#i never... realize how many muses i have until I write them all down like this lkfdjglsfd

[jaysbaefie]

inmate 1697 | psh

synopsis: in which you agree to the jail guards offer for a small fee, you.

genre: prison au

pairing: jail guard!sunghoon x inmate afab! reader

warnings: non/dub-con themes, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey ego hurt!sunghoon, oral (m.rec), hair pulling, face fucking? gagging, manhandling, grinding, slight nipple play, cuffing, choking (kind of), doggy, clit play, rough p in v, slight cum play, panty stealing, lowkey sweet!sunghoon at the end?

wc: 3.1k+

a/n: thank you for all the love on my previous fics. make sure to reblog and like, it’s what keeps me motivated to write! enjoy.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

the clearing of someones throat broke you out of your thoughts. the days had blended in together and you could no longer tell what day of the week it was.

you broke the trance that the scuffed walls had on you, peering away from the scratch marks and smears of what you hope is blood and not fecal matter on the walls.

you tune your attention to the figure standing on the other side of the bars, a prison guard. you roll your eyes, "i haven't been screaming or causing a fuss, it's the cell next to mine. trust me, i know it's loud," you explain dryly . you had been receiving the blame for your next door neighbours antics, with multiple guards coming to your cell to bitch you out.

when you don't receive an answer you scoff, shutting your eyes before leaning back against the hard wall. "how would you like to talk to your little brother, __," the voice boomed. your eyes snapped open at the mention of your brother, immediately sitting up right on your hard bed.

you hadn't seen or talked to your little brother for months, your family didn't allow him. saying that your bad habits would 'rub off' on him and that he'd become like you. you rolled your eyes at their words, you didn't deserve to be behind bars and you did nothing wrong—they knew that. yet, here you are.

"how?" you question lowly, now getting up from your bed to walk up to the front. you hadn't gotten a proper look at the guard until now, originally quickly dismissing him. when you were right in front of him you realized how attractive he was.

typically the prison guards that worked at the facility were old stubby men who often could care less about what was going on. they eyed down female inmates, with many of the women taking advantage of them and using them for commissary.

you almost let out a gasp when you saw his sharp eyes piercing straight into yours, he had thick black hair that covered his brows and plump lips that sat flat on his pale face. he was definitely one of the most attractive men you had ever seen and you were now hyper aware of yourself and your surroundings under his intense gaze.

he smirks at your question, "i'll bring you a phone, i'm sure you have your brothers number," he explains gruffly, his eyes raking your body before he juts his tongue out to swipe over his lips.

you swallow harshly, there was a twist to his strange act of kindness. "what do you want in return?" you ask carefully, narrowing your eyes at him as his smirk widens.

you weren't dumb, you knew he had ulterior motives. "aren't you a smart one, cell mate 1697," he muses, his eyes dropping down to your chest to read the numbers printed on your orange jumper.

you instinctively cover your chest when his gaze lingers a bit to long on the area making him let out an airy laugh. you quirk your eyebrow, "well.." you motion for him to get on with it.

"how about this, cell mate 1697. i bring you your phone, you call your brother. then, i come down after 9pm and you let me use your pretty little throat," he suggests with a grin, his hand gripping one of the cells bars tightly as he stares down at your figure like you were prey.

he was an attractive man, surely he didn't need to be doing this to get off.

you scoff, "use me? no. never." he shrugs in response, "if you want to talk to your little brother, you'll change your mind."

he leans down slightly, "i promise, i'll be quick," he almost purrs.

you thought about it for a moment, you knew what he wanted, thats what every guard wanted in return for a little something. you had heard of stories of many guards wanting more than that, weighing out the pros and cons you came to a decision.

"alright," you began before squinting your eyes to make out the small printed name on the corner of his uniform, "officer park sunghoon, i'll see you tonight."

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

he held his part of the bargain, you had gotten a phone a few hours after the meeting. you woke up to something hard under your head, when you lifted yourself from your pillow you noticed the sleek device in the cover of your pillow case.

you gapped at the electronic, it seemed to be a newer model and you wonder why you had received something so nice. you fully expected a flip phone or a shabby one on the brink of death device—not this. that only made you wonder, was there more that he wanted than he let on?

you clenched your thighs together at the thought before quickly dismissing it and fumbling with the phone in your hands. you quickly look around your cell, peering outside of the bars to see if any guards were making rounds. when you deemed the coast to be clear, you tried to unlock the phone—only for it to have a password.

you frowned, this wasn't apart of his plan.

maybe there was more than he let on.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

you awaited for his arrival, it was around 9:30pm when you heard the sound of keys jingling and your cell being unlocked. you didn't dare turn your head, instead you stayed seated and continued to stare mindlessly at the wall in front of you.

anything for my brother.

locking the cell door behind him he stalks up to your figure, looking down at you with his intense gaze. you gripped your bed sheets hard, peering up at him as he takes another step closer—his crotch now in your face.

you swallow roughly, looking down to see his dick strained against his black work pants. your eyes widen when you realize how big he was, a small chuckle snaps you out of your thoughts. before you could look up on your own, you feel his hands make their way into your hair. you let out a small yelp when he yanks on it, causing you to snap your head up.

"you know what i want, __," he rasps, his grip on your hair tightening as he forces your head closer—your face now pressed against his crotch.

you gulp, wincing when he ruts himself against your face—the zipper of his pants scratching your cheek.

"you're going to be a good girl and follow through with your end of the bargain, yeah?" he murmurs lowly as he continues his actions. "you're gonna do what i say to get that password, yeah?"

you nod slightly making him smirk, "good, c'mon take it out."

you begin to reach your hands up to unzip his pants but sunghoon immediately slaps them away, "not with your hands, your mouth."

your breath hitches, your eyes widening at his words. swallowing harshly your teeth bite at his zipper, peering up at him as you pull it down.

sunghoon bites down on his lip, hard, the metallic taste of blood seeping onto his tongue. the sight he was witnessing was worth getting fired for, he'd gone to great lengths to get here after all.

working in an all women prison was easy, he got payed to watch women—with many of them throwing themselves at him. when he first got hired he basked in the attention, but soon after he was disgusted by the inmates behaviours. he was flashed constantly and touched on whenever he got to close.

every time he did rounds many of the inmates would try to seduce him into coming into their cells for a "good time" which he rejected instantly. however, you never spared him a glance—and that hurt his ego.

after asking about you to fellow guards, he had gathered quite a bit of information on you. you kept to yourself, rejected all prison guard advances because "nothing they had to offer was something you needed" and that you were in for manslaughter of your sister.

he made it his mission to find something that he could offer you, digging through your files and searching you up in the system. finally, he found your weak spot—your younger brother.

he discovered that your parents didn't allow you to keep in contact with your brother, and it was something that you talked about often on your in-person visits with family every month. so, he offered you the one thing that he knew you'd have a hard time turning down. in return, he wanted you.

there was something about you that drew him in, maybe it was your looks, your lack in interest in him, or even the fact that you killed your own sister. whatever it was, he wanted you, and when park sunghoon wants something—he gets it.

you struggle to help sunghoon shimmy down his pants, his hand coming down to help you as the clothing drops to the floor. he makes you work for his dick, nuzzling against his crotch to get him out of the slit in his boxers.

sunghoon enjoyed watching you struggle, furthermore, he enjoyed how eager you looked to please him.

finally, his cock sprung out and hit your cheek causing sunghoon to snicker. your eyes widen when you see his uncovered length, surprised that it looked bigger that you originally thought he was.

"well, you just gonna look at it?" he asks, his voice heavy and strained.

immediately, you took him into your mouth. sunghoon lets out a chocked moan, his hips bucking as you try to adjust your mouth to his girthy length. your eyes water when his tip hits the back of your throat, gagging slightly as you swallow around him—driving him crazy. he forms two makeshift pig tails on the top of your head, using them to steer you and control what pace you were going. he almost combusts at the sight of you, your eyes drowning in tears and your mouth full with his cock. he could see a mixture of drool and his cum leaking out from the sides of your mouth, your grip on his thighs getting painful.

"f-fuck, look at you," he grunts, his pace getting faster as he feels his balls tighten. "taking my cock so well in your pretty mouth."

you moan at the praise, the sound vibrating against his length making his eyes roll back in his head. you feel your jaw start to ache and sunghoon forces his dick deeper and deeper into your mouth, your nose touching his pelvic bone as he lets out a series of curses.

you suddenly swallow around him, his length twitching in your mouth as he bucks his hips—chasing his high. "fuck m'gonna cum, o-oh," he lets out a guttural moan as he feels himself reach his high.

"you dirty bitch, you want my cum? yeah? you want your mouth painted with me? hm?" he moans wildly as you desperately nod your head, thighs squeezing together to relieve the pressure between your legs.

you let out a small whine when you feel his cum coat the inside of your mouth. he pulls out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting from his dick to your mouth making you flush in embarrassment. you swallow his cum, the taste salty and slightly tangy but manageable.

you feel yourself disassociate for a moment only for sunghoons voice to break you out of your trance, "you did so good for me, __," he praises, his hand leaving your hair as it comes down to softly caress your face.

you hum in response, "the password?" you manage to say, your voice coming out hoarse and strained. you thought that sunghoon just wanted his dick sucked, little did you know he had more in mind for tonight.

he snickers, "i'm not done with you yet," and with that he's hauling you up from your bed and manhandling you to face the other way to press your behind against him.

you gasp at the sudden change, "b-but.." you tried to formulate your displeasure however sunghoon had no interest in hearing your voice. he forced two of his fingers into your mouth, the sudden intrusion causing you to gag. "you were more well behaved when you had my cock stuffed down your throat," he sneered into your ear, his minty breath fanning against your ear making you shiver.

you cried against his fingers, hands coming up to try and remove his digits from your mouth. sunghoon 'tsks' before he's reaching behind him and snapping the cold cuffs against your wrists, securing the restraints tightly behind your back causing you to cry out louder. you struggled against him, "why are you being difficult, 1697? you agreed to this," he says harshly.

you shook your head, or at least tried to, you had only agreed to blow him—nothing else.

"surely you knew better than to trust me when i said i only wanted one thing from you," he snickers, his hand wandering around your figure making you flinch.

his hand reaches for the waistband of your pants, yanking them down harshly along with your panties. "be a doll, step out of them, __." when you shake your head 'no' you hear a loud slap ring through your cell, your eyes widen at the sensation of your butt burning. he had smacked your cheek, now holding it in a bruising grip. "step out of them," he says again as he begins to roughly massage your other cheeks making you writhe.

you shakily step out of your pants, in fear that he'd go for your face next. he smiles against you, reaching down to grab your panties from the pile on the floor.

he raised his eyebrows in shock when he notices how damp the material was, "you like this? don't you, 1697," he laughs. you hated how your body betrayed you, how it showed him that you wanted this.

he quickly removes his fingers from your mouth, replacing it with your soiled underwear. his hands grip your waist as he grinds himself against your bare behind, his cock resting on your lower back.

his hands move under your shirt and up your stomach, reaching your covered chest. he yanks down your bra harshly, causing your tits to spill out. his greedy hands fondle and play with your nipples as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck—inhaling deeply.

"you're so perfect," he murmurs against your skin, sucking on the skin of your neck as he ruts himself against you. you continue to struggle against him, your protests being drowned by the fabric stuffed in your mouth.

you manage to spit your underwear out, "get off of me you sick bastard!" you screech, twisting and turning your body as you attempt to kick him. sunghoon snickers, his hand coming up to grip you by your throat as his grip on your tit becomes punishing.

"you want to play like that? i can play like that," and with that your being bent over your bed, face smushed against your hard mattress with your ass in the air.

"i was going to take care of you, 1697. get you ready for my cock, stretch your pretty cunt out so it could take me with ease. but you just want to be a brat so bad," he tsks as he runs his pointer finger down your slit. you attempt to bitch back but sunghoon pushes you face down into your bed, holding you down as you struggle to breathe.

"guess i'll just have to show you want happens to disobedient little sluts like you," and with that he begins to push his cock into you. his grip on your head falters as he bottoms out, a strangled groan leaving him—your walls fluttering against him.

you let out a cry when you feel him stretch you out completely, clenching around him to try and accommodate his thick cock.

as soon as you stopped clenching around him, he began to pound into you at a punishing pace—his snapping wildly as grips onto your waist.

"f-fuck, you're taking my cock so well in your hungry pussy," he moans, the sound of skin slapping together and your whimpers filling the cell.

sunghoon could combust at the sight alone, your ass jiggled with every thrust he delivered. his grip on your waist was painful, you were sure that the area was going to bruise later on.

his thrusts become brutal as he chases his high, smirking when he feels your walls flutter against him—indicating that you were just as close as he was.

"you gonna cum with me, pretty? gonna cum all over my cock?" he cooed before hes gripping the back of your neck to bring you up so your back is arched and the crown of your head touches his chest.

he grips your throat as he continues to fuck into you, his other hand reaching down to play with your clit as you struggle to keep down your moans.

"answer me," he demands when you don't respond to his question, his grip on your throat getting tighter—your vision getting blurry.

you nod, "y-yes sir, m'gonna cum on your big cock. please let me cum," you cry out, all morals flying out the window as your body shakes—feeling yourself near your high.

sunghoon smirks, "yeah? go on then, cum all over my dick," he spits as he begins to draw firmer circles on your clit. he feels your body twitch against him before your walls grip him tighter, which he didn't think was possible.

you let out a shriek as you feel your high wash over you, sunghoons following soon after. he releases into you with a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as his pace slows down.

"milking me so good, hm? perfect pussy," he murmurs against you, planting small kisses on your head as he rides out his high—making sure to empty himself out into you fully.

he pulls out of you soon after, allowing you to fall onto your bed before he's tucking himself back into his pants. he watches his cum dribble out of your cunt, suppressing a moan that threatened to leave his mouth at the sight. he runs his fingers down your slit, pushing the cum that was falling out of you back into your cunt.

smirking when he sees your fucked out state,  your body still shaking from the orgasm.

he un-cuffs you before he puts your pants back on, fixing your attire as you look at him dazed. he finds your panties on the side, quickly grabbing a hold of them before he's stuffing them into his pocket—a keepsake if you will.

he grabs your blanket and pulls it over you before he's crouching down.

he plants a small kiss on your forehead, "password is 1697," and with that he walks out.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hi,

I got this fun idea for a twst request and I was hoping you could fulfill it (You don't have to if you don't want to)

Idk how many characters your limit is, but i was wondering if you could write for the overblot boys with a reader who knew the great seven? (Whether it be, the reader is immortal and helped them with their schemes or if you decide something else)

And if it's not too complicated, could they all be platonic except for Idia? (If that's too much, you can make it just Idia or make them all platonic, I don't wanna seem too demanding)

OB with a reader who knows the great seven

Synopsis: You have lived through centuries, once an ally, confidant, and accomplice to the Great Seven in their rise to power. Time has left you a relic of an era long past,until you awaken in Night Raven College, where the shadows of history stir once more.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts had always admired the Queen of Hearts. Her laws, her discipline, her unwavering authority,all things he strove to embody. He had read every record available, memorized every rule, and dedicated himself to upholding her legacy. But you? You had known her.

