#it’s why I have no follower interaction

[aly4khq]

. · ˚✧ #GRAVITY'S GRACE!

ׂ╰┈➤ WHO? — caleb from l&ds

ׂ╰┈➤ WHAT? — caleb's return took a few turns, and by a few i mean a freaky amount.

ׂ╰┈➤ WARNINGS? — angst to slight!fluff to smut to fluff || fighting, arguing, sědatives, fâinting, restraints, evol usage, kissing, èating ôut, p in v, dirty talk, bondage, slight spanking, sqúírting, grínding, màrking.

ׂ╰┈➤ WORD COUNT? — 3.1K (wowzers!)

ׂ╰┈➤ WRITER'S NOTE? — guys i'm sorry for being absent for so long!! christmas and new years kicked my ass. hope that i can reward you with a small oneshot about my bestie's return.

❝ Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy in your childhood? ❞

He was back. You watched the house burst into flames and roar at you whilst blowing you away. The memories of that house now in the air, to forever be remembered. The necklace being the only thing to hold onto you, staying by your side no matter what happened.

Yet you don't believe it, you don't understand how the man himself can stand there in front of you with no signs of injury at all. His face wasn't weird...and neither was his body..so what's going on? Trying to touch him, your hands get stuck, makikg you spin your head to look behind you.

Shackles around your wrist, tightened by a weird blue jagged pattern which seemed nearly impossible to break out of. Gasping, you stared up at him, wondering why he'd ever tie you up...? He stared back at you, with a stare of absolute devastation and hurt.

"....No, stop it you died."

You stare around, bring the inner part of your mouth to try and help you snap back to reality. The pain only hurting the feelings more then intended, the thought of being perhaps hypnotised.

"I don't..."

You remember, stop lying, you always will.

-

"Since you're a grown up, I won't cover for you this time," Caleb teased, opening the door to your grandmother's house. You had both gone out in a small celebration for your return, it's been ages since you've visited your grandma and — especially — Caleb, your childhood friend.

It's been a long few years away, becoming a Deepspace Hunter and finding the time to go to your home house. As soon as you were given that opportunity, you took it without any doubt.

It was a full day of getting snacks, ordering food, walking around the city and watching the sun set together. Nostaglia filling the space in your mind the longer your hang out went. Caleb was his usual self; always cocky, teasing, mocking, yet also loving, caring and protective. He's been like that for ages, when he decided to become a pilot and have a future in airlines he got even worse.

Caleb was your closest friend, the person who you grew up with. And seeing him get so...protective when it came to that interaction in the alley made you second guess yourself. Was this really the Caleb you remember—

A deafening bang came from the right of to her body, the flames searing hot on your skin as the force of the explosion shoved you back with extreme force. "Ah!" You shrieked, falling onto the hard concrete. Nothing but concern and worry swimming in your blood as your eyes locked onto the burning house.

No sign of Grandma, no sign of Caleb. The house was burning, your memories following, your family leaving you behind to carry the burden of grief.

With a desperate grasp, you held the necklace to your chest, instantly feeling some sort of relief despite the pain surrounding your heart.

Come back, Caleb.

-

Come back Caleb....Come back Caleb....

"Come back, Caleb." You murmured, reliving that moment with tears rolling in your shocked eyes. A gloved hand reaches under your chin, lifting your stressed face upwards to stare into your eyes. It's him. No it isn't. Yes it is—

Caleb tensed at your word, the shackles loosening as you took this opportunity to remove yourself from them. You snapped your hands off of the shackles. Nearly instantly, you got up. Your hands pushed his chest as your other fist threw itself to his face. Unluckily, he managed to catch on.

His hand grabbed yours as his leg went out to kick your legs. You jumped, using your leg to strike his thigh, making Caleb let out a small groan. He took out a small baton, using the item to hit your face. A small squeak escaped your mouth as your hair draped over your face. Caleb hesitated but he did it.

Rapidly, he grabbed your hands and slammed you onto the wall to the side of the two of you. His tall frame hovering over you with nothing but anger in his eyes, he looked devilish. Yet you were fuming, betrayed and heartbroken while you continued to fight.

"Get off of me!" You yelled, your eyes watering with tears as you tried to fight whatever magic you were being controlled with. "Get off! Help! Stop!!—"

Suddenly, a familiar feeling went over your body as you saw a blue hue around you. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. Your breathing slowing down as the nostaglia feeling entered your body, you couldn't help but mumble to yourself. "What the fuck...what the—"

"What, do you not recognise me?" Caleb spoke back, his voice deepened from the last time you even heard his voice. His presence was so intimidated yet so comforting, you missed your family. You really did but the sense of unease was all that he gave you.

The tension nearly instantly deescalated, a look of understand and relaxation fighting its way to Caleb's face as he looked down at your slowly-forming traumatised face. 'Come on Caleb,' he scolded himself, 'don't scare the girl. She's traumatised.'

"You need to hear me out." He started but didn't get far before you started to fight against his evol. He couldn't help just let out a small laugh and the fact that you couldn't do anything.

"Fine, we'll have it your way."

Caleb grabbed a small needle from his inner pocket of his uniform, examining the liquid inside the tube with a focused eye. Ignoring your squirms and loud yells of begging and pleaded, he flicked the top of the needle before turning to you with a sorry gaze.

"Stay still," He ordered, his firm, big hand grasping your arm as the other hand inserted the needle and let the sedative enter your body. As you screamed and cried for him to let you go, he let out a few coos and sorrys. The cold feeling of a suspicious liquid entered your bloodstream, filling you with an uncomfortable sensation.

As soon as he finished, he removed the tube and used his finger to wipe away the blood.

The sedative worked nearly instantly, making your brain all mushy. With an unhealthy amount of fatigue building, you held onto his shoulder, trying to ground yourself against the feeling inside of you.

You began to slowly collapse into his arms, the mysterious liquid making you body turn weak with every few seconds. First your legs, then your arms, then your torso. It was a horrible feeling, like you were slowly dying. "What are...you...doing—"

"Shhh...just relax. I've got you." Caleb reassures, kneeling down with you as your body feel weak to the medicine. His hands holding you so tight that you were sure to not fall away from his grip once again. His eyes closed as he held your hand gently, his soft lips by your ear as he whispered.

"I'll be here to make you feel okay...I'll be here to give you protection, I'll be here to shield you from criminals...I'll be here to make this right again,"

His pinky finger interlocked with yours tightly, an unspoken promise.

"I promise."

When you woke up, the argument that rose was nothing that you've ever think could happen with your possible kidnapper and childhood best friend. What kind of Reddit post is this? You obviously were agitated by this — the person you've grieved and cried over for 6 months had apparently been alive all this time and was never hurt in the first place. How rude.

"Get me out of me Caleb! I don't want to be here with you alone." You snapped back, keeping a good distance between the two of you. He was dressed in a simple jumper with a familiar logo on it, matching trousers and boots. He glared at you, analysing your body from his position before closing his eyes and sighing.

"You're not going anywhere, I won't let you." His tone was rough yet it held possession, heavy possession. His arms were crossed agaisnt his chest and you could see the tension between his muscles and his jumper. Even the thick material was fighting to rip, his outline was so...arousing?

"I am." With a turn of your body, you ran towards the door with purpose. And you didn't stop running until you heard footsteps behind you. A hand grabbed your wrists and turned you around, one hand around your waist. The other hand went to your chin, softly rising your head to stare into the eyes of — surprise surprise — Caleb.

"Listen...I won't have you suffer because of me twice. I learnt my lesson the first time and I won't have them force me to make you suffer another time. Why can't you understand me?" His voice was quiet but also demanding, a sense of worry on his intimidating tone. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop lying." You replied, your voice lowering in volume. Caleb sighed, his cologne strong as he held you closer to him. "I love you okay? I'll tell you everything just let me make things alright first."

"...I..." You scoffed, turning your head. "I don't believe you."

There was a few beats of silence before you heard a small chuckle escape his mouth, his breath on your neck. "Allow me to make you."

Slowly, his lips latched onto yours, so gentle that it surprised you. His other hand holding the back of your head softly as he used his evol to lock the door. Backing you guys up, the back of your thighs hit the soft mattress of Caleb's bed, leading you to fall over with Caleb hovering above you.

Yet the kiss never ended, your mouths moving at a fast speed as you savoured in his presence. His hands were quick, moving your head to kiss your deeper. His hips gently grinding into your mid section as he groaned into your mouth. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, barely taking a breath before Caleb indulges you in another passionate kiss.

"...I need you..." He spoke through breaths and kisses, his mouth all over your face and neck. "...I promise...I'll explain everything once I know myself..."

Caleb slowly undresses the clothes he recent put on your body, his hand frantic whilst removing the buttons and gently pulling the shirt off. He work quickly, taking off your shorts and underwear at the same time. Caleb stares at you before lowering down to his knees, his strong hand wrapped around your thighs.

"Stay still," He demanded, feeling your legs moving. With no hesitation, Caleb latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue licking up and down your folds with precision. He messily made out with your pussy, groaning into your folds and savouring the taste.

Caleb's thumb moved from your thighs to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it. You squirmed, trying to crawl away from his greed. Your hand grasping the bedsheets as you pulled away.

As soon as he saw the slightest bit of movement, he stopped you, staring up at you with a lustful gaze, slightly panting. "You better stay there before I make you stay there." His warning was small yet it held enough of a threat to keep you still — for now at least. Caleb continued to relentlessly eat you out, his tongue circling your clit in a quick succession.

"Ahh! Caleb! Please—wait! I haven't..." You let out a few pants, throwing your head back as your back met the mattress once again. Your legs rising as Caleb followed you, grinding his hips into the bed like an animal in heat. He groaned, his tongue flicking against your sensitive hole.

"Caleb! I'm gonna!—Fuck..! Slow down..!!" You begged onto deaf ears, Caleb increasing his speed. He wanted you to cum on his mouth, to release whatever stress you have onto him right now. "Cum," He breathed out, "cum on my tongue, you slut."

You gasped, finally releasing yourself onto his tongue. Your eyes closed as your hands found leverage in his hair, gripping tightly. Caleb let out a small "Fuck..." slurping up your slick with a desperate need. His hands tightened his grip on your thighs, huge hands squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of your thighs.

In less than a second, he was up, desperately pulling removing his tie. He He removed his shirt, seductively sliding his belt through the loops and removing his trousers. Caleb grabbed your shoulder, pushing you onto your stomach with a kiss on your back. You felt a smooth material go over your wrists, tying your arms behind your back in a secure grip. His tie.

"...Caleb you freak..." You murmured, a small amount of shock on your face which soon tuned to pleasure when you felt him line up his dick to your entrance. Your eyes opened as you felt the sheer thickness of his cock on your pussy. You tried look behind you and see what he was doing yet a firm unseen force held your head forward, "I warned you."

Caleb pressed his hips against yours, instantly filling you with that huge cock of his. The sudden feeling of him so far inside of you made you breathless, squirming against his tie. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan as he held your hips down with his hands.

"...You better brace yourself, I'm not holding back anymore." A hard thrust followed after, striking you deep and fast. His speed was merciless, his hips hitting yours with a heavy force. Your mouth couldn't even form a sentence, just mumbles and chopped words escaping from the pleasure of the man behind you.

Caleb didn't even think about the consequences of his actions, just having you close to him made him loose control. His hands pushed you back onto his cock, matching with his already slapping hips. The sounds of skin slapping echoed in your ears as you moaned out for him.

"You filthy girl...this pussy was just waiting for me to breed it hm? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?" Caleb's hand struck your left ass cheek, his hand grasping your skin on impact. He spread open your cheeks, spitting where you were connected to make it even more wet for him. You nodded, moaning, "Yes C-Caleb! Yessss!!! Oh my!—" You cried, trying to figure out how to deal with this large amount of feelings in your lower half.

Caleb slapped your flesh once more, not holding back on his strength at all. Your brown skin nearly instantly blooming with a soft red hue. "So gorgeous...I won't let you go, not again."

Caleb lowered to your face, still thrusting into your wet cunt with purpose. "You can't bring yourself to hate me with every finer being in your body...can't you?" He mocked, staring at your fucked out face with an evil grin. You tried to answer, but you were apparently too late in his eyes.

Another slap landed on your right cheek, and another followed — harder than the last. "Answer me," He ordered, holding your hip. With struggle, you hummed back, "Hmm! I d-don't h-hate you! Oh Caleb, I can't do this..." With a few more thrusts, Caleb could feel you tightening around his hefty cock.

He let out a soft hiss, kissing your neck with gentle intention. "You gonna cum?" He asked with a softer tone, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Nodding, your mouth hung heavy. "I'm cumming..! I'm cumming Caleb!"

That intense feeling of letting that growing pleasure in your stomach go was so satisfying. Your moans loud as you stuffed your head into the pillows below you. Your legs shook as your orgasm rode out, Caleb still thrusting into your wet, sloppy pussy. He soon came after you, filling you up with a mixture of both you and his cum. The feeling of him filling you was enough to make you squirm more, whining at the feeling of being full.

After a few beats of silence, Caleb slapped your backside one more, rubbing the sore skin afterwards. "I'll rather hear you as well as feel you next time...but I'll let you go this time round."

You laid there, fucked out and fatigued whilst Caleb stood up, his dick slipping out of your cunt. "You're absolutely gorgeous..."

Caleb pressed soft kisses to your body, rubbing the bruises on your hips and untying your wrists. You felt that tension on your head go as he removed his evol, his hands rubbing your neck.

"I love you...I promise you that." He whispered. His whole intimidating and aggressive demeanour had disappeared somehow. But when you looked into his eyes, you finally saw him. That same boy from your childhood. Your best friend had sprung back to life despite all the trouble you both had gone through.

You replied, to the best of your standards, "...Pinky...?" Your voice was soft and also vulnerable, melting Caleb's heart.

He let out a small chuckle, holding your face towards him and locking it in with a kiss. "Pinky."

Caleb gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, holding your face with gentle fingers. He pulled away after a short time, laughing at your marked body. You let out a small giggle, "I didn't know you had that in you Caleb..."

"Neither did I, until I met you."

© aly4khq, do not plagiarise, translate or copy any of my work. 12/01/25

[pleasureable]

Star Shopping !

