mean I'm immune to everything. 

Why is everyone so adamant about the guys dating Aespa?

And suddenly with the slightest curiosity, my Tiktok for-you-page is now filled with the boys' ships.

I was mostly fine with them. Obviously, since idols aren't (mainly) in control of that. Yet I just can't help it at times. The images of how good they look together constantly cloud over my mind- I'm sick and tired of it.

There's a reason why I can't seem to get too close with certain girl groups or members.

It pains me to distance myself from the girls of Aespa or Stayc or heck- even some of the Ive girls just because of my dumbass insecurity. They seem like such lovely people but I can't even look at them in real life without thinking of the fucking ship contents.

Fuck, don't even get me started on the ones with my actual friends. 

Unbearable anxiety keeps creeping into me whenever Wonyoung or Yuna apologises for shit they're not even responsible for. Most of my texts with (half of) the Le Sserafim girls are their long-ass apologies.

What if they don't want to be my friends anymore? What if they're uncomfortable with all of this?

Wouldn't have happened if you didn't catch feelings, dumb fuck. You should've known not to fall in love. This is what you get.

I'm going through all this personal stuff already and guess what's the cherry on top of this shit sandwich.

The hate is worse than ever before. A lot worse than when Enhypen first started- and that's saying a lot.

There are hundreds- maybe thousands (okay that's an extreme exaggeration) of videos, comments, and posts that hate on every single fucking thing I do.

I noticed that it started from me getting a bit touchy with the guys during award shows. By touchy, I mean by holding their hands when I start to get really anxious. Apparently, it was seen as 'pick me behaviour' since I wouldn't let peoples' ship moments happen for long.

Then it spiralled into people compiling all the moments where I acted really 'territorial' or 'pick me' around the guys. Then it just went to everything. My singing. My dancing. My rap. My clothes. My mannerisms. My habits. The way I talk, eat, walk, look at people- everything.

What's worse is that even some of my fans are starting to agree.

I could usually cheer up a bit if I focus on the positive posts but even Engenes are saying stuff like 'I love Della but she's...' 'Della's my girl but...' 'I don't wanna hate on Della but...'

It wouldn't stop. It came to the point where I had to avoid all social media, including Weverse, just so I can have a chance to breathe. Even then, I still have this shit anxiety to deal with.

The boys, my friends, my family, the loyal fans, the concerts are all there to distract and comfort me. I've been very vocal to the guys and I'm actually attending weekly therapy. 

It worked, of course, but it's not permanent. Over a month has passed, yet the anxiety keeps coming back.

It got so bad that my therapist advised me to go see a psychiatrist for medication options, which I would gladly do. The company disagreed though. Something about how antidepressants make people gain weight.

I'm exhausted. Physically, mentally and emotionally. I don't want to pretend to be happy anymore. I just want to disappear.

I hate how I have anxiety. I hate how I'm not good enough. I hate how I can't be happy. I hate myself, I just hate Della so much.

"DELLA, NO!" Niki abruptly grabbed the grater from me and hugged me tight. "STOP. STOP. SNAP OUT OF IT!" he shook me a little. What?

"Huh?" I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. 

"HYUNG, GET A TOWEL!" he pointed to a towel nearby. What?

"Holy shit- JAY-HYUNG! GET A FIRST AID KIT!" Sunoo wrapped the towel around my right hand.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" the other guys apart from Jay came into the kitchen frantically.

"Della- Lala was grating and- and she grated her hand," Sunoo looked at them with wide eyes. Huh?

"Holy fuck- why is there so much blood?" Jay entered with the first aid kit.

Suddenly I felt a terrible sting on my palm. I turned my attention to the hand Sunoo was holding and could see the heavily red-tinted towel.

I was grating potatoes. I was getting close to the end of it so I held it with my open palm, as I usually do... and then I guess I zoned out. 

Oh shit, the potatoes.

"The- the potatoes," I looked at the most recently grated ones. They were unusable. They were completely red.

"DELLA, FUCKING SNAP OUT OF IT!" Niki shook me again.

"How did you not feel that?!" Jake yelled. 

"I... I..." I didn't know what to say. It was painful, yet familiar. "I- potatoes- dinner."

"DELLA PLEASE!" Sunoo screamed out, hanging his head down.

"PLEASE, STOP!" "SNAP THE FUCK OUT OF IT" I could hear the others yelling too.

"Let's sit her down. Niki, bring her to the living room," Jungwon instructed shakily. "Come on, Lala."

"My- my hand," it hit me. My hand was completely fucked. It wasn't even a small injury like how it usually is.

"It's okay. It's okay. Look, Jay's treating it," Sunghoon tried to calm my building-up panic attack, even though his voice was also filled with nerves.

"I'm sorry," yet I couldn't help it. My eyes brimmed with tears and my voice started to shake. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop, stop. It's getting treated right now, it's okay," Heeseung pat my head with a sniffle.

"This is gonna sting. I'm sorry, Della," Jay's voice sounded like he had a lump in his throat. "One, two, three."

Now this familiar feeling, I hate. Treating the wounds hurt so much.

I hissed loudly at the pain, while the members tried to calm me down by saying reassuring words. Their voices overlapped one another's, but it was mostly 'shhh's, 'it's okay's, and 'just a little bit more's.

"I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!" I screamed in pain. "I didn't mean to, I swear!" I cried out.

"We know, we know," Niki rubbed my shoulder. I was sat on his lap as he was still holding me.

"Almost there," Jay croaked out. "Just gotta wrap it."

"I hate myself so much, I don't know what to do," I sobbed into Sunoo's arm. I talked to the boys, I talked to my therapist. I did it right this time. So why am I still like this?

"I'm sorry, Lala," Jungwon held my uninjured hand. "I wish we can take this away from you."

"Do you want to have a break? A hiatus? We can talk to the company together," Heeseung offered.

"Noo, not now," I managed out. "The- the tour, the comeback, fashion week-"

"Don't worry about it. You need to have some rest, Della," Jake ran a hand through his hair.

"The company-" I was cut off by a chorus of 'we'll help's and 'we'll talk to them's.

I was the only member of Enhypen who is not allowed to have a hiatus. If I had to go on one, the whole team does too. The company said they can't have Enhypen look like a boy group or people would get used to it and say it looks better that way.

"No! Please! Give me one more chance- I'll get better, please!" I can't be selfish. I can't be selfish.

"You're not being selfish, Della, please," Sunghoon pleaded.

"NO! PLEASE! JUNGWON PLEASE!" I turned to the leader. If I can convince him, everyone will follow. "Please... One more chance. Please."

"But Lala.. You-" his eyes glossed over the state I was in. "Look at you! We can't let you move on like this!"

"Psychiatrist!" Niki spoke up. "She can take the medicine," he tried to somewhat defend me.

"I-" I wanted to protest but I knew I had to agree. Look at your boyfriends, Della. You fucking hurt them. Again.

And again.

And again and again and again-

Shut the fuck up.

"Yes! Try the medication, please, Della," Jake sounded desperate and lost.

"What if it doesn't wo-"

"IT HAS TO!" Jay yelled, causing all of us to flinch. "IT FUCKING HAS TO!"

"Jongseong-ah," Heeseung tried to calm him down.

"If it doesn't work then hiatus! Leave the group! Anything! Just please-" his voice cracked again. "Just come back. Get better, please."

No. Anything but leaving the group. I can't let something as dumb as my insecurities get in the way of my dreams that I worked so fucking hard on. Both the career of my dreams and the relationship of my dreams.

And after going through so many member departures, I know how heartbreaking it is for the fans and members.

This anxiety has to get better. It has to.

"Either way, we piss off the company, right?" I joked with a small chuckle. "Might as well choose the option that'll make me look hotter."

My aim was to make them laugh a little. Instead, I got them crying even harder.

"I love you all so much. I'm so sorry you have to deal with m-" Sunoo managed to speak through his tears and cut me off.

"We're not dealing with anything, Della. We'll go to the ends of the planet to find a cure for you."

happy birthday month to della and i. happy anniversary month to della and the guys 🤍 i'll try to update as much as i could. starting things off a little dark..

requested:— we missed you pt. 2— angst— della regarding enha x aespa— della hiatus (though it's only talks of it)— della gets into an accident (though not as extreme as a car crash)

taglist! @afiaaaa19 @riikiblr @one16core @toriluvsfics @i90snoo @danyxthirstae01 @seulgifted @cla-iii @hiqhkey @nichmeddar @jiwlys @duolingofanaccount @nvmbheart @studioreader @sarang-wonie @fairydosii @hoonstrology @jaetint @4sahii @8-itsmee-8

[the-s1lly-corner]

Starlight, Starshine; an impenetrable disguise

its finally happening! i came up with a name for this little fanfic/one shot series/whatever this is going to be! obligatory title is ripped from a steam powered giraffe song (go listen to starlight starshine, its literally sun+moon x reader core im begging you) anyways! Starlight, Starshine is going to be a collection of self indulgent writings between our favorite animatronic and reader! from multiple different aus, though it will mostly center around 2! one au thats "everything is fine nothing bad happens please i just want them ALL to be happy" and the other is a silly dumb idea of "what if reader who used to work at the pizzaplex takes eclipse home and repairs them and ect ect happens"! todays little fic is based off of that! im so sorry about the long authors note, i really need to make it a habit to shorten these but yk obligatory admin is not used to writing fics and theyre still trying to find their style in terms of writing so ! most of these one shots also arent going to be in order, due to the nature of this being a collection of writings for at least 2 aus so for the most part theres no need to read them all to understand a greater story!

Summary: Months after the reader brings Eclipse to their home and repairs them, sun and moon must get accustomed to their new environment. however sun has some plans...

Extra notes: this one is primarily sun centered, reader has a dog, author is attempting at comedy, not proof read we die like men so expect a few grammar mistakes and spelling errors, a lot of this one shot also contains more context and exposition (???) to the "Taken Home" au referenced above, author is not confident in their writing skills and hasnt written a full fledged fic in a year or two, author also isnt used to writing proper dialogue so take that as you will, reader is GN/typically wont be given pronouns due to authors general writing style/POV, he/they pronouns for sun and moon they /them for eclipse, really this is just an experimental piece with a vague idea i had last night, nothing too special more so an exercise to get me back into writing, author is still trying to figure out how to write personalities so these are very likely to be OOC

The first word that came to your mind when describing Sun was "odd". He looked odd, he acted odd, he had odd rituals that he carried out in your home. However it wasn't a bad kind of odd.

It'd been a few months since you took the former daycare attendant to your home, and repaired them. You had already grown close to the pair long before the closure of the pizzaplex, being an extra set of hands in the daycare. You didnt even know they were still active within the building when you decided to explore the remains; already taken on the form of Eclipse, who at the time of your discovery was trying in vain to clean the wreckage. Of course repairing them wasn't easy given you had limited experience in... basically rebuilding an animatronic; but against all odds you made it work! You let them take the guest bedroom, not that either of them used it; they would much rather spend their time hovering around you.