It was something that left him utterly speechless when he first learned the truth.

You were an enigma wrapped in the guise of an ordinary student at Night Raven College, but in reality, you had walked through history, stood beside the Great Seven, and witnessed their reigns firsthand. To someone like Riddle, who built his entire life around the teachings of one of them, your very existence was nothing short of astonishing.

His first instinct was skepticism. Surely, you were exaggerating or simply playing a joke on him. But then, you spoke.

"The Queen of Hearts had a habit of twirling her scepter when she was deep in thought," you mused one day, as the two of you studied in the Heartslabyul garden. "She used to hum a certain melody under her breath when she was pleased with something, though I doubt any record of that survived."

Riddle nearly knocked over his teacup. "That… that can't be,how could you possibly know that?"

You gave him a knowing smile, one that sent a shiver down his spine. "Because I was there."

The weight of that realization crashed down on him like a tidal wave. You weren’t lying. You weren’t mistaken. You had seen the Queen of Hearts with your own eyes, heard her voice, stood in her court.

For the first time in his life, Riddle was at a loss for words.

From that moment on, his fascination with you only grew. He wanted to know everything,what the Queen was like beyond the strict laws and formal depictions, what kind of ruler she had been when she wasn't delivering orders.

"Did she ever smile?" he asked hesitantly one evening, his voice quieter than usual.

You chuckled. "Of course she did. She wasn’t just a ruler,she was a person, Riddle. No one is defined solely by their laws."

That sentiment struck something deep within him. He had spent so long striving for perfection, for absolute adherence to the rules, that he had never stopped to consider the person behind them. But you… you had seen the Queen as a living being, not just a figure in history.

It changed something in him.

Your bond deepened over time, shifting from awe to companionship. Riddle found himself more at ease in your presence than he was with most people. He still respected you immensely, of course,how could he not? But there was something else, something softer.

He valued your opinions, sought your guidance. When he struggled with doubt, he turned to you.

And one day, as you walked together beneath the rose-covered arches of Heartslabyul, he hesitated before speaking.

"Would you say that… you were proud of her?" he asked carefully. "The Queen of Hearts?"

You considered his words for a long moment. "She had her faults, just like anyone else. But she was strong, determined, and she left behind a legacy that shaped the world. Yes, I think I was proud of her."

Riddle exhaled, something in his chest loosening at your words.

"And you?" you asked, tilting your head curiously. "Do you think she'd be proud of you?"

His breath caught in his throat. He had spent years chasing an ideal, trying to be the perfect Heartslabyul student, the perfect rule enforcer. But would the Queen of Hearts herself have approved of him?

He looked at you, and for once, he didn’t feel the pressure to be perfect.

"I… I hope so," he admitted.

You smiled, and it was warm, reassuring. "I think she would be."

And for the first time in a long while, Riddle allowed himself to believe it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had always admired the King of Beasts. It was a well-known fact. The stories of his strength, his cunning, his ability to take what he wanted with no hesitation,all of it resonated with him. He knew them by heart, had grown up with them as a source of inspiration and, in some ways, justification. After all, if the greatest ruler in history had operated by his own rules, why shouldn’t he?

So when he first heard about you,the acolyte of the Great Seven, the one who had actually stood beside the legends themselves,he had his doubts. He wasn’t the type to fawn over old figures, no matter how influential they were. But there was no denying that you carried a presence, a confidence that made it clear you hadn’t just studied history,you had lived it.

And the fact that you had worked alongside the King of Beasts himself? Well. That was something worth paying attention to.

He never asked you about it outright, at least not at first. If you wanted to talk about it, you would. Leona wasn’t one to pry, and he wasn’t about to beg for details like some starry-eyed cub. But when you did speak about it,offhanded comments, casual recollections,he listened. More than that, he committed every word to memory.

“You sound just like him sometimes,” you mused one evening, after Leona had dismissed someone’s attempt to bother him with a single, sharp look.

Leona snorted. “What, ‘cause I don’t have time for nonsense?”

“That, and because you think ahead,” you replied. “Most people assume he was all brawn, but he knew how to plan, how to manipulate the battlefield before the fight even started. He saw the bigger picture.”

Leona’s ears twitched. That wasn’t something most people focused on. The stories always talked about the raw power, the victories, the intimidation. But strategy? That was something only someone who had been there would know to appreciate.

“You’re kinda good at it you know?”

Leona didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drift across the savanna-like fields outside, the golden light of the setting sun making the world look like something out of an old memory.

“…You think he’d respect me?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head. “The King of Beasts?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose. “Or would he think I was just some lazy second-born?”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “He’d recognize you, Leona.”

Leona’s tail flicked. “Hah. Bold assumption.”

“He respected strength,” you said simply. “And he knew that strength wasn’t just about brute force. He’d see the way you think, the way you analyze people, the way you play the long game even when you pretend you don’t care. He’d see himself in you.”

Leona turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t say anything, but there was something different in his expression,something thoughtful, something… lighter.

“…Heh. Guess that means you see it too, huh?”

You chuckled. “I’ve always seen it.”

Leona huffed, shaking his head. “You and your big words.”

But he didn’t argue. And later, as he lay stretched out beneath the stars, he found himself thinking about your words more than he cared to admit.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto had spent years studying the legends of the Great Seven, drawing inspiration from their cunning, their power, and their undeniable influence. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would one day meet someone who had actually known them.

You.

The acolyte of the Great Seven, a living relic of history, standing right before him. And not just some distant figure lost in the annals of time,you were real, tangible, and, to his absolute shock, quite fond of him.

Azul prided himself on keeping his composure in negotiations, but even he had to admit that this revelation nearly made him drop his pen.

“You… were close to the Sea Witch?” he asked, voice carefully controlled, though his fingers twitched slightly where they rested atop his contract book.

“Close?” You hummed, tilting your head in thought. “I suppose you could say that. I learned from her, advised her at times. She was a remarkable woman.”

Azul’s grip tightened. “Remarkable indeed.”

To say that Azul revered the Sea Witch would be an understatement. He had spent years modeling his business strategies after her, refining his persuasive tactics to mirror her legendary deals. And here you were, someone who had witnessed her genius firsthand.

“What was she like?” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. He was usually so calculated in his speech, but the opportunity to learn more about his idol was too tempting to ignore.

You chuckled, the sound warm, nostalgic. “Clever, naturally. A force to be reckoned with. But she was also pragmatic. She knew how to get what she wanted without wasting time. And despite what the stories say, she valued loyalty.”

Azul’s eyes gleamed. “Loyalty…?”

You nodded. “She never gave something for nothing, but those who proved their worth? She took care of them. Not out of kindness, but because she knew the value of strong allies.”

Azul absorbed every word, committing them to memory. He had spent years honing his skills, but hearing confirmation from someone who had been there? It made everything feel… validated.

Then you leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “But between you and me? You’re already quite the businessman yourself.”

Azul froze, his mind stuttering over itself.

The praise shouldn’t have affected him so much. He had received compliments before, flattery from clients and students alike. But this was different. This was coming from someone who had seen the rise of the Great Seven, who had stood beside the Sea Witch herself.

And you thought he was impressive?

A slow, self-satisfied smile curled his lips. “Well,” he murmured, adjusting his glasses, “I do try.”

You laughed, and Azul felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. He had always sought validation, always yearned to prove himself. And now, hearing it from you, it felt… right.

Maybe, just maybe, he was on the right path after all.

Azul's reaction to meeting you is absolutely priceless. You’re someone who actually knew the Sea Witch, the very legend he admires most, and your praise holds more weight than anything he's ever heard before. The way you validate his ambitions and skills?

It’s the ultimate boost to his confidence.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had always lived under the shadow of another,always serving, always being overlooked. But you? You had once stood at the side of the Sorcerer of the Sands himself. If anyone understood the burden of duty, the weight of loyalty, it was you.

The moment Jamil found out who you were, his mind reeled. The legends, the history,the Sorcerer of the Sands was a figure he both admired and resented. And you? You had actually known him. Not just as a distant, untouchable icon, but as a real person.

"So, was he as powerful as they say?" Jamil asked one evening, voice measured, carefully neutral. "Or is it all exaggerated?"

You hummed, leaning back. "He was powerful, yes. But more than that, he was clever. He knew how to manipulate, how to turn the tides in his favor."

Jamil's fingers twitched. "And you? You helped him?"

You smiled knowingly. "Of course. I was his acolyte, after all. But power isn't everything, Jamil. Even the greatest sorcerers can fall."

That hit closer to home than he cared to admit.

Yet, despite the enormity of your past, you never looked down on him. You saw him. The real him. Not just as Kalim's servant, not just as someone who had overblotted, but as Jamil Viper,someone with potential, someone worthy of his own ambitions.

He found himself drawn to you, not just because of your history, but because you understood. You had lived through more than he could fathom, yet you still walked forward, unbound by the weight of the past. It was a future he wanted for himself.

One night, as the desert wind howled outside Scarabia’s halls, Jamil found himself speaking words he never thought he would.

"Do you think...someone like me could ever be free?"

You looked at him, gaze steady. "Of course. It’s just a matter of making the right moves."

Jamil exhaled, something unspoken passing between you.

For the first time in a long time, he believed it might actually be possible.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit had always held the Beautiful Queen in the highest regard. She was the pinnacle of elegance, refinement, and ambition an emblem of the perfection he constantly strove for. He had studied every detail of her legend, every calculated move that led her to power, every stroke of her infamous beauty. But he never expected to meet someone who had actually known her.

And yet, there you were, standing before him, ageless and composed, your presence both regal and effortless. You, who had walked beside the Beautiful Queen herself. You, who had been her acolyte, had seen her rise and fall with your own eyes.

At first, he was skeptical. Many admired the Great Seven, but few could claim to have known them personally. But as you spoke,of courtly intrigue, of the Queen’s dedication to her craft, of the sharp mind behind her legendary beauty,he knew you weren’t lying. Every detail you provided matched what he had read, and then some. You spoke of nuances only someone who had been there could know. It was astonishing.

“You knew her,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Truly knew her.”

You smiled softly. “I did. And I see a piece of her in you.”

Vil felt a shiver run down his spine. It was a compliment of the highest order. He had spent his life striving to be as captivating, as powerful, as poised as the Beautiful Queen. To hear it from someone who had been by her side… it felt surreal.

He was full of questions. What perfumes did she favor? What was her personal beauty regimen? Did she ever feel insecure, even at the peak of her rule? Was there ever a moment where she faltered? He wanted to know everything, every secret, every unspoken detail.

But what truly fascinated him was your perspective. “You must have been close to her,” he mused, watching you carefully. “Did you ever fear her?”

You considered the question, tilting your head slightly. “Fear? No. I respected her. She was cunning, but she was not cruel without cause. She understood the weight of power and the cost of beauty. She taught me that to be admired, one must be feared just enough.”

Vil’s lips curled into a slow smile. “And do you follow that lesson still?”

“I do,” you admitted. “But I’ve learned that admiration without understanding is shallow. The Queen was feared for her beauty, but few understood the burden of it. You, however, understand that weight. That’s why you are not just beautiful,you are formidable.”

His breath caught. Flattery was nothing new to him, but your words held the weight of history, of someone who had seen legends rise and fall. To be acknowledged by you was no small thing.

From that moment on, Vil held you in the highest regard. He valued your opinion on everything,his performances, his fashion choices, his approach to leadership. You weren’t just another admirer, you were someone who had witnessed true greatness and found him worthy of the same heights.

And in return, he ensured that you were treated with the dignity you deserved. If anyone dared to question your wisdom, they faced his scathing tongue. If anyone disrespected you, he reminded them, with icy precision, that you were not just anyone.

You were legacy. You were history.

And in his eyes, you were nothing short of magnificent.

Idia Shroud

For someone who spent most of his time locked away in his room, Idia knew a surprising amount about the Great Seven. Not just the basic history everyone learned in school,he knew the strategies they used, the choices that led to their victories, the little details that only the most obsessive researchers could piece together.

So when he found out that you, his s/o, had actually known them? Had worked alongside them? Had been there for everything?

Yeah. That was a full system crash moment.

"You're—you’re serious? You're not messing with me? You actually met them?" Idia’s voice was higher-pitched than usual, his hair sparking wildly.

You nodded, amused by his reaction. "I didn’t just meet them, Idia. I was their acolyte. I worked beside them. I saw them rise to power."

Idia made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a strangled squeak. He scrambled to grab his tablet, typing furiously. "Okay, okay, hold up,I need details. All of them. What were they actually like? Did they really do all those things the history books say? "

You told him about the Queen of Hearts’ unwavering sense of order, the King of Beasts’ cunning, the Sea Witch’s unmatched charisma. You spoke of the Sorcerer of the Sands' intellect, the Fairest Queen’s beauty and ambition, the king of the under wicked humor, and the thorn fairy unmatched power.

Idia hung onto every word like he was absorbing the lore of his favorite RPG. "Wait, wait,so the Lord of the underworld was actually as sarcastic as the stories say? And the Sea Witch? A total manipulator, right?"

You grinned. "You have no idea."

Idia let out an excited wheeze, nearly vibrating. "This is insane. My partner is literally the ultimate lore drop. This is like finding a hidden character in a game that suddenly reveals the entire backstory of the world!"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Glad to know I’m just a walking DLC to you."

"No, no, you’re, like, the main storyline! The secret boss fight with a tragic yet incredible backstory! The one that players theorize about for years!"

You shook your head, but you couldn’t help the fond smile on your lips.

Later, as he finally calmed down, he looked at you, quieter now, more thoughtful. "You know… that must’ve been lonely. Living through all that, watching history play out firsthand."

You hesitated. "…Sometimes. But I had them. And now, I have you."

His hair turned pink. "Ugh, you can’t just say things like that. It’s super effective, okay? My HP is dropping."

You chuckled, leaning closer. "Then I guess I’ll have to revive you."

Idia sputtered, turning bright red. "G-great, now I’m dealing with status effects. I didn’t sign up for a romance route!"

You only laughed, watching as he melted into a flustered mess.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had lived for centuries, his lifespan stretching far beyond that of most beings. Yet, for all his years, he had never encountered someone quite like you,someone who had not only witnessed history but had actively shaped it. You weren’t just a bystander to the stories of the Great Seven; you had stood beside them, walked through the rise and fall of their reigns, seen their triumphs and their downfalls with your own eyes.

It fascinated him.

Dragons hoarded treasures, and Malleus had spent his long life collecting knowledge, legends, and history. But you,your memories were worth more than any artifact. You weren’t just a piece of history; you were history.

“I have read countless accounts of the Great Seven,” he mused one evening, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim candlelight of the Diasomnia dorm. “Yet none compare to hearing the truth from you.”