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ in which you’re asked to star in Thanos’ new music video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were a well known Instagram model, with your career being launched after you had posted a random selfie of you taken on your digital camera

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the virality of your picture practically launched you into virtual stardom with you gaining a pretty big following after that

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your followers loved you for your beauty and style, as your instagram page was littered with pictures of you posing in clothing items such as big fur coats, mini skirts, leather tops and bottoms and bikinis

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were pretty popular amongst rappers for some reason, with some even asking for permission to use your pictures in promo for their music

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you had been familiar with Thanos for a little while now as you had seen his performances a couple times—more specifically his performance at Rolling Loud fest. you liked his music and you thought he was pretty cute but you had never really interacted with him before

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Thanos was practically obsessed with you, though. he would always like your posts, even commenting “😍😍” on some of them—of course, fueling some rumors of hidden romance between you two

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he had finally messaged you one day, his name popping up in your dms

@thanos

u down to be in my music video, pretty ?

@y/n

sure why not lol

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after a few days of exchanging messages you finally booked a flight (that he, of course, offered to pay for) to L.A—where the video would be filmed

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once you had landed and settled into your hotel room a bit, you and Thanos had met up for coffee—he explained the vision he had for the video, as well as telling you what he wanted from you in terms of your appearance in it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I’m thinkin’ of like, just having you as the main focus of the video” he said. you were incredibly flattered, how couldn’t you be? a big, hotshot rapper like him wanted to plaster your face all over a piece of his work. “main focus?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. you had been in some music videos before, but just as a background character, never the lead girl. “Of course, I wanna showcase your beauty as much as I can.” he responded.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your nerves were at an all time high as you drove to the filming location the day of the video shoot. once you got there the makeup artists began to work on you, minimal makeup, just as Thanos had earlier requested (he did want to showcase your beauty, after all)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the on-set costume designer had chosen to dress you in a tight, mini white dress—a ushanka style hat being placed on your head to finish the look

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the music video idea followed two lovers who spend the night recording each other on a camcorder, engaging in stupid shenanigans around a mansion, showcasing and capturing carefree moments of each other

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ walking onto set, you could feel thanos’s eyes all over you, admiring the way your body fit your dress and how the ring lights placed on set perfectly highlighted your facial features

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once actual shooting had begun, the romantic chemistry between the two of you was undeniable

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the romantic poses you were placed in by the director and Thanos himself obviously weren’t doing anything to dampen the atmosphere

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ nearing the end of shooting, you were scripted to be holding the camcorder while staring into Thanos’s eyes, an implied kiss taking place before the screen would go black, thus marking the end of video

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ though, once you got close enough to his face to the point where the tips of your noses were touching, the sexual and romantic tension had gotten unbearable. you had been very much aware of Thanos’s attraction to you prior to him asking you to be in his video, and you never quite expected you and him to be in the predicament you were in now.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ without even thinking, Thanos smashed his lips against yours—to your delight. pent up frustration causing the kiss to be slightly lewd, though you both quickly pulled away before you got carried away

“that definitely wasn’t scripted mr. Thanos.”

“Of course it wasn’t, pretty.”

[mister0ctopus]

Server Room (4)

(mini series) - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary:  Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 4.4K

a/n: sorry for the delay, ive been feeling meh these past few weeks. i couldnt do anything, but i got out of the house yesterday and it was great 😌

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“We haven’t seen you in a while!"

Taehyung announces, his full voice cutting through your frantic typing. “This project is keeping you from us,”

You swivel in your chair, blinking as you return to the real world, and you see Taehyung pouting and Jimin, holding out a cup of coffee like an angel of mercy.

"Your boss is always giving you hard projects with tight deadlines!" Jimin states, as he hands you the coffee his irritation seeping through the smile.

“Thanks,” you mouthed. One sip of the caffeine reminded you  that you’d been glued to this chair since morning with no breaks. Your legs probably forgot how to walk.

"Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying! She’s either obsessed with you or trying to kill you," Taehyung chimes in, crossing his arms. “Or both. She doesn’t do this to anyone else on your team. Tell me this is your villain arc.”

You sigh as you stretch your back. "I’m the only senior left in the team, okay? After Mr. Tan resigned, all his VIP clients became mine. I don’t really have a choice."

"You need a break," Taehyung declared. "Let’s try that new place across the street for lunch. Jungkook says they serve the best Mexican food."

Ah, Jungkook.

The name pulls at something in your chest. You cleared your throat.

"Since when are you into Mexican food? You don't like spicy.”

He grins, unbothered. "I can skip the hot sauce. But Jungkook says it’s legit, and he doesn’t lie about food."

"Seems like you’re becoming besties with him," you say, keeping your voice casual.

"Oh, he’s great! Always chill, fun to be around. Knows all the best spots for food!” He turns to Jimin for validation, and they high-five.

"I think I’ll pass," you said, taking a sip of the coffee. "I really need to finish this today. You guys go and let me know if it’s worth the hype."

Jimin frowns, his eye smile turning into a pout. "You sure? You’ve been working non-stop. It’s not healthy, YN. Take a break!"

You glance at the screen, the cursor blinking like it’s mocking you.

"I promise,” you replied, your voice softer. “I will," knowing full well that you wouldn’t.

You decided to take your lunch later than everyone else, choosing the quiet solitude of the office cafeteria at off-peak hours. Ordering something light, you sat in a corner, hoping to catch a moment of peace.

But peace? Lol.

Staring blankly at your mug, you tried to turn your brain off, but the week’s events replayed on a loop—meetings, deadlines, late nights. And, of course, the project. Your golden ticket to the promotion you’d been breaking your back for.

You were halfway through your sandwich when muffled giggles from the table next to you pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. Curiosity got the better of you, and you glanced over, only to see a group of girls from HR, eyes sparkling with admiration. Following their line of sight, you landed on him.

Jungkook.

Effortlessly charming as usual, chatting with a girl from Marketing. His raven hair styled to show his forehead. His smile was so easy and disarming it could probably convince a cat to take a bath.

Fuck. Why was he getting hotter?

You hadn’t seen him since the night he dropped you off a few days ago, your entire interaction limited to his car radio and your yawns. You’d been so exhausted you didn’t even have time to process his stupidly perfect profile in the dim glow of his dashboard, and his glances here and there.

The girl laughed, leaning in closer, completely captivated.

Yeah, girl. I get it.

You got it. Of course, Jungkook wasn’t just attractive, he had that rare ability to make everyone around him feel seen, like they mattered.

He had helped you many times, and you couldn’t deny that he made you feel important.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a scoff. "Lunch with my friends, now wooing the entire company.”

Of course, because the universe has a sense of humor, his gaze flicked in your direction.

Caught!

You panicked and snapped your attention back to your table, hyper-focusing on the crumbs scattered across your plate.

Back to work, you reminded yourself. Stop dilly-dallying. Deadlines don’t meet themselves.

Without sparing another glance, you stood, your chair scraping lightly against the tile floor. With purposeful steps, you left the cafeteria, your focus already shifting back to the mountain of tasks waiting at your desk.

Hours later, your phone buzzed, pulling you out of the depths of your typing. The buzzing continued, and when it started to feel too annoying, you finally checked to see what all the fuss was about.

You had been added to a group chat: CABIN IN THE LAKE.

Oh, right! The annual cabin trip. That chaotic tradition where you and the group rent the same cozy Airbnb cabin, always timed perfectly for a three-day weekend, thanks to the holiday on Monday.

It started as Jimin and Taehyung’s tradition. Best friends since college, they used to rally their old friend group for Tae’s birthday back when no one was married, living abroad, or caught up in other life changes. But life stole their original squad, leaving just the two of them clinging to their precious tradition.

Enter: the work friends.

First, there was Yoongi. No one knew how Jimin and Taehyung managed to convince him to join. He initially declined, calling it a hassle, but then showed up ridiculously early on the day they were set to leave. Next came Allie, the organizational queen who meticulously planned everything down to the last detail on Excel sheets. And finally, there was you—the corporate masochist roped in because, apparently, you 'needed a break.' They weren’t wrong, of course.

Now, three years later, it had become your thing.

Allie: 📢 Attention: Our annual cabin escape kicks off this weekend. Prepare yourselves, pack early, and leave the burdens of work behind. NO work allowed at the cabin. @ YN, I’m talking to you. 👀 Jimin: If I see a laptop in there, I will literally throw it outside. Tae: no work on my birthday event please thank you! @ YN I’m talking to you 👀 Allie: @ YN, don’t ignore us! You: Calm down, lol. I’m literally finishing everything this week so I can relax with you all Jimin: finally, work-life balance 😀 You: 🙄 im trying my best to work-life-balance the shit out of this Tae: we invited Jungkook during lunch fyi Jungkook: yeaaahhhh👍 Allie: lets talk tomorrow what food to prepare when youre back from your vacation @ Yoongi Yoongi: 👍 Tae: I wish I had so many paid leaves that I could go on a trip after a fishing trip like Yoongi. Jimin: then stop using your PTOs for stupid shit! Yoongi: seen

The phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Jimin rambling about work-life balance, Tae hyping Jungkook up for the trip, and Allie sending yet another reminder about what to pack. You muted the chat and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Cabin. Lake. Jungkook.

Before you could overthink spending a weekend with him outside of work, you put your attention back to your computer screen, pouring all your tension into the project.

The next day, as expected, you nailed the presentation. Of course, you did. Your boss was full of praise, and the VIP clients were very impressed with the discussion. Sometimes you wondered why you stressed so much, but deep down, you knew the answer. Being good wasn’t enough, you had to be great.

Your sense of self-worth was deeply tied to your accomplishments at work. Sad, but whatever.

You walked into the pantry after the presentation, on your way to another client meeting, when you see your friends, all huddled around.

Yoongi’s fresh off vacation, laughing with Tae, Jimin, and Jungkook. The energy in the room was light, the kind that made you want to linger, but…work. Ugh.

“Didn’t catch a thing!” Yoongi chuckled, shaking his head.

“So why do you always go fishing with him?” Jimin asked, barely holding back a laugh.

“Eh, I didn’t want him to be alone,” Yoongi shrugged, crossing his arms. “Also, someone had to be there for his dad jokes.”

Jungkook groaned. “Man, I miss Jin’s dad jokes. They’re so awful, but it grew on me.”

“You say that now,” Yoongi said dryly, “but after two straight hours of ‘What do you call a fish with no eyes? Fsh,’ I was ready to jump in the lake myself.”

The group burst into laughter, and you found yourself laughing too. They spotted you lingering in the doorway.

“YN! Join us!” Yoongi called, waving you over.

You shook your head, holding up a hand. “I’m literally just passing by. I have a client meeting in like… right now.”

Jimin and Tae both dramatically groaned.

But before you left, you walked over to Yoongi and gave him a quick hug. “Missed you, though. Tell me more about your fishing trip later.”

“You know where to find me,” Yoongi replied with a smirk. “But it was mostly Jin and I sitting on a boat.”

“Sounds riveting,” you teased, waving everyone goodbye as the laughter resumed behind you.

You caught Jungkook’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The week went by fast, and everyone seemed excited, looking forward to the weekend trip.

After a three-hour drive in the early Saturday morning, you finally arrived at the cabin. The scent of firewood and cedar greeted you like a familiar friend.

The cabin itself was a perfect blend of modern rustic charm—a two-story retreat with three cozy bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, and an inviting living room. Large windows framed breathtaking views of the lake, letting in an abundance of natural light that made the space feel even more open and serene. The crisp air nipped at your cheeks, but the way the sun glinted off the lake beyond the porch made the chill comfortable.

Slowly, you could feel the tension from work beginning to melt away. This was exactly what you needed.

Everyone naturally fell into their roles without a single word exchanged. Allie and Yoongi immediately took over the kitchen, playing MasterChef, while Jimin and Taehyung turned the living room into an entertainment hub. As for you? Well, you were graciously tasked with giving Jungkook the grand tour—not that you minded… at all.

He trailed behind you, nodding intently as you showed him around. You almost sneered at his attentiveness, the way his eyes widened as if you were explaining something groundbreaking.

So, this is Yoongi’s room,” you said, stopping at the first door by the stairs. “You’ll be sharing with him.” You pushed the door open, staying just outside the hallway, revealing two double-sized beds and a massive window with a stunning view of the lake. Jungkook stepped inside, dropping both his and Yoongi’s bags with a quiet thud.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the view before shifting to the door across the hallway. Before he could ask, you preemptively pointed. “That’s Jimin’s and Tae’s room, and here,” you gestured to the door beside his, “that’s mine and Allie’s. Yoongi insisted on not being next to Jimin and Tae. Gods know what they’re up to at night, they make weird noises.”

Jungkook grunted in acknowledgment, his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Oh, by the way, each room has its own bathroom. That’s honestly why we keep coming back here. Aside from the lake and other stuff, of course.” You laughed, your voice echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. Just as you were about to show him the balcony at the end of the hall, someone downstairs shouted your name. Probably Jimin or Tae yelling about the cottage.

“Ah, the cottage by the lake!” you exclaimed, snapping your fingers. “It’s a great spot to chill. Or stargaze. We usually take dinners there or nap. It’s kind of our favorite spot,” you added with a grin, gesturing downstairs.

Jungkook mirrored your excitement with his signature scrunched-nose smile. Before you knew it, Tae and Jimin had joined in, whisking Jungkook away to show him around the cottage and the lake. The three of them looked like overgrown kids finally let loose on a playground.

Back in the kitchen, you joined Yoongi and Allie to finish cooking—though, most of it was already done. You ended up as a taste-tester. By the time everything was ready, the three boys had returned, eager to help set the table.

Lunch was a mix of chaos and calm, the former courtesy of Jimin, Tae, and Allie, while Yoongi’s steady presence, and your quiet nature balanced it all out. Jungkook, as the newest addition to your group, fit in seamlessly. Though he was closest to Yoongi, his easygoing nature made him click with Jimin and Tae almost instantly, their shared humor evident in their playful banter.

By the afternoon, everyone was sprawled in the cottage by the lake. The cottage itself was a cozy wooden structure with a charmingly weathered exterior, surrounded by large windows that were often kept open to let in the fresh breeze and the sound of gentle waves lapping at the lake shore. Inside, it was warm and inviting, with rustic wooden beams, soft lighting, and a wraparound porch showing panoramic views of the lake.

You and Allie lay on a mat, scrolling through your phones and occasionally showing each other funny memes or cute animal videos. Yoongi was settled in a chair with a glass of whiskey, reading something through his phone with the occasional hum of approval.