It took a lot of getting used to, for everyone involved, but you were all adjusting quite nicely!

Mostly...

You see, Sun didnt like being cooped up.. your home being considerably smaller than the daycare he was so used to. Leading to todays horrible plan.

"Sunflower," You said through lightly clenched teeth as you watched the sun themed animatronic tug on an oversized hat. He really couldn't be doing this... this wasnt going to work, no one is this dumb to fall for this plan!

The plan in question? Well, Sun thinks it would be a good idea to wander about outside in a "disguise" of sorts; said disguise consisting of the aforementioned hat, sunglasses, a face mask, and a entirely new outfit. Obviously, it looked at convincing as it sounded.

Sun hummed and spun on his feel to look at you, already putting your dog on a leash. "Yeeees starshine?" He asked as he scratched your dog between the ears. "This isnt a good idea," You mumbled as you watched him make his way to the door. "Nonsense! There's hardly anyone out, it'll only be a quick walk around the park!" Sun cheered.

The second word that comes to your mind when you think to describe Sun, is "stubborn", as when he made his mind up on something you can almost guarantee that he would follow through with the plan. So now, you were following behind him, keeping your eyes peeled for anyone who could see him. If he weren't so tall, or if he could tuck his rays in, or didn't emit a mechanical creak with every step he made then perhaps, the plan may have just worked... perhaps.. maybe..

No, it wouldn't, you can see his metal neck from where you were standing.

"Remember, only one lap," You reminded him as you succumbed to his will, much to his delight as his pace picked up just ever so slightly.

To his credit, he was right about not many people being out and about, mostly in part due to the fact it was still early in the morning. Just light enough to keep Sun in control, but just early enough for most to still be sleeping or still getting ready for work. However, the park wasn't empty, mostly it was early morning joggers; who thankfully didn't pay much mind to the two of you outside of giving a half wave as they passed.

There were even a few parents around with their small children walking with them; be it they were walking them to school or simply taking them to take in the early morning air... Sun's body seemed to perk up at the sight of the children, loudly greeting them with a good morning; leaving both them and the parents slightly bewildered at his high energy.

There were others, who had decided to also take their dog out for an early walk. The people once again weren't an issue, as they seemed to miraculously fall for Sun's disguise from a distance.

Their dogs weren't fooled, though. Multiple dogs began to bark and growl as they passed by. "Oh I'm so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him!" was said a few times throughout the walk. Again, the owners somehow didnt seem to notice the fact Sun was an animatronic, mostly due to having to restrain their dog from lunging forward at him.

The closest call, however, came from Sun excitedly taking up an offer for someone to pet their dog. For you see, Sun didnt think far enough ahead to cover his hands, thus leaving his hands in clear sight. Add in the fact that the dog bit Sun as he leaned forward to pet them.

Of course, the man noticed, and before he could say a word or question, you blurted out that it was a prosthetic hand. Though, you're not sure that the man bought it, as he was now craning his neck up to look up at Sun's round, flat face.

He slinked off. Whether it be he didn't have the energy to deal with it, or he simply just didnt care, or somehow believed you, he left.

Thankfully, that last interaction happened as you and Sun were beginning to loop back to where you started. Before Sun could begin to beg for a second round around the park, you started to walk him home; hand in hand.

"Oh that was so so fun! Starshine we gotta do this more often, everyone was so nice, " Sun chirped as you approached your front door. In his excitement he had begun to skip in long strides, forcing you to speed up your walk to a light jog.

"Yeah, again... maybe we can go earlier in the morning? You know we cant risk anything, I mean, if I get caught with you I could probably get sent to," You trailed off as Sun suddenly shoved something into your hands.

A handful of flowers that he had pulled up from the ground, he must have grabbed them while on the walk. How did you not notice? Were you that nervous of being found out by others?

A third word to describe Sun would be sweet. Even through his oddity and stubbornness, he still thought of you. Always so considerate.

Now that you think about it, you realize this may be the first time Sun has touched a real living flower.

You frowned, slightly. It made sense, he wasnt permitted to step foot outside of the pizzaplex, and its not like many people were giving him bouquets of fresh flowers. Usually if they did it'd be the obviously fake plastic ones. Sure, sometimes the kids would give him paper flowers.

"Can we go again tomorrow?" Sun asked as he watched you fumble around with the cluster of flowers... some were weeds, but.. its the thought that counts.

"Of course, Sunflower," You said before you could let yourself think logically.

Well, there was no taking it back, now. How could you, when Sun quickly stamped his heels in excitement as he dashed inside your home.

Perhaps you'll pick some flowers for him tomorrow, too.

yeah idk about this one yall LMAO, i genuinely didnt know where i was going with this one nor did i know how to end it, if that wasnt obvious SOBS im so not used to writing actual stories, im so used to short scenarios and headcannons... gotta fix that anyways i still have a few more ideas i want to write, but! thats it for the first one shot for Starlight, Starshine !

[trickstarbrave]

the rough draft is finished. and it is. over 8500 words in length. jesus christ.

anyways i'll give tumblr a preview. i have to reread it a dozen times to proof read it before it goes to ao3 but

this is nerevar/voryn/almalexia. almalexia sees these two idiots pining and decides enough is enough, time to get them fucking. mostly nerevoryn for this reason; almalexia and nerevar are married and have sex but they arent really in love with each other. they do, however, have each other's backs and best interests at heart. oh and a side order of almalexia/vivec

also voryn is trans in this. because i can. i think its fun.

not really much of a plot. just pining and sex.

All things considered, Nerevar was quite happy with his marriage. 

Almalexia Indoril was quite a catch, he wouldn’t deny it. Not only was she incredible in battle and a delight to spar with, she was also funny, kind, and a great person to drink with. Not to mention well… 

Nerevar didn’t know if he loved her romantically. He had quite a bit of respect for her and never said no to a fun romp in the bedroom, but his heart never fluttered and raced around her. All the same, Ayem was in the exact same boat, making it clear before anything else they were political allies for life and that she didn’t care if he slept with other people or gave them his heart. And she meant it too, considering she had a whole harem to otherwise tend to her needs and had Vivec as a lover who wrote poetry about her beauty and charms and all that.

So when Almalexia asked if she could bring a third into the bedroom, Nerevar had agreed without question. It had not been the first time she’d asked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Usually it was Vivec, or someone in her harem. And, for the most part, it was usually a fun night. Ayem said it was one of her many casual flings who had agreed, but Nerevar didn’t give it much thought.

So imagine his surprise when in walked Voryn, cheeks and ears dusted red, in loose fitting robes that showed off his chest. Nerevar’s jaw was entirely slack, staring confused and equally flustered, as he quickly tried to compose himself. 

While Nerevar never got the heart racing, blood pounding, butterflies in the stomach feeling of love from Ayem, he did receive it often from Voryn. If there was one person Nerevar knew he was in love with, it was the tall, handsome lord of House Dagoth. In fact, he’d been smitten long before he was king, trying unsuccessfully to flirt with subtle hints back when he was the other’s canvasari. Of course, all of his little hints had been quickly and swiftly sidestepped, Voryn not even batting an eye. Then began the phase of his crush where he wasn’t sure if Voryn was gently rejecting him, or if he simply didn’t know. Did Voryn not want to because of the power imbalance? It was possible; they were close friends who treated each other casually rather than as a lord and guard, but Voryn might be intimately aware of the power he held over Nerevar as Nerevar’s lord and didn’t want to accidentally take advantage of him or have a conflict of interest. 

Then, when he was hortator, he tried again. Subtle hints, a light joke here and there, letting his hands linger on Voryn… Usually he could use these things to get someone into his bed with ease, but Voryn was the same as ever. He remained an impenetrable wall, either not noticing or caring, even as Nerevar admired his hands and played with his rings. Was that also a rejection? There was no power imbalance anymore but… Well, Voryn was very focused on the war, and maybe Nerevar should be as well. So he tabled his affections once again, unsure if he had been rejected or not. 

Then, Nerevar was king. Married, though the marriage was open, a fact Voryn knew. Nerevar often recounted how many Ayem took to bed, as well as a few trysts he had as well. He’d even complain about how obnoxious Vivec and Almalexia were once they entered a proper relationship, shamelessly flirting at the dinner table, and often with poetry written by Vivec so complicated Nerevar couldn’t make any sense of it but it made Ayem swoon or laugh without fail. 

And Nerevar had once again been in Kogoruhn, drinking casually with Voryn like so many times before this. Only this time he was drinking as Voryn’s equal and Resdayn was now at peace. Nerevar debated flirting once more, trying for a final time to shoot his shot. Would he be doing too much? Had Voryn in fact been trying to politely turn him down this whole time? Had he simply not noticed? Voryn didn’t strike Nerevar as the romantic type, nor had Nerevar ever seen him with any lovers. It was possible he didn’t really know how flirting usually looked…

“It’s frigid at night this time of year.” Voryn remarked, sipping his drink. “Actually, even more than previous years. The servants can’t even keep the fires stoked enough. I keep waking in the night freezing.” 

Nerevar, buzzed, decided to tease. “Y’know… It’s rarely cold when you have someone to warm your bed~” 

Voryn snorted at that. “And who, Moon and Star, would I take as a lover to warm my bed?” Voryn asked, making Nerevar nearly scream. 

“You’re the lord of House Dagoth.” Nerevar instead replied, forcing down his screams of frustration and the urge to take Voryn by those handsome, sculpted cheeks and kiss him for all he was worth. “I’m certain plenty of people would want to. For fucks sake, plenty would kill for the chance.” Nerevar knew for certain he would after all. 

“It’s easy to assume I have lovers falling into my lap due to my status,” Voryn eyed him dismissively, “And maybe that is the case for you,” Nerevar’s eyebrow twitched, as he tried very hard to keep the grip on his glass measured so he didn’t shattered it in frustration with his strength. “But you’d be mistaken.” 

“I don’t just mean your status--” Nerevar corrected, his tongue loose from the alcohol. “You’re gorgeous! You’re tall, handsome—a bit terrifying, yes--but honestly that just adds to your charms.” 

Voryn rolled his eyes, now leaning his cheek on his hand, swirling the alcohol in his glass. “No need to exaggerate, Neht.” Nerevar briefly wondered if Voryn didn’t own a mirror or something. How could he not see how attractive he was?! Sinfully painted red lips, long legs, a tall and imposing figure, ebony hair that fell in an elegant waterfall, a face sculpted by the gods… Nerevar could hardly control himself around the other chimer, yet here Voryn was saying he was exaggerating! Nerevar could have balked at the idea--he wished for a moment he was a poet like Vivec just so he could accurately describe what a gorgeous mer Voryn was. 

“I’m not exaggerating!” Nerevar insisted, one hand banging on the table between them just enough for it to be loud. “For fucks sake, even I’d be willing to climb into your bed!”