You laughed softly. “You say that now, but if I start rambling about how the Queen of Hearts once lost a game of croquet to a commoner, you might change your mind.”

Malleus’ lips curled into a rare smile. “On the contrary, I find such tales far more valuable than the embellished versions written in books.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent. “Tell me more. What were they truly like?”

So you told him,of the Queen of Hearts' temper, the King of Beasts' boundless charisma, the Sea Witch’s cunning. You painted them as they truly were, not just as rulers but as people with flaws and ambitions, regrets and victories. Malleus listened, utterly captivated, hanging onto your every word.

Yet, even with all his fascination, there was something deeper beneath it,something warm, something fond.

“I envy you,” he admitted one night, voice low and contemplative. “To have known such figures personally, to have stood beside them in their prime… It must have been extraordinary.”

You tilted your head. “It was. But it was also lonely.”

His expression shifted, as if he understood all too well. “Ah.”

A quiet stretched between you, comfortable yet laced with unspoken words. Malleus had spent much of his life set apart from others, and though he was feared and respected, few truly knew him. You, however, did. And you, more than anyone, knew what it was like to outlive those around you.

“You are not alone,” Malleus said at last, his voice carrying a quiet promise. “You need not carry their stories by yourself. If you wish, I will remember them with you.”

Something in your chest tightened at that,at the sincerity in his voice, at the way his glowing gaze held yours as if offering you something precious.

You smiled. “I’d like that, Malleus.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly understood.

English is not my first language

[purploozi]

Boyfriend | Lee Ji Hoon

Pairing: bf!Woozi x Reader

Genre: fluff and Woozi

Warning: none, just Woozi

I'm down bad for Woozi and I NEEDED to write about him to be able to focus on my studies so enjoyyy

Boyfriend!Woozi who (somehow) leaves you speechless everytime by just EXISTING and being the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for.

Boyfriend!Woozi who sneaks under the sheets late at night wrapping one arm around your waist to bring you closer to his chest, spooning you while mumbling sweet nothings about how much he loves you until he falls asleep.

Boyfriend!Woozi who doesn't let you get out of bed in the morning, tightening his hold on your waist and nuzzling his face into your neck mumbling a soft "don't go" (you always arrive late at work because of this)

Boyfriend!Woozi who writes little notes and likes to hide them for you to find. In your bag, between the pages of your notebook, or tucked under your pillow. But sometimes, he just leaves them in places easy to see. On the screen of your computer, in the door of the fridge, on the mirror of the bathroom. And no matter how many times you find them, they never fail to brighten your day. He writes simple things like “Don’t forget to eat” or “I miss you already” but sometimes you meet with a small poem full of sweet words dedicated to you.

Boyfriend!Woozi who hums random melodies all day, he loves music so you thought it was normal for him. But then, one day, you realize that the melodies he hums and the poems on his little notes were never random. They were pieces of a song about you.

Boyfriend!Woozi who makes sure to check his phone every hour, it doesn't matter if he's busy in the studio or filming some gose content. He's traumatized after that time when he didn't check his phone for more than five hours and while leaving the studio at night he saw your message that you were in the hospital and he got SCARED.

Boyfriend!Woozi who decorated his studio with pillows, a blanket and some stuffed animals (because HE KNOWS you love soft stuff) for those days when you spend time there keeping him company.

Boyfriend!Woozi who playfully grumbles when you steal his hoodie but secretly loves seeing you wearing it. He even “forgets” to take it back, just so he can see you with it a little longer.

Boyfriend!Woozi who might look uninterested to everyone else but to YOU he gives his undivided attention to whatever you say or do, you are literally his muse so he makes sure to show his affection every day with little gestures to make you feel loved.

I love Woozi~💜

This was a little distraction from the story about Seungcheol that I'm writing but I promise to go back to it!

[mrpenguinpants]

You are all I long for, all I worship, and adore.

— It's strange seeing your future selves being so close when you thought you both hated each other guts.

— Jing Yuan, Dan Feng (& Dan Heng) + Sunday

[Masterlist]

Suspend your disbelief for the timeline of lore, please.

Update: When I originally wrote this, I wanted to do an entire "Fly Me to the Moon," series of fics based on time travel. Hence the title. Shout-out to that one person who was waiting for me to write Sunday. I didn't, but I see you. It will happen soon.

Jing Yuan

This is the worst. The absolute worst thing ever. In the entirety of your living long life, this is the absolute worst moment so far. Were all the good times leading up to this moment? Did the Aeon's have some sick agenda, or were you randomly selected to be messed with today? If you had the option of eating literal trash bags for the rest of your life or continuing to live in this moment, you'd rather chew your own arms off. Maybe if you start now, you can save your future self the pain and humiliation of succumbing to...whatever this is.

"Aw, you were so cute when you were younger,” you - at least you think it’s you. This stranger wears the same face as you although a bit older. Perhaps alien would be a more fitting name? - this stranger coos as they cup Jing Yuan's face in their hands. Pinching cheeks with barely any fat on them with the sweetest smile you never knew you could even make. Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiter-Generals of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights who stared down an actual Lord Ravager, looks two seconds away from bolting like a scared cat. He hasn’t moved an inch since this started and honestly, as mortifying as this is, it’s way worse for him than it is for you. So naturally, you’re turning a blind eye and holding Yangqing hostage from saving his precious general of sweet words and praises.

”I see we didn’t get along at this point in time,” a deep voice muses above you from a man you’re very blatantly pretending to ignore. An older Jing Yuan stands beside you, amused at his younger self having a barely contained stroke. If it wasn't bad enough that a future version of yourself suddenly appeared, Jing Yuan just had to follow. Always a nuisance no matter his age. Maybe if you hold your breath, you’ll pass out and everything will blow over. It sounds less painful than trying to eat yourself from the outside in any way. Before you can start, a hand, heavy yet somehow gentle, is placed on your shoulder. “I don’t recommend trying to self-induce a suffocation. Nor attempt any cannibalism on the self either.”

Okay. That’s creepy. Do senior citizens suddenly gain mind-reading powers? You’ve heard the story that if a man stays a virgin until he’s 30, he'll become a wizard. You let out a huff of amusement at that thought, maybe that’s what’s happening. That amusement gets cut short when you realize that somehow, you fell for this 30-year-old virgin. You refuse to accept that out of spite. That story was meant for short-life species anyway.

“For all intensive purposes, I’m choosing to believe this is a nightmare and the first step to waking up from one is to induce pain,” you answer blandly, your grip on Yanqing finally waning as the boy sprints in for the rescue. Only to get swept up in the storm as your other self switches her attention to the kid. Sticky fingers and starry eyes have Yanqing disarmed before he can even lift a finger to summon his ice sword, falling prey to the musing of a Xianzhou auntie. Nevertheless, Yanqing does his job correctly because it allows Jing Yuan to finally escape as he stumbles over to you and his other self.

"How far the mighty have fallen," you snicker behind your hand at how ruffled Jing Yuan looks. His hair is a bit fluffy from how many times your future self ran their hands through it, and his cheeks are a bit pink. Probably from all the pinching. There's even a deep chuckle next to you to accompany your words as Jing Yuan coughs into his fist before straightening up properly. You can see Yanqing being given sweets behind his back and that alone buys the kids complacency.

"My apologies for that," Jing Yuan says as the older Jing Yuan simply laughs in response. Unserious and unfretted in everything.

Huh, now that you look closer. He has laugh lines.

"It is I that should apologize. We have disturbed your schedule with our, ahem, compliments," Other Jing Yuan chuckles once again, as if the fact that he has time traveled into the past was a small "disturbance". Aeons, you hate this guy in every form.

They go back and forth, talking in that faux politeness that never truly goes anywhere before you finally had enough of this. You're not sticking around for this tea-time pleasantries any longer than you need to. It's the exact reason why you left your position as the "Divine Foresight Counselor" and passed it off to Qingzu as soon as you could. Unfortunately, you're going up against two Jing Yuan's, so the moment you shift your shoe to take a step back to remove yourself from the conversation, two pairs of golden eyes snap to you. One is smiling, the other is frowning.

"Heading off?"

"Where are you going?"

You look between the two, older and younger, and you can feel your head beginning to hurt. You let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead, before ultimately picking the lesser of two evils. If you have to look into those love-stricken soft eyes one more time, you might actually pass away.

"Out. You don't need me here anymore do you, General? Or do I require your dismissal now?" you ask bluntly, turning to the Jing Yuan you're used to. The one who's supposed to be in this timeline. "If you need anything, I'm sure Diviner Fu would love to be of assistance."

You don't bother to wait for Jing Yuan to say anything, pivoting on your heel and marching out of the Exalting Sanctum. You glance at your other self, a bitter feeling rising in your chest when they look at you disapprovingly. You can tell they want to say something but one brief look to the side, where the two Jing Yuans stand, and they close their mouth and turn around. Regardless, there's no reason for you to stick around longer. As long as the time travelers stay within the exalting sanctum, no one will know they ever appeared in the first place.

As you near the exiting doors, nodding to the guards on each side, you spare one last glance back. Your sudden departure hasn't halted anything and Jing Yuan is speaking to both his other self and you. Yanqing huddles close, one of his hands in your other self's hand, as he tries his best to participate in the discussion. Realistically, you should set aside your petty pride and march back to help. Do something other than running away and letting everyone else pick up the pieces for you. But the doors are already open and you need a sweet drink desperately.

There's been a growing sour taste on your tongue every time your Jing Yuan stares longingly at the other you.

Dan Feng

There isn't a single word to describe the situation you're in right now. Strange? Uncanny? Just super weird? You've seen and done a lot of weird things in your long life, but this is the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to you - and you've seen a star collapse before.

“If you keep making that expression, it’ll stick on your face,” Jing Yuan muffles his laugh under his hand, keeping up with your brisk pace as you not-so-subtly run away from the situation thrust into your hands. A tactical retreat you call it. You give Jing Yuan a pained grimace for a brief second before focusing straight ahead again.

“Jing Yuan, I will make sure your promotion to General is riddled with paperwork,” you say straight-faced. He knows you’re lying, you adore your pseudo-nephew too much to do that to him, but it does make him jolt and respectfully keep his mouth shut. However, in exchange, it makes the third pair of footsteps all the more louder. The source of your current predicament and Jing Yuan's amusement. You peer over your shoulder at the young man just to make absolutely sure that you're not hallucinating. A tall, slender young man with blue eyes, fair skin, and black hair stares right back at you before quickly averting his gaze back to the ground. Even with his unique coat and clothing, he has the splitting image of that old lizard. Even though this stranger is younger...and without a stick up his ass either.

He said his name was Dan Heng. A "traveling guard" for the renowned Astral Express. He had sworn on his life that he was telling the truth but that didn't change the fact of who he looked like. If Jing Yuan hadn't been there to vouch for him, then you would have attempted to throw him off the Luofu yourself. According to Jing Yuan, he found the young man "asleep" under one of the ginkgo trees, but otherwise wasn't doing any harm to anyone. He had just appeared with no way to return to where he came from.

At least you have one thing in common: you both don’t want to be here.

"So, are you a distant relative? Is this your first time visiting the Luofu? Oh! Are you here to visit him for vidyadhara business?" Jing Yuan spitballs one question after the other, his barely contained excitement shining through. He had slowed his pace to walk side-by-side with Dan Heng, illustrating the differences between them. Jing Yuan barely reaches Dan Heng's waist, the standard cloud knight uniform looking plain compared to the other's elaborate coat. Teal clashing with blue. Although, they match in their one red accessory flapping in the wind.

Dan Heng awkwardly coughs into his hand, before giving Jing Yuan a rather embarrassed look, "I don't think it'd be wise for me to say anything. If you have any questions, you should ask my teacher..."

Dan Heng shoots you a look as he says the word 'teacher', to which you raise an eyebrow right back. You've never seen this specific man in your life, let alone taken on any students. You don't even like kids that much unless their name is Jing Yuan and even, he isn't fully nestled in your heart. But that's another weird thing about this whole situation. This mysterious "teacher" apparently came along for the ride, yet the man won't spare a single detail about them. Vague descriptions that could be for anyone but wouldn't be a definite confirmation. All in all, it's been a headache and not something you wished to do on a bright and sunny morning. It's frankly out of your pay grade to be babysitting wandering travelers, even if they look like the High Elder.

“We’re here,” you call out, abruptly stopping your near sprint as you feel two bodies collide into your back. One has the decency to step back with an apology while the other clings to your arm as he peers around your waist.

"The forge?" Jing Yuan questions, tilting his head almost fully sideways as the three of you look up at the unassuming blacksmith shop.

"Yep, we're visiting the only adult of the group. Come on, Yingxing should still be inside," you say eyes forward but your arm reaches behind you to hold onto the retreating body of Dan Heng, who has been quietly trying to step away as soon as you confirmed just where you were. Jokes on him, you're the master of running away from your problems- retreating. You're the master at tactical retreating.

Although it’s muffled, you can hear some commotion going on inside. Maybe an unruly customer who didn’t read the fine print and is now venting their frustration? You share a look of confusion with Jing Yuan as you strong-arm Dan Heng into coming inside.

Entering the store, it looks relatively normal? There's nothing out of place or anything to show there was a scuffle, but the argument is getting louder sounding from the back of the store, into the forge. Which is strange for two reasons. Firstly, Yingxing may not be a dragon but he guards the forge with his life. Secondly, the only other people allowed in aren't even in the area. A mutual understanding passes through the three of you, Dan Heng finally giving up on trying to escape with the death grip you have on his arm, and you all tip-toe to the back door. Jing Yuan being the smallest reaches the door first, his head peeking out, your head above his as you squint into the room, and Dan Heng above yours with a look of defeat.

“You selfish old lizard! I’d outta cut your tail off right now for all the trouble you caused you senile son of a-“

"Please calm down, this is still the High Elder you're speaking to!"

What you see is something you'd never expect to see, and you need to reiterate that you've seen a literal star collapse. An older version of you is being held back by Yingxing as they throw threats and cusses at Dan Feng, who looks relatively unbothered by the promises to maim him.

“Teacher!”

Dan Heng, who has kept the most monotone voice imaginable since meeting him, suddenly pushes himself forward. A small "ah!" comes from Jing Yuan as he flops onto the floor from the sudden movement. A spear you've definitely seen before materializes in his hand as he goes to swing at Yingxing, only to be parried away by an identical spear. If you thought the tension between your first meeting with Dan Heng was rough, this feels like the Aeons themselves are fighting against each other. Yingxing and the other you have gone slack in surprise as two vidyadhara's who share the same face are kept at a standstill. Two cloud piercers pointed at each other, poised and ready to strike again, the air growing more humid with sticky beads of water vapor suspended in the air. Well, if you had any doubts about Dan Heng looking way too similar to Dan Feng, this pretty much confirms it. They're the same person.

Your eyes slide to the other you.

A falling star has nothing on this.