The three boys decided to swim in the lake, and you immediately began muttering prayers under your breath, for what, you weren’t entirely sure.

Maybe for divine intervention to stop Jungkook from being so infuriatingly distracting, or perhaps for the strength to keep your jaw from hitting the floor every time he emerged from the water.

He was wearing a black compression shirt that clung to him perfectly, revealing his colorful inked arm here, the outline of a toned torso there, and let’s not even get started on those thighs, perfectly framed by his black basketball shorts. Every time he strolled over to grab a snack from the picnic basket near you, you pretended to be deeply invested in your phone, eyebrows furrowed like you were decoding quantum physics. Anything to mask the heat creeping up your neck and the very inappropriate thoughts threatening to invade your peace and relaxation.

By evening, you all decided to eat dinner in the cottage, the vibe now tinged with the warmth of alcohol and laughter. The moonlight perfectly cascaded over the lake, its silver glow reflecting off the water and illuminating the cottage like a serene painting. The soft glow of lamps inside added to the ambiance, making everything about the place perfect.

Everyone seemed louder now, the alcohol buzz turning the cozy cottage into a chaotic, laughter-filled arena. Tae and Jimin were wrestling on the floor, mimicking exaggerated WWE moves that made Allie’s contagious laugh echo throughout the space. Yoongi, now a little chatty and loud, had taken on the role of their coach, shouting absurd instructions.

“Chokehold, Tae! No, no, Jimin, counter with the sleeper hold!” Yoongi barked, his face uncharacteristically animated as if he was controlling two game characters.

You watched Jungkook laugh at their antics, his bunny teeth flashing as he swatted away Jimin and Tae’s attempts to drag him into their chaos. But when the two of them finally lunged at him, intent on overpowering him, Jungkook barely even flinched. With a fluid, almost effortless motion, he sent both of them sprawling back onto the couch like they weighed nothing more than throw pillows.

Jungkook is strong.

You don’t know what to do with this information.

It wasn’t the strength itself that caught you off guard, you knew Jungkook worked out, but watching him do it with such ease felt almost... dangerous. You wonder how those strong hands gripping your thighs, pinning you against the wall, as he pounds—nope. Nope.

Stop right there you horny bitch.

You gulped down the flavored beer in your hand, the cool liquid doing little to douse the heat crawling up your neck.

“Thirsty much?” Allie teased, nudging you with a smirk as she caught your flustered state.

“I—yeah,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the chaos.

Jungkook’s laugh broke through your spiraling thoughts again, and you stole a quick glance at him. Thankfully, he seemed blissfully unaware of the effect he had on you, just being his playful self, swatting Jimin away like an annoying fly.

You feel the heat building in your core becoming more and more unbearable. You press your legs to try to soothe the feeling but it’s clear that you need more. You need a cold splash of water on your face, or better yet, a shower.

Standing abruptly, you excuse yourself for a 'bathroom break.' Your friends barely glance up, offering quick nods before returning to the chaos around them.

Chaos.

This chaos is the perfect cover for Jungkook.

Ever since he met you, there hasn’t been a single day he hasn’t felt like he’s stuck in his own personal hell.

He’s been avoiding looking at you for far too long, for obvious reasons.

The last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable. Now that he’s close to you and your friends, he’s doing everything to keep it together, to not let anyone, especially Yoongi, catch on. Yoongi’s too observant, and Jungkook’s painfully aware of that. He’s not ready to talk about whatever is going on with him. Or whatever it is he's feeling towards you.

But that moment in the Server Room? He feels a gnawing guilt in his gut, the worry that he made you uncomfortable. He hasn’t heard a word from you about it, though. Didn’t give any hint that something was off. You would’ve said something if you were uncomfortable, right?

You, with your cold, uptight air, focused only on deadlines. You wouldn’t let him get close if you weren’t okay with him. You’d cut him right away if he crossed a line, right?

Was he imagining you there? Maybe you didn’t actually see him. Maybe you weren't actually in the Server Room. He was probably hallucinating in desire. He’s not sure anymore.

But damn, you don’t make it easy.

Earlier, when you were lying on the mat with Ally, your shorts slipping up just enough to flash him a taste of your soft skin, he nearly choked on his drink.  And now, sitting across the cottage from you, your short dress riding up as you adjust your position, the soft glow of your skin under the dim light…

Fuck.

He wonders how your skin would feel beneath his hands… how it would feel if he buried himself in you.

Focusing on Jimin and Taehyung provides some distraction, though the temptation to steal another glance at you lingers like a ghost. Thankfully, no one seems sober enough to notice his wandering eyes, or the way his shorts have grown uncomfortably tight.

You, oblivious to the war raging in his head, excuse yourself with a quick smile at Allie before heading to the cabin.

Thank God.

Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and forces himself to join the conversation.

But just as he thinks he’s getting a break, Yoongi’s voice cuts through. “Jungkook, can you grab the portable speaker I told you to bring?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Jungkook stands up without a second thought, almost like it’s automatic when someone older asks, barely processing Yoongi’s other questions as he heads to the cabin.

You step into the bathroom, stripping your clothes as you go. Your damp panties are a clear evidence of your need, and you groan in frustration. With a shaky breath, you turn on the shower, hoping the cold water will wash away the tension building inside you. But as the droplets hit your skin, they do little to distinguish the fire within.

It hasn’t even been a day in this cabin, and Jungkook is already a problem.

Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone, or perhaps the close proximity is making you hyper aware of him. Maybe it’s the memory of him, lost in his own pleasure in the Server Room, fingers working his body while thoughts of you flickered through his mind. The image awakens something in you. Was it just one-time thing? What did he picture you to be while he touched himself?

You pull yourself out of your thoughts, allowing the shower to wash away your lingering filthy desires.

After the quick shower, you step out, wrapping yourself in a towel. But you’re still burning up.

Sighing in frustration, you sit on the bed and brush through your damp hair, but it's still too wet, so you pat it dry. As you glance into the mirror, your reflection catches your eye. The soft lamplight casts a warm glow on your skin, drawing your attention, and for a moment, you’re entranced by the subtle radiance.

You trail your fingers over your arms, your collarbone, down to your chest. Your nipples harden under your touch, and you groan softly. The cabin is alive with distant laughter from the cottage, your friends blissfully oblivious to your desperation.

The craving intensifies, and without thinking, your hands drift lower, over your stomach, to your thighs. Your legs part instinctively, your fingers finding the slick heat between your folds. You press against your clit, your breath hitching at the electric shock that runs through your body.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands there instead. The way he would touch you, soft and rough. The way he would devour you, make you beg for more.

You picture him. His body, his hands, his mouth—all of it.

As your fingers slide inside, you bite your lip, your body shuddering with need. You pump in and out, the friction building, but it’s not enough. You groan in frustration, you need more.

You need something bigger, harder. You need him.

Your eyes lock onto the round brush on the side, its dark wooden handle glistening in the dim light. Something primal snaps within you. Without a second thought, you grab it, your fingers curling around the bristles as you lift it to your lips. The thick, rounded handle presses against your mouth, and you drag your tongue over it, coating it with your spit.

Your heart races as you slide the handle down your body. Lifting yourself off the bed just enough, you position it at your entrance, the anticipation making your thighs tremble. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself onto it, gasping as it stretches you open. Your eyes stay locked on the mirror, watching every inch of the handle disappear inside you.

The sight alone makes your body shiver in need, and soon you can’t hold back. Your hips move instinctively, a slow grind that quickly builds into something desperate. You ride it hard, fast, the rhythm of your movements echoing through the creaks in the room. Each thrust draws a whimper from your lips as your imagine Jungkook beneath you, his strong hands gripping your hips, his dark eyes blazing as you grind against him. The way he’d look at you, the way he would sound as he moans your name, needy and breathy, like how he did in the Server Room.

The creak of the bed grows louder, and in your mind, it’s because of him—pounding into you relentlessly, the headboard slamming against the wall, his deep groans mixing with your cries. How he’d ruin you completely, leaving no part of you untouched.

Your hand remains between your legs, circling and flicking your clit in time with the thrusts. The tension builds and builds, each movement pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally let go, when your orgasm crashes over you, it’s intense—like a pressure valve bursting open. You cry out his name, repeating it as your body trembles, your vision blurring as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

The moment Jungkook opens the door to his room, right next to yours, his gaze immediately lands on the portable speaker that Yoongi had asked him for, resting casually on the table alongside his other things. He walks toward it absentmindedly, his mind spinning in circles, thoughts tangled and restless.

How could he speak to you alone without feeling like his throat is closing in, without that damn knot of nerves tightening in his chest?

For fuck's sake, he’s not some shy guy. Maybe reserved at first, but shy? No. Not anymore. So why the hell does it feel like your gaze alone could drop him to his knees? He will do whatever you tell him—crawl, bark, beg. Whatever you wanted. No hesita—

"Fuck, Jungkook..." A moan. So soft, so faint, it feels like his mind is playing tricks on him.

And then another moan, but this time incoherent, then a soft creak, followed by the rhythmic sound of a bed moving.

His body goes rigid, every nerve on high alert. You’re in there. Alone. What the hell is going on?

He moves toward the wall separating you from him, pressing his ear against it, desperate to hear more of you.

Another moan, louder this time, long and dripping with need.

His breath stutters, pulse hammering in his ears. The muscles in his jaw tighten, his cock twitching involuntarily. The sound of you—fuck. That’s how you sound? Beautiful. Perfect. Needy. And shit… you’re thinking of him? Fucking yourself, imagining him? He’s losing his mind.

His shorts feel suddenly painfully tight. His hands tremble, fumbling at his waistband, pulling the thing that’s aching to be freed out of both pants and boxers in one desperate motion.

The moans and soft whimpers continue and it’s too much. He grips his cock, the hard length throbbing in his hand as he starts to pump. His strokes grow frantic, desperate, matching the steady pulse of the bed as it rocks with your need.  His mind floods with images of you—your fucked out face, wet lips parted in pleasure, the way your body arches, shivering beneath him, trembling with each of his movements. He imagines your nails dragging down his back, marking him, claiming him as his own. The sound of his name on your lips again and again, each breath getting closer to his ear, your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, tighter.

When you cry out his name again, he can’t take it anymore, he bursts. His release hits him hard, his body shuddering as he spills his hot white cum into his hand, and some of it staining the walls.

He stood frozen—breathless, trembling, overwhelmed by the weight of a realization.

You, an actress.

Behind the mask of ambition, beneath the cold exterior of reservation and control, lies a desperate, hidden need.

You had begged for it in silence.

He would make sure you screamed for it out loud.

taglist: @taekritimin123, @vantelover1306, @random-musingsss @likewtaf @jeonmaleficent @almatiarau, @kxthx-b, @lively-potter, @jk-190811, @ilovejungkook9999, @goldietigers294, @dreamyluna18, @va1-erie, @snow-strawberry, @lovieku, @daskewl @jksusawife @daskewl @pp0810 @cherryreadsfics @boyfriendtaekook @michuga @kchukes @ahgasegotarmy116 @michellekosmos @pitchblack0309

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Welcome to the Neighbourhood | Terry Richmond

pairings: neighbour!terry richmond x neighbour!black reader

warnings: smut 18+, fluff, slow burn (if you squint), slightly rough/dom!terry - lmk if you think i missed anything else

summary: ready to put shelby springs behind him, terry ventures to start afresh - new job and new neighbourhood but the last thing he was expecting was to have an attractive neighbour waltz in and send his head spinning

word count: 5.4K

Shelby Springs had taken everything from him—his peace, his purpose, his faith in people. But Terrance Richmond wasn’t a man to let the past define him. He had to rebuild, brick by brick, until there was nothing left of the anger, pain, or memories that weighed him down. Once he’d made his peace, routine became his salvation. If there was one thing Terry wasn’t, it was idle.

Standing at 6’2, with muscles that didn’t come from sitting still, he carried himself with the discipline of a former Marine. He threw himself into rebuilding his life with the same focus, which is why the executive protection job posting felt like fate. It was an opportunity to start over. A new job, a new city—it wasn’t nature like he was used to, but he wasn’t about to say no to a clean slate.

The last of the moving boxes sat stacked on his driveway, waiting to be carried inside. As Terry hoisted one of the heavier ones, headlights flashed across his yard, catching his attention. His eyes followed the movements of a woman stepping out of a car, her keys in hand. If his hands hadn’t instinctively tightened around the box, the fine China inside would’ve been in pieces on the pavement.

Damn. She was... striking. The kind of striking that rooted a man to the spot and left his thoughts a tangled mess.

The pantsuit she wore clung to her figure in all the right ways, while soft curls framed her face like a work of art. Then she smiled, and he was done for.

She approached with a confident stride, her voice soft but laced with a teasing edge that only added to her allure. “Hey,” she said, flashing him an easy smile—the kind that could charm just about anyone. “Looks like they finally found someone to take the place. Congrats. I’m in a rush right now, but I get off work at 6. I’ll swing by to properly introduce myself—if that’s cool with you?”

Terry fumbled between a nod and a simple word of agreement, finally managing a quick, “Yeah, sounds good,” before she turned and climbed into her car.

She waved as she drove off, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

She knew she had a wicked flirt game, and today’s outfit choice was clearly the right one. As she headed to the office, an unusually good mood accompanied her. She couldn’t help but think about her new neighbour—broad shoulders, brooding eyes, and a quiet intensity that lingered even in their brief interaction.

Her curiosity burned through the day like a steady flame. Who was he? What was his story? And most importantly, would he be sticking around?

Terry tried to shake her out of his head as he tackled the last of the boxes. But it was no use. Her voice, her smile—they’d already sunk into his mind, leaving him restless and curious. 6 o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the neighbourhood, when YN pulled into her driveway, a sense of anticipation bubbling in her chest. Work had been exhausting, but the thought of properly meeting her new neighbour had been the highlight of her day. She stepped into her house, kicked off her heels, and immediately headed for the shower. The warm water was a welcome relief, washing away the day's tension and leaving her feeling refreshed.

Dressed in something comfortable yet flattering—because first impressions mattered, even if she wasn’t technically trying—YN made her way into the kitchen. Cooking was a distraction, a way to channel her nerves into something productive. She whipped up a quick but hearty meal, pairing it with some baked goods she’d had stashed away. It was a neighbourly gesture, sure, but she’d also seen him. And let’s just say that the mysterious, rugged man across the street had piqued her curiosity.