Silence then followed, Voryn staring at him bewildered and shocked. It took a few seconds for what exactly Nerevar said to sink in, and his mouth went dry. He had no intention of going so far as to just lay his feelings out on the table so boldly, and now he was sweating anxiously. Damn alcohol made him spill more than he intended once again. But--what the hell, why not? Nerevar had already tried and failed with less direct flirting. Why not just have it all out in the open? Voryn could reject him properly then; at the very least Nerevar wouldn’t be wondering for even more years if Voryn truly knew the extent of Nerevar’s feelings or not. 

So he kept his expression level, his gaze meeting Voryn’s, refusing to back down. All that was left was Voryn’s answer. 

Then, Voryn’s shocked expression cracked, the corner’s of his mouth turning up, before he quickly put his head in his hands and laughed. Hysterically, at that, nearly falling over from the sheer force of laughter. 

Ah, what else did Nerevar expect? His shoulders slumped at the rejection, before he forced a few chuckles out to save from the atmosphere getting awkward. 

“Oh Neht,” Voryn actually wiped a tear from his eye from laughing so hard, “You are too funny.” 

“Heh… Glad you think so.” Nerevar glanced away, sipping his drink. It stung like a mother fucker, of course, but it wasn’t necessarily Voryn’s fault. Voryn just found Nerevar so unattractive the idea of sleeping with him was hysterical. Okay, that made it sound worse than it actually was; likely he just thought their relationship was strictly platonic--brotherly to the point that having sex with Nerevar was just plain absurd. It wasn’t like Nerevar could demand he change his feelings and find him attractive, throw off his clothes and drag Nerevar to his bed. Maybe Voryn only liked women. Maybe he just knew Nerevar so long that the idea of romance or sex with him was awkward. 

Regardless, since then Nerevar hadn’t even bothered to flirt or inquire about Voryn’s sex life. The rejection was quick and firm--Nerevar thankful when he was sober that Voryn had only laughed rather than gotten furious with him and his drunken blunder had instead ended a lifelong friendship rather than simply embarrassed him. A bruised ego was better than losing a friendship, that was certain. If Voryn found someone that made him happy then Nerevar would give them his blessing.

Nerevar just hadn’t been expecting that the person who would eventually warm Voryn’s bed years later would be his own wife. 

But what was he going to do? Sure, he could kick up a fuss and say Voryn was off the table to bring into the bedroom, but, well… Voryn had gone along with it, hadn’t he? Ayem had invited Voryn, and Voryn--knowing full well Nerevar would be there--had agreed. Wouldn’t it just be awkward if he got upset and left right now? Voryn might think Nerevar had lingering feelings, or he’d be so insulted it would put a damper on their relationship. If Voryn was unbothered, shouldn’t Nerevar play along? 

Nerevar gave a quick glance at Ayem who flashed him a beaming smile as though nothing was the matter. He swallowed roughly, forcing himself to put on a more casual smile. 

Ayem knew she was playing with fire here, and Nerevar knew she did. She wasn’t ignorant to his feelings for the other chimer. She had made a comment that Voryn seemed to be making eyes at him while he was sparring with Vivec earlier one day, which made Nerevar now burst into laughter. He recounted exactly how he had been the one flirting with Voryn and how Voryn either ignored his passes or outright laughed him out of the room when he was more direct, so that was impossible. Maybe Voryn was just making eyes at Vivec, or a servant across the courtyard. But Voryn was not pining longingly for Nerevar, staring at him with heavy desire; if he had, that night he drunkenly confessed that he wanted to sleep with him Voryn would have taken him up on the offer. 

Nerevar did mental calculations, running through every perceived slight he might have made at Ayem to make her angry enough to do this to him. Was it because he said the last poem Vivec wrote her was nonsense? Was it because he set off one of Seht’s inventions and nearly destroyed a wall in the palace? Or was it because he ripped her favorite (and very expensive dress) a few months ago?

It was cruel, he’d give her that. Honestly, he’d prefer she just poison him or make him sleep outside in the guar pen. Or both, honestly. Whatever he had done didn’t seem worth the torture of rubbing it in his face that she was fucking Voryn and he had to keep his hands to himself. 

“Well,” Nerevar began, acting unphased to the best of his ability. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was lie and play things off. “When Ayem said she wanted to bring someone in the bedroom, I hadn’t been expecting you, Voryn.” He was trying to act casual and relaxed, despite every nerve in his body being on fire and every muscle in his body tense. He was trying very hard to keep his eyes on Voryn’s face, rather than having his gaze drift down to Voryn’s exposed chest. Already he could feel a stirring in his trousers from such a tantalizing sight; normally Voryn’s body was covered in layers of heavy fabric…

Voryn looked even more flustered at that, his ears growing more red and his brows furrowed as he glanced away. “Almalexia and I have a more… Casual relationship.” Voryn admitted. “I-it’s complicated. 

Fuck Voryn was cute like that, too flustered to even look at him, the flush spreading down even to his chest… Far cuter and more attractive than he had any right looking.

“He’s a bit of a shy lover.” Almalexia explained, her carefully manicured hand rubbing up and down his arm soothingly. “But he can be quite passionate when he really gets going.” The pointed look Almalexia gave him was just rubbing salt in the wound, and earned a twitch of Nerevar’s eyebrow that Voryn luckily missed. Nerevar was going to get his revenge for this stunt, mark his fucking words. The second this was over, he was going to think of ways to get back at her, so long as he could survive this experience without having a pining induced aneurysm. Why had Voryn even agreed to this? Ayem pressured him into it maybe? No, Voryn was usually too stubborn for that sort of thing. Gods, Nerevar hoped the two of them didn’t have a cuckolding fetish; Azura knew he wouldn’t be jealous Voryn was fucking Ayem but the other way around.

Regardless, he knew he was going to be losing a hell of a lot of his sanity tonight. Almalexia was doing Sheogorath’s work driving him fucking mad. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Nerevar asked, trying to be innocent. “If you’re too flustered you don’t have to go through with this.” Whatever game Almalexia was playing, he was hoping he could talk his way out of it. Voryn could confess to the fact she was blackmailing him or something and he could shoo Voryn off to his room to sex with Almalexia without Nerevar having to suffer through it the whole damn while. 

“I’m fine.” Voryn quickly snapped, brows furrowed more. Ah, looks like he hit a nerve then; if Voryn was very determined, trying to talk him out of it would make him enraged. 

In response, Nerevar held his hands up, laughing playfully. “Alright, alright.” Mentally though, Nerevar was swearing up a storm. He couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this situation that wouldn’t piss both Voryn and Almalexia off, or come off like he wasn’t insulting Voryn. Instead he braced himself, mentally preparing to try and focus on his cruel, cruel wife rather than the man he was madly in love with. 

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, Voryn?” Almalexia offered, gesturing to the bed. His movements were stiff, but he eventually moved to sit on the plush mattress, making such a sour face you would think it were a bed of nails. Off to the side Almalexia was busy undressing and getting ready, humming softly.

Normally, this was the part where Nerevar made small talk and warmed the third party (or well, multiple parties) up. He wasn’t typically shy, ready to jump in and stroke up arms, press soft kisses, whisper dirty little things in their ears. With Voryn though he had already been rejected and was terrified of crossing that boundary again. The last time Voryn had only laughed him out of the room. This time he might not be so lucky. So instead he leaned back against the pillows, equally as awkwardly, waiting for Ayem to hurry up and tell him what to do or get this started herself. 

Finally bare and with a strap and harness in hand, she made her way to the bed.

“My,” She commented to Voryn, tossing the leader harness and toy onto the bed. “You don’t look very comfortable at all.” An astute observation, one Nerevar would have snorted under normal circumstances. “Here,” Ayem put one knee on the bed, almost straddling Voryn now as one of her hands went to the tie of his robes, the other slowly trailing down his chest. “Let me help you get comfortable then…” 

When their lips connected, Nerevar felt sparks shoot up his spine, despite not being either person actually being kissed. There was just something about the way Voryn’s eyes fluttered shut, dark lashes against his cheeks, the soft and delighted groan muffled by Ayem’s lips… Voryn even arched up into her touch, letting her slip the robe off one shoulder, before his tongue came out to tangle with hers. Almalexia’s other hand pulled on the tie slowly, almost teasingly, until the knot came undone, before she pushed Voryn onto his back and began undressing him in full. 

Azura’s fucking mercy. Nerevar felt like he could barely breathe, instead only able to give out quick pants as he watched, almost mesmerized. Ayem’s hands roamed up and down his torso, across the black hair on his chest and the trail that ran down his belly to between his legs, or occasionally letting her nails graze a nipple earning a low, delighted moan that had Nerevar’s cock twitching in delight. 

It was becoming increasingly hard to pull his attention away from Voryn the more moments that passed. All the blood was flowing from his head straight to his dick, as his earlier resolve to only focus on Almalexia crumbled. She was probably doing it on purpose too--come sunrise Nerevar was going to find an excuse to go on a pilgrimage to Azura for a few weeks or months, just as a reason to get out of the palace before he did something anger he would regret. 

“Oh~” Voryn gave a breathy, desperate moan as one of Almalexia’s hands slid between his legs, just out of sight of Nerevar, but he could tell from the sounds Ayem was fingering him nice and hard, the slick sound forcing Nerevar to bite his lip. He needed to do something, he resolved quickly. He needed to do something that didn’t involve staring at the sinfully gorgeous sight of Voryn laid out bare on the bed, moaning and panting because of someone else. So he quickly got up, removing his pants and underwear to finish undressing--his shirt having been discarded long before they started--and moved behind Almalexia to run a hand through her hair. She purred appreciatively, and Nerevar resisted the urge to look over her shoulder at the tantalizing elf writhing around beneath her. Instead, he closed his eyes, pressing a few kisses on her shoulder, his erection occasionally brushing against her thigh. 

“What should I do?” He asked her, reminding himself to breathe. 

“Lay back down on the bed, for starters.” Almalexia replied playfully. 

“Mm, and let you neglect me again?” Nerevar tried to reply back equally as playfully, but it didn’t quite make the mark. He absolutely did not want to return to laying on the bed, resorted to stroking himself off while she fucked Voryn senseless. Would it be a sight sure to get him off? Absolutely. Would it make him miserable afterwards? With certainty. 

Almalexia laughed at that, before reaching one hand around to swat at him. “I won’t neglect you, I promise.” She assured him. “I am just getting Voryn warmed up. I have a position in mind just for tonight, and it involves you.” Nerevar swallowed roughly at that, but reluctantly he let go and returned to the bed. If it involved him, he assumed Voryn gave the go ahead. Was she going to be nice tonight actually? Had she persuaded Voryn enough that Voryn was actually willing to have sex with Nerevar willingly? Fuck--if so he hoped he didn’t climax the second he got inside, that would ruin the whole night and embarrass him further. 

After a bit of gentle prodding, Voryn moved off his back, and instead climbed on top of Nerevar, hovering over him on his hands and knees. Nerevar swallowed roughly, gripping the sheets under him for dear life. Voryn’s silky black hair was brushing against him, and his gorgeous lips were so close and yet so far away. If he didn’t hold onto the fabric under him he was certain to do something stupid, like grab Voryn and kiss him for all he was worth. 