Sunday

There's something off about this entire situation, and there are enough oddities to begin with, but there's just something that doesn't sit right with you. Was there such a thing as a second puberty? Is that what a "mid-life" crisis was? Aren't you supposed to dye your hair and buy a sports car when that happens? Because the person walking next to you is certainly not you. They're too...peppy.

When you first saw the "future you", you had assumed they were a figment of someone's imagination. A dream perhaps? In Penacony, it would definitely be possible, but who would want to dream of you? The other you didn't seem that weird either, just a bit older and more well-mannered, but otherwise exactly the same. They had greeted you cheerfully, even coming up to shake your hand because "it was the polite thing to do when greeting friends.". You didn't know how to react to that wording so you brushed it aside. Maybe in the future, you're some big shot? That's kind of exciting to imagine.

"So...any idea how you got here?" you ask, turning to the other you. It's kind of funny that you're escorting yourself but you doubt the future you remember's the winding pathways the Bloodhounds take to the main base. Although your boss is quite nonchalant, Gallagher has always had a steady head on his shoulders. If you can't figure out a way to fix this time travel business, he can at least play damage control.

"I'm not entirely sure. I was about to set out to welcome some new friends on behalf of my husband, and then I was suddenly here. Oh, I hope he isn't upset with me for disappearing," your other self hums, a hand on their cheek, before quickly jolting up, "Ah, I guess I should say our husband now."

You let out an awkward laugh to match their giggle. Although your future self doesn't look that much older than you, it seems you managed to get hitched with someone great. They always seem to slip the word "husband" into every sentence, heck- you're making new friends because of him. Your mother would weep tears of joy learning that fact. Although it does make you curious just who your supposed husband is. The only man you see more than once in your life is Gallagher, and respectfully, he's not your type. But then who else? Perhaps one of the patrons? You've heard the news that the IPC sent a handsome gambler with beautiful eyes. Perhaps that's who you've fallen in love with? You don't want to ask because you don't want to mess up the timeline and frankly, you don't want to ruin the surprise. To be honest, even though you never thought about marriage, it kinda makes you giddy knowing that in the future, you seem to love your husband so much. A bit too much but it's probably the honeymoon phase train never stopping.

You still can't help but shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

There's just the slightest sinister curl in their smile. As if they're secretly laughing at the expense of everyone while keeping on an angelic facade. It's unsettling and makes chills down go your spine when it's your face that does it. The only time you've felt this sense of unease was when you accidentally stumbled into Gallagher's private meeting with the Head of the Oak Family. The Halovian had simply smiled, inquiring who you were and holding his hand out for you to shake. Your fingers had just brushed against his white glove when Gallagher stepped in, gripping your wrist hard enough for bruises, and forcibly pushed you out the door.

"Someone not important."

That's what your boss had said. You thought he spoke so harshly because he was pissed at you for possibly giving the Oak Family a bad first impression. He pretended it never happened and you never brought it up, afraid he might fire you from your job.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you alright?"

You blink, shaken out of your thoughts by your future self's question. They smile at you kindly, a slight tilt to their head as they wait for you to answer patiently.

"Oh! Sorry, I kinda spaced out there for a bit..." You let out an awkward laugh. Your voice sounds weak even to you, but the other you just nods in understanding. Perhaps it's because it's technically you that you're talking to, or that feeling of foreboding, that you feel like you need to explain yourself, "I guess I haven't been sleeping well. Gallagher has me running errands on the other side of Penacony in preparation for the Charmony Festival. Between you and me, I think he's dumping his errands on me so he can slack off."

Your lighthearted chuckle tapers off when the other you doesn't respond in kind to your joke. In fact, bringing up Gallagher's name has completely cleared their face from that prim and proper mask. Leaving behind a blank expression with disinterested eyes before a blink, and there's that same smile smeared on.

"You speak rather fondly of him. It seems I'm farther into the past than I originally thought," they mumble to themselves. Although you pick up on the words easily, you double-take just to make absolutely sure those words came from them. Sure, Gallagher isn't the most traditional-looking boss but he's not a bad person. Especially not to you. When you were looking for a job, he was the one to approach you out of the blue to work under him as a Bloodhound. If he never showed up, you would have most likely wasted away as a paper pusher for one of the families. He's always forgiven your mistakes and always offered to escort you home even though you can take care of yourself. So why is your future self so unfriendly to someone you currently hold in high regard?

"Oh uh...did something happen between us and Gallagher? I mean, I always suspected I'd get fired but I don't know, I always thought we got along. I mean, he has been acting a bit weird since that Oak Family Head came around but he's probably just stressed, right? Oh wait- I don't think we should be talking about this. I don't want to start a butterfly effect, especially so close to the festival-" you muse only to get interrupted.

"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that dog so easily," your other self spits with so much venom that you take a step away. Is it possible that you misjudged how close you were with Gallagher? Your other self talks about him as if he had betrayed them on a personal level. This shouldn't be possible because you and Gallagher have a strictly professional relationship. Unless you potentially knew him before you arrived in Penacony? To be fair, your memory gets a bit hazy looking back but you're sure you would remember someone like Gallagher.

"Wha- Hey, I don't know what happened but you shouldn't call him a dog-"

"We're here."

You stop in your tracks. What? We're here? You look up and realize that you've completely walked off the beaten path and happened upon a door. In fact, if you remember correctly, this was the door you stumbled into when you first met that Halovian. When did it become your other self escorting you rather than the other way around? You thought they wouldn't know these back alley pathways anymore.

"Why are we here?" you ask tentatively. Realistically, you know nothing bad will happen to you, at least not physically. You're their past. Whatever happens to you will affect them. A small scrape here will become a scar for them later.

"You haven't been sleeping well correct? I remember when I used to have headaches all the time. But you'll be okay now, he'll make things all better. While it's a bit early, I'm sure you'll understand. You are me after all," they smile sweetly, taking your hand in theirs as they pull you in front of the door.

"Come now, let's go meet our husband. He's been eagerly waiting for you for a long time."

---

Small author's note: I fell into a pit and wrote way too much. If I didn't cut it off, this fic would take another year to finish. That's why there's no real ending, lol.

[daughterofscotland]

Love, Unfinished

Thanks to 8x11 I finally managed to write something again!

Not sure I appreciate that them being sad works better for my muse than their happiness, but... at least I get to make it better. With a lot of fluff and sweetness.

Thanks to @daniwib for the title!

Love, Unfinished on AO3 here

“I can’t do this again,” he said, turning around and looking at Tommy who was still at the door, closing it slowly before turning and leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. Protecting himself, Buck realized, and his heart gave a painful pang at that. *** After leaving Maddie, Buck decides he doesn't want to waste anymore time before clearing the air with Tommy. He just hopes he's not too late to fix things. Or: Buck and Tommy talk. Finally.

Or read it here:

Buck didn’t hesitate as he parked his car in Tommy’s driveway, coming straight from Maddie. He jumped out and immediately headed for the light blue door, knocking on it in a quick, consistent rhythm, until it opened. Buck allowed himself one look at Tommy, who looked like he hadn’t slept, and was definitely still wearing the same undershirt he’d worn last night.

“Ev-,” Tommy started, and thank god he didn’t say “Buck” right now.

“Don’t,” Buck interrupted him and pushed his way into the house. He was well aware that Tommy could have stopped him easily; the fact that he didn’t gave him a tiny bit of hope that he could fix this. Fix them.

“I can’t do this again,” he said, turning around and looking at Tommy who was still at the door, closing it slowly before turning and leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.

Protecting himself, Buck realized, and his heart gave a painful pang at that.

“Can’t do what?” Tommy asked, not looking at Buck’s face but somewhere beyond his shoulder.

“Spend another however many months not talking or fixing this,” Buck said in a rush, trying his best not to stammer, even though it was hard. “I can’t keep sleeping at M-Maddie’s because I can’t stand being alone in my house, I can’t keep trying to force Ravi o-or anyone else to hang out with me just so I don’t have to be by myself, and I seriously can’t keep baking just so I won’t call you, b-because I have gained 15 pounds, egg prices are ridiculous, and two stores have already banned me from buying flour.”

Tommy blinked at him, his face going on a real journey while Buck talked, like it always did. God, Buck missed him and his stupid face so much.

“I don’t know why people think I have romantic feelings for Eddie,” Buck continued, taking a deep breath, calming down now that his immediate rush of words was out. “You never gave me any idea that you were thinking about it, either, and I really hope you didn’t spend our whole relationship worrying about it. 

It blindsided me, Tommy, and I… I miss him. I really, truly miss him; he’s my best friend, my family, and he’s gone, and I, I am not dealing well with it at all. And if I were to take some time and look back at when he first turned up at the 118, yeah, maybe I would realize I had a crush on him or something. 

But it doesn’t matter what I did or didn’t feel back then. I do not have romantic feelings for Eddie. I can’t imagine developing them, either, because…”

Buck swallowed. These were the words he had to say, finally, after they’d been swirling around his head for months. They were big and scary, but if he didn’t say them now, he feared he’d lose Tommy for good. And that was just utterly unacceptable.

“I love you, Tommy,” Buck said, noting how Tommy’s eyes snapped up to his, wide and disbelieving. It broke Buck’s heart seeing that disbelief. How could Tommy not know?

“I have loved you for much longer than I probably realize. I should have told you before asking you to move in together, I should have told you a thousand times after you broke up with me, I should have told you last night and this morning.

But I was scared. So I never did.”

Tommy’s mouth opened and closed for a few moments and he swallowed hard. His eyes were glassy and his arms had dropped down to his sides, as if his strings had been cut.

“Why are you saying it now, then? Are you… are you not scared anymore?”

It was such a mirror of what Buck had asked him in the morning - just before doing exactly what Tommy had said he wasn’t as afraid of anymore: broken Tommy’s heart.

“Oh, I absolutely am,” he said, putting everything out there. “I am terrified that you won’t… won’t believe me or that it won’t be enough, not after I ruined us for the third time…”

“Evan, you haven’t ruined us,” Tommy immediately protested but Buck shook his head, making him stop.

“Yes, I did,” Buck said. “I keep saying the wrong things because I am nervous or angry. And it makes you doubt me every time, and because you want to protect yourself so, so badly, you run. I don’t want to make you keep running, Tommy. I want to stand still with you. O-or walk beside you, whatever. I just want to do it together. If… if that is still something you want…”

Buck’s voice broke on the last sentence and he had to close his eyes tightly for a moment so he wouldn’t start crying. If Tommy didn’t believe him, if he told him to leave, that would be it. There would be no future for them. And Buck wasn’t sure he’d survive that.

“Evan,” came Tommy’s quiet voice and it was much closer than before. Buck dared to open his eyes and he saw that Tommy had stepped closer, was in arm’s reach, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing onto Tommy’s shirt at his side. Holding on, holding them in place.

“You’re right,” Tommy said, putting both his hands on Buck’s hips, as if he also needed an anchor so he wouldn’t float away, just like Buck.

“I have been doubting you. Not because you did anything to make me, but because… I guess part of me always expected us to be temporary. Not even consciously, but it’s just how it goes for me, you know? So when you fumbled our first date, I thought: Oh, okay, he’s not ready, nevermind. But then you called me and we talked and you just… you moved us along and I could do nothing but follow you, and I was happy, I promise. 

But then you asked me to move in - and just to be clear, you asked me to move into your loft, even if that wasn’t really what you meant, and that would have been a terrible idea - and it just confirmed my belief that we wouldn’t work out, that we weren’t on the same page or moving at the same pace. So, yeah, I ran.”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “It’s something I have been working on with my therapist.”

“You are in therapy?” Buck asked, his voice quieter than before, now that they were standing almost nose to nose. He let Tommy’s words swirl around in his head and understood them, but also knew he’d have to question some of it later.

“I broke my own heart because it seemed the more logical choice than talking to you and working on the best thing that had ever happened to me. Yes, I started going to therapy. Turns out, talking about things actually helps you get over trauma, who knew?”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh at the usual dry delivery and he rubbed their noses together, anticipating the little sneeze Tommy would let out. It was one of the most endearing things he’d discovered about him.

“Yeah, I, uh… I have started taking sessions with mine again, too,” he confessed, looking at Tommy through his lashes. “Got scolded for going awol for so long, we have quite a lot to work through.”

“Not just us?” Tommy asked, cocking his head a bit.

“No,” Buck answered honestly. “But you definitely come up quite a lot.”

They stayed silent for a bit, still holding each other, Buck’s hands now around Tommy’s neck. They swayed from side to side, a sweet, silent imitation of the dance they never had at Maddie’s and Chimney’s wedding.

“From the start,” Buck finally broke the silence, but didn’t move away. “Did you think I wanted Eddie instead of you the whole time?”

Tommy took his time answering, his fingers spasming on Buck’s hip. “I… not consciously,” he finally said. “I knew you were best friends, of course, that wasn’t the problem. But the more time we spent together, all three of us, I just… it’s kind of tradition, you know? Falling in love with your straight best friend.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “I certainly did it. And somehow, knowing I was the first man that made you realize that you aren’t actually straight, convinced me that you would of course experience the same.”

Buck thought about it for a moment. He could see where Tommy was coming from, in a way. He’d certainly heard of the cliché, or tradition, as he’d called it. But still.

“I’m not you,” Buck said quietly, resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. He saw Tommy shiver as Buck’s breath hit his skin. “I am not any of your exes, either, or any other non-straight person out there. I am me. I am not going around repeating yours or others’ mistakes. I can make my own just fine, as you might have noticed.”

He smiled as Tommy laughed at that. 

“I know,” Tommy assured him, turning his head just slightly to place a gentle kiss on Buck’s birthmark. “I know you have never actually given me a reason to doubt your friendship with Eddie. I guess it was just…” He trailed off, clearly not sure how to say what he had thought.

“Just you seeing a foregone conclusion borne out of fear?” Buck asked softly and Tommy nodded, exhaling shakily.

“I can understand that. God knows I have enough of those, too. And apparently you’re not even the only one who thinks that way about me and Eddie, because Maddie -” He cut himself off, not wanting to get angry again right now.

“Anyway. Yes, I love Eddie. As a friend, a brother, as family. But you.”

He moved so he could hold Tommy’s head in his hands and look him straight in the eye.

“I am in love with you, Tommy Kinard. And if you’ll have me, I would very much like to prove it to you for the rest of our lives.”

Tommy blinked, once, twice. “You didn’t just ask me to marry you, right, because that would be very unfortunate timing.”

Buck laughed, letting go of Tommy’s head and putting his hands back on those strong shoulders. If he pushed his fingers down a bit, right over the bite mark he’d left there last night, that was between him and Tommy. “No, Tommy, I did not… Jeez, believe me, when I propose, you’ll know.”

“When, huh?” Tommy said, his face lighting up with that crinkling smile Buck loved so much.

“Absolutely,” Buck said, nodding, his own answering grin splitting his face. “There’s no doubt in my mind that I am going to marry you one day, Tommy Kinard, so you better be prepared to indulge me with a clipboard. Possibly two, one just for the catering and cake.”