Balancing the food containers carefully in her hands, YN walked across to his house. The porch light was on, a warm glow illuminating the otherwise quiet street. She knocked twice, stepping back as she waited.

Inside, Terry had been pacing his living room for the past fifteen minutes, glancing at the clock and then the front door as if he could will someone to show up. He’d told himself it was silly, but the memory of their brief interaction that morning had stayed with him all day. She was charming, poised, and stunning, and the idea of seeing her again had stirred something in him he couldn’t quite name.

When the knock finally came, he opened the door to find her standing there, her smile lighting up the dimming evening. His expression softening into something she could only describe as relief. His eyes flicked down to the food in her hands, then back up to her face, his lips twitching as though he were fighting the urge to smile.

For a split second, neither of them spoke, just taking each other in. Then, at the same time, they both blurted out their names.

"Terrance Richmond." "YN."

The words collided, and they both paused before bursting into laughter.

"No, you go," she said, waving a hand for him to continue.

He shook his head with a small, amused smile. "No, you first. I insist."

She gave in, introducing herself again, this time with a little less fluster. “Sorry about the rush this morning. I was running late for work. I figured I’d make it up to you by bringing some dinner—just thought I’d save you the trouble of cooking or ordering in tonight.”

Terry raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but not ungrateful. “That’s... really kind of you. Thank you.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.

YN wasn’t sure what she’d expected—half-packed boxes or chaos, maybe—but his house was already well put together. Everything had its place, and the space looked cosy, even lived-in.

“You’ve been busy,” she remarked, glancing around.

Terry followed her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I couldn’t keep still. Needed to get everything done.”

The motion of his hand raised the hem of his shirt just enough to reveal a sliver of his abdomen, and her breath hitched involuntarily at the sight. He was... sculpted, to say the least. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but the deep heat rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

Terry noticed—of course, he noticed. His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You okay over there?” he teased, his voice dipping lower.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Totally fine,” she stammered, mentally cursing herself. Way to keep it together, YN.

“Kitchen’s this way,” he said, leading her further inside.

In the kitchen, she set the food down on the counter while Terry rummaged through a cabinet for plates and cutlery.

“Wine or whiskey?” he asked, holding up a tumbler in one hand and a wine glass in the other.

She tilted her head, eyeing him playfully. “You strike me as the rough-around-the-edges whiskey type. But I could be wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. “And you strike me as the sophisticated wine type. Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

She laughed softly, choosing the wine glass. “Maybe just a little bit of both,” she said, holding up her glass in a mock toast.

Dinner passed with ease, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. She learned about his time in the Marines, his decision to move to the city, and his plans to settle into a new routine. In turn, he listened intently as she spoke about her work as a lawyer and the challenges that came with it.

“Why executive protection?” she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to his glass. “It seemed like the right move. I needed something to focus on, something to ground me after...I guess I wanted to keep helping people… just without all the…” He gestured vaguely, his voice trailing off.

She nodded, understanding the weight of what he wasn’t saying. “That makes sense. You’re a protector. It suits you.”

Instead, she smiled softly, changing the subject to something lighter. “Well, I think the neighbourhood gossip will be all over you in no time. New guy, good-looking, and clearly handy with a moving box? You’re prime material.”

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “And here I thought I’d be flying under the radar.”

“Not a chance,” she teased, raising her glass.

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and easy conversation, the initial awkwardness fading into a comfortable rhythm. By the time the food was gone and the wine bottle nearly empty, she realised how late it had gotten.

“I should let you get some rest,” she said, standing and gathering her things.

Terry walked her to the door, his presence warm and steady beside her. “Thanks for coming over. And for dinner. You didn’t have to, but... it means a lot.”

She smiled, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard. “It’s my turn to host next time,” she said, stepping out onto the porch.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.

As she walked back to her house, she felt his eyes on her, and when she reached her front door, she turned to find him still standing there, waiting. She gave him a small wave before stepping inside, and only then did he close his door.

Back in her kitchen, she leaned against the counter, her thoughts lingering on Terrance Richmond—the man who’d somehow managed to make an ordinary evening feel anything but.

It had been two months of playful banter, stolen moments, and a rhythm they’d fallen into so effortlessly it felt like second nature. Their evenings were a mix of wholesome exploration and daring escapades—her showing him the city from her unique perspective. Quiet cafés tucked into alleys, her favourite jazz bar that always felt alive no matter the hour, daring rooftop views that made her heart race as much as his lingering glances. Terry soaked it all in, learning her through the places she loved.

And then there were the nights. Nights when she’d invite him into her world, sharing wine and laughter, their knees brushing under the table, their gazes holding just a beat too long. Nights when he’d introduce her to the simplicities he cherished: an old movie, a game of cards, or just sitting on his porch with whiskey and comfortable silence. The friendship that brewed between them was comforting, but the undercurrent of something more was undeniable.

He didn’t mind bending the rules, like ignoring speed limits to race home just to catch her as she pulled into her driveway. There was something magnetic about the sight of her at the end of a long day. The way she’d stride out of her car, hair loosened from its bun, buttons of her blouse slightly undone, her lips still stained with that red lipstick that drove him wild. It was like she carried the day’s fire with her, igniting something in him without even trying. He’d lean against his porch, offering her a nightcap with that low, smooth voice of his, and she’d grin, the tension of her day easing away.

She had never been more grateful that Terry’s job required him to wear a suit. Seeing him waiting for her in all his tall, broad-shouldered glory, tie loosened, dark stormy eyes carrying a story from the day, was a sight she never grew tired of. Her eyes would linger, tracing the outline of his strong frame and sharp jawline. Even the way he held himself—calm, composed—was intoxicating. Their usual routine of “Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here,” never got old, but there was something different about today.

She parked her car with noticeably less energy, the weight of her day evident in the slight slump of her shoulders. Terry caught it immediately. He leaned against his porch, the usual playful smirk tugging at his lips, but it faded when she approached.

“Hey, stranger,” he said softly, his voice warm but cautious.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she replied, but her tone lacked its usual spark. Her eyes flickered to his, and though her lips curved into a faint smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, taking a step closer.

She exhaled, shaking her head lightly. “Rough day. I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.”

He nodded, though disappointment briefly flickered across his features. “I get it. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Terry,” she said, her voice soft as she turned toward her door.

He watched her retreat into her house, resisting the urge to follow. Respecting her space was the right thing to do, but it didn’t stop the lingering ache in his chest. Something felt off, and it wasn’t just her mood—it was the absence of her presence.

Back in his house, Terry tried to distract himself. He pushed through an intense workout in his home gym, the rhythm of his heart pounding in his ears as he lifted, punched, and ran his frustration away. But no amount of sweat could shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Showered and changed into a snug grey T-shirt and sweatpants, he found himself pacing his living room. The hours stretched, and the silence grew unbearable. It was stupid—he felt like barely knew her but they had spent so much time together that being apart for the one night felt wrong, and the thought of her being upset made him restless. Finally, he grabbed a bottle of wine and decided to check on her. If nothing else, she deserved someone to talk to.

Terry knocked twice, the bottle balanced in his hand. The sound of footsteps reached him, and when the door swung open, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

She stood there, framed by the warm glow of her house, wrapped in a silk negligee the colour of deep mauve. The fabric flowed from her shoulders, clinging to her curves in a way that made his breath hitch. It accentuated the fullness of her breasts, the gentle dip of her waist, and the teasing slit that revealed her smooth, toned thigh. Her dark skin shimmered against the luxurious fabric, and her loose hair framed her face like a crown.

He stared, momentarily dumbfounded. “I, uh...” His usual composure failed him.

Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the tiredness in her eyes. “Terry,” she said softly, “are you okay?”

He cleared his throat, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “I just... I wanted to check on you. You seemed off earlier.”

Her expression softened, her fingers brushing against the doorframe. “I’m okay. Just needed some time to breathe.”

He held up the bottle. “I figured you might still need that nightcap. But if this is a bad time—”

She stepped aside, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not.”

He walked in, acutely aware of how close their bodies brushed as he passed her. The faint scent of her perfume—warm, sensual, with a hint of spice—wrapped around him, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

As she closed the door, she turned to face him, her head tilted slightly. “Thanks for checking on me. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

He set the bottle on the counter, turning to face her with a small shrug. “I’m not most people.”

Her smile widened, the tension of her day beginning to unravel. “No, you’re not.”

And there it was again—that spark, that unspoken pull between them. The air felt heavier, charged with something they both knew they couldn’t ignore much longer.

The room was cloaked in a heady tension that neither of them could escape. She leaned against the counter, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the cool marble surface as she watched him pour the wine. His tall, commanding frame moved with an easy grace that was almost hypnotic, the tight grey T-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders, highlighting every muscle. His stormy blue-grey eyes caught the light for a fleeting second as he glanced up, and they seemed to darken when they met hers.

"Rough day, huh?" His voice was deep, smooth, and rich, yet there was an edge to it, like he was holding something back.

"Yeah," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the way his big hands gripped the bottle. Those hands. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but her mind betrayed her, wandering to how they might feel against her skin, firm yet gentle, exploring every inch of her.

"You don’t talk about work much," he said, leaning casually against the opposite counter, though there was nothing casual about the way his eyes roamed her figure. His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist, the silk of her negligee clinging to her full breasts and cascading down to her thick thighs. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, but his focus never wavered.

"Work’s work," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended. The usual playfulness in her tone was replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was from his smouldering gaze or the thoughts racing through her mind.

"That’s fair," he said, his lips curling into a faint smirk, though his voice had dropped an octave. He took a sip of his wine, his sharp jaw flexing slightly as he tilted his head back. She could barely breathe.

The air between them felt thick, electric. Every glance, every subtle movement was charged with an intensity that neither of them could ignore. She wanted to say something, anything, but her eyes kept drifting to his lips, full and smooth, and how easily they curved into that devastatingly charming smile. She wondered what they’d feel like against hers, how they’d taste.

"You seem... distracted," he teased, his voice low and husky.

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Says the man who hasn’t stopped staring."

"You’re hard not to stare at," he admitted, his tone serious now.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers tightened around the glass in her hand. "You’re not so bad yourself," she said, her voice steady despite the wild thrum in her chest.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was suffocating in the best way. The kind of silence that demanded action, that begged for release.

And then it happened.

He set his glass down with a soft clink and took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. "You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough, raw with restraint. "Seeing you every morning, looking so damn fine, so put together... And then at night, when you come to mine, when you let your guard down and laugh like the world hasn’t put you through hell that day... I’m here, losing my mind over you, woman."

Her breath hitched, her wide eyes searching his stormy gaze. His words were like gasoline to the fire already burning inside her. "Terry..." she started, but the words caught in her throat.

"No," he cut her off gently, his big hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing along her jaw. "Let me say this. From the first day I saw you, I knew you were gonna ruin me. And you have. I can’t think straight when you’re around, and when you’re not..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips.

She felt her chest tighten, her own thoughts spinning out of control. "I’ve liked you since day one," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

His lips quirked into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her cheeks warm. "Yeah."

That was all he needed to hear.

His lips crashed against hers, and everything else melted away. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until her soft curves were pressed firmly against his muscular frame. She moaned softly into the kiss, her hands exploring the expanse of his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric of his shirt.

"Terry," she gasped as his lips trailed to her neck, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine.

"You’re perfect," he murmured against her skin, his hands roaming over her thick thighs, her generous hips, memorising every part of her. "So damn perfect."

Her fingers tangled in his short, dark hair as he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, his lips returning to hers with a fervour that left her breathless. The silk of her negligee rode up, baring more of her dark, supple skin to his touch.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he rasped, his stormy eyes locking with hers as his hand slid up her thigh.

"Show me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire.

And he did. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, their movements urgent yet unhurried, savouring every touch, every kiss, every moment. It was the turning page they’d both been waiting for, the start of something they both knew would change everything.

The moment between them burned hotter as they moved upstairs, their lips locked in a fiery kiss that only deepened with each step. Breathless moans filled the spaces where their mouths parted, the sound mingling with the faint creak of the stairs. Terry’s strong arms tightened around her, lifting her effortlessly. Her thighs instinctively clasped around his waist, holding on to him as if her life depended on it. Her fingers found their way under his t-shirt, her fingertips brushing against the hard ridges of his back muscles, revelling in the sheer strength he carried so easily.

His grip on her waist was firm, his large hands branding her as his own, sending a thrilling pulse through her body that promised to linger long after tonight. His touch roamed with purpose, tracing the swell of her thighs and the curve of her hips. When his palm landed on her ass with a sharp slap, followed by a teasing squeeze, she gasped into his mouth, her body arching into him. Terry let out a deep, gravelly chuckle, the sound dripping with satisfaction, as if her every reaction was fuel to the fire raging within him.

With his lips trailing down her jaw, then returning to claim her mouth, he blindly led them toward her bedroom. His back pressed against the door as he maneuvered it open, never breaking their heated connection. Once inside, Terry seated himself at the edge of her bed, pulling her closer onto his lap. She straddled him, her negligee riding higher, teasing them both. Her nails running over his short, dark hair, dragging them just enough to make him groan deeply, the sound vibrating between them. His large hands explored her curves freely now, roaming the softness of her body like a man starved.

As their lips crashed together again, Terry’s control snapped. With an effortless move, he flipped her onto her back, his strength leaving her breathless. The sudden shift made her gasp, her hair splaying out across the sheets as she looked up at him. His body hovered above hers, broad and muscular, his chest rising and falling as he stared down at her. The look on his face—raw, unfiltered desire—sent a thrill through her core. His eyes darkened with lust, his brows knit together in a mixture of longing and determination.

“Terry...” she whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of the moment, her body humming with anticipation.

He lowered himself, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of her collarbone before moving to her ear. His voice, deep and husky, made her shiver. “You don’t know what you do to me, YN,” he repeated. “Not being able to touch you like this.”

Her breath hitched, his confession sending waves of heat coursing through her body. Her hands gripped his biceps, feeling the tension coiled in him, the restraint he had fought for so long finally slipping. "Terry," she whispered again, her voice soft yet laced with her own need.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he rasped, his gaze trailing over her. “Every damn curve... your thighs, your hips... these gorgeous lips I can’t stop thinking about. You’re driving me insane, YN.”

She grew needier, her dark skin glowing under the low light of the room. Her hands roamed across his back, her nails lightly grazing his skin as she pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sent sparks flying between them, a tangible current neither could resist.