Then, with the harness on properly, Almalexia came up behind Voryn and slid inside him, Nerevar watching with eyes wide as Voryn’s face twisted in pleasure as a moan escaped his throat, rumbling in his chest and his arms trembling. Nerevar then glanced down, seeing Ayem was, in fact, fucking Voryn’s cunt. Meaning Nerevar was not going to get to fuck him like this. What was the point then of Almalexia doing it from behind on top of Nerevar then? 

Nerevar grit his teeth, hissing softly as his eyes went back up to Voryn’s pleasured face. His eyes were glazed over, lips wet as moan after moan spilled from his lips, every sound reminding Nerevar just how wet Voryn was on top of him. He could practically imagine that tight, wet heat wrapped around his cock, Voryn moaning Nerevar’s name obscenely as he pounded into him for all he was worth…

Yeah, Nerevar was definitely going to need to take a pilgrimage or he was going to destroy half the palace in a fury when this was over. What horrible sin he had committed against his darling wife was currently unknown, but it certainly wasn’t fitting of the punishment. This was cruel and unusual, even for his lovely lady of mercy.

Voryn’s hands slipped and he instead balanced himself on his elbows, his face even closer to Nerevar’s. Nerevar gasped, before he bit his lip, closing his eyes. Not that it helped much, even the air tasted like Voryn, teasing him with the knowledge he couldn’t kiss him. Couldn’t touch him, not in the way he wanted to. 

But wasn’t that awkward for him? Fuck, it’s not like he didn’t know Nerevar wasn’t into him after that slip of the tongue so many years ago. If Nerevar just laid there rock hard and eyes screwed shut that would make this even weirder somehow, wouldn’t it? He didn’t have to touch Voryn sexually, he assured himself. But ignoring him and acting like he wished he was anywhere but here (as much as it was true in the moment) might only offend Voryn.

Nerevar took a breath, before cracking his eyes open and reached up to brush some hair out of Voryn’s face that was sticking to his mouth. In turn, Voryn nuzzled against his hand appreciatively, his eyes shutting once more as he moaned louder. 

“Mmm, harder~” Voryn’s voice was gorgeous like this, so deep and erotic Nerevar could climax just listening to him, he was certain of it. 

“You’re taking it so well, Voryn.” Nerevar praised him, his voice almost breathless. Shit, was that a weird thing to say? Nerevar’s eyes darted to the dip in the middle of Voryn’s lower lip that only made it look all the more plush. 

“Keep talking to me,” Voryn panted, his eyebrows drawn up. “Please…”

Nerevar was trembling hearing that, his body aching with desire. Voryn was getting off to the sound of Nerevar’s voice, that much was clear. He was getting off to Nerevar, moaning and panting at least partially from him. And with how desperate he was, that was enough to make him burn. 

“You’re being so good, aren’t you?” Nerevar defaulted to what he usually said to Almalexia’s lovers in bed, still stroking his thumb against Voryn’s cheek. His other hand let go of the sheets, sliding down to instead take his own cock in hand, stroking. “I bet it feels so good too, doesn’t it?” Nerevar sure knew it did, albeit he had different anatomy. But Ayem was pretty skilled with the strap, able to move her hips perfectly to hit all the right spots, like she was no doubt doing to Voryn right now. 

“Yes,” Voryn hissed, before arching his back, his chest pressed against Nerevar’s. Nerevar swore he could feel Voryn’s racing heart against his chest, but in all likelihood that was just his own heart running wild. “Oh gods, Nerevar~” 

His cock twitched in delight, his head going back as he gave a long, low moan himself. He could die happily now that he heard Voryn moan his name like that, he was sure of it. 

“Why don’t you tell him just how good it feels, Voryn~?” Ayem teased behind him, before grinding her hips forward. Voryn’s eyes rolled back in delight, mouth open in a sinful moan. 

“It’s--it’s too good~” Voryn moaned, his head now falling forward to rest on the nook between Nerevar’s shoulder and neck. The hot breath against his sensitive skin had him hissing and groaning, stroking himself off faster. “I--I’m so full, so full, it’s so--” 

“Fuck,” Nerevar moaned breathlessly, eyes screwed shut. His neck was too sensitive for this--Voryn’s lips were right there, every puff of hot air making him nearly shiver and keen with delight. This was worse than the time Ayem was edging him--a hundred times worse. 

“Don’t just lay there, Neht.” Nerevar could see Almalexia smirking over Voryn’s shoulder. “Touch him.” She goaded him on, making Nerevar tense up. “I’ve got my hands full holding his hips up, but his cock is nice and hard, begging for some attention.” 

Nerevar’s hand was moving on its own, as though possessed. The second she offered and Voryn didn’t correct her, his body was moving of its own accord now, leaving his cock to instead slip between Voryn’s thighs. 

He was wet. By the three, he was soaked, dripping on Nerevar’s fingers as his hips rocked from the power of Almalexia’s thrusting. After being briefly stunned with the desire to throw Almalexia off Voryn and fuck him for all he was worth, his fingers slid down to rub back and forth firmly across his dick, making Voryn moan louder, rocking his hips against his hand. 

“Nerevar~!” He was moaning so loudly into Nerevar’s neck, his own cock twitching with every cry of his name. “Nerevar--Neht--I need--Oh gods~!!” 

“That’s it,” Nerevar praised him. “Good boy, Voryn~” Nerevar was panting himself, praying to every god he didn’t come untouched. “Fuck, you’re so hard for me, nice and hard for me, so fucking wet too~” Nerevar was just babbling now, unable to think before speaking anymore. “Azura’s mercy, I want to suck your cock so badly,” Voryn moaned louder at that, “Eat you out properly, before fucking you nice and hard until you’re screaming my name~” 

Maybe, the second the passion died out and they were left awkwardly laying on the bed awkwards, he would regret saying all this. But at the moment he didn’t one bit. He couldn’t hold back in the slightest, praises and desires spilling from his mouth like a fountain. 

Luckily, it seemed all his clumsy dirty talk and touching had actually made Voryn climax. Maybe it was actually Ayem doing it, but Nerevar was more than happy to imagine it was all because of him. Voryn moaned and shuddered and even teared up a little, before he slumped onto Nerevar completely. 

Fuck, he wanted to be inside Voryn still. Should he wait until Voryn caught his breath to ask? Nerevar was content to wait at least a few moments, holding Voryn close, savoring the skin on skin contact as Voryn panted breathlessly, completely dazed from pleasure. 

And then unluckily for Nerevar, Ayem gingerly rolled Voryn over onto his back, off of Nerevar who was enjoying their little almost-embrace. Nerevar bared his teeth, snarling in a rage at such an offense, before Almalexia straddled his chest, tugging on his hair with the strap in his face. 

“Don’t growl at me you mangy little hound, or I’ll put a muzzle on you.” Normally Nerevar found such banter funny, charming, and a little bit sexy, but right now he had half a mind to throw her off him to fuck Voryn senseless. “Clean this up for me, won’t you? Then I’ll tend to your cock, Hortator.” 

He eyed the toy carefully, his mouth watering slightly. It was dwarven crafted and made from ebony, specially commissioned by Almalexia--part of a larger collection she had custom made, in fact. Honestly, Nerevar thought their underground cousins would be prudes given how dry their humor and conversation was at times, but they sure surprised him when he saw how many tools of pleasure they had personally invented. Things that vibrated, constructions that could fuck you themselves, along with so much more--some of which that scared him, honestly. 

But right now it was still wet from having just been inside Voryn--wet, warm, a complete mess… Now that Voryn wasn’t currently on top of him moaning, he realized he might not actually get the chance to go down on him like he wanted to. This was Almalexia’s consolation prize, he supposed. 

Whatever then. Nerevar reached around, grabbing her by the ass to tug her a bit closer, listening to the high pitched sound that followed. He licked at the tip first like he was blowing someone, knowing she enjoyed the show, before sliding his tongue down the side, down to the base where it was the messiest. Gods dammit, tasting Voryn’s cunt on a piece of coated ebony should not be turning him on as much as it was. Yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself, moaning softly as he made sure to clean the toy thoroughly, savoring the taste. He was going to try his damnest to commit it to memory, knowing full well he might never get a chance for this again. And he was going to use that memory many, many times. It wouldn’t be enough to make it all up to Nerevar, but it was a start.

After it was mostly clean, just to be a showboat, he moved back up to the tip, sliding his lips down to suck. Honestly, he did like using his mouth. As Almalexia (and several others) put it, his tongue was even better in the bedroom than it was in the council chambers. Not to mention he enjoyed the weight on his tongue, bobbing his head up and down, sucking messily and obscenely just because he could. 

“Good boy.” Almalexia praised him, now gripping his hair to guide his mouth off it. “I suppose I won’t have to put a muzzle on you after all~” Nerevar licked his lips, looking up at her while his cock continued to throb. Normally this was the part where Almalexia took the strap off and started riding him to make it all worthwhile now that she had her fun. And that’s what he thought was going to happen as she climbed off him, undoing the leather and tossing the harness to the side. However she then laid down beside Voryn, pulling one of Voryn’s legs up and to the side, and Nerevar felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. 

“Clean Voryn up next?” Almalexia offered, sliding another hand down to spread him open. Voryn was still slightly breathless, looking at Nerevar wantonly. 

Nerevar didn’t need to be asked twice. He was quickly moving, sitting up to move Voryn’s legs up and open, tossing one over his shoulder, before diving in. 

Gods dammit all, tasting Voryn directly was even better. He loved every moan and whimper and cry of his name that fell out of Voryn’s mouth as he feasted like a man starved. He lapped at his lips first, moaning, before flicking his tongue back and forth across his dick. Voryn couldn’t even squirm his hips as Nerevar held him firmly, but he did grab Nerevar by the hair, trying to pull him ever closer.

“Neht~!!” Voryn was all but screaming now as he sucked around his swollen cock, flicking his tongue against the bud. His own eyes had rolled back slightly as he let Voryn grind against his face, using Nerevar’s mouth for his own pleasure. By Mephala, the fact Voryn was doing that had his own cock twitching again, dripping precum. He wanted to be inside Voryn so fucking badly he was going insane, but he needed to make Voryn climax first. He had to, not for any logical reason, just out of pure ego. He needed to make sure Voryn was cumming at least once only because of Nerevar—and while Ayem was nice enough to have him eat Voryn out, he didn’t trust that she’d actually let him fuck Voryn with how cruel she was earlier.

He slid down slightly from Voryn’s dick until he could flick his tongue inside Voryn, groaning softly the whole while as he made sure to clean him up—or tried to, anyway. Voryn was so wet Nerevar felt like he was hardly doing anything other than getting his own face dirty. He felt like he was eating an overripe persimmon; licking and sucking, sweet nectar running down his chin as he devoured it greedily, ignoring the mess it made all over his face and hands.

Back up at his cock, Nerevar teased around it now, swirling around it with just a light enough pressure it left him begging and pleading for more. If he wasn’t so busy with his mouth he would have gloated at that, honestly. That, or dirty talked Voryn to an orgasm again--made him whimper and moan at how good Nerevar felt, made him beg Nerevar to let him cum.