“Well, the cake is the most important part,” Tommy replied seriously, before shaking his head and grinning again. “I will gladly hand you all the clipboards you need, sparkly pens included, if it means I get to call you my husband at the end of it all, Evan.”

Buck’s grin turned into a shy smile and he ducked his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby,” Tommy said, his voice dropping to a whisper before he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth. “I love you, too, Evan. I wish I had said it earlier, but I was afraid, too.”

Buck felt like his heart was beating out of his chest from happiness. “But you’re not afraid anymore?” he asked, not able to help himself.

“Oh, I am,” Tommy said, smiling against Buck’s cheek. “But standing here, seeing you be so brave… how could I be anything less? I want to be brave for you, Evan, because you deserve it. You deserve me to be honest with you about my feelings.”

Buck had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment so he wouldn’t start crying. “Thank you,” he whispered, clearing his throat. “You know I… I used to believe when I found the right person, it would be easy. And when it wasn’t, I thought it was me. That I was just… unlovable…”

Tommy squeezed his sides but didn’t say anything, only kissed his cheek, trailing his lips down Buck’s jaw.

“But earlier today, I remembered this call… it was years ago, an old couple, one of them died and the other, he… he told me about how he met his husband, their journey.

I said something about how I hoped to find something that good one day. H-he said “you don’t find it, you make it”. I, I lost sight of that for a while, but… that’s what I want with you, Tommy. I want us to make a beautiful life, together.”

Tommy pulled back and stared at him. Buck wondered how often he could astound Tommy in one conversation, because at this point, it had to have been at least three times.

“You are a wonder, Evan Buckley,” Tommy said, before pulling Buck in again, kissing him fully this time. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their gentle hands grabbing at each other.

Tommy broke the kiss, panting a bit, as he moved them so Buck was pressed against the wall in a mimicry of the previous night. Then he squeezed Buck’s sides very purposefully. 

“By the way, are you sure you only gained 15 pounds? Because, this feels like -” he stopped with a laugh when Buck bit him on the chin in outrage.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dick,” Buck laughed, gnawing on Tommy’s skin. “So rude, unbelievable…”

“But you love me anyway,” Tommy says, and Buck pulled back, ready to give a retort - before he looked into Tommy’s eyes and registered the insecurity there. His gaze softened.

“Yes, Tommy,” he said, kissing him again. “I love you. Despite the fact that you can be a real bitch a lot of the time.”

Tommy’s laugh held a hint of relief. “Well, good thing you have terrible taste in men and like us being bitchy - Eddie is one, too, after all.”

“Stop talking about Eddie while I am trying to get you naked,” Buck whined, pushing Tommy’s shirt up so he could get his hands on hot skin. 

“Understood,” Tommy gasped as Buck flicked one of his nipples. “No more talk of Eddie in this house, copy that.”

Instead of answering again, Buck just groaned and pulled Tommy’s shirt over his head. 

He was sure they still had a lot of talking to do - there was still a lot of hurt they had to work out between them, figure out what they wanted their relationship to look like from now on.

But that could wait. For now, they would make up for the delayed celebration Tommy had planned in the morning. They had all the time in the world after all.

[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 1: (Caramel Apple) Vincent Sinclair

Welcomer everyone to day 1! There's not much to say that I haven't already so I hope you all enjoy day 1 as well as the other fics I have prepared for this month! <3 Notes: Minors DNI, Canon typical violence if any. Vincent used sign language in this, the sign language will be in Italics. Support me: KO-FI

The half rotted door to Vincent's basement workshop groaned out a long winded squeak when you pushed it open. You grabbed it before it could slam against the wall at the top of the stairs. It was about 2am and you could never be to sure if Vincent had fallen asleep down in the workshop or not.

You stepped on each stair one at a time. You had been down to the basement so many times in the middle of the night you had the spots that creaked memorized and you knew how to meticulously step around them or at least cause the least noise. You counted each stair in your head until you reach the bottom step, you peered around the dimly lit workshop before your eyes landed on your target.

"Vince"

A soft, near whisper cut through the silence. A white masked face shot up from where he was sitting. His shoulders untensed and he quickly rose from his seat, wax project quickly forgotten on the table in front of him as he made his way over to where you were standing.

"I came to get you, It's like 2:30 in the morning Vin."

Vincent froze for a split second, his eyes darting to the usually wrong digital clock he kept by his work space. Years prior Vincent didn't care when he finished work, most nights sleeping in his workshop for lack of having any real reason to go back to the house. It all changed when you fell into his lap, his muse, his reason.

"Sorry, Clock never works right, meant to come home hours ago."

One of the greatest things about you, Vincent had decided, was that you had taught him sign language. When the two of you had first met Vincent hated not having a way to communicate besides writing messy, barley legible scribbles on a piece of paper. Though to be fair you didn't want to talk much to the man who was once your captor when you had first ventured into Ambrose all those years ago.

Bo had sworn to him you were only getting close to try and escape. Bo had yelled, screamed and bitched about how much time Vincent was spending with you, how every time Vincent would let you out, or go to see you that he was putting Ambrose at risk.

Vincent didn't really care though, having grown up with it his entire life he was used to Bo's incessant yelling about nothing of any real substance. Eventually and very, very begrudgingly, Bo relented and you were integrated into daily life in Ambrose.

"Vince?"

Vincent jolted, realizing his mind had wandered. He signed you an apology and then motioned for your hand.

"Wow your actually listening and coming to bed? I'm honored Vince"

Vincent rolled his eyes, and you could tell his face under his mask held something akin to a "Really?" expression. You drag him along by his hand, leading him up the stairs and out of the wax museum into the cold Louisiana night.

"I saved you a plate of dinner I can heat up when we get to the house"

"You don't have to do that"

"Why wouldn't I? You haven't eaten like all day"

"I've eaten"

"A granola bar that was probably expired from the gas station doesn't count"

Vincent shrugged again, He had a terrible habit of taking care of not taking care of himself and he knew you knew as well as he did. You shot him a smile and weaved your fingers together as the two of you walked home. Vincent pulled his hand away to sign something quickly.

"You're such a mother hen"

"If wanting you to be taken care of makes me a mother hen, then a mother hand I shall be"

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Vincent slotted his hand back into yours and walked the rest of the way home. He knew you'd heat up his dinner plate, tsk at him for not eating and tell him to start taking better care of himself. He knew that he would nod but wouldn't listen and he knew that you knew he would do exactly that but at the end of the day you would never really mind.

Vincent liked being taking care of, you knew he liked being taken care of. If he wanted to call you a mother hen, then a mother hen you would be.

[prythianpages]

ACOSM | The Night she decided to join the Bloodrite

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: mention of violence, val's dad being an asshole again

summary: Valeria realizes that the only person she has to prove her worth to is herself.

A/N: we're finally at the last imagine! (you can find the collection of them here) this is one of the first ones I wrote and I've been dying to post it lol. I had originally planned for this series to end here but then I decided to write a short story that focuses/provides closure on Az's and Val's mating bond.

**

As Valeria stood on the balcony, the ethereal glow of Starfall painted the night sky in hues of pale greens and blues. The annual migration of spirits race across the heavens like shooting stars, leaving a luminescent trail that left the world below aglow.

For Valeria, however, the beauty of Starfall was a double-edged sword.

She could hear the whispers of the spirits as they streaked across the night sky. It was like a collective murmur of voices of which she could not discern, which made it all overwhelming and disconcerting. It’s been this way since she was a child and she never fully understood why she was the only one able to hear them.

The first Starfall she could remember was when she was three. Every year, the High Lord would throw a ball at the House of Wind as it was the best place to view the falling spirits. Her mother had brought her to the balcony she currently stood at, holding her in her arms.

There was a silence as the guests waited for the first star to fall, hushed whispers of awe when it finally did. Valeria remembered the beauty of it all but more so when one star became two until they multiplied and then she heard them. The spirits. She had let out a cry, her small hands covering her ears as the voices became too much. Her mother had brought her inside and a worried Rhysand had walked over to them.

Valeria also remembered the look of disdain and disappointment on her father’s face–the first of many to come.

Shadows whirled around her, bringing her back to the present and weaving through her senses. The whispering voices, like distant echoes, grew faint, muffled by the protective shroud of Azriel’s shadows. Valeria’s eyes met his, gratitude and relief reflected in the pale moonlight.

“Should we head inside?” Azriel offered, extending his arm out to her. “Before Mor and Cas drink all the wine.”

Valeria nodded, hooking her arm through his. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body and instinctively, she leaned in closer to him, finding his scent comforting. “You smell good,” she murmured to him as she inhaled.

Azriel chuckled in response, savoring their close proximity. No one batted an eye toward them as they made their way inside. Azriel was known as the Night Court’s spymaster and his duty was to ensure the safety of his court. It was not uncommon to see him around the High Lord and his family, especially Rhysand and Valeria.

“My little warrior!” Cassian called out to her sweetly, words slightly slurred, as he jumped from his seat and pulled Valeria from Azriel, crushing to her chest. He pulled away with a grin, nodding at Azriel casually.  “And Az.”

“I can feel the love.” Azriel dryly commented.

“Come here, Val.” Mor said, patting the empty spot on the couch.

“How many glasses of wine have you had?” Valeria mused as she sat down, gaze flickering between Mor and Cassian.

“Yes.” Mor grinned at her as she poured a glass for Valeria and then another for Azriel.

Save some for me.

Has anyone told you it’s rude to enter one’s mind without permission? Valeria replied to her brother’s voice, sending him a vulgar gesture through her mind. She could hear his chuckle fade into the distance.

Knock knock. Her brother’s talons were playfully tapping at her mind’s shields again.

With a roll of her eyes, she allowed them in, asking him what he wanted. He decided to show her instead. Through his eyes, she saw the lords and her father standing before him. They were all discussing the growing tensions among the humans and fae and the battles of rebellion that have risen. Keir was speaking, boasting about his Darkbringers and how they could put an end to the war before it can even begin. She could feel Rhysand’s boredom as Keir kept talking.

Come save me.

Sorry brother but I find this couch to be rather comfy, Valeria replied, her tone teasing. She grinned as Rhysand sent her a vulgar gesture of his own through his mind.

“--helping with preparations for the upcoming bloodrite.”

Valeria brought her wine glass to her lips as she returned her attention to her friends. She caught her brother’s glare from across the room but ignored it.

“Can you believe it’s been three years since you went?” Mor asked them. “And look at you Carynthians now. A general, a spymaster and a future High Lord.”

Valeria’s fond smile mirrored Mor’s and she turned, catching the way both Cassian’s and Azriel’s cheeks tinted at the praise.

“Do you think they’re ready?” Valeria found herself asking, referring to the warriors Cassian had helped train this year.

“I wasn’t ready when I was in their shoes.” Cassian said after a moment of thought. “I don’t think you’ll ever feel ready for something like that. But I was brave and that’s the best thing one can be.”

Valeria hummed in response, cradling her wine glass in her hands. Intrigued by the upcoming Bloodrite, she found herself firing more questions at Cassian while Mor and Azriel fell into a conversation of their own.

They were questions she didn’t dare to ask Rhysand or Azriel, knowing they wouldn’t be blatantly honest about it for her sake. Without a second thought, Cassian answered each one, much like he did when she had asked about Tanwyn and the Valkyries. 

He failed to notice the gleam in her eyes as she took in every detail of information. 

**

Valeria paced back and forth, attempting to stir up the courage that had led her to the heavy set of double doors. She made up her mind weeks ago–told herself she could do this. But as she stopped her pacing and faced the doors to the High Lord’s throne room, her hands broke out into a cold sweat.

She hated herself for it, for the instant fear that brewed in her when it came to him. Her father.

Since that night in Windhaven, he had chosen to go back to ignoring her presence completely, as if she didn’t exist at all.

I am the storm. She repeated to herself. 

Val, now is not a good time. 

Now is the only time. She replied, cursing herself for being so nervous and anxious that she had absentmindedly let her mental guards down. 

Before Rhysand could reply, she pulled the doors open and strolled in. Her eyes darted around–widening for a fraction before she donned a composed mask.

I told you so.

She ignored her brother’s voice–this time cursing him directly– and did her best to ignore the presence of the others in the room. Cassian and Azriel looked toward her, the latter standing to attention. Meanwhile Keir looked at her with annoyance. There was another lord that she recognized as one of the High Lord’s advisors but she didn’t recognize the older Illyrian male standing next to Cassian. She could only assume he was also a general.

Her father scowled, his lips curving into a sneer. “What do you want, child?”

She tried her best not to flinch at the insult.

“I want to join the fight.”

Laughter erupted from the High Lord, followed by Keir’s. “You want to fight?”

“I’ve trained with the Valkyries in the past and–”

“Remind me how that ended for you.” Her father sharply interrupted.

The reminder of that night triggered a subtle twitch in one of the muscles on the right side of her back–the very spot where her injured wing, glamored away for the night, would attach. Rhysand’s body tensed. She felt Azriel shift closer, a muscle tightening in his jaw while his shadows loomed nearby, alert and ready. Even Cassian’s expression hardened, mouth set into a hard line.

“It was hardly a fair match, Father.” Rhysand spoke as he came to stand in between his sister and father. “Val has the–”

“And you think war is won by fair matches?” His father reprimanded. “I thought I’ve taught you better than that.”

Anger flooded through her veins. “I’m not going to stay sheltered in this palace while our people go to war for us. I want to stand with them, not behind them. I want to bring honor to our court.”

“Clearly, you do not know your place. You’d know that the only way you can bring honor to this court is by marrying–”

“I refuse to be treated as a bargaining tool as if I am an object!” Valeria snapped, shocked by the intensity of her own voice. Though quieter when she spoke next, her voice retained the same powerful understone as she added: “I would rather die fighting to serve my court than offer my hand to a stranger.”

She felt the sting on her cheek almost immediately, her feet stumbling backwards at the impact. A low growl erupted from behind her as strong hands caught her before she could stumble further. Shadows crept out from his grip and wrapped themselves around her as if to protect her from further harm.

Rhysand stilled, his hands clenching at his sides. His calm and collected demeanor fell, no longer being able to hide the glare toward his father. He moved to stand in front of Valeria, offering his body as a shield, in case their father chose to strike again.

“You stupid foolish girl.” The High Lord chuckled with fury in his eyes, his voice rising with every word. “Sons get sent to war. Daughters get married. Rhysand is my heir. He was born to serve and protect. You were born to obey and submit.”

“Count your stars lucky that these three–foolish as they were– saved you that night.” The High Lord continued. “They will not be able to save you next time so I suggest you leave before I decide to clip your wings myself and strip this fighting nonsense off of you.”

Valeria felt her anger morph into her power. She could feel the light surging through her, running down her arms and into her finger tips. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off of her father’s face. A small part of her wanted to light him up, the way she did those Illyrian men that night. If only he knew…

She felt a hand grasp hers, darkness wrapping itself around his fingertips and dimming her light. Don’t explode. Not here, Rhysand spoke in her mind.