“Show what you’ve been wanting to do to me”, she breathlessly said.

That was all the permission Terry needed, he lowered his body down hers stopping at her thighs and slowly pusher lingerie up body signalling for her to raise arms so he could undress her. Eyes taking in every detail and she almost shied under his lustful gaze, but he quietened thoughts as he dipped his head down and his mouth parted to envelope the nipple that called for his attention. He bit, licked, sucked and swirled, teasing that bud and showing the other one the same love – “this is what you were hiding me, angel?” His voice, so many decibels lower she almost didn’t recognise it.

“Out of words already, baby? Don’t worry, I’ve got something that’ll bring that voice back”

YN watched as his hands travelled and worked down her body, lighting a trail of fire in their wake. They moved with such expertise, like he had time to study what made her wet – either that or she was just entirely ready for him. Her panties did nothing to disguise her puffy lips or the slickness that dampened the front, she would’ve been embarrassed if she wasn’t so turned on but this was a long time coming.

Terry's lips worked their way down her body, slow and purposeful, leaving a searing trail of anticipation in their wake. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he spread her legs wider, his firm grip sending shivers through her. His stormy eyes flicked up to meet hers, a silent yet urgent question. She responded by gripping the back of his head, guiding him exactly where she needed him most.

He hungrily obeyed, his tongue moving with an aggressive precision that mirrored her unspoken desire. Every stroke was deliberate, every flick of his tongue a testament to his singular focus on her pleasure. His large hands slid up her thighs, his grip firm and grounding as her body trembled beneath him.

Her nails grazed the smooth skin at the back of his head, her soft cries urging him on, and he fed on every sound she made like it was a reward. The way she arched into him, her breathless gasps and whispered curses, only drove him further. He was relentless, addicted to the way she tasted, the way her body writhed under his control.

“Terry…” she moaned, her voice breaking as he increased the pressure, his tongue and lips working in perfect rhythm. He felt her thighs quake against his shoulders, her body teetering on the edge.

“Come on, YN,” he murmured against her, the vibration of his voice sending her spiraling. “I want to feel it. Let go for me.”

With a cry that echoed through the room, she shattered, her release coursing through her like a wave. Terry didn’t stop, prolonging her pleasure, tasting every part of her as though he couldn’t get enough. And as he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at her with a dark, satisfied smirk.

Terry’s gaze was locked on her, dark and burning with intensity. She was already bare before him, her body glowing in the low light, every curve and line drawing him in like a man possessed. He knelt on the bed, his knees framing hers, and his hand traced the side of her thigh, firm and deliberate.

“I don’t know how I kept control this whole time,” he muttered, his voice laced with restrained desire. Grabbing her wrist, he guided her hand to the thick length straining against the fabric of his sweatpants. Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched as her fingers instinctively wrapped around him. His jaw clenched at the contact, a low groan slipping from his lips.

“I’m ready to put this where it belongs,” he growled, his voice rough, primal. He stood, his movements deliberate as he tugged off his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. When he stood before her, completely bare, her mouth went dry, her pulse racing. His body was a perfect balance of strength and masculinity—toned, powerful, and overwhelming in every sense of the word.

She couldn’t stop the breathless moan of his name. “Terry…” she whimpered, her voice a mix of pleading and desperation.

She reached for him, her nails grazing over the hard ridges of his abs, earning a sharp hiss as he captured her wrist again. His other hand gripped her hip, pulling her toward him as he rolled his body against hers, letting her feel every inch of his arousal pressing into her. She gasped, the friction igniting something primal in her.

“Are you ready to take all of me?” his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Before she could respond, he flipped her onto her stomach with ease, his hands tugging her hips back toward him. A surprised gasp escaped her, quickly replaced by a low moan as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, his teeth grazing her skin. One hand pressed into the small of her back, pinning her in place, while the other slid up her thigh, rough and demanding.

She lifted her head slightly, her eyes catching the mirror across the room. The sight of their bodies intertwining—the dominance in his stance, the way her body responded to his every touch—made her breath hitch. Her body trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat and tension building between them.

But just as his fingers trailed higher, grazing her most sensitive spot, he stilled. His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, and his tone softened, though the intensity remained.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I need to hear it, YN.”

Her body writhed beneath him, every nerve alight with need. “I want this… and you. I need it, T. Please,” she pleaded, her voice desperate, her core weeping and throbbing for him.

That was all he needed. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he thrust into her, filling her completely. She cried out, her fingers clutching the sheets as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. He didn’t give her a moment to recover, his movements relentless and precise, each thrust stealing the breath from her lungs.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Taking me so perfectly. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Her head lolled to the side, her cries and moans echoing in the room. She could barely form a coherent response, her mind clouded with nothing but him. Instead, she let her body speak for her, meeting his movements with equal fervour, the sound of their bodies colliding only heightening the intensity.

As her body tightened around him, the pressure building to an unbearable peak, he slowed. His hand slid around to cup her face, turning her head so he could kiss her. It wasn’t rough like before—it was slow, deep, and tender, a kiss that felt like a promise. Her body trembled, her moan muffled against his lips as her release overtook her, crashing over her in waves.

He followed soon after, a guttural groan escaping him as he buried himself deeper, his grip on her waist tightening. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their laboured breaths and the faint rustle of the sheets.

Finally, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms. His lips pressed against her forehead, the tenderness in the gesture a stark contrast to the passion they’d just shared.

“You okay?” he asked softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.

She nodded, her cheek pressed against his chest as her breathing slowly steadied. “More than okay,” she murmured, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Good,” he said, his voice low but warm. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The promise lingered in the air, and she couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree as she nestled closer to him, feeling completely and utterly content.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

and take a shot for every time i mentioned 'stormy' or 'eyes' loooool

[revelboo]

"Im not a bug person. This can't work"

*IN COMES REVELBOO WITH A STEEL CHAIR AND THE INSECTICONS+ ugly puppy waspinator*

Seriously tho, my entire Being melted just like reader when they were asking *permission* what the heckkk? I almost want to see the afterglow of cuddling them, what have you done??? What witchcraft, revel??? Whatt???

🤣 Might I also offer Tarantulas? Extra legs to cuddle

Disappear Pt 3

Earthspark Tarantulas x Reader

• Huddling into your blanket, you watch Tarantulas, or rather, his creepy avatar, pace. An arm lifting as its mouth slowly moves. What is he doing? Lift an arm, turn, walk. Oh. “People don’t move like that,” you call out, realizing he’s practicing. Maybe figuring out how to play human so he can kidnap people easier? And his real body turns slightly, lifting up on those extra limbs. Silently staring down at you even as he huffs slightly, mandibles flexing. Pointing at the holomatter avatar, you roll your wrist. “It’s too… stiff,” you manage, not sure if telling him it’s robotic would be insulting since he’s a giant robot bug man. “Maybe try smiling more?” Optics narrowing, he glances at the avatar and its lips part in a wide rictus. Oh, no. Just no. “Not like that, it looks like you eat babies.”

• “If you’re just going to mock me, I’d rather not have your help,” he growls turning away and you dart past him, gasping when he immediately snares your running form without thinking. And you shoot him a look that’s equal parts annoyance and unease until he releases you. Knows you’ve been good lately. No escape attempts, but can’t make himself trust it. Can’t trust that you won’t run. Because you don’t want to be here. Tugging your shirt back down where it rode up, you walk over to the avatar, hands lifting and fingers hovering over it before you glance at him. “It’s solid,” he mutters. And then he’s stiffening as soft hands touch the avatar’s face. Aware that he’s never properly explained it to you, that you have no idea how much of an extension of him it is. That he can feel those soft hands just like you’re touching his actual face. And he needs to be able to deal with this, because that was the plan, wasn’t it? Hide his true body away, fueling when only necessary and living through his avatar among humans. Hopefully belonging in a way he never has. Primus, knows his own kind have never welcomed him. Always an outsider even before he’d chosen the form that was true to who he really was.

• He’s silent as you touch his face, unsettled that the avatar is warm and solid under your fingers as you press against him. Feels like skin. Closing his mouth, brushing his lips until he parts his lips slightly again and pushing against the corners of his mouth. “There. Less serial killer.” Rocking back a step, you smile. “Hey, where have you been? Haven’t see you around.” Waving like he’s an old friend as the avatar just stares with that frozen smile. “No, see? Can you maybe relax a bit?” You ask, looking up at him. Freezing as he moves closer, three of those creepy spider legs extending around you to brace himself so you and the avatar are both caged in his limbs as he leans down to look at what you’re doing. Yep, you still have an issue with spiders.

• “We’re practicing?” He asks, uncomfortably aware of how bad he is at interacting with his own kind. Silent, eyes wide, you nod. “Alright.” He just needs to mimic you, right? You flinch when the avatar moves, lifting its arm, his arm, he reminds himself. This is him. Necessary to live peacefully in hiding. “Hello, old friend,” he says and you snort. What was wrong with that? Mandibles flexing, he impatiently taps a leg against the concrete. “What?”

• Heart racing because apparently he’s just going to hover now, you try to ignore him to focus on the avatar. “Still too forced. Here.” Facing human Tarantulas again, you catch one of his hands between yours and he allows you to guide it up. Why is he so tense? Like he’s uncomfortable at being touched. “Okay, maybe… follow me?” Turning your palms out toward him facing him, you sweep an arm up. And he hesitantly follows your lead. You shift your weight, he shifts. Head tipping. Smiling. Frowning. Side step. Rock back. Palm up, fingers flicking. Biting into the inside of your cheek as you trick him into dancing with you, pressing a palm against his, you feel him startle again. But he’s relaxing slowly, movements more natural and less practiced. “This is better, right?”

• Are you dancing with him? Head tipping as he keeps following your movements, hand lining up with yours, fingers interlacing as his own empty servos flex. No one’s ever touched him like this. No one ever will, only seeing a monster. Knowing you’re still afraid of him no matter how much you hide it. “This is better,” he agrees softly, spark aching, because it’s all fake. But it’s all he’ll likely ever have and it means more than you’ll ever know. Just a hand in his even if it’s only his avatar. To be able to pretend he’s not so alone.

Previous

[bitchface24-7]

Oops my hand slipped and I’m back again (for the 3rd day in a row (I think I have a problem))

So following the trend of me seeing too many fanfics of smthn I don’t vibe with, I’ve noticed that a lot of Jayce and/or Viktor x reader fics have the reader as a scientist (makes sense writing-wise, provides a lot of opportunity for characters to interact and bond)

Problem is, I am dogshit at science. I was good at most subjects in high school, but science? Nearly failed. I was good at math and word problems too which made it even more confusing to me but it is what it is ig. So I was hoping for another JayVik x reader where this time, the reader is an artist

Now I primarily draw OCs and people (usually digital or w/ marker) so I’d like smthn leaning towards that but frankly you can do whatever

I just think it’s be funny if, while Jayce n Viktor do their cool nerd shit, the reader is fully unhelpful and doodling in their sketchbook. Quality time except I’m drawing sexualized men (gender equality) and my hot boyfriends are solving global trade or whatever

(Mayhaps also drawing them for studies and anatomy practice and showing them because I like forcing ppl to look at my art >:)) )

Again, take as long as you need to write this, hope you’re doing good :))

MY MUSES - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: after escaping Noxus with your best friend Mel, you've cherished the peace of Piltover compared to the wartime of Noxus. You were able to flourish in the city of progress with your artistry. It was the way you and Mel found solace in your old home. Now, you've been commissioned by the council to paint a portrait of the Hextech duo.

warnings: talks of wartime, insecurities, awkward talk, becoming friends with J + V, anatomy practice, complimenting your two boys, fluff, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. I understand your frustration, even I've fallen into “make reader a scientist to make life a little easier.” I hope y'all enjoy artist reader!

You're painting in your studio at the Academy when the door is opened, and you smell the delicious fragrance of vanilla, cardamom, and sandalwood, it’s Mel.

You put your paintbrush down and turn to look at your best friend, a smile beaming on your face. You get up and go for a hug before stopping yourself, your clothes are stained with paint and you don’t want to ruin Mel’s pretty white dress.

She fondly rolls her eyes and pulls you into a hug anyway. Mel’s not a very touchy person. It was seen as a weakness is Noxus. She’s only really touchy with you, you’ve been her friend for as long as you can remember. She wholeheartedly trusts you.

And you know how rare that is.

“Hello dove. How’re you today?”

You scrunch your nose at the nickname, it was a nickname given to you when you were much younger. “It’s because you don’t see the glory of war. You’re gentle. Something I desperately need in my life.” Mel had explained, her Medarda Mask no where in sight.

“I’m good. I’m almost done the landscape you commissioned for the council room.”

Mel’s smile widens the tiniest bit, but her gaze is downcast. This isn’t a social call. She’s been tasked to ask you something.

“Mel, I understand. Just, tell me what you need from me.”

A sigh escapes the gorgeous woman, “The council has requested a portrait to be made of the two Hextech innovators, Viktor and Jayce Talis.”

You raise your brows in confusion, “Okay… why is that a bad thing?”

Mel leans on a clean section of your work station, a hand coming up to rub her forehead, “They’re constantly working. They don’t see the prospect of taking a break. If you were to paint them, you’d have to paint them in the lab; as they do dangerous experiments. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You place your hand over top Mel’s hand that’s braced against the desk, “I’ll be okay. I can’t imagine they’d let anyone get hurt.”

Mel nods sagely, the hand that was rubbing her forehead is now placed over your hand. She’s now cupping your one hand and rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll tell them what the council has demanded. When will you be free to paint them?”

You look over to the almost finished landscape painting sitting on your easel, “Give me a week.”

Mel nods, gives you one last hug, and leaves your studio to break the news to Viktor and Jayce.

You just hope they’re nice to you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The week passed by in a flash, and here you are. Standing in front of two very large doors that make you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

You don’t understand why you’re so nervous. You’ve painted portraits of the top-class in Piltover. The cream of the crop. The top one percent, and you were fine. You were mentally rolling your eyes every few minutes, but you were fine.

You’re now asked to paint two scientists and you feel like you’re going to have a stroke.

At least Mel gave you some advice in regards to both men, “Jayce is quite kind, easy-going, and easy to talk to. You’ll make quick friends with him as you are. His partner Viktor on the other hand… is a different story. He’s cordial, but stubborn. He’s quite witty with a sass that almost matches mine. He’d prefer it if you skipped the flowery talk and just got straight to the point. He’s not a fan of the mind numbing politics of Piltover. Say what you mean or don’t say anything at all.”