Nerevar could feel every tremble with every touch, the way Voryn’s thighs quivered in pleasure as he flicked his tongue against his dick, finding a rhythm Voryn liked. The heat pressed to his lips and the smell of his arousal was intoxicating, making him lose track of all other thoughts. He forgot entirely about Almalexia in this situation, about his throne, about all the times Voryn rejected him--including the one where Voryn laughed until he cried at Nerevar’s insistence that he wanted to bed the lord of House Dagoth. Instead, it felt like all he’s ever wanted in life was to be right here, between Voryn’s legs. Right here, listening to him moan and cry and sing Nerevar’s name with that gorgeous, deep and gravelly voice of his.

“Oh gods~!” Voryn moaned, his nails digging into Nerevar’s scalp, “Neht--” He gasped, desperately trying to breathe, and Nerevar could swear Voryn was sobbing in pleasure. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, Neht--Nerevar ple--Ah~!!” Voryn was hissing and trembling more as Nerevar focused in, purposefully trying to drive him over the edge now. He didn’t bother switching things up like he did when he was trying to let it build; he kept the pace steady, not moving any slower or faster, keeping it just right until Voryn gripped him tighter and tighter, thighs pressed to Nerevar’s ears until all he could hear was muffled moaning and his own blood pumping through his ears and--

It was a loud, drawn out scream as Voryn came, the ending being choked out with sobs. After Voryn’s orgasm washed over him, Nerevar made sure he helped him ride it out with softer, gentler movements, winding him down from the peak. Voryn’s grip on his hair went slack as he laid there, boneless and panting. Nerevar finally pulled away, a bit reluctantly, wiping his face and licking his lips as he did so to take in the most sinfully gorgeous sight he has ever seen: 

Voryn was splayed out on the bed, long hair fanned out around him and no doubt starting to tangle from all the thrashing. Tears had escaped his eyes, leaving a few trails down his cheeks. His lips were wet and swollen from all the biting and moaning he had been doing, only adding to his allure further. By the three, Nerevar was surprised he didn’t come untouched just from the sight. 

“Go on,” Almalexia touched his shoulder, making him jump slightly, “Touch him.” She encouraged. He was hesitant at first still, overwhelmed by the tantalizing sight, but slowly his hands moved out to touch. He was light at first, slowly trailing one hand up his thigh, the other moving up Voryn’s stomach to his chest. 

“Azura’s mercy…” Nerevar breathed, his mouth feeling dry. Once again, Nerevar wishes he was a poet like Vivec; he lacked the words to describe how… Perfect Voryn looked, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, humming softly and arching up into his touch. He wanted to memorize every inch of his skin: the dip below his ribs as his back arched, the occasional freckle or mole he found on his golden skin, the slight angular curve of his hips, the scars under his pectorals… 

He didn’t want to just touch, he wanted to kiss him, trail his lips across his body, taste the salt on his skin and leave him covered in marks. He moved down slowly, still ready to be refused and told off, to place a few soft kisses on his collarbone. 

“Gorgeous…” Nerevar breathed against his skin. “Fucking gorgeous…” He was Azura’s champion, but despite how sacreligious it was, right in this moment Voryn was far more beautiful than his Lady of Twilight. He was as glorious as the sun, to the point Nerevar was shocked he wasn’t blinded just by looking at him. He was dazzling, leaving Nerevar fucking awe-struck as he trailed kisses and love bites across that golden flesh, all but worshipping the perfect elf under him. 

Then, Voryn wrapped a leg around Nerevar’s hips, pulling him in closer, his cock pressed against Voryn’s thigh. It twitched at the contact, dribbling more precum across his skin as Nerevar moaned low and deep in the back of his throat. 

“Make love to me, Neht…” Voryn breathed against him as he wrapped his arms around Nerevar’s shoulders, and Nerevar felt his whole world spin briefly, before every logical thought entirely left his head. 

He pressed a messy, desperate kiss to Voryn’s lips as he moved Voryn’s legs with haste, careful not to hurt him in the process as he maneuvered them into a proper position. Gods, how had he not kissed Voryn before now? He should have been when Voryn was on top of him, twinging their tongues together just like this, exploring Voryn’s mouth in full while he moaned and begged. He should have kissed him even before this night; he should have kissed him in the firelight on that trip back from Tear in the south, with all the stars lit up in the night sky, the moons measly slivers like a cat with it’s eyes barely cracked open. The night he realized he loved Voryn, he wanted so badly to kiss him just like this, to lay the young lord out on his bedroll and make sweet, sweet love to him under the moons and stars, whispering about how much he loved him. 

“Voryn,” He whispered against the other’s lips like a prayer as he positioned himself, the wet heat kissing the head of his cock.

“Neht,” Voryn whispered back, the sweetest sound to Nerevar’s ears, as he finally slid inside. 

The feeling was incomparable. His body felt like static in the best possible way, warm and fuzzy, buzzing with excitement. As cliche as it was, it felt like everything in the world fell into place the moment he slid inside Voryn, like this was where he belonged. Every moment of longing for the other chimer, every heart racing fight to the death he made it out of, every battle won and the war ended, all of it felt like it was just leading him to this; this moment where he got to have the love of his life, the man he needed more than anything. The moment he got to make love to Voryn, sweet, perfect, terrifying Voryn who held Nerevar’s heart in his hands for so many gods damn years. 

“I love you,” He mumbled, clumsily. To oblivion with logical thought, let this ruin their friendship. Let this ruin his whole damn life as a matter of fact; the common folk could come marching to demand his head on a pike, his advisors could stage a coup and murder him on his throne, the troubles rain hellfire down on all of Resdayn--anything. He would suffer any punishment just for this moment, to look into Voryn’s eyes and tell him just how much he loved him while taking his body. In a way, Voryn had a right to know; it was wrong for Nerevar not to confess at this moment, not when it felt like every little thread of fate Mephala ever wove was leading him right to this moment. “I love you, Voryn~”

Voryn’s grip on him was tighter, a few tears spilling from his eyes, before he took him by the cheeks and kissed him over and over with a fervent desperation. 

“I love you, Neht,” Voryn whispered back, just as Nerevar began thrusting. Oh gods, Voryn felt better than he ever imagined, and he had imagined it so many times before. So many nights as a guard he would be up pleasuring himself, then as a soldier fantasizing about the young lord’s body, and even as king. Many times he would have to sleep with someone on his quest to become hortator--for, well, political reasons--he would be imagining it was Voryn under him, taking him just like this. Yet never, in all of his sweetest fantasies, did he ever imagine it this sublime. Voryn was so wet he took every inch with ease, Nerevar’s hips unable to hold still as he marveled at the slick, wet heat enveloping him. 

And Voryn loved him back. Voryn, at least at this moment, loved him. Loved Nerevar. Nerevar didn’t even care if it was a lie spilling from his lips, it was more than enough. If it was a lie, it was the most beautiful lie he ever heard, one he desperately needed to believe. 

“There it is.” Almalexia laughed to the side, laying out on the bed, watching the two chimer make love with the kind of raw intensity she scarcely saw. 

In all honesty, this had been her plan from the beginning. At first she thought Nerevar was the one who didn’t want a relationship; he never inquired about Voryn’s love life and acted stiff and awkward at the prospect of him ever taking a lover, side-stepping the question entirely. Meanwhile, Voryn had ended up in her bed after a night of drinking, desperate and jealous, begging to taste Nerevar on her lips and breathe in his scent on her sheets. The hate-sex had been enjoyable, at least for a time, regardless of how wrong it probably was to be fanning the flames of his desires and only making his one sided pining worse. 

But then she teased Nerevar at the pointed looks Voryn had giving him, longing stares of pure, unbridled desire as Nerevar and Vivec exchanged spears shirtless and sweating in the courtyard, the unrelenting heat of the sun during the height of summer in Mournhold making the two pour sweat. She could practically hear Voryn’s thoughts, how he would kill just to swipe his tongue across her husband’s flesh, how he would destroy the entire kingdom just to pin him to the ground and ride his cock until the time itself ceased to be. It was humorous to think her darling husband was so clueless to his closest friend’s desires. And he laughed, shooting her down, but there was something broken in his laugh instead of the usual mirth. That same, agonizing longing flashed in his eyes as he dismissed her claims, saying he was surely ogling Vivec, or maybe even a servant across the courtyard. Almalexia, faithful and kind as she ever was, prodded him more, and Nerevar confessed that he was the one who was pining. 

“I’ve given up though. He turned me down enough times that I’d be horrible to try again.” He admitted, drinking his sujamma a little too quickly now like he was trying to drown out his sorrows. Almalexia’s jaw went slack as she heard that; she knew for a fact Voryn would never turn down Nerevar’s advances. He was so desperate for Nerevar he was content with sloppy seconds in the thought that was the closest he would ever get to fucking Nerevar. “Whoever he takes as a lover or spouse will be one lucky bastard though, that’s all I can say.”

“When exactly did you come onto him?” She asked, confused. Nerevar glanced away, ashamed.

“I’ve been flirting with him since I was his canvasari.” He admitted, unable to meet her eyes. “Even as a soldier and hortator, I was trying. Laying on the compliments, playing with his hands, asking to see him undressed…” Another long swig followed, it clear to her now he was trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol now rather than think of how much it was killing him. “Then shortly after I took the throne. He knew our marriage was open, and I teased him about how he should find a lover to keep his bed warm if nights in Kogoruhn are too cold…” He looked far off into the distance, out the window to the stars. “And, drunken idiot I was, I told him even I would warm his bed for him if he asked.” 

“And he rejected you?” 

“He laughed at me.” Nerevar’s face was red hot in embarrassment. “Hysterically, in fact. Right in my face.” Almalexia winced audibly. She couldn’t imagine what a blow to Nerevar’s pride it was, to drunkenly confess after decades of pining, only to be laughed at by the man you loved. If it had been Ayem, she would have had the mer hung for such an offense. “It’s… Fine though.” Nerevar shrugged. “It’s been years. He probably just sees me as another brother of his. I’m lucky all I got was laughed at instead of something worse.” 

It was clear though, something had to be done. Voryn had made a critical mistake not immediately taking him seriously and throwing Nerevar to his bed that winter night, but what was she going to do? Let the two of them pine for each other, too scared to confess? Voryn thought Nerevar would never love him so there was no point in a confession, and Nerevar had been laughed out of the room when he tried to by his idiotic advisor. It was going to take a third party to let them throw off their insecurities and realize the other wanted them just as badly. 

She didn’t know how to. But Vivec, her clever lover, did. 

“Have them fuck it out.” Vivec suggested, snacking on saltrice crackers while writing another poem. 

“What?” She stared at him like he grew two heads. “That will never work.” How was she even going to get them in bed together? Lock them in a room naked? They’d just sit there stiff and uncomfortable, refusing for days on end lest they offend the other party. This was a serious problem, after all, not some new crush, but a lifetime of repressed feelings on both their parts. 