“There will be no next time.” Rhysand said, his voice carrying an almost threatening undertone. He would not allow her father to inflict any more harm on his sister. “If you allow me, I’ll escort Valeria to her chambers. I believe some rest will settle her mind.”

The High Lord nodded his head in dismissal and Rhysand wasted no time in escorting her out of his office. Rhysand released his grip on Valeria's hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders instead, allowing his darkness to wrap around her silver flames. Neither of them spoke as they made the long trek to her chambers and neither of them paid attention to the tendril of a shadow that followed along with them.

It wasn’t until they were in Valeria’s chambers that she let her shoulders slump, tears brimming her violet eyes but she did not allow them to fall.

“What were you thinking?”

Valeria shot him an incredulous look as if he hadn’t been in her mind the entire time. He knew exactly what she was thinking and why. Rhysand sighed deeply and sat at the edge of her bed, patting the spot beside him. Valeria reluctantly listened and watched in silence as he summoned a small bowl of warm water and a cloth. “You’re bleeding,” he softly said.

Her hand shot up to her cheek, wincing at the sting, pulling her hand away to see that she was, in fact, bleeding. One of her father’s rings must’ve cut her when he slapped her. It was the first time he had ever laid hands on her.

Valeria knew the answer to the question but she needed to hear it aloud. “Is my sole purpose in life to obey and submit to others?”

“Of course not.” Rhysand immediately answered as he finished cleaning the dried up blood from her face. He gently cupped her unharmed cheek. “You're destined for a greater purpose. Fuck what father says.”

A subtle curve graced Valeria’s lips in response to Rhysand’s insult, only to fade back into a frown. She pulled away from his grasp. “What will it take to prove to him that I am worthy of so much more than he has planned for me?”

“I failed him at birth and I’ve dedicated my life to prove my worth to him. I may have not been born a son but why does that anger him so much? He already has you, his heir. I understand the politics of this war. I can fight. I want to fight.”

“I know you can.” Rhysand said, acknowledging her skills and capabilities. Had it not been for her father putting an end to her training with the Valkyries, he was sure she would’ve been initiated as a Valkyrie herself. “But don’t dedicate your life to proving yourself to others. The only person you need to prove your worth to is yourself.”

Silence fell as Rhysand’s words sunk in. He was right. Her trying to prove her worth to others would only weigh her down. Noticing the distant gaze on his sister, his powers reached for her mind, easily granting him access to her inner turmoil.

It only lasted a couple of seconds as Valeria’s mental shields rose and he blinked back to find that she was now glaring at him. 

“Can you not?”

Rhysand raised his hands up. “It’s not my fault you let your shields down for a moment.” 

Have I taught you nothing?

Valeria let out a groan. “Go away now. I’m tired.”

“That’s no way to treat your loving brother.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She said as she stood up, motioning for him to follow her and go out her door.  

Rhysand rolled his eyes at her antics but complied. She slammed the door shut, pressing herself against it. “Love you. Good night!” 

Love you too.

Valeria huffed at the sound of her brother’s laughter in her head. She closed her eyes and focused, pushing his claws out of her head. He scraped against her rising shields in a teasing manner only for her to shoot him with light and far away from the gates of her mind that she felt him wince.

It was when she was sure that Rhysand could no longer get into her head that she walked out to her balcony. She stared up at the crescent moon, finding comfort in its light and falling deep in thought again. 

It unsettled her to know that her brother, Azriel and Cassian were being sent to war. Even Mor was preparing for it as she was no longer under her father’s rule but Rhysand’s. He had taken full responsibility over her when she had moved in with them. As for Valeria, she was expected to just sit back and wait for war updates with her mother. She could not bear the thought of doing nothing while her loved ones laid their lives down for the Night Court. Especially not when she had dedicated the past five years of her life into training to defend herself, to fight.

Rhysand was right. She knew what she was capable of. She had not been saved that night in Windhaven. She had fought against five skilled Illyrian warriors by herself and she was willing to die fighting. 

Valeria was aware that fighting in a war was different. It required not only courage and strength but strategy and resolve. And what better way to prove to herself that she was ready–that she was worthy–than by joining the upcoming Blood Rite?

It was like Cassian had said, she would never feel ready for a strenuous trial like the Blood Rite. But she was brave to face it and that’s the best thing one can be.

**

tag list:  @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

A/N: and that's a wrap on Val's early life (': the storyline I have planned will pick up right after the blood rite and you'll get a glimpse into her experience. I debated a lot on whether Val should join the blood rite or not. I decided to allow her because all she wants is to be treated with the same love and respect like her brother minus the heir part and while she gave up on what others may think of her, this is something she needed to do for herself. and also a part of her is doing this to honor her friend, Mallory Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed these imagines as much as I enjoyed writing them <3 I will be taking a short break to focus on my upcoming exam but if you have any questions over this series or simply just wanna talk, feel free to send me an ask! (:

[cambion-companion]

I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

[anxious-witch]

So a continuation of this soulmate poly! JO au

So! Again, this is not my usual high quality stuff, isn't beta read or edited and I have been feeling kinda eh about writing lately so...yeah. Be warned before going into it. But so many of your wanted some sort of conclusion so I had to give you one. I hope it's at least somewhat satisfying.

This needed a warning for vomitting not the last one my bad, also TW for Bojan's general low self esteem

Bojan wasn't feeling well. And it wasn't only because he was hungover from the whole spiked drink yesterday. No. It was also due to the fact that now they all knew that he was their fifth soulmate.

He woke up surrounded by three of them. Jure was curled around his right side, with Kris' arm thrown over both him and Bojan. Bojan was snuggled in Jan's chest and Jan's hand protectively hovered over his head.

Nace was probably already up. Bojan laid there fir a moment. Soaking in the warmth. For once, his soulmark didn't ache but instead hummed pleasantly. 

It felt so natural, it was hard to remember why he was so scared of it. 

Then a sudden nausea hit him and he had to practically launch himself from the bed. Jan stirred and sleepily called out to him, but Bojan didn't turn. He ran to the bathroom, just in time to throw up in the toilet.

He wasn't sure how he ended up on his knees and gripping the toilet. He also wasn't sure when Jan joined him by sitting on the floor and rubbing his back. 

Only when he stopped throwing up for more than a few seconds did he lean more into the comforting touch. 

"Aren't you supposed to be angry at me?" Bojan mumbled tiredly.

"Oh, I am furious," Jan said easily, "I just don't see the point of having this conversation until you feel better."

Bojan made a pityful sound, closing his eyes. His head hurt, his stomach hurt, his soulmark ached. He just wanted to die.

"You might as well. I am feeling miserable anyway. We can go for full physical and emotional destruction."

Jan sighed and gently ran his head through Bojan's hair. 

"Kris went to make you tea and Jure to dig out some painkillers. Nace will probably make something to eat when he comes back from his run, if he hasn't already."

Jan scratched his scalp, like he was a dog. It was pleasant though and Bojan couldn't help but let iut a sigh and lean into it. 

"I don't deserve you guys."

The fingers in his hair froze. You said something stupid again, Bojan's mind hissed.

"We'll talk about that too."

"I'm sorry."

Jan continued stroking his hair, but didn't reply. Bojan's soulmarked burned like a brand. He hates you, he hates you, he will never forgive you-

Kris arrived at that moment, taking in their state. His eyes softened as he watched them.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. I don't know if you are asking physically or mentally, but the answer is the same."

Kris crouched down and gently put his hand on Bojan's forehead. His eyes fluttered shut at the gesture.

"You don't have a temperature," he mused, "which means just a bad hangover. You should come back to bed. I bought a bucket if you are sick again. And there is tea and painkillers. Nace is making pancakes too."

Bojan felt a sudden pressure of tears. Why were they all so nice? So considerate? Shouldn't they be yelling and demanding an explanation? He felt like he'd prefer that. It was what he deserved.

"Bojan, hey, what's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Kris gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he was crying. He shook his head and covered him face. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Why wre you all being nice? Why aren't you yelling at me? Why-"

"Shhh." 

Kris hugged him to his chest and Bojan's body shook im his embrace. He kept a litany of apologies through the sobs.

"Jan, go tell Nace to finish pancakes later. I will get Bojan to the bedroom. I think we all need to talk first."

Jan probably nodded, because Bojan heard him get up and step out of the bathroom. Then Kris gently picked him up. Bojan didn't even complain, simply buried his face in Kris' chest. 

He carried him to the bedroom.

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Bojan's heart squeezed at Jure's worried tone, but he didn't feel capable of answering. Which was why he was thankful for Kris.

"I am not sure. He started apologizing and then burst into tears. I think everything is hitting him just now. And you know how the bond can be overwhelming at first."

When he put Bojan on the bed, Jure curled at his back. Bojan reached out with one hand to him. 

And Jure took it, interlacing their fingers. His and Kris' presence calmed him down slightly. Enough for him to stop babbling apologies at least, if not stop crying yet. 

"Oh, Bojan," he heard Nace say from further away. 

Then two more bodies joined the pile. Bojan could recognize each, despite having his face buried in Kris's chest. 

That slowly made him calm down enough to stop the tears and carefully pull back from Kris' chest.

Kris didn't let him go far, gripping his waist when he tried to. Which was ridiculous, because they all surrounded him. He cleared his throat, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Right. Can we just…get this over with, please?”

“Get it over with?” Jan hissed.

Bojan flinched a bit at his tone, ducking down to hide in Kris’ chest again.

“Jan,” Nace chastised him from somewhere behind his back, “Let's try and do this calmly.”

Jure squeezed his hand and then Jan swore, almost as if someone elbowed him.

“Fine.”

“Bojan, could you sit up, please?” Nace asked.

Did he have much of a choice at this point? Bojan sat up, suddenly much more aware of four pairs of eyes watching him.

He stubbornly stared into his lap.

“Tell us what happened,” Jure urged gently. 

“I was at the bar, I was flirting with a guy. He drugged my drink.”

Jan sighed loudly, but it was Kris who spoke up.

“That's not what we are asking. We want to know why you don't want us.”

That made him snap his head up, staring at Kris in disbelief. Kris, who was biting his lip and looked incredibly close to tears.

“What? I never said that!”

“You made it quite clear.”

Bojan felt as if he'd been slapped. He could take them being angry, or even saying they don't want him anymore, but he couldn't take them thinking he didn't want them.

“That's not true at all! Of course I want you!”

Kris did not look particularly convinced, hunching in on himself. Bojan met Jan's eyes instead.

“Then why didn't you say anything? Jesus, Bojan Kris knows you for a decade.”

“Because by the time I realized, the two of you were already together! And then I couldn't say anything because I thought that if you had each other, why would you want me?”

Jan took in a sharp breath and Kris paled noticeably, but Bojan wasn't done. He turned his eyes to Jure.

“So I kept silent, until Jure came along. And then he fit right in. Not just in the band, but with the two of you. And I thought, fuck, I'm too late. So I didn't say anything again. By the time Nace came into the picture, I-I had no idea what to do. Besides, we all know I would ruin this.”

Jure crossed the distance between them in a second, practically launching himself towards Bojan and pulling him into a hug. 

“Never,” Jure said vehemently.

Bojan felt a sudden wave of love wash over him. It took him a second to realize it wasn't coming from him, but from the Jure's side of the bond.

It was enormous and overwhelming and Bojan was completely unprepared for it. Which made panic seize his chest. 

Then, Nace was there, putting a hand on the back of his neck.

“Breathe. I know it's overwhelming at first, but just breathe through it. Jure, back up a bit he isn't used to the bond yet.”

The sensation eased up a bit, even if Jure didn't let go of him. Bojan took in a shaky breath. 

“Why do you think you'd ruin it?” Kris asked after a moment. 

Feeling their emotions in tandem with their words was new. Even without prying, he could feel hurt and worry from Kris. Bojan realized with a pang that that meant they could feel the turmoil of his emotions, too.

This was exactly what he wanted to spare them from.

“Because of this! I am difficult to deal with. I know all of you know it, because you had to deal with me. But that's different from being in a relationship with me. Kris met like, all of my girlfriends, he can testify.”

Jure's arms tighten against him, paired up with a slight pang of annoyance. Bojan bit his lip to stop himself from apologizing. They should be aware of what they were getting into.

He expected Kris to look angry or maybe defeated, but instead he looked thoughtful. 

“From what I remember of that, the biggest issue was you putting us and the band in general before them. Which wouldn't be a problem here, would it?”

Bojan stared. He never thought of it like that. 

“That's still not a good idea. I am difficult to deal with. You'll get tired of me.”

Jan snorted and Bojan turned to glare. Jan met his gaze calmly.

“Right. Because before this we never took care of you being sick every two to three weeks? Nace didn't calm you when you got panic attacks? Jure and I don't regularly feed you because you are unable to cook more than two meals? Kris doesn't have your schedule memorized and reminds you of what you need to do?”

Bojan felt as if Jan's gaze was burning through him, right into his soul. He ducked his head. Except, Jan reached out and Jure moved, curling at his left so Jan could tilt Bojan's chin up. 

“Look at me.”

So Bojan did, a zing of electricity going down his spine as he did so. Any rational argument he had got thrown outside of the window.

“You borrow our clothes and you cuddle with us and we are all together almost 24/7. Why the fuck would that change if we were in a relationship with you?”

Bojan opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling as if Jan had just knocked out all the cards from his hands. Like all the insecurities that held him back were insignificant in the face of Jan's argument.

His head suddenly started hurting even more and he closed his eyes.

“I don't know.”

“Alright. Postponing the rest of this for later. Bojan, go brush your teeth, we'll bring tea and painkillers in the meantime.”

Leave it to Kris to organize everything in a second. 

“Can't I get a coffee?” Bojan asked, peering at him and pointedly avoiding Jan's gaze.

“After we are sure you won't throw up again. Do you need help getting up?”

Jan finally let go of his chin and Bojan tried not to feel disappointed. He never kissed any of them properly, it was always something for the cameras. 

He wondered what it would be like to kiss them for real. 

That thought scared him enough to jolt him into action and he quickly got up from the bed. Too quickly, since dark spots began to dance in his vision.

Nace swore and reached out to steady him. 

“I'll go with him-”

“No,” Jan interrupted, “you go finish those pancakes. I got him.”

Bojan tensed. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jan, because he did. He trusted all of them with his life. The thing was, Jan seemed the most angry out of all of them and he didn't sugarcoat anything. Bojan wasn't sure how being alone with him would go.

No one protested though, Kris simply exchanged a long look with Jan and then nodded.

Bojan wondered if that simply cane with sharing a bond for so long and then he suddenly felt very, very lonely.

So he didn't protest when Jan took Nace's place and led him to the bathroom. He took his toothbrush and brushed his teeth. Jan walked closer and took his own, so they both brushed their teeth and Bojan tried not to think about how domestic that felt.

That distracted him enough for him not to notice that the toothbrush was the exact same one he had at home until after he finished.

“Since when does Nace have everyone's spare toothbrush?”

“Since we all started dating?”

Bojan started at Jan through the mirror. Jan calmly washed his mouth with water. 