With that mantra repeating in your head, you knock on the doors to their lab.

“Come in!” A voice exclaims, “We cannot leave our stations, the gems may become volatile if we do.” Another voice adds, this time with an unfamiliar accent.

You lightly push open the doors and are stunned by the state of the lab. Papers everywhere, equations on a blackboard you don’t even want to attempt to understand, ink stains, scraps of metal.

You suppose this is their version of an art studio.

“Oh!” The first voice you heard exclaims, “You must be Mel’s friend, the one who’s been commissioned to paint us. I’m Jayce. The one brooding over there with goggles on his face is Viktor.”

A scoff, “I am not brooding. I simply do not see the purpose of a portrait being made of us. It takes time away from our research!”

You cut in, reminding yourself of Mel’s advice, “The council has ordered it. Besides, I need to study you two for a little bit. Understand your anatomy and proportions. Then when I have a clear understanding, we’ll take one day out of your schedule to get the painting done.”

Viktor raises his goggles, putting them into is hair and the most beautiful pair of eyes you’ve ever seen narrows onto you, “You’ll only need one day to paint us?”

“The weather is constantly changing. That means so is my light source, my shadows, my colours.” You explain easily, “If we spend the whole day together, I’ll be able to easily get the portrait done and you two can go back to work. Sound good?”

Viktor purses his lips before nodding, Jayce just looks between the two of you with a small smile. He thought that would’ve taken a lot longer.

Guess you’re pretty special.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One Week Later.

Their work is fascinating. You don’t understand quite a bit of it, but their enthusiasm and passion make up for your lack of knowledge.

Here they are trying to solve most of the worlds problems and you’re sketching them in your sketchbook with hearts in your eyes.

You focus on their bodies, how they bend, contort, their planes and shadows. How light glows onto them.

You focus on their unique features. Jayce’s sharp canines, Viktor’s cheekbones and moles. Jayce’s broad chest and Viktor’s cane and brace.

Those two points are especially important. They’re so detailed. And they’re a part of Viktor, you’re not going to erase something so vital to him as a human being to make the portrait “nicer to look at” according to the upper echelon of Piltover.

You’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t feel a presence come up behind you, “Whatcha doing?”

You jolt, putting a hand to your heart as your pencil drops to the ground, “By Janna Jayce! You scared me!”

A boisterous laugh permeates the lab, “You we’re so focused, I couldn’t help but wonder what you were doing.”

“We’ll… I was drawing my two very beautiful muses.”

There’s a small silence in the lab.

“Your—“ Viktor starts, then clears his throat as Jayce stands there, stunned, “Your beautiful muses?”

You nod, not realizing their disbelief, “Of course. The two of you have such beautiful features. Jayce is quite tall, with broad shoulders, a tiny waist, and strong legs. A nice hair cut, strong brows, big eyes, and pink lips. You, Viktor on the other hand—“

You’re cut off by said man, “Are not as conventional—“

You cut him off this time, “Are also tall, lean, lithe, with long beautiful legs. You have a face carved out of marble, messy hair, eyes that look like liquid gold, beauty marks, and a nice pale complexion that compliments Jayce’s tan. You’re both quite handsome, just is different ways.”

The two men are stunned into silence, and it takes a few minutes before you realize what you said. You feel your face heat up as you try to hide behind your sketch book. Viktor lightly smiles at that as Jayce laughs and forces your sketch book back down onto your lap.

“You know, I’ve never heard such an honest compliment before.”

“Neither have I.”

You feel like killing yourself. Maybe jumping out of one of the lab windows will do the trick.

“So,” Viktor’s interrupts your dark humorous thoughts, “Do you feel prepared to paint the portrait?”

You look the two men dead in the eye, even as embarrassment consumes you.

“Yes.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A day is set and you bring all your art supplies that you need into the lab. You even set up a place for the portrait to be.

The setting will be in front of their main work station, the hexcore and hexgems glittering in the background. You brought a comfortable armchair for Viktor to sit on, you know these paintings can take some time and you don’t want to over-exert his leg. You assume Jayce can stand for a few hours, placed right next to Viktor.

As you explain your thought process to them, the more excited they seem. And to think, they didn’t want to do this originally.

“Ok, get comfortable. Viktor you can put your cane to rest against one of the arms of the chair. Jayce, can you place your hand on the top of the headrest? Perfect. You two comfortable?”

You get nods and yes’ as your answer.

With that, you start to paints them.

You ensure to be as diligent as possible. You start with the boys, adding bits and pieces to the background as you go. You make sure to her the green in Jayce’s eyes, the beauty marks on Viktor’s face. The house Talis emblem on Jayce’s jacket; the intricacies of Viktor’s cane and leg brace. The purple and blue glows of the Hextech give the painting an almost magical feeling.

You have to say, this may be your best portrait yet.

A couple hours pass and you deem the painting complete. The two boys sigh, Jayce cracks his back as Viktor cracks his neck. Most of the painting was done is silence, a few tiny conversations sprinkled throughout the process.

You didn’t want them to move.

The two come to where you’re sitting and gaze at the portrait in awe. It’s… them. It looks so life like, as good as a picture. But it’s softer, it looks beautiful.

And they look phenomenal.

“Are you sure that’s us?” Viktor jokes, pointing at the painting, “Those men are incredibly handsome.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, “Now you know what to say when you look in a mirror. That’s how you look, and it’s how you’ll be remembered.”

Jayce smiles and puts a hand on both your and Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor looks touched at the sentiment.

“You should move your art stuff to be here. Permanently.” Jayce states easily.

You almost choke on your own spit, “Pardon? Why would I do that?”

“Because we'd miss you,” Viktor replies a cocky look on his face.

You huff out a laugh, “Ill be of no help to you. I'm not a science brain. I'd just be in the lab drawing you two constantly.”

“We’d pose for you.” Jayce jokes

“Even if I wanted to practice nude anatomy?”

Viktor hums, “Not in the lab obviously, but yes even then.”

You smile at them, “It’s a deal then.”

And to think you were scared they wouldn't be nice to you. You just obtained two pretty muses (hopefully for the rest of your life.)

TADA!!! This was such a cute request. I hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Pebble, you keep those requests coming (and everyone else who requests too 🫵😏)

I have like four requests now in my inbox and I squealed when I saw it. I've never had so many requests before. Usually my inbox has like… spam and fishing schemes. So this is amazing to me!!

[verflares]

i love to revisit media that lodged itself in my brain as a child like its junk food. i read updates on the newest warrior cat books like theyre the morning newspaper. and youll never guess this but another cat teenager tormented by visions has hit the tower

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 57

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,835ish

Summary: Wade, Laura, and Logan take care of you despite you feeling like a burden.

Notes: Next update will not be until Jan. 19th at the earliest. Thanks for understanding. Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

After your brief words to Logan, the pain overtook you again and you fell back unconscious. When it was Laura’s turn to take care of you, Logan made sure that the door was shut behind him. He knew that the two of you needed your privacy. Laura’s tears started as she sat next to your bed and took your hand.

“I can’t lose you, mom,” Laura sobbed. “I’ve lost everyone else… I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Always,” you rasped, still groggy but at least waking up. “You're my daughter… can’t stay mad at you for long…”

“Mom! I’ve been so worried… so scared.”

“I know, kiddo… but I’m here.” You gave her hand the best squeeze you could muster.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” your laugh fell flat.

Laura didn’t find it funny one bit, her face falling more. “There’s got to be something that we can do… Something that will make this easier.”

“Cassandra told me that Charles’ seizures affected my mutation… she said that there was something that she could do about it but refused to help… She’s dead now and I can’t go back to the mansion to get Charles’ help.”

“I can’t… I can’t lose you… I can’t stand by and watch your mutation kill you like dad’s did.”

“Laura… Listen to me. No matter what happens, you continue down the path that you are on. Do not become what they made you to be… Promise me.”

She nodded. “I promise, mom.”

“Good… Now… I really need some more pain meds.”

~~~

Logan had locked himself in the bathroom after leaving your room. His mind was swirling with memories of his version of you, of the events of the last day or so, and of the information that your Logan’s adamantium bones had poisoned him. 

Would he be dealt the same fate?

Or would he be cursed to watch you deal with a similar fate?

And would he be strong enough to deal with any of what happened? He wasn’t strong enough the first time when things got hard. He only made things harder. Splashing his face with some water, Logan met his own gaze in the mirror. He could do this. Be this person. Be better than he had been for his you. Be better for Laura and Wade. Logan couldn’t let the people who trusted him down again. He sighed before heading out to the living room.

“Still writing?” Logan grumbled as he saw Wade lounging on the couch with his laptop.

“Nope,” Wade responded, “just trying to beat your ass in saving the day.”

“What?”

“I’m going to find someone who can help cure our Little Flame. The normal people are out of the question since she can’t go near the mansion, so I’m searching for someone else.”

Logan’s log strides took him quickly to sit beside Wade and look at his screen. “What have you found?”

“Nothing and no one. I’m thinking we may need to take a travel through the Multiverse to find a way to help her.”

“We can’t just go from universe to universe without knowing what we’re lookin’ for.”

“We’re looking for a telepath,” Laura stated, heading into the kitchen. 

“How do you know?”

“My mom’s awake. She told me.”

Wade and Logan rushed down the hallway and burst into your room. You winced at how loud they were.

“Buttercup!” Wade exclaimed.

“Wade, Logan,” you greeted.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asked, stepping closer.

“Fine… Laura’s getting me meds and I’m afraid I’m going to need more burn cream than I have.”

“Oh! Nose goes!” Wade announced, placing a finger on his nose. “Ha! Looks like Peanut has to go!”

“What the fuck was that?” Logan wondered, completely confused. “You can’t just put your finger on your nose like a child and—“

“Why don’t both of you go?” You interrupted. “Laura can take care of me just fine. Besides, we all need some food.”

“Yeah! Just me and my Peanut, running errands!” Wade exclaimed, clapping excitedly.

You went to laugh, but it quickly turned into a whine at the pain. You noticed the shift in the men immediately, both ready to jump in and help you. 

“I’m fine,” you told them. “Go. Laura’s got this.”

“We’ll be back before you know it,” Wade said before skipping down the hall. Logan lingered in the doorway. “Come on, Peanut!”

“Go, Logan. Your boyfriend’s waiting. I’ll be fine.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Logan grumbled, following after Wade.

Laura came into the room with a water bottle and a variety of meds. She came over and sat on the bed. She carefully helped you sit up against a bunch of pillows. 

“I can do the rest,” you said, shakily reaching for the pills. You took them and threw them down your throat before Laura handed you the water bottle. “I hate this… Laura, I’m going to need your help to get to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” 

Laura took the water bottle, setting it aside before carefully helping you to your feet. You leaned heavily on her as she guided you to the bathroom. She helped you inside and you gripped the counter.

“I can handle it from here,” you told her.

“Are you sure?” She asked. “I don’t mind—“

“I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Laura sighed before leaving the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. You took care of business before using the counter to get you up and wash your hands. You stared at yourself in the mirror. You could see the burns that littered the skin that you could see. Slowly, you pulled your shirt up and quietly gasped. Your torso was burnt badly. There was no stopping the tears. 

You absolutely hated this. You hated how your powers were failing you and you didn’t know how to stop it. You hated how your skin was quickly becoming more scarred than ever before and how weak you were becoming. But what you hated most was that you were becoming a burden to Laura and your friends. You couldn’t hold back the sob that erupted from deep inside you. Your body gave out, proving how weak you still were, and you collapsed to the floor.

“Mom?” Laura sounded very concerned from the other side of the door. “Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

“No,” you quickly said, trying to calm yourself. “I’m fine!”

You knew that Laura didn’t believe you, but you were thankful that she didn’t push anymore. You grabbed a nearby towel and wadded it up before placing it against your mouth to try to drown the sobs.

Laura sat against the wall opposite of the bathroom as she listened to your sobs. Her own tears gathered. Leaning her head back against the wall, Laura closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel all the swirling emotions inside of her. She snapped to attention the moment she smelt smoke. Without a word, Laura barged into the bathroom to find you curled up on the floor, towel against your mouth, and small flames forming around your body.

“Mom! Please, you’ve got to calm down,” Laura begged as she knelt beside you. She pulled the towel from your grip before you could set it on fire before she grabbed your hands, ignoring the burning sensation that ran through her own. “Mom, breathe with me. In… Out…”

“I—I—I need… to… cool… down…” You stammered while trying to catch your breath.

“How do I do that?” Laura asked.

“The… tub…”

Laura moved quickly. She turned the cold water on and plugged the tub before helping you into it. Neither of you care that you were still wearing your clothes. Laura held tightly to your hand as the two of you waited for the cold water to help you. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, mom, don’t apologize,” Laura shook her head. 

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me… you shouldn’t have to lose another parent like this…”

“You took care of me and you didn’t even have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

~~~

“So I’m thinking we head to the TVA and see what we can dig up there on a nearby telepath,” Wade planned as he and Logan carried the groceries up the stairs. “I don’t care what universe or time we need to go, we are finding a telepath.”

“Let’s just focus on getting Y/N feelin’ better before we plan another visit to the TVA,” Logan muttered, opening up the door of your apartment. He immediately could sense that something happened. He dropped the grocery bags and raced down the hall, only to find you in the tub with Laura sitting beside it. “What happened?”

“She broke down and over heated,” Laura explained. “She fell asleep and I couldn’t get myself to move her. The water is keeping her cool and helping soothe the burns.”

“I’ll move her to the bed. Grab her a new set of clothes and Wade—“

“I’ve already got the burn cream and bandages!” Wade shouted.

Laura nodded as she gave your hand a squeeze before going to get you a new set of clothes. Logan found a towel and crouched down next to the tub. He laid the towel over his lap then reached down and pulled you out of the tub. A whine slipped through your lips.

Logan quickly shushed you. “I’ve got you, Y/N,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep. We’ll take care of ya.”

He wrapped the towel around you and tried to dry you off the best he could. Laura came back with a new set of clothes for you and Logan gently set you on the ground, leaning against the wall.