“Yes it will.” Vivec insisted. “Find a reason to get them started, and they will be drawn to one another.” Another crunch followed as he devoured another cracker. “I’ve seen the looks they give each other when no one else is looking. Once the walls they’ve built start crumbling down, they won’t be able to control themselves.”

She didn’t think it would work, in all honesty. Even as she was arranging the little ménage à trois, she was certain she was going to be the one doing all the hard work while the two of them laid there stiff and awkwardly. By the three, even as they started she was certain that was going to be how it went, as she prodded Nerevar to actually touch the chimer writhing on top of him rather than lay there like he was going to be butchered alive. 

But, like her warrior-poet said, once the walls started coming down the two couldn’t seem to help themselves. Voryn fell first, moaning and begging and pleading, though he was nervous to cross an invisible line with Nerevar he couldn’t perceive. Nerevar, meanwhile, took a lot longer to finally come around but once he did he was as ravenous as a starved nix-hound. Growling, snarling, fury in his eyes when she took Voryn from him like he could have ripped out her heart and eaten it. Honestly, she thought he might start actually fighting her, wrestling her off him just so he could fuck Voryn like an animal. 

And now the two were making hot, passionate love like they were the only two people in the world, moaning and kissing, whispering confessions of love and how much they needed the other to the point it was almost dizzying. She couldn’t believe that just a few months ago the two could scarcely meet each other's eyes at a party. Now she’d be lucky if she could get Nerevar in her bed at all after this, she imagined. 

With a chuckle, she left the two lovers to enjoy themselves, putting on a robe before she retreated to Vivec’s room for the evening. 

--

When morning came, after a lengthy cuddle session with her warrior-poet curled up on her bosom, she returned to the pleasure room. Before Almalexia had even knocked she heard the sounds of moans and pleas escaping, as well as the bed creaking. 

She opened the door, taking in the sight with an amused grin. Voryn was wearing one of her harnesses, pounding into Nerevar for all he was worth. And there, sprawled out under the lord of House Dagoth, was the king of Resdaynia gripping the sheets and moaning like a whore. 

“Have the two of you been going at it all night?” She asked, one brow raised. Voryn glanced up at her briefly, his thrusting slowing, but all that earned him was a needy moan from the hortator who shifted his hips, trying to grind down on the strap. 

“Oh--Ayem,” Voryn took one of Nerevar’s muscular thighs and pushed it up higher to get deeper inside him, resuming his thrusting as Nerevar’s voice got louder, his eyes rolling back. Voryn’s other hand was stroking the king’s cock, precum dribbling out onto his belly and smearing across Voryn’s hand. “No we--we slept,” Voryn admitted, before grinding his hips forward--and the toy directly into Nerevar’s prostate if his moans and cries were anything to go off of. “Neht just wanted me to take him this morning,” Voryn leaned down at that, closer to him to speak to him directly. “Fuck you nice and hard, right Moon and Star?” 

“Yes~!!” Nerevar cried, clawing at the sheets, “Voryn!” 

“Be careful, he’s as wild as an animal when he’s turned on.” Almalexia warned him with another laugh, though she was happy to see Nerevar enjoying himself so much. 

“I’m aware.” Voryn huffed, breathless from how fast his hips were moving. “Wild like a bitch in heat, aren’t you Nerevar?” Almalexia whistled slightly at that; it didn’t take long at all for Voryn to learn Nerevar was into being degraded, now did it? How on Nirn they went this long without fucking was beyond her at this point. 

“Yes yes yes!” Nerevar cried out enthusiastically. “Oh gods, fuck fuck fuck~! Voryn~!!” 

With one last laugh, she went to shut the door. “Get cleaned up in time for lunch, you two.” They’d all missed breakfast already, and she knew how fussy Nerevar got when he was hungry. Not to mention the mess of the kitchens he’d make when he inevitably got hungry. Besides, she imagined they would need the energy for the rest of Voryn’s stay in Mournhold. 

[sweet-child-of-night]

Write a horror,But without paranormal/ghosts/aliens.

Show me if it can be done

The city lights blurred through the grimy bus window, casting Sally in a kaleidoscope of neon and shadow. She clutched her phone tighter, the voice on the other end a chilling echo of the man from the bar.

"Don't worry, honey," it rasped, like dry leaves scraping concrete. "We'll have a proper reunion soon."

Weeks ago, a handsome stranger with eyes that seemed to hold a universe of secrets had singled her out in a crowded bar. He'd known her favorite drink, the brand of perfume she used, even the name of her yappy chihuahua (RIP, Mr. Winkles). It had been intoxicating, like a forbidden fairytale.

But the magic curdled fast. The calls escalated, his voice morphing from charming to menacing. He started appearing everywhere – outside her apartment, at the park, down the street. She'd filed a restraining order, but the feeling of unseen eyes on her back never truly faded.

Now, walking through the desolate underpass on her way home, the air grew thick and cold. A single flickering bulb cast grotesque shadows on the damp walls. Suddenly, a low moan echoed, inhuman and raw. Sally spun around, heart hammering against her ribs. The darkness stared back, impenetrable.

At home, the unease lingered. Her apartment, usually a haven, felt oppressive. A photo frame tumbled from the bookshelf, the picture of her and Mr. Winkles replaced with a single, faded polaroid. A grainy image of a smiling girl in that same blue skirt she wore tonight. A girl whose eyes were hollowed out, replaced by two black voids.

Panic seized her. She scrambled for her phone, but it was dead. As she fumbled for the charger, a figure materialized in the doorway. The man from the bar, but different. His clothes hung loosely on a skeletal frame, his eyes glowed an unnatural yellow.

"You look lovely," he rasped, his voice a rusty hinge. "Just like her."

Sally backed away, tripping over a shoebox. Inside, nestled among trinkets, lay a collection of driver's licenses, each face an eerie echo of herself. He knelt, picking up a faded blue collar with the name Mr. Winkles stitched in gold.

"They never lasted long," he chuckled, the sound like nails scraping a chalkboard. "Too curious, too trusting. But you, darling, you'll be perfect."

He lunged. Sally screamed, a sound devoured by the suffocating darkness. The single bulb flickered one last time, then died, plunging the apartment into an abyss. The only sound that remained was a low, guttural moan, echoing through the night.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through Sally's window, illuminating an empty, pristine apartment. No sign of a struggle, no sign of her. Just a fresh picture on the bookshelf - Sally, smiling brightly, next to the man with the yellow eyes. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, his hand holding a leash attached to nothing.

The police report concluded "missing person," a chillingly familiar refrain for Detective Ramirez. He studied the picture on Sally's dusty coffee table. Her smile, once vibrant, seemed strained in the harsh light. The new man beside her, handsome in a gaunt way, had an unsettling aura. His eyes, though, were the worst. They seemed to hold a universe, but a vacant one, devoid of warmth or humanity.

Ramirez noticed the leash in the picture. It trailed off the bottom of the frame, leading nowhere. He knelt and examined the carpet. A single, platinum blonde hair clung to a stray fiber. It shimmered faintly, almost iridescent, in the sunlight. A shiver danced down his spine. This wasn't just a missing person case. It was something…else.

Days blurred into weeks. No leads. No trace of Sally. The only clue remained the blonde hair, which defied analysis. It wasn't human, not exactly. It pulsed with a faint, cold energy that made Ramirez's scalp tingle.

One night, hunched over his desk, Ramirez felt a presence behind him. He spun around, gun drawn, but the room was empty. Except for a single polaroid lying on his desk. It was the same faded image from Sally's apartment – the smiling girl, the hollow eyes. But this time, a single word was scrawled across the bottom in jagged handwriting: "Curious?"

Ramirez felt a cold dread grip him. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that this wasn't over. The man with the yellow eyes was playing a game, a twisted courtship with death. And Ramirez was now a pawn, drawn into a terrifying dance on the edge of a nightmare. He clutched the polaroid, the blonde hair clutched within his fist, a single, silent vow escaping his lips: "I'll find you, Sally. And I'll stop him." He knew, however, that the cost of victory might be more than he could bear.

[randomwriteronline]

What did Kopaka remember?

Quiet in the mountains. Chaos. Endless seas. Clanging of metal. Chills of adrenaline in battle.

Warmth in his chest.

The last one was puzzling.

The first three he could see; the second two he could imagine from a glorious past as a proud Toa, a warrior, a hero - the clear shape of it forgotten, but its meaning still there.

The last one, though.

The last one was puzzling.

He was a Toa of Ice. A being forged in endless blizzards, as unrelenting as the avalanche, the snowstorm, the glaciers - as impenetrable as the permafrost that freezes the roots on their path.

He was not supposed to feel warm in his chest.

He was not supposed to be clumsy or get lost easily, either.

Who had ever heard of that? A hero who could not find his path? Did that mean he would not have recognized his own destiny if the elder had not assigned a Protector to guide him? That he would have wandered aimlessly, confused, if not rescued and merely left to his own devices? That he could have been swayed by the minions of Makuta and turned into a foe of his own siblings with ease? That it could have taken as little as a step in the wrong direction to turn him to evil?

He tried not to dwell on that.

He tried desperately not to dwell on that.

He turned his thoughts to Pohatu.

It always helped, to turn his thoughts to Pohatu.

Pohatu was... Well.

Pohatu was perfect.

He was powerful, stalwart, dutiful. He did not speak unless needed, sometimes not even then. He remained serious, stoic, focused in the face of danger. Nothing could have made him crumble, nothing could have made him doubt or flinch. He was smart, and steady, and strong: he was above them all.

He was a proper hero.

The only one out of all the Toa who Kopaka could truly look up to, aspire to be like.

Tahu was too loud, obnoxious, bossy, Gali too neurotic and self-certain; Onua was kind, but slow to wits and hardly capable of dosing his power; Lewa refused to listen to anyone but himself.

And Kopaka, though try as he might to seem so, was far from perfect.

Pohatu was perfect.

He envied him. He adored him.

So what if he was aloof, what if he seemed to hate them? What if a Scorpio or two got him once? What if he got nervous in the dark, and needed a shoulder to lean on to steady his breathing again? Happens to the best of us.

Of course Kopaka would protect him.

Of course he would jump to his defense.

It was an honor.

A way to show him.

See? I am like you. I am a true warrior like you. I am a proper ally to you. I am worth your time.

What self-centered things to think.

But he could not help it.

Pohatu was perfect.

He truly was.

Kopaka watched him as he slept, warmed by a fire Tahu had set up, instead of focusing on the surroundings of the camp. He watched him safe from judgement, as all the others too were asleep - he could hear their breaths and snores, could tell them apart from those alone. He watched him: he slept sitting up, curled in on himself, hands clamped around his arms, knees pulled to his chest, head dangerously leaning forward always about to fall. The glow barely escaping the sliver between his eyelids was dim. Something in the way they were shut gave the impression he was frowning fiercely beneath his mask.

He looked so strangely small.

He never looked happy.

Why did that hurt?

That was just how he was. Never happy. Never overtly, maybe never at all. Always more concerned with something else.