“I haven't been dating you.”

Jan sighed as he stood upright again and put his toothbrush back where it belonged.

“No. But even before the soulmark, you were always considered welcome. I think…on some level we all knew.”

Bojan swallowed against sudden urge to cry again. 

“I should have known. The way you looked when we saw Nace's mark, I-”

“Don't say that. You didn't know because I didn't want you to. It's not your fault.”

Jan gave him a wry smile, shaking his head.

“Isn't it? Maybe if we figured it out sooner, you wouldn't think you were unwanted. For seven years, apparently.”

Jan's emotions were more guarded than Kris’ and yet, Bojan could practically taste the bitterness and hurt pouring from him. 

Bojan couldn't help but reach for him, but as soon as he touched his arm, Jan tensed. 

“I'm sorry. It-it's not your fault, okay? I promise.”

Jan pursed his lips.

“If you say so.”

He stepped closer then closer again, until their chests were almost touching. Jan didn't stop him, but also didn't make any moves towards him, either.

Bojan cupped his face and pressed his lips to his anyway, trying to pour all his mixed feelings into it. Then Jan moved, pinning him back against the sink. Bojan gasped and Jan took that opportunity to deepen the kiss.

There was so much longing in the kiss, Bojan kept trying to pull him closer, making a protesting noise when Jan pulled back.

“This is a bad idea. We need to talk this through first.”

“Oh.”

Jan was probably right. It was not a good idea, especially with the mess of emotions Bojan was feeling. Still, it was difficult not to feel a pang of disappointment. He felt…rejected.

He nodded and hung his head low.

“Fuck. Bojan that isn't-Hey.”

Jan lifted his chin once more and Bojan shivered. Something about the gesture made Bojan feel very small in comparison. 

“I am not rejecting you. This is just because I don't want to take this too far before you feel secure in the bond, okay?”

Bojan swallowed and watched and Jan's eyes traced the movement.

“Okay.”

Jan took in a deep breath and then took a step back. Then he extended his hand out to Bojan.

“Com'on now. The others are waiting.”

Then he was tugged back into the bedroom. Jure and Kris were sitting on the bed and talking quietly, while Nace still didn't return. They went quiet once they entered and Bojan tried not to fidget.

“Don't stop on my account,” he mumbled, trying to get under the covers.

Perhaps he could suffocate himself under the blankets.

“Wait! The painkillers!”

Bojan stopped halfway, and Kris handed his the painkillers and the water. He tried not to make a face at being treated like a child. Firstly Jan with pulling back and now the rest of them eith treating him like he was fragile. They cared and objectively, he was aware he scared them last night.

So he took them and handed the glass back to Kris. Then he got under the covers and buried his face into a pillow.

“Why is he sulking?” Kris asked, directing the question at Jan.

“He kissed me and I said I don't want things to escalate until he feels comfortable with the bond.”

“He wasn't too happy about that, huh?”

Bojan was about to snap at them for talking like he wasn't there, but then another person shuffled under the covers and pulled him closer. Jure.

Jure's emotions were always on the surface and Bojan could feel them much easier than Jan's. There was a sense of deep contentment that he didn't expect.

Jure pressed a kiss into his hair and Bojan felt his annoyance begin to dissipate. Kris shuffled closer and began petting his hair and-yeah, okay, he could get used to that.

He was starting to drift when Nace came back, announcing that the pancakes were done. Bojan groggily got up, rubbing at his eyes.

“You can eat later if you are tired,” Nace said with such a soft look, Bojan felt the need to squirm.

“But I want pancakes,” he protested.

Jan laughed.

“Just let him eat. Maybe that'll wake him up.”

Bojan glared.

“Maybe now I won't go exactly because of that.”

Jan smirked.

“Well good thing we can all carry you then, no?”

“No-”

Nace crossed the room in a few steps and picked him up as if he weighed nothing. Bojan squealed. He knew Nace could pick him up, but actually being picked up was quite different.

He wrapped his arms around Nace's neck, even if he was pretty sure Nace wouldn't drop him.

“Rude,” he mumbled in his neck. 

He was lulled once again into a feeling of contentment that simply radiated from the bond. Was it supposed to feel like that? Did it always feel like that for them? 

Nace gently dropped him in a chair at the dining table. Bojan absent mindedly reached for the pancakes while the others all took their seats.

“Does it always feel like that? The bond, I mean.”

Kris cocked his head.

“How does it feel?”

“Content. Calming. Like…things clicked in place.”

Kris’ gaze softened. 

“Not quite. There was always something missing. Like the connection flowed between the four of us and then it just…hit a wall.”

“Oh.”

Bojan fidgeted with his knife before anxiously taking the jam and smearing it over the pancake. He wasn't sure what to say.

“We have been waiting for you,” Nace added softly.

And this, this was exactly what Bojan wanted to avoid. He covered his face, willing himself not to cry again.

“This is why I didn't say anything. I don't-I can't complete you.”

“You already do.”

He began shaking his head, but then Kris was gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“We already acted like you are a part of this relationship, excluding kissing and sex. You already cuddle and steal all of our clothes. You hate being alone so you are in one of our apartments half the time. You already act like you are our boyfriend, this is just a confirmation you belong with us.”

Bojan felt speechless again. So he did one thing he could think about at that moment. He kissed him.

This kiss was much softer than the one he shared with Jan. Kris kissed almost hesitantly, as if not believing he was real. When Bojan tried to press harder, someone cleared their throat and Kris pulled away.

Of course it was Jan.

“Still not a great idea Bojči,” he reminded him.

Bojan stared at Kris, who was still kneeling by his chair, looking a bit dazed.

“Maybe not such a bad idea, if it'll help convince him,” Nace said, shrugging, “But we should wait until after breakfast.”

Bojan's brain came to a screeching halt.

“C-convince me?”

Jure sighed.

“That we want you. Obviously.”

Bojan swallowed. Don't think about it. But Kris was already kneeling and-

“Kris, go sit in your chair before Bojan has another crisis. And let's just finish eating first, yeah? Then we can discuss other things.”

He felt his cheeks heat at Jan's words and Jure chuckled. Kris simply rolled his eyes and went to take his seat.

They all began to eat and Bojan just tried to take everything in as they fell into easy conversation like nothing had happened.

His world tilted on its axis and…kept spinning, almost exactly the same as it had before. And surely, this would change things. Perhaps even his fears would be confirmed with time.

But for now, Bojan sat with four of his soulmates that he loved more than anyone else and simply let himself breathe.

Bojan was born with four stripes on his stomach. Yellow, red, purple and blue. And for the first time, his pink joined into the rainbow it created.

[valeisaslut]

HELLO TO MY PERFECT WIFE

oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

Val that was so amazing I'm literally trying to process words to explain how amazing I think it was.

I started crying when Joel said to Ellie "You're not what broke you. You're what survived it" and then I never stopped crying.

You have a way with words that transmit so many emotions, I could feel the longing, the fear, the tension, the excitement, the love. It's palpable through the words into the heart and I will never stop admiring you for that. Thank you for sharing a part of your soul with us, thank you for pouring so much dedication into the story, every word you read to prepare for it, every documentary, every interview, everything can be felt on how your work feels.

I've told you before, and I'll repeat it one thousand times infinity, what you did is art, and art has it's value on it's capacity of touching people's feelings and souls (I'm not sure if I believe in souls as a concept, but if they exist you have absolutely touched mine with the palm of your hands).

Thank you for creating this space for us, this experience, this community. Collide will never die because it's not only a story but what feelings you, and the rest of us, poured into that story, so it will live forever.

Again, I've told you this before but I think it's worth repeating it, with this (not only your writing but also by being the amazing person that you are) you have inspired me to create again, and I will never stop being grateful for that because you did not only touch me with this story but also that 16 y/o andrea who wanted to write so badly but had to give it up. Thank you for giving me hope back, and thank you for giving me a space in your heart, you certainly have one in mine.

With that I have to end this before I start crying, and you should know that soon I'll be finishing the continuation of the essay I showed you.

Sending you lots of love 😘

andrea. my wife. my muse. the braincell i share all my tangled thoughts with. i don’t even know where to begin responding to this because your words don’t just land, they settle. they live inside me.

every time you send me something like this, a voice memo in the server, your essays, your creations, i remember why i write. why i didn’t give up when it got hard, why i kept going through burnout, doubts, hate. because you—you—see me. you don’t just read collide, you understand it. you see all the quiet psychological layers i buried into the characters. you feel them before i can even put the words down sometimes. you read between the pauses, inside the silence, under every metaphor. you connect in ways that make me feel like this story was always ours.

joel’s line—“you’re not what broke you. you’re what survived it”—meant so much to me too. it’s one of those truths you don’t realize you need until it’s staring at you, raw and real. and i knew when i wrote it that you would understand. you always do.

i’m still crying over “if souls exist, you’ve touched mine with the palm of your hands.” like, how do i even respond to that? that’s not a compliment, that’s a love letter to the universe disguised as a sentence.

and knowing that this story, this messy, chaotic, vulnerable thing, brought you back to that version of yourself who wanted to create… god. that’s everything. i hope 16 y/o andrea knows she didn’t disappear. she just took a detour. and she’s writing again. she’s still inside you, waiting to come out in every word you put into the world.

you've given me so much, not just as a reader but as a friend, a supporter, a partner-in-crime in this beautiful little fandom we accidentally built.

andrea, you’re part of the soul of collide. and you always will be.

forever your wifey, val 💌

[fiberpunk027]

Reflection Ruesday

Is it weird I always read that in a Scooby Doo-esque voice??

I was tagged by @thedissonantverses Thank you!

What to do: Go through your writing, art, gifs, etc. that you started but never finished and find something you love. Brush it up a bit if you want and share it. Tag me and use the tag Reflection Ruesday (it'll grow on you, I promise) and I'll comment and reblog. Then tag some other folks you think might enjoy it.

I have no idea who to tag so please use me as an excuse to do something fun and share something you wanted to brush up on.

I wrote this shortly before starting work on the DABB for this year and then it sat and I had another idea that I want to release before this so it is continuing to gather dust… BUT I really enjoyed this fun Hawke and Justice exchange. General concept is know how all the Wardens start hearing the Calling during Inquisition? How messed up is it that while Hawke and Anders are trying to finally find some semblance of normal hiding out on the Storm Coast that even Anders would have felt the false Calling? What if Justice was holding that back? What if Garrett was in on it? See the snippet under the break!

Hawke woke up alone in their bed, a mess of furs, cast off clothing that had been sown into thin blankets, and a straw stuffed mattress. He sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sighed, looking around the room for the man he knew would not be there. Every morning it had been like this for weeks now. To add on top of his strange behavior now was the appearance of his former Commander. Hawke didn’t like the pieces that seemed to be lining up on the chess board that was their life. There was a strange feeling hovering over their camp, and he knew he could only ignore it for a little while longer.

He slipped out of the bed and pulled his tunic on over his head. Grabbing his staff as he passed through the opening in the cavern back into the main room. Anders stood staring out at the morning rain. He was grateful today he wasn’t standing out in the middle of it. The last thing they needed was for him to catch his death out in this miserable weather, or get surprised by something while he was out of sorts.

“Hey,” he said softly announcing himself before he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Can you step back inside? You’re shivering.”

“I cannot,” he replied, his voice was stilted, deeper when he was like this. It always set him on edge. No matter how many times he experienced it, seeing Justice within Anders’ skin just felt strange.

“Please Justice?” he asked, trying to gently coax him back away from the entrance.

“I have to listen,” he replied. So simple, as if Hawke were the strange one trying to get him to move.

“Yes, love, but if you stand here in the cold you’re going to make the both of you sick,” he said pulling him back inside with more force this time. Almost reluctantly his knees unlocked and Justice allowed him to move them back into the drier and warmer parts of the cavern.

“The song…” he muttered, “It’s changed.”

“Tell me about it?” Hawke offered sitting at the fire and pulsing enough mana into it to coax the flames back to life. He checked over their guest, still out cold but looking no worse or better. He pulled over a makeshift tea kettle filling it with water and placing it over the coals at the edge of the pit to boil.

“How to describe the song to one who has never heard it?” Justice mused. It made Hawke almost laugh when he spoke so poetically without realizing it.

“Give me some credit, please?” he said, “I’m no idiot, despite not being able to sing a note myself.”

“To call it singing would be a disservice. It is both singular and ensemble at once. I hear music and voices as if they come from the same pair of lungs and until today they were calling me down into the earth.”

That painful realization struck Hawke’s chest just as it had the first day he realized that Justice was hearing and taking the full brunt of the Calling for Anders. He tried to smile through it, not wanting to bring alarm to the spirit or the man hiding behind him.

“What’s changed then? That sounds similar to how you’ve described it before.”

“The song is leading now, the lines,” he paused furrowing their brow and then tried again, “The music is a guide. Now it guides West instead of downward.”

“West?” Hawke was confused. “Why would it guide you West? To Orzammar?”

“Further,” he answered, though his face looked equally puzzled, not a common sight when the spirit was in command of their body. “I understand less than you do.”

[robinvomit]

Please do! I’m interested in reading about more of your OCs! 👀👀👀 YES YES YES (slams hands on desk) The PERFECT flavor of omega! Pushing back and forth for dominance~. Oh, my gooooosh, of course that boy would laugh. 😂😂 I bet he’s highly amused and loves the attempt though~. 🫣

Oh, my goooood, I would’ve utterly bawled writing or reading something like that. What a moment of realization for them to know that they’re not alone and have had similar experiences. 😭😭😭😭😭

BTW, bye-bye for a while~! Take care, and we’ll see ‘ya soon, hun! 💖💖💖💖💖💖

- Baby Bat 🦇

There are.. so many, lmfao. My most special oc is Hannya Xu, though. He was originally created for Damian but kind of became a flex muse. Like.. He has been so many things at this point. His most current is just the bassist and vocalist for a shit underground band called DBC — he is originally a harlequin rabbit hybrid, hence the band name — and just.. exists. A little painfully, but alive.

[ hannya 💙 — he is supposed to be OVERLY pretty. Kon literally uses him as a distraction during a mission because of it. ]

Ziggy & Delphi are basically two sides of the same coin. Both sharpshooters, pretty heavily trained in hand to hand combat. But like.. very androgynous, very pastel, very soft looking. But also doesn't put up with anyone's shit? Both enhanced as children.

Dream ( Liriel Maeiv ) is one of TWO things. Both versions of him are from different realms. In Titans, he's written specifically for Wally, and he's a shadowborn, celestial type being. The other version, is a general version, and he's written for Bernard — he's basically a fae in this one. ( I wrote a beautiful scene of him with Wally in his realm, basically in this.. expanse of dark galaxy looking space, both tangled in glowing blue, soulbound thread. )

Dahlia is still the Robin who turned into The Warden.

Mireille Kestrel — she's flexible as well. Known as like.. a myth in Gotham called the Den Mother. She basically handles anything that involves children and yes, she has a place called "The Den" where abused, andanoned, etc. children stay.