“I’ll let you change her,” he said. “Let me know when you’re done and I’ll carry her back to bed.”

~~~

When you woke up to full consciousness, you were back in bed, changed, and bandaged up. Your door was open and no one was in your room, though you could hear them down the hall in the living area. Doing a quick check of your body, you still felt achy but it was better than before. You pushed yourself up and moved your legs over your bed. Unsteadily, you got to your feet and carefully headed out into the hall. Once you were there, you used the walls to help you get out to the living area where you found Blind Al sitting on the couch with Laura, the two quietly discussing something and Wade and Logan bickering in the kitchen. You noticed that your kitchen was a mess as the two of them worked to make something.

“What is going on out here?” You finally spoke up. Everyone’s head snapped in your direction.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Logan asked as he rushed over.

Laura was at your side in an instant, her arm around you to hold you up. “You should be resting,” Laura scolded. 

“I’m feeling a bit better,” you insisted. “And I heard all this commotion out here. What is going on?”

“I’m making dinner and baking a cake!” Wade exclaimed, still working away in the kitchen.

“Sure doesn’t smell editable,” Althea retorted. “Smells like shit.”

You huffed out a laugh before wincing. Laura and Logan were immediately on alert.

“Okay, enough,” Logan said. “You’re going back to bed.”

“No,” you shook your head, “My healing factor is kicking in. I can sit on the couch.”

“Mom,” Laura whispered, giving you a pleading look. “Please go lay back down.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Logan stated, sweeping you off of your feet and carrying you down the hall.

“Logan!” You squealed, smiling and laughing. 

It lifted everyone’s spirits to hear that sound. You felt at safe—almost home—in Logan’s arms as he carried you back to bed. You smiled up at Logan as he set you down, a brief moment you forgot about everything, including that the man touching you was not your husband. Suddenly, your face fell and you flinched away as your mind caught up with reality. Logan was not your Logan. He was not your husband. Logan noticed the quick shift.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, fighting back the tears. “I’m just tired.”

Logan didn’t believe that you were telling him the whole truth. “Well, Wade and I are almost done with dinner.”

“Okay.” Your eyes were focused on your hands as they messed with the blanket.

He dipped his head to try to catch your eye but you avoided it. “Are you sure there’s nothin’ wrong?”

“Let me know when you’re done with dinner.”

Logan let out a grunt, studying you for a few more seconds before leaving the room. 

~~~

You were back to work a week later, despite Laura and Logan’s wishes. Wade was on your side, telling everyone that his favorite superhero was strong enough to handle anything. You were beginning to feel added pressure of Wade’s belief in you along with everything else you were still feeling. Despite it being summer, you wore long sleeves to constantly cover the scars that now littered your body more than you had ever had before.

Laura, Logan, and Wade could see that things were still weighing heavily on you. Each of them did what they could for you, though you often insisted that you were fine and could handle everything. You were pushing their help away, embarrassed that you need to rely on them so much.

One night, you came home late do to a closing shift. Logan could hear you from where he was waiting up in his apartment. He had made it a habit to listen for you on your late shifts. He quickly went to the door and peeked his head out to see you struggling to open the door due to your hands trembling and new burns on them.

“What happened?” Logan asked, taking quick strides over to you.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, focusing on getting the door open. “I’m fine.”

“Your hands are burnt.”

You pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall. You were thankful that Laura was sleeping over at a friends house so that you didn’t have to worry about her see you like this tonight. You marched inside, with Logan close behind. He gently closed the door and took note to take care of the hole that the doorknob had made in the morning.

“Y/N, we need to take care of your hands,” Logan said quietly.

“We don’t need to do anything,” you retorted, focusing on anger out of all your swirling emotions. “I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Yes, but you don’t need to. I can—“

“I don’t even know you!” You spun around to face him. Your hands clenched as flames threatened to take over. “You look like my James— my husband, but you’re not him. You have a different life, a different set of memories. You have a different me!” Tears began to sizzling down your heated cheeks. “I don’t even know what fully happened between the two of you but you seem to know my whole life story. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need to be your replacement and you don’t deserve to be mine. We can be friends, that’s fine, but I don’t need you stepping in to take care of me all the time! You’re not my husband!”

“Y/N, I’m—“

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

Logan’s hands came up in surrender as flames engulfed your fists. “Okay, okay, just please take a deep breath. I— I’ll go, just please, stop. Stop the flames. Don’t hurt yourself anymore, please.”

“Then get out!”

Logan hesitated for a moment, but he could see the seriousness and heartbreak in your eyes. You wanted to be alone and him being here right now would only make things worse. With slow steps, he turned and left the apartment, but he couldn’t get himself to move away from the door.

You were right in some of your words. Logan wasn’t your husband, but he wasn’t trying to be. He was just trying to help you like friends do. You also had a point that he definitely knew more of your story than you knew of his. Logan just hated to talk about his past. It brought him to a place he couldn’t handle. But maybe you deserved to know that you weren’t a replacement to him. 

Logan sighed as he heard your sobs through the door. There was no way he was going back to his apartment tonight, even with it just next door. He still didn’t know what happened to you before you got home and you were clearly not in a good place mentally. He leaned against the door and slid down to the ground.  He couldn’t leave you alone. He would wait until either Laura returned or you decided to leave the apartment. 

next chapter >

[rafes-juno]

My Brother's Best Friends; Bed Chem

Pairing: Brother's Best Friend! Rafe x Brat! Female Oc

Summary: What happens when Rafe returns from college and turns Isla's world upside down? Will Isla be able to handle her brother's friends? Are Rafe and Isla overcoming their rivalry this summer, or are their feelings brewing ready to explode? Secrets will come out testing Isla and her brother's relationship.

Contains: Enemies To Lovers, Brother's Best Friend, Harsh Language, Sexual Content, Drinking, and more to be added. (18+ ,minors do not interact!)

WC: 3.442

Meet our characters here.

“Jesus, it’s way too fucking hot today,” I mumble as I comb my fingers through my dark hair, pushing it back out of my face. The sun is beaming down on Sarah and me as we sit outside the club with tons of textbooks and notes scattered around the table among our ice-cold drinks.

I knew taking on this tutoring job for the summer would be challenging, but with the amount of money Ward offered, I couldn’t say no. Besides, Sarah is friendly enough. She’s easy to get along with and, in my opinion, doesn’t need any tutoring. She’s a smart girl.

Ward wants Sarah to start her last year of high school with the best grades in her class. Apparently, Theo had mentioned to Ward that I graduated high school with flying colors and that I’d be the perfect person for the job.

At first, I was hesitant, mainly because I felt unwelcome at the Cameron residence because of one boy in particular—Rafe. However, I couldn't say no once Ward offered to pay me a hundred dollars a session. 

Sarah uses the red tie around her wrist to pull her hair into a ponytail. “Might be too hot.”

“It’s definitely too hot,” I grumble and reach for my cola, feeling the icy droplets drip down my arm as I lift the glass to my lips. 

When my glass hits the table, we’re back to work. We work through the English Literature textbook for the next hour. She uses her pink highlighter and makes notes in her notepad while I stare mindlessly out at the gold course, knowing my brother, Theo,  is out playing with his friends somewhere. How they can play golf in this heat, I’ll never know.

“Isn’t your brother playing out there today?” Sarah asks as if she’s read my mind. 

I turn to her with a faint smile, nodding. “Yeah. His friend from college is here with him for the summer– Alex something. He’s staying with us–”

“Is he hot?”

I laugh, shrugging my shoulders. “I haven’t met him yet, actually.”

Sarah slumps back in her seat, shoulders slouching. “I don’t even know why I asked. I'll never get a chance if he’s friends with Theo and Rafe.”

I hum, “Who cares what Rafe has to say? He doesn’t know shit.”

Rafe has been Theo’s best friend ever since they started high school. I’m sure he’s slept at my house more times than I have, and I’ve lived there for eighteen years. 

When they first became friends, he was nice, but when he came home from college for Easter this year, he became more passive-aggressive toward me. He barely looks at me if we talk, and I can tell he never wants to be around me. 

Not that I give much of a fuck. Theo’s other friend, JJ, is nice to me. He always has been. 

Sarah sips her lemonade through her straw and snorts, “True.”

I motion to the scattered books and papers. “Shall we finish for today?”

She nods, her eyes pleading with mine. “Yes, please.”

She grabs her bag and practically swipes everything off the table at once, only narrowly missing our drinks and snacks.

Just as we stand up with our su[plies in hand], I hear my brother’s booming laugh, followed by JJ’s. I glance over my shoulder and watch Theo drive the golf cart up the course, swerving onto the gravel road in front of Sarah and me.

“You could’ve hit us, dumbass,” I grumble, throwing my bag onto my shoulder with a scowl. 

Theo pushes up his sunglasses, holding his dark hair back from his forehead as he climbs out of the cart.  “Relax, we’re nowhere near you!”

JJ climbs out of the cart next, his eyes drifting between the cart and our table. “Oh, in fairness, you’re really close to the table’s legs.”

“I am?” Theo questions, crouching his long legs down to analyze just how close he was to crushing us to death.

Rafe clambers out from the backseat, his ray bans shielding his stone-cold eyes. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s missing his hair. Not only that, but he looks… bigger. Broader. He looks nothing like the Rafe that I saw only three months ago. “We’re nowhere near you. Don’t be such a crybaby,” his gruff voice mumbles as he rounds the back of the cart and places a golf club back into the bag.

“Are you okay?” I hear a new voice. A kinder, softer voice asks. I shift my gaze from Rafe and see who I can only assume is Alex. He’s tall yet, not as tall as Rafe and Theo. Sunglasses push back his dark blonde hair, and I try not to notice how the biceps in his arms tense when he presses his hand onto the roof of the car; his pale blue polo tightens around his arms, and his eyes stay on mine.

I feel Sarah’s arm grab mine, and I know what she’s thinking without saying a word because I’m thinking the same. We share a quick, knowing glance before directing our attention back to Alex. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

He smiles; my god– it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I can see the shine of his blue eyes in the glimmering sun, and I know that having him in our house all summer will be hard. How am I supposed to get anything done with him around dressed like– a slut.

He walks over to us and extends his hand. I notice the silver Rolex on his wrists as the metal gleams in the sun. “I’m Alex.”

I take his hand before Sarah gets the chance. She said it herself; Rafe would never let her be around any guys—especially one like this. “Isla,” I smile with my head tilted to the side. 

I notice how his eyes briefly look me up and down, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Theo speaks very highly of his sister.”

I grin, glancing over to Theo as he stands back up, his eyes rolling when I say, “Oh, really?”

“I’ve said like one good thing, alright? Don’t inflate her ego too much.”

Alex looks back at me, his eyes drifting again as he shamelessly checks me out, his eyes lingering on my exposed legs as the denim of my shorts clings to my hips. “I don’t think I need to,” He says.

The long stare he’s holding with me is rudely interrupted by Rafe when he clears his throat. “Are we going to get drinks or what?”

“I need a ride home,” I complain before they can walk away.  “It’s too hot to walk.”

“Can’t you just walk with Sarah?” Theo suggests.

“I have my bike, and I need to go to the store,” Sarah explains, putting her bag onto her shoulder with a faint smile. She wiggles her fingers at Alex before walking away before Rafe can comment.

I force a pout as I look at Theo, “Please?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t, Isla. I had beers when we were playing.”

“Me too, unfortunately,” Alex says, his eyes still glued to me.

“Fine, I’ll take her,” JJ sighs, reaching into his pockets for the keys to his motorcycle. 

Theo grabs his arm, his head shaking quickly. “Definitely not. You drank more than me, asshole. Are you trying to get my baby sister killed?”

JJ sighs, his shoulder slumping in defeat. “Sorry, Isla.”

When all of the boys turn to look at Rafe, I watch the annoyance veil his face. His jaw shifts, and his tongue presses into his cheek. “Seriously?”

Theo runs his fingers through his hair. “Please, man?”

I don’t really care who it is that drives me home as long as I get there without sunstroke, sunburn, or aching legs. I knew I was in sheer desperation when JJ offered, and my immediate thought was, ‘Well, how likely are you to die on a motorcycle anyway?’

Rafe shakes his head as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the keys for his car. “You fucking owe me,” he says to both me and Theo as he begins to walk away.

I flash Alex a polite smile, knowing I’ll see him later tonight anyway. I rush after Rafe and almost trip up on the gravel road as I follow him. “Slow down! You’re waking too fast.”

“Just hurry up, Isla. I don’t have time for this shit,” he hisses, opening the passenger door before I’m even halfway across the parking lot. When I reach him, he’s standing there with his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed above my head, avoiding my gaze altogether. His hand is tight on the door's metal, and now that I’m closer to him, I can see how much he's broadened out. 

He eventually looks down at me, his glare sharp. “Are you getting in or not?”

I roll my eyes and clamber into the vehicle. He slams my door shut as I get comfortable in the leather seat. I feel something poking into my back, and it urges me to reach behind me, pulling out a lacy red bra just as Rafe climbs into his seat.

“Wow, this is really cute! Where do you shop?”

He snatches it out of my hand and throws it into the backseat. “Shut up. I’m doing you a favor.”

I reach for the radio and smile when ‘The Spins’ by Mac Miller begins to play. I hum in response, “I know. Thank you so much… I can’t even comprehend how difficult this must be for you. You must be feeling really left out.” I reach across the center console to play my sympathetic act and gently place my hand on his thigh. “You’ll be okay– you’re so brave.”

He pushes my hand away and quickly pulls out of the parking space as he shifts in his seat. “Don’t piss me off, Isla. Just stay quiet the entire ride home.”

I purse my lips together and press two fingers to the side of my head, saluting him. “Yes, sir.”

                                                         

No matter how hard I try, I cannot sleep. Every time I drift off, I hear Theo laughing or JJ screaming from his room next door. He prides himself on the fact that the walls are thick when I know for a fact they aren’t. I learned the hard way.

I push off my thin blanket with a sigh, my head falling back against the pillow with a gentle thud as the summer air blows through my opened window. I thought having it open would air my room out a little, but all it’s doing is boosting the sound from Theo’s room since his windows are open, too.

My white cotton shorts are tight on my hips, the material clinging to my sweat-coated skin as the matching white vest rides up my stomach, resting above my pierced belly button. I rest my warm hands on my stomach with a dissatisfied groan. I glance at the clock beside my bed, watching the numbers flash from 2:09 to 2:10 AM. I close my eyes again and yet again, disturbed by a loud thud from Theo’r room followed by laughter.