Why did that hurt?

It was a phantom pain, behind his nape.

He could not place it, could not figure it out.

It must have been something, one of the many things he could not remember, not fully, not completely. Something shapeless, but still there.

What did Kopaka remember?

Quiet in the mountains. Chaos. Endless seas. Clanging of metal. Chills of adrenaline in battle.

Warmth in his chest.

Dark.

Mlexqr?

Mlexqr!

Mlexqr!

Pohatu was looking at him.

It scared him briefly.

His hand had somehow gone, all on its own, to find and hold the Toa of Stone's.

He hadn't even noticed he'd moved closer to him.

He hadn't even noticed he'd woken him up.

He hadn't even noticed he'd held his hand.

Pohatu was looking at him.

Kopaka looked back, silently, stupidly, because he could not have explained himself if he had wanted - and he wanted, stars above knew he wanted.

This was no heroic behaviour. This was no behaviour at all, period.

What would the other think of someone like that? Someone who moves closer to a sleeping person and holds their hand like that, for no reason, waking them up out of nowhere and not offering a single explanation for the trouble?

He was annoyed, certainly. He had to be. He had to hate him by now, for such an incomprehensible inane action.

What was he doing?

What was he doing?

He couldn't even answer himself.

He kept holding his hand.

He should have stopped.

He kept holding his hand.

Pohatu was looking at him.

He did not let go of Kopaka's hand.

The shape of his eyes seemed less furrowed. Slightly, only slightly. But it really did seem a little less furrowed.

Tenderly, comfortingly, uselessly, Kopaka caressed the other's knuckles with his thumb.

Pohatu let him.

They remained like that for a while.

A long while.

Kopaka watched intently as the other Toa's face, what little he could see of it, mellowed out until it was calm. He watched as his breathing turned deeper, more tranquil. As his body unclenched.

It reminded him of that moment as they walked underground, looking for a way back to the surface, before they'd emerged from the empty tomb into the city's cemetery - when Pohatu had suddenly leaned on him, silently, and had seemed to be soothed immensely by his mere presence.

Maybe Lewa had been right. Maybe he was afraid of the dark.

No wonder he had looked so terribly unhappy as he slept. There was nary a light in the sky. Even stars would have barely done anything to help.

He had nothing to worry about now, Kopaka's hand said with a gentle dead seriousness through the gentle chill that it emitted as he kept caressing Pohatu's knuckles with his thumb. He was there with him. He was not letting go of him.

The phantom pain behind his nape cried.

They did not say anything.

But Pohatu's dim eyes took a strange shape, a softer shape. A shape Kopaka recognized.

Beneath his mask, he was smiling.

Smiling.

Warmth in his chest.

So sweet and sudden that it burnt and singed and scarred him beneath his armor, potent enough to make his heart stutter and shake with a violence he wasn't sure anything else could replicate.

Kopaka tightened his hold a tad more.

Pohatu smiled.

Just a little, but he smiled.

Warmth in his chest.

The phantom pain behind his nape wailed.

Pohatu's head laid on his knees, maybe not too comfortable, but no longer at risk of slamming onto them. His hand was slack in Kopaka's, though it held on: it felt like a stone left under the sun, radiating pleasant heat upon a chilly palm.

He had fallen asleep again.

Kopaka continued caressing his knuckles for a moment more, just to make sure he wouldn't wake up immediately.

He looked into the fire, into the night. He should have let go, at some point: certainly the Toa of Stone wouldn't have enjoyed being made fun of by Lewa for needing his hand held throughout the night. Certainly he would have glared at him viciously, yanking himself away from his fingers with a hissed warning of never doing that ever again.

Or maybe he would have said nothing, and only hated him in silence.

Or maybe he would have said nothing, and held onto him still.

He thought back to the shape of his eyes when smiling.

Such a familiar shape.

A familiar look.

A warm look.

Warmth in his chest.

When Gali took over guard duty and allowed him to rest, Kopaka forgot to let go.

[ghostwise]

16 or 21 for the prompt meme!

21. Collapse

The way things accumulated was a shock despite their anticipating it. First and most notably: the absence of sunlight. And no bright dawn to herald the start of day. The horizon replaced by impenetrable rock. Then, the breeze that would sweep through camp in the evenings, always coming in from the heights of the mountain ranges, a scent tinged with distant and unseen altitudes. Gone. Birdsong. Clouds. But they'd seen it coming, and then again, were these things not as strange and unsettling to the people here, as the cavernous vaults of Orzammar familiar and sweet?

A matter of perspective, then. But here in the Deep Roads proper, no one escaped the disorienting feeling of having lost a vital and important link to the harbors of home. Oghren and the palace soldiers knew better than most what exactly awaited them in these depths, and remained stubbornly silent, stony-faced.

Zevran had much to worry about too, but kept it to himself. Someone ought to make the effort, he supposed.

Hamal had a worn look to him, as if he'd realized too late an important error. Leliana sang less, then, not at all. Alistair sported a permanent scowl. Meanwhile, after their first encounter with darkspawn, Morrigan spent much of her time as a raven.

She often napped at Hamal's shoulder lately, wrapped in a shawl. It reminded Zevran of a babe in a rebozo. He rather suspected she was afraid.

"Will need less food this way," she murmured when Zevran asked her, in one of her rare human-times. "No use being wasteful when I can get by with insects and seeds."

(Truth be told, this touched at a little bruised spot in him. But he knew the feeling well enough, and in the end gave only a gentle nod.)

And each day some deep instinct smoldered within him—within all of them—of too much earth above. More earth than sky, in fact. Claustrophobic and suffocating and liable to, at any moment, collapse.

[theduckeminence]

“I’m sorry” (DaiLi!Tanggol AU)

“Hello. It’s me, again.”

No response comes to his words, but he continues to speak. Fingers grip at the worn padding of his uniform.

“I just came here to…check on you.” He hesitates, keeping composure as his eyes remain more so over the other man’s unconscious form. Even at this age, cowardice strikes best at his most vulnerable.

The sound of glow-crickets is his only noise occupying the silence in that tent. He doesn’t mind it very much.

“To be frank, I didn’t think you would be here,” he says, then glancing behind him—gesturing to the general area that is the Impenetrable City, “or there.”

Silence stays. The glow-crickets chirp again. A sign falls from him and he keeps his shoulders squared and his sitting pose proper. Yet he wishes for something to hold.

“I thought after all this time, all those years you…you simply live this life of yours,” he says with a tinge of embitterment stinging his tongue, and he takes it back immediately, “—or perhaps, return to the home you never once spoke about.”

Shifting his seating position, he turns his folded legs out and into a kneeling position, with his hands firmly placed on his thighs. They hold the back to fiddle at the fabric of his robe.

“You know, for a man who was as open as the empty seas, you are awfully good at keeping your secrets.” He chuckles dryly, trying to mold a smile on his face. “And maybe I was too.”

For a second, he thinks for a moment it would happen. For a second, he hopes for some sign of something. For a second, as horribly foolish as it is, he wishes for something to come of it. A twitch, an eye flutter, unintelligible words, or even the sound of groans or yawns. Anything really could have worked.

But nothing came of it, but silence and the sound of glow-crickets and other small, nightlife playing their medleys. And when nothing comes of it, he lets out another sigh—a deep exhale—and bolts loosen at the very heart.

“You know, I have done such an incredible amount of thinking during the time you were gone.” He begins, bringing his knees to his chest, resting his arms on top. “And I must say, I…have much to discuss furthermore and set out. I wish I could tell you all about it, but knowing you, I think it’s best to shorten it for you…and spare the unnecessary details.” He chuckles along, attempting to keep up his composure.

“I am an idiot. A massive, foolish, old oaf who already had a spear up his ass for decades and never bothered to take it out.” He admits straightforward, imagining the hilarity the other would find in his teasing misery. “I am a bitter and sour man who brings nothing more than others down, and I never cared enough to take that into consideration up until just recently. I can thank a certain new pupil of mine, but she would be a story for another day.” He snickers, recalling Katara’s determination in decapitation.

“However, what is important and applies to my such old foolishness is the fact that…that…” Uncertainty hands over him and for a second, all that there is us the sound of nature’s silence and glow-insects forming their orchestras, choirs, and artists to the rhythm of the moonlight’s tremor. The words stick on the tip of his tongue—refusing to let go and uncling themselves before he shakes them off.

“I…I do wish to be with you.” The moment the words fell from his lips, it all came crumbling down from there and for some reason, he couldn’t stop it. No matter how much his proper posture and stern voice can do for him.

“And…I’m sorry.”

From there, he begins to pour out. “I wish I could take back what I said back then. All the way back when you went back to me over and over again, saying you were sorry and that you wanted to talk. But I, being the old sour man who knows nothing more but to run and snare, barked back at you. I wish I could take back what I said to you, how I made you feel. The look in your eyes...”

Oh, the look in his eyes—how he hated to remember. The heartbreak and sound of shattering within soft browns before it was all turned away and he never brought himself to look into them again. And back then he didn’t know, but here, he knew. That was the moment he lost the Sun, his light was gone. His light. And so he was left in the shadows of his own making.

The moment he opened his mouth again, his voice was no longer strong and firm as it usually was, but now watery and broken down. Small, even.

“And it’s all my fault you’re here.”

Had he not pushed him away, had he not strengthened his walls and kept the younger man out, had he not yelled and told him off to leave him alone, had he taken back what he said, had he had the guts to speak and show some humility, had he not kept pushing and pushing and pushing, had he not ignored, had he not denied, had he been this bitter shell of who he was, had he not leaning into the depression of losing Kanna and remained cold and distant as everyone knew him for. Had he not, had he not.

And yet, he did. He did all of those things. And now there was no going back. There was no way to reverse such damage. And even if so, the chances of ever seeing the Sun again was long gone. And now, he sits in the darkness of his own making.

Ignoring the wetness of his cheeks and the blur of his vision, Pakku slowly lays himself forward, remaining in his kneeling position as he takes Tanggol’s hand. He hesitates for a second, before laying his on top of the other’s, eased by the small portion of warmth from his hand. As he does, he mumbles away.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

He didn’t know how long he was out. Nor did he not know that once he fell out cold from his guilts and sorrows, a grip is returned to his own hand—squeezing firmly for just a minute before remaining there.

[andreai04]

Until this moment, I thought that the ground in the Congo took its vermillion hue from the copper in the dirt, but now I cannot help but wonder whether the earth here is red because of all the blood that has spilled upon it.

That is the lasting image I take from the Congo—the heart of Africa reduced to the bloodstained corpse of a child, who died solely because he was digging for cobalt.

Our daily lives are powered by a human and environmental catastrophe in the Congo.

Although conditions for the Congo's cobalt miners remain exceedingly bleak, there is nevertheless cause to be hopeful. Awareness of their plight is growing and, with it, hope that their voices will no longer call out into an abyss but into the hearts of the people at the other end of the chain, who are able to see at last that the blood-caked corpse of that child lying in the dirt is one of their own.