Lilac is the daughter of Zatanna and Constantine. She's.. how to explain, magically infused and turns into what I can only explain as the lilac/purple version of the Dark Phoenix but softer. No less strong, but looks softer. Like.. when it awakens ( she almost kills Damian on accident— ), her skin turns a pale purple, hair and eyes turn lilac, etc.

Lillia Grace Wayne is the daughter of, obviously, Bruce, that no one got to meet. She was supposed to be dead, that's what her mother told him — that she died at birth and yes, the story has a whole explanation of how Bruce of all people didn't figure this out. When Lillia finds him, he's basically like "nope get out of gotham" — he pretty much footed the bill for a home, school, anything she needed under the strict rule she never step foot in gotham. Ofc, he did go see her, he didn't just toss her out but he refused to let her be part of anything. She was fine with that, figured there were enough lies with her mother, didn't need more drama. Well. Until Bruce's funeral, when she shows up.

Reyna Sloane was with Jason as a kid, basically a stray who uh.. doesn't take Jason's death too well? Like.. Bruce has to restrict her from the cave because of how she's basically like "what the FUCK" — ofc, she starts to deal thanks to Alfred. Until the day she's allowed back down, goes to talk to Bruce and meets.. Tim. You can imagine how she responds to that. Just like everyone else, she hallucinates Jason, however his little shit self is basically encouraging her to go the opposite way, revenge, etc. She starts taking people out, even leaves one of them stuck to Bruce's front door with a note. Theeeennnnn... she basically starts going crazy. Suddenly she's seeing him more, but older — she starts finding notes in her safe house, ones she doesn't remember writing, hearing things, etc. One day she's brought in by some goons saying their boss has a job she may be interested in — aka, red hood ✨️ so she's like.. standing in this warehouse when he takes his helmet off and she.. is seeing both of him. She blacks out — he lets her hit the floor.

Kalico is the one the Cat Like Courting is about. Little alien from another earth that was cursed, etc etc etc.

And uh.. there's more.

I did not do well after writing it otl

[monotonous-minutia]

final thoughts i guess

you just walk into this production thinking it's weird and kind of silly. but then it just works? and it's funny how well it works. and you keep thinking well, eventually it's going to stop working. this opera is so Out There and this concept is so involved.

but it just. stays. good.

it doesn't run out of steam after act 3, like so many productions of this opera do. it fully embraces the weirdness of Giulietta's act. I mean Kayes' version of this act is like a fever dream anyway. why not run with it?

one of the things about it that really gets me is how it shows us Hoffmann's struggle with addiction and how it affects the people around him, particularly those he's closest to, in this case Nicklausse and Stella.

from the start it's clear these two have a rivalry. they both love Hoffmann and neither wants the other to be the center of his attention. but they're professionals and co-workers. they put pettiness aside. at one point Stella even helps the Muse write one of their songs. and when it comes down to it, when Hoffmann has hit rock bottom, the only thing to them that matters is his health and safety. they join forces to try and get him back to reality.

Nicklausse has been with Hoffmann in this from the beginning. he's there when Hoffmann takes his first illicit drug and watches as that one mistake slowly starts to pick Hoffmann's life apart. Hoffmann was young and naive and didn't know what he was doing. Nicklausse watched and rolled his eyes. he didn't stop it. now he has to watch as Hoffmann starts to crumble.

Nicklausse follows Hoffmann throughout his career. they work side by side as Hoffmann's success grows. as his relationship with Stella grows. Nicklausse watches. he doesn't interfere. he's jealous and heartsick but he doesn't know how to reach out, how to show Hoffmann this love and devotion he's had before either of them even knew. he tries, but Hoffmann doesn't see.

he waits. and he watches as Hoffmann's addiction grows. he's there the moment it tears his life apart. he sees the end of Hoffmann's relationship with Stella and the end of his career. Hoffmann falls and Nicklausse catches. he didn't stop it before so all he can do now is be there and love and protect.

but it's hard. Hoffmann is hard.

Hoffmann is ruined. he loses his job and the love of his life. he's homeless, bereft, and isolated. but Nicklausse follows. he follows as Hoffmann sinks deeper and deeper down. Hoffmann drowns himself in drinks and drugs until he doesn't know what's real anymore. Nicklausse tries to pull him out, over and over again. no matter how many times he's hurt. no matter how many times Hoffmann hurts him. because he loves him. he needs to be there. nothing is more important to him.

Stella tries too. She may not forgive Hoffmann for his earlier actions, but she still cares about him and she's a good human being. She taps in when Nicklausse is near his own breaking point. She tries to bring him back, tries to help Hoffmann step back into reality, realize that it isn't all over, this isn't the way to cope. people care about him and want him to be okay.

but he's too far gone, and she can't keep trying anymore. her health and safety is at risk now too, and she can't help someone who's refusing to help himself.

Nicklausse stays.

He stays and watches over him. he catches him when he falls and holds him when he breaks. he helps pick the pieces back up.

Hoffmann sees him.

He sees him but he doesn't know what to do. this has been his life for so long. he doesn't know who he is anymore and how to cope without the crutch he's carried so long.

but every time he reaches out Nicklausse is there. and he will not let go.

Hoffmann has hit rock bottom and there's nowhere left to go. but there's someone here beside him who's always been there. the person who's stuck with him through it all, who's loved him and protected him and never asked for anything in return. who stayed no matter how many times Hoffmann turned away.

Hoffmann has been fighting for his life. when he lets go of his ghosts, he can breath. and Nicklausse is there. he will always be there.

Hoffmann is ready to start again. he goes back to what he used to love. writing and creating. making stories. sharing his creativity with the world.

it's not going to be easy and he knows that. but he has someone who will always be at his side.

Stella is there too. She may forgive him, but she won't truly open up to him again. She wants to see him succeed, but she's chosen her own path. it's her own story. the part she plays in his isn't over, but it's not as big.

But Nicklausse is there and will always be there. he will stay through the fights, through the doubt, the pain, the anger, the withdrawals, the relapses, the effort, the successes, the joy, the triumph.

maybe Hoffmann isn't ready to love him yet. but the day will come. they know it will.

but the important thing is that Hoffmann is ready to live again.

and Nicklausse will always be there.

[taylortruther]

Yk with the added context of the Matty-Taylor relationship timeline, I was compelled to go back and reconsider certain songs from her discography and see them differently. Obviously we have The 1, Cardigan, Question..?, Glitch etc but what about the 1989 vault?

I have a strong belief that Taylor re-touches, if not fully edits the vault tracks before the album releases (as evidenced by the punchline lyric on ATW10MV).

Ofc, we don't know for sure, but in Now That We Don't Talk there's that line about the muse "growing his hair long" and Harry hadn't done that till late 2014 (atleast to a noticeable extent) so I felt that maybe that song was written later on.

Anyways, listening to TTPD got me thinking some thoughts. Like Taylor is very deliberate with her word usage on the songs. In Down Bad, the lyric "How dare you say that it's..." is supposed to be auto-filled with the word "over". This instantly made me think of Is It Over Now?

Was "Slut!" about Matty too? I mean if the rumours of a 1975 feature on that song were true, then obviously it has a connection to them? Also, I've always felt it was weird to have that song be about Harry for so many reasons, but whatever.

I mean ofc there's glaring references to Harry on the album, but by now we know that Taylor likes to merge her muses for a single song. She even liked a Tumblr post back in 2015 that related STYLE of all songs to Matty. Not a joke. Twitter recently rediscovered it and went nuts over it.

I feel like many songs we attributed to Harry over the years was just about Matty. I mean it always bothered me how much Taylor seemed to be affected by a 2 month situationship with an 18 year old all the way back in 2012. I mean she never brought up Kennedy or Lautner or Tom like she did with Harry in her later works....now we know that it was most likely Matty.

One part of me believes that So It Goes was also bout him. I mean "you did a number on me" means to mess someone up in a bad way, and I have no idea why she would put that lyric in there otherwise.

Also Ivy and Illicit Affairs were widely regarded to be about the Calvin-Tom-Joe situation...but in retrospect they might've been about Matty. These might sound like mindless rumours to most, but keep in mind that Guilty As Sin and Fresh Out The Slammer exist. Both Ivy and Illicit Affairs were fictional songs, but they expressed her inner feelings (swirled you into all my poems). Again, just theorizing here.

i guess he could be ~swirled~ into a few songs from 1989 tv (anything is possible! we didn't know the full story until the red vault! disclaimer!), but mostly i think what you are picking up on is that... taylor has a pattern in her relationships. and she has stories she tells herself about relationships, or herself, just like we all do, which create songs that share many themes.

like, obviously i don't know taylor, and i could be wrong about anything i write about her lyrics. but while ivy could be about matty (anything is possible!), i think it makes more sense that she has, on a few different occasions, left a dying relationships only after another person she liked came into her orbit. and this isn't even uncommon. lots of people only leave relationships when they have someone in the wings, or they've met someone who makes them realize the grass might be greener.

[springvaletales]

⋆ NAME?: Soli

⋆ PRONOUNS?: She/They (anything goes, really, so long as it's not meant insultingly).

⋆ MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: Michael, though I've been making an effort to put his four friends in the spotlight more, as they were originally meant to be. XD It's tough tho, because I also never turn down an opportunity to use some of my worldbuilding characters for some memes.

⋆ RP PET PEEVES?: Responses that disregard details or actions my muses have openly made/have/done. It makes me feel like my response wasn't actually read, but more skimmed just enough for the other person to continue writing the idea they already had down. If there's going to be an established plot or action sequence, I'd at least like a heads up so it doesn't feel like my muses are suddenly being benched for a Main Character cutscene.

Alternatively, responses that know things about my muse(s) that wouldn't be common knowledge (like who Michael's real patron is, knowing about Haaruma's scars, knowing how Bashur broke his horns, etc.). I'm cool with plotting for muses to know that kind of thing going in, but when it happens without any communication between writers it feels like metagaming, and makes the thread less of a collaboration.

⋆ EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: I've been writing/RPing in some form for about 15 years now. I started off trading giant empty notebooks with friends between classes to write painfully 2000's self-insert fics, and moved to Tumblr in 2009 when I realized there were social spaces beyond Facebook.

I've been here ever since. >:3c

⋆ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: Of the three I most prefer fluff. I am ace, so writing smut, for me, is an exercise in frustration (I don't want to bang, but my muses do, and what my fictional children want they get even if it kills me) and takes a looooong time, so it's not usually something I share with others.

I do like angst, but only if it's wrapped up with some comfort at the end. I went through a period of my life a few years ago where all I wanted to read was angst, and it burnt me out like a dry piece of hay. I had to step away from angst fics for a few years, and while I'm better at handling that kind of content now, I still prefer it to have some kind of happy or hopeful ending.

⋆ PLOTS OR MEMES?: Both!! I love plotting out longer threads with people (whether serious, silly, or other), but I think memes are a great way to just throw characters together and see how they click!

I also like using meme interactions in the backgrounds of longer threads, to either quietly establish how muses met or just as extra information we can pepper in to past interactions.

⋆ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: As long as the response can move the thread forward and I have something to react to, I don't care how long it is. I tend to make mine a couple paragraphs, if ever possible, just because I like to give my writing partner's as much as I can to work with, but I never want to pressure anyone to match lengths.

I've lived that pressure, hated it, and don't wish it on anyone.

⋆ TIME TO WRITE?: Usually the evenings, 5pm-midnight. Sometimes inspiration strikes during the day, but I usually don't have time on a workday to fully write out responses, so I just have to sit on them until I get home.

⋆ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: Now that I've gotten into therapy, yes. There are many ways in which I am like my muses. A lot of those ways are kind of personal, and I'm still fully detangling them all in my head, but I have definitely been using these poor NPCs to work through some things through D&D.

Tagged by: @deaddoveadventures

Tagging: @cupcakesmuses, @wanderingarcherviola

[wooahaes]

ok lets talk wips!!!

from the ask that i answered a couple days ago:

soulmate aus that i was almost done with [completed!!!! a win for me!!!!]

like a box of chocolates [both svt and skz] - working title, not set in stone. similar to the flower fics i wrote for svt + trsr back in the day where they all have some kind of trope associated with each kind of chocolate.

bodyswap aus for skz + svt. [woozi for svt, lee know for skz]. - admittedly my plans are on pause because i never came up with group names for the fake idol groups i made up for each. basically soulmate au where they end up swapping bodies until they fall in love with the added complicated layer of both being in a small idol group.

i won't run away [lee know] - fem!reader follow-up to i can't run away [vernon fic] where reader moves on.

keep it simple, stupid! [paboracha] - paboracha are all mutually pining with their respective readers and the rest of skz makes a bet on who will realize its mutual the soonest and confess (or get confessed to). minho's in love with his roommate, hyunjin's in love with his best friend, jisung is in love with his study partner for class.

childhood friends -> lovers [seungmin] - a much more recent idea for seungmin in the same vein as when i grow up where it's snapshots of the two growing up together and falling in love. very much 'one falls first, the other falls harder.'

shadow [UtS poly ending] - the poly au that has some more story to it, imo? more emotional topics and some angst. everyone is in love with everyone.

vague summer svt fic? [full group] - not to be released rn if i go for it, but i'm open to tossing ideas around for some summer-themed fics. might include skz (and if anyone's interested/i feel up to writing them, trsr) as well? it'd most likely be a july release just to give myself time to write all the fics and i'd probably give myself some sort of hard limit on how many words they can be.

ok these next few are chubby!fem!reader so if i do write them, i think they'll most likely get posted alongside something else since ik its not a widespread audience!!

untitled chubby!fem!reader fic [felix] - originally a smau i'll have to reconfigure in the same way as lhc, basically lhc but for felix. set after the best friends -> lovers jisung fic that i wanna rewrite! felix deals with the aftermath of a broken heart and ends up befriending reader who he falls for quickly bc she's cute n sunshine-y. very much lonely hearts club but i'll be removing the social media aspect from it.

chubby!fem!reader fake dating au [seokmin] - college au. reader has never dated before and asks seokmin if he'll go on a date or two with her just to help her get over the scary 'first time going on a date' feelings. he turns her down because fucking up is kind of part of the experience, but ends up agreeing to it after he lies and says he's dating reader to get someone who won't take no for an answer off his back. they agree to fake date until after reader's cousin's wedding... and u kno the drill w fake dating!! these bitches start falling for each other!!!

chubby!fem!reader sculptor/muse [woozi] - jihoon is a grad school art student who needs to diversify his portfolio a Lot (man just keeps sculpting his best friend bc he offered to model for him). soonyoung goes 'i know someone' and gets reader in to be jihoon's new model and oops they start catching feelings for each other over time. also has mentions of past mingyu/reader.

i am like 90% sure theres more because i KNOW i had fics planned around on//ew's (censored to keep out of search results, hopefully) album circle (some of which have initial drafts that i wanna rewrite) and an au built veeeeery loosely around the case 143 mv but i wanna workshop both of those more before i mention em any further.