Nothing looks the same after a trip to the Congo. The world back home no longer makes sense. It is difficult to reconcile how it even inhabits the same planet. Neatly arranged mountains of vegetables at grocery stores seem vulgar. Bright lights and flushing toilets seem like sorcery. Clean air and water feel like a crime. The markers of wealth and consumption appear violent. Most of it was built, after all, on violence, neatly tucked away in history books that tend to sanitize the truth.

There is grief, and then there is soul-wrenching misery. There is loss, and then there is life-destroying calamity. One encounters the limits of what human hearts can endure all too often in the Congo. The land is filled with monsters, and the beast that dwells beneath Kasulo is a thousand-headed hydra, mouths agape at the surface, waiting for its prey to enter.

When a tunnel collapses in Kasulo, most bodies are never recovered. The family members are unable to give their loved ones a proper funeral. They are compelled instead to walk each day upon their dead. That is the reality that no one up the chain wants us see. That is the truth that is meant to be forever buried here. The cruel design of a tunnel collapse makes sure of it, and everyone knows it. Perhaps they count on it—the impenetrable silence that obscures the vast tally of severed lives upon which great fortunes are built.

Meaningful solutions cannot be devised if they are devoid of direct input from those the solutions are meant to assist.

[a-mysterious-wisp-of-mist]

The guillotine's wooden frame looks almost black, the blade however, in stark contrast, gleaming white enough to hurt the eyes. Like the bared fangs of an animal. Eugène covers his face with one arm but he cannot escape his father's voice hissing in his ear.

"We all go here for our sins. You, my son, have not only betrayed your father's memory, but also the ideas he - I - died for. You would deserve to go first but as a special favour you shall be last."

Eugène watches as his father is dragged off the cart, led to the scaffold. Watches as Alexandre de Beauharnais, head arrogantly held high, climbs the wooden steps.

Once more Eugène tries to hide. He closes his eyes, he turns away, he buries his face in his hands.

Yet he sees. Behind his eyes pressed shut he sees it all, in colours brighter than life, hears it all, the sound of footsteps on wooden planks, groaning of ropes, creaking of hinges, the breathing of the condemned desperately kept under control...

The thud.

His father's head, grabbed by what remains of his hair, held up for everyone to see. The cheers, not even particularly excited anymore. More like an audience politely applauding a well-known performance, so well-known indeed that thinking about its proper meaning seems unnecessary.

The smell of blood makes Eugène's stomach turn. He knows the smell, has made it part of his life, has experienced far worse. What is this compared to the half-decayed corpses they found on their return to the battlefield of Borodino? Yet Eugène is not a soldier yet.

Nothing but a boy.

It is not over. He watches with blind eyes, behind firmly closed lids, how the men on the cart get executed, one by one. Some seem familiar, yet what are they doing here? Is that Méjean's son? Prina? Tallien? Petrus? Bataille? Bessières? Duroc? The row seems endless.

But finally, it is his turn. Hands grab his shoulders, push him towards the wooden scaffold.

He recognizes this. He's been there dozens of times: Stop thinking. Focus on what there is to do. Breathe knowing that every breath might be your last. Walk step by step, do not let fear invade your soul, fortify yourself by impenetrable walls - walls of disregard. Never think about the blade, the bullet, the cannonball that in a second from now might take your life. Be done with your life, so you can live - fight - without fear of losing it.

Eugène is a soldier. All soldiers are walking corpses heading towards their grave.

Yet when the faceless executioners lower him onto the guillotine, he somehow does not lie face-down like the condemned usually do. He lies on his back. He sees the blade gleaming over him in the dark, feels the jolt as the blade is released, sees it coming down and bears his throat ...

It's in this moment when he realizes that what he faces is indeed not a guillotine, not a mere machine, dead and blameless. It is a living entity, a monster, a black dragon devouring him, devouring his whole world with gleaming white fangs and claws sharper than every blade.

And as he is devoured by it, as he becomes a part of it, feeding the beast with all the strength he could muster to face it, he sees it coming down on the world, sees it breathe death and destruction, feels its wings fan the wind that fuelled the fires of Moscow...

-.-.-

When everything is over, he finds himself in a place he knows well. It's the cimétière de Picpus.

Where his father lies, somewhere, among all the other guillotined. There's a mild morning sun up in the sky, but the ground is damp, and it looks as if it might rain later.

Maybe Eugène indeed has found his home...

Home sweet home (1/?)

Once again, Eugène has set out to explore the strange realms of the afterlife. This time, however, while walking the dusty road leading away from Monsieur Goya’s cottage, in some undefined direction, through some undefined and vaguely Spanish-looking countryside, he’s starting to connect some dots (or so he thinks).

Both Marshal Soult and Marshal Lannes (or rather "Roi Nicolas" and "Sir Roland" Lannes) have assured him that there must be a way for him to find his own place in these realms. His journey to find Monsieur Goya has shown him that, in order to get to a certain point, he needs to focus his thoughts and energy on it (not that he’s quite sure how this is done), and that, the longer he stays in a place and with people unrelated to his memories, the weaker his grip on this afterlife seems to get.

So, obviously he needs to go to an important place connected to his memories in order to find his own home. Right?

There’s only one problem: Not many places feel like home in Eugène’s memories. Whereever he stayed during his adult life, and no matter how much he loved the place, he only ever was representing somebody else there or enjoying another person’s hospitality. Without ever fully realizing it, and surely without ever resenting it, he has to some degree lived the life of a vagabond. A pampered and spoilt vagabond, but still a vagabond at heart.

Auguste is going to kill me if I ever tell her this.

But even in a life full of war and unrest, there must have been a certain sense of security, of belonging once. He fondly remembers the town of Fontainebleau, the home of his aged grandfather, where he would meet with his mother and sister during school holidays, where his father was present at least in one of the paintings on the wall of the salon, and sometimes even in person, during one of his rare and embarrassed visits. The narrow streets Eugène had roamed as a child, the small buildings with their two or three stories and large shuttered windows, where he knew every gate, every fence, where people would recognize and greet him as he walked by – did this not represent some sort of home? Surely it was the closest thing to a childhood home Eugène had known, and surely this has made big enough of an impact on his mind to allow him to find this place again now?

Maybe it has indeed. Without Eugène even realizing it, his surroundings have changed. The scorching heat and the dusty road have been replaced by a cloudy sky and a gentle breeze on cobbled streets. Houses have grown out of the ground and lined up along the alleys, gathered around small squares. There are people on the streets, wearing the somewhat old-fashioned clothes of Eugène's childhood, only a few at first, but more and more the further Eugène goes.

It takes a while untile he realizes that something is amiss.

The buildings seem to have grown - or has he himself rather shrunk? Passers-by seem to have grown taller, too. Eugène's point of view has turned into that of a child. Both people and buildings tower over him. Is that the reason why there's suddenly so little sunlight anymore, why the sky seems even darker than before, why the shadows seem to have thickened and grown?

No, it's not. The sky has indeed grown black, it may start raining soon, the wind has turned chilly. People are holding torches and wearing dark, hooded cloaks all of a sudden, Eugène cannot recognize their faces anymore, can barely make out if they have any. The buildings have indeed changed, too, they are wider, have far more stories and larger, more decorated portals than those Eugène remembers from Fontainebleau, they sport doors ridiculously wide and high, cold white marble columns rising up until they almost disappear in the twilight, heavy enough to topple over and bury you beneath their weight...

This does not feel like Fontainebleau at all anymore. And indeed, it isn't.

Eugène does not want to, but he is dragged along with the crowd, people all moving in the same direction, gathering like in trance, moving like automatons. In vain he tries to turn, to squirm free, to run in the opposite direction. He does not want to go there. He knows where this is, when this is, as he is pushed closer and closer to a place everyone who's lived in Paris during that time would immediately recognize.

The place du Trône-Renversé.

He can hear the rattling of the cart before he sees it, frozen with shock, his heart beating in his chest as if to compete with the drum rolls echoing through the street, eyes wide with fear. He can see the convicts' heads moving above those of the crowd, as if already detached from their bodies, and while he can make out barely anything in the sudden darkness that has engulfed his surroundings, he can clearly recognise the faces of those in the cart.

Can clearly recognise those eyes that blindly stare into his own.

Papa!

[sweetnsour1]

1:31

Fluff, Bakugou x g/n reader

Different writing than my usual, so if you don’t like it don’t read it xxx

The wall was supposed to be impenetrable. Thick, sturdy, stable…all the adjectives a proper barrier should possess. It was made to protect. No, it was made to shield. It was meant to defend what would otherwise be defenseless. There was no fallback, no secondary means to rely on.

You hadn’t realized you needed to patrol the perimeter, checking for the cracks that were now so apparent. Stupid really…idiotic of you to not notice them. They were fucking everywhere. Each weakness stemming into a spider web-esque vein, interlacing with each other until they were one. You sighed, inventorying what would be needed to heal what he’d broken. There was no way, no means to gain the time or solitude you’d need to patch the vulnerabilities.

You sighed, turning to survey the blonde responsible for the trouble. He wasn’t even looking at you. He was watching his character swing from a vine, jumping over a pit. His brows furrowed soon after celebrating his perfect landing.

“You’re supposed to fuckin’ jump.”

Jump…into what? It was safe where you were standing, right? If you didn’t move at all, what would happen? You followed his darting eyes, watching your own character remain motionless as the screen swept you. You watched, thumbs frozen over buttons you had lost interest in pressing. What would happen? One foot hung off the edge. His shoulder bumped into yours, but didn’t thaw you. Your character floated in the air for a moment before tumbling into whatever toxic liquid waited below. The cartoonish mocking of the game audio warbled out defeat, while your character arrived in a bubble floating above his. One life left.

He huffed. You didn’t turn, not interested in giving his gaze a chance to pierce through you. He had a way at seeing to the heart of things. If you didn’t move at all, what would happen? Would the wall still break?

“You gonna fuckin’ jump this time?” He hit a button before you could answer, popping your character out of the soapy prison.

If you jumped, what would happen? Would you still need a wall? Would you need to keep him out? Had the wall even done that? His explosions could destroy villains, buildings, and mountains, but he hadn’t needed them for this. He had gotten to you with his voice, his words, his passion. No, that wasn’t right. The parts you held back, kept tight inside your chest, had been lured out by him. Your own dumb feelings were to blame. Stupid really…idiotic of you to not notice them. How long had they been going wild inside, scrambling to get free?

You sighed, turning to lock eyes with the blonde responsible for the trouble. His red eyes didn’t reveal anything, didn’t hold any new truths, didn’t tell you what to do, but they didn’t look away. Neither of you paused the game, the music still hummed, speeding faster and faster as time ran out. Were you gonna fuckin’ jump this time?

You leaned forward, slipping your gaze to his lips, which parted. You paused, waiting to see what words would tumble from them. You looked to him for the answer that hadn’t come, finding his darkened eyes tracing the outline of your own mouth. You let the wall crumble, feeling too many things at once to give a name to the sensation, but it made you smile softly just as you kissed him.

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