I groan and kick the blanket off the bed as I roll over. My feet hit the ground, and I stomp over to the door. I know if I interrupt them, Theo will kill me, but I know if I stay in my room a moment longer, I’ll go insane.

I deliberately slam my bedroom door shut behind me and smile when I hear the silence from his room. I make my way down the spiral staircase, being sure to stomp down each step until I reach the foyer. I enter the kitchen and hit the light switch with a quiet sigh.

It’s quieter down here. Cooler, too.

I reach for a glass and pour myself some water, utilizing the ice machine from the refrigerator. When my glass is filled to the brim, I hop onto the countertop, feeling the cool marble press against my thighs. I sit with my thoughts for a while and listen to the quiet hum from the refrigerator as I sip on my ice-cold drink.

I hear footsteps approaching as I prepare to jump down from the counter. I freeze in place and wait to see who it could be. When Alex rounds the corner with empty beer bottles in his hands, I smile to myself.

He hasn't seen me or realized I’m there because he walks straight to the trash can and throws the bottles in. 

“You know, you guys are loud up there.”

I watch how he flinches as he glances over his shoulder, his hand coming to his chest. “Jesus, you scared me,” he laughs, turning to face me. “Why are you down here?” he nods to the time flashing on the microwave, “It’s late.”

I shrugged, sipping my drink again. “I tried to sleep, but you were all being loud,” I explain. “You guys need to learn how to lower your voices.”

I watch as he rests his hands behind him on the countertop, “Sorry, we don't usually need to be quiet when we’re back at college.” He opens the cupboard above him and grabs a glass. He walks over to the sink and fills up his cup, “Why don’t you come to hang out with us?” he offers as if Theo would ever let me sit there with him and his friends.

I shake my head, “No, Theo would never let me,” I place my glass beside me, watching Alex walk closer to me with his back pressed to the counter behind him. His hair is messy compared to this afternoon, and he has dark shadows under his eyes. 

“Well, I say it’s okay. Don’t I get a vote?” he smirks as his hand rests in the space beside my leg, his fingers inches away from my skin.

I hum, keeping my eyes on his blue ones as they drift between my face and bare legs again. I know guys like this, and I know they usually only want one thing. I’ve encountered many boys like Alex and never given in– but with the heat, the summer air, and the fact that he’s looking at me hungry. “Alex?” I say his name slowly, earning his attention briefly before his eyes are on my chest, eyeing the necklace that rests against my chest. I keep my eyes on his and watch how his lips part as he looks up at me through hooded eyes. “Yeah?” his voice is low.

“Do you realize you’re staring at my chest?” I tilt my head to the side with a faint smile. “That’s not an appropriate way to look at your friend’s sister, right?”

A soft smirk curves onto his lips as he pushes himself up from the counter, moving to stand before me. I instinctively part my knees, giving him space to stand in between as his hand finds its position on the counter. His other hand reaches upward, and his fingers brush against my collarbone, causing my breath to shudder. He looks down at me as his tongue glides across his bottom lip. “Your necklace– the pendant isn’t where it should be.” 

His cool touch skates across my neck, and I feel him gently tug the pendant around until it’s facing the right way. His fingers run over the letters that spell out my name, and a slow, flirtatious smile forms on his lips. “There we go; I can see your pretty name now,” he keeps his fingers on the chain, toying with the metal.

I look up at him, staring into his blue eyes as he moves closer. I know I should pull back and not allow this to happen, but when my hands find their resting spot on his toned chest, I can’t stop myself. I pull my lip back with a smile, “You have pretty eyes.”

“Oh, yeah?” he whispers, his voice low and husky as my hands drift down his chest and edge their way under his shirt. I run my fingers over his toned stomach, feeling his muscles flex beneath my touch. He sucks in a breath, his head shaking with a sultry smile, “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” I ask, edging my face closer to his as my fingers scratch his stomach. “I want to.”

I had one boyfriend from when I was sixteen to seventeen. After him, I got together with two other guys. I made a vow to myself to make this Summer the best one yet before I leave for college in the Fall–  as soon as I laid my eyes on Alex, I knew he was somebody who could help move things along for me.

“Because your brother would kill me,” he whispers as I bury my face into his neck, breathing in his scent as I kiss up his neck. He groans, bringing one hand down to my waist as he pulls me closer to him, causing a gasp to fall from my mouth. My hands move further down until my fingers tug on the button of his shorts. I pull until they come undone, and my hand can easily slip further down.

His head falls back, and he chuckles, “You’re gonna’ get me in trouble, baby.”

I leave open-mouthed kisses up his neck until he pulls back, placing a hand on my neck as he grips the back of my hair with his fingers, tilting my head upward to look at him. He leans close, his lips mere inches from mine, and says, “Not tonight.”

I groan, “What? Why?” 

He just smirks as if leaving me like this is funny. He shrugs and uses his thumb to brush my hair back from my neck, “It’s my first night here. Wouldn’t it be more fun to drag this out?” 

I throw my head back against the cabinet behind me, pulling my hands back to rest on my legs as his laughter sounds around me, mocking me. “It’ll be worth the wait, yeah?” his fingers trace down my neck until they’re resting just above my cleavage, his eyes trailing his touch. “Meet me here on the last night, and I promise I’ll make the wait worth it. Can you do that?”

I lift my shoulder into a shrug. “I can, but I know I’ll break you before then, Alex.”

“Yeah?” he laughs, pulling away from me. “We’ll see, Isla.”

He starts to walk away backward with that stupid smirk playing on his lips. I nod, “Yeah, I guess we will see.”

Just as he turns the corner to leave, Rafe appears. Alex slaps Rafe’s bare shoulder and motions to the stairs, “I’m going back up.”

Rafe doesn’t respond because his eyes are on mine, piercing through my soul. His lack of a shirt widens my eyes as I examine his broadened physique. 

Alex glances over his shoulder once more, smirking. “Goodnight, Isla.”

“Goodnight,” I mumble, kicking my feet against the cupboard.

Once Alex disappears up the stairs, a scoff falls from Rafe’s lips. “Did I walk in on something?” his eyebrows are furrowed as he glares in my direction.

My eyes roll as I hop down from the counter, my bare feet meeting the cold, tiled floor. “Go away, Rafe.” I walk toward him and take one step forward when I feel his long fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me back into the kitchen. The cool metal of his ring digs into my skin as he glares down at me.

“Don’t fucking start anything with him,” he sneers. “He’s a shitty guy. He’ll just break your heart.”

I shake his hand away from mine. “What the fuck has it got to do with you? You don’t even fucking like me, and now you want to act like you’re looking out for me?”

“You’re my best friend’s sister; I need to look out for you. Someone has to.”

I scoff, stepping out of the kitchen as he faces me. “Right, well, I don’t need you to. I can look after myself. It’s just a bit of fun, Rafe. You should learn how to do that sometime.”

He grabs me again, this time pulling me close to him. His eyes narrow as he lowers his gaze to meet mine, his head tilting. “Don’t fucking do it, Isla.”

I keep my glaring eyes locked on his. I lift my hand and push it into his chest, forcing him away from me. “Fucking watch me, Rafe.”

🪽 There goes our first chapter of Brother's Best Friends! Be sure to like, comment, and repost if you want more. Any feedback is highly appreciated. 💋💋

🪽 Author: Matilda, Theme director: Evelyn

🪽 Credit for dividers. ( here & here. )

[thatrabidwolf]

hey so a little while ago I decided this would be a fun thing to make, and now 3 days and many, many hours later, I have it complete, and I would like to share it! So, here is:

Questions to ask yourself when creating / studying / writing about, etc a culture (fantasy or real)

I absolutely love creating my own fantasy worlds, and recently I have been looking at advice on how to do it better, but none of the posts I’ve found are quite thorough enough for me. So, I decided it would be fun to make my own list of what questions you should ask yourself when making a fantasy culture!!

This will certainly not be all-encompassing, and I am by no means an expert on any of this, but I have tried my best with the knowledge I have. Think of this as a jumping off point!

I will always refer to the culture you are making/studying/writing about etc as ‘your culture’. I do not mean the culture you are literally from.

Religion and beliefs 

Note- even if your culture has no god or religion, some questions will still apply. Additionally, a culture does not need a religion. 

How does your culture believe the world/them/nature/etc has been created? (E.g. the Dreamtime, the days in which God made earth, etc)

Is your cultures religion poly or mono theistic?

What does your culture believe is holy or good, religion wise? How does this affect people who do not fit that standard? How do people try to reach this standard? 

How does your culture worship? Do they have rituals or ceremonies? Why do they do this, in their eyes?

How does your culture think of its God(s)? Are they afraid? Reverent? Are they less than (the) God(s), or equal (I have never heard of non-Gods being viewed as better than (the) God(s), but hey, why not?)? Are they perhaps being protected or cared for by their God(s)?

What is your cultures view of death and the dead? What do they believe happens after death? How does their mortality affect this? (I.e. are creatures that live longer less afraid of death and hell?)

Are there any people who can be closer to their God(s), or servants of God(s)? (I.e. priests, monarchs, monks, nuns, etc)

How do religious people view non- religious people, or people who follow other religions? (and vice versa)

Are there multiple religions or belief systems in your world? How do they interact?

Why do people believe what they do? (Have they met the gods? Who made their religion?)

How does religion help or harm the people who follow it (And even the people who don’t believe it)? Are people aware of these issues? 

How does religion affect things like art, language, routines, clothing, food, etc? (E.g. hijabs and modest clothing, prayer times that cause people to wake up earlier, cursing.) do religious ‘uniforms’ exist? (E.g. a priests outfit) who wears them?

How does one pray, or service a God? 

If someone in your culture wanted something from (the) God(s), what would they do to get it? (I.e. what could they do for the god so their request is answered?)

Farming and Agriculture 

Note- most stationary settlements will farm, but not all cultures will be stationary. If your culture is not stationary, this may not apply.

Who farms, and where? (The who is very important. Are they willingly in this field (pun unintended), or have they been forced into it? Are they paid? How much? Are the conditions good?)

Does your culture have aid from animals or machinery when farming? How are they aided?

What do they farm, and how? (I highly recommend researching farming methods, if only because it can be really cool!)

Does your culture farm everything it eats/needs, or do they import and export things? If they import and export, what are their main imports and exports? Who do they trade with?

How important is farming and trading in your culture? How does it’s importance affect those living there? 

What foods are not farmed, or not as common? Why? 

What ingredients are most common? What are they used in? (Note- the answer to that second question is going to be ‘a lot’. Don’t just make one dish with the most common ingredients. Make a bunch!)

Other materials

Note- if the answer to any of these questions is no, then you must consider what the alternative is. If they don’t have clay, what is their crockery (if they have it) made of? If they don’t have metal, what are their weapons made of? Also, a culture does not, by any means, need all or any of this. This is just an example.

Does your culture have access to sand (and, by extension, glass)? Where is it? How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to stone and metals? And again, who mines for this? How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to clean water?  How is it transported?

Does your culture have access to wood and fire? If not, how are their environments heated and/or lit? (Do they burn another substance?)

Does your culture have access to paper and ink? If not, what do they write with? (If they write at all)

Does your culture have access to electricity? 

Does your culture have access to clay and porcelain? And do they have glaze or paint for their clay?

Does your culture have access to candles?

Does your culture have access to string, ropes and twine?

Does your culture have access to leather, animal skins and/or furs, horse hair, feathers, scales, ivory, and other such materials? Could they perhaps have similar animal materials from fictional creatures? (E.g. dragon scale suits from the how to train your dragon series)

Does your culture have access to plastic?

Does your culture have access to materials most (if not all) human cultures do not have? How could you play around with this? What could these materials be used for? (E.g. an underwater society could use shark teeth as daggers, a society in space might trap stars in lanterns for lighting, etc. be creative!!!)

Food

Note- I have not included drinks here, but most of these questions will also apply to them.

What proteins/vegetables/fruit/grains/dairy does your culture eat, and how much do they have access to? What portions do they eat? (Note- this is directly affected by the availability of certain foods, not simply personal preference of those living in that area. What is your climate, and what animals and plants live and grow there?)

What flavours are enjoyed by your culture? (Note- salty cuisine may be indicative of having to keep food fresh for a long time, sugar may be inaccessible in certain areas, etc. consider why you have chosen what you have chosen.)

How is food stored? (Important! If they don’t have fridges, how do they keep their milk and eggs from going bad while transporting it? Is all their food fresh? Is it canned or non-perishable? What areas will have lower quality food, and why?)

if food travels a long while, it may be worse quality. Keep in mind where the food is coming from

What foods are easily accessible for all classes? What foods are not?

What foods are eaten by upper classes? What foods are eaten by lower class? How will each class view the foods eaten by the opposite class? 

What foods are considered a treat? (Keep in mind; someone (potentially in a lower class) may consider a food that someone else eats often to be a treat.)

How do some cultures view other cultures cuisine?

Is your culture aware they need a balanced diet? Do they have one? 

Where is food bought? From whom is it bought? (I.e. are there markets and salespeople? What do markets or shopping districts look like?)

How much do people eat? How many meals do they have? How big are those meals?

What would someone eat as a snack? What would they eat if they just needed a lot of energy and had barely any time/money/resources?

Do restaurants exist? Would the food in them be entirely authentic to your culture, or would they serve other cuisine? What would a restaurant look like? How many are there, and how often do people go to them?

Housing and architecture 

What do houses look like? What are they made of? How are they made? 

Are there homeless people? How are they treated by society? How are they treated by the government/monarchy/whatever your system of ruling is?

How are areas organised? (E.g. is there separation between more and less expensive neighbourhoods? Where are the shops, and such things?) (note- bad planning=bad quality of life, and more time to plan=better planning. Why is it organised the way it is? Is the planning amazing because one dude got free rein to make a city (like Canberra) or is it horrible because it was rushed?)

What rooms do houses often have? Do they have rooms at all? How many rooms do they have?

What does furniture look like? What is it made of? What types of furniture exist?

How are spaces decorated? Are they decorated at all? How does personal preference affect this? (Does your culture decorate with paintings, mosaics, tapestries, etc? Do they grow plants up the walls to fill empty space?)

If permanent structures are not a thing, what do the people in your culture use as shelter?

How are houses heated and/or cooled?

Plumbing. Does your culture have hot water? Does your culture have clean water? How? Do they use wells, or do they have pipes and aqueducts? Do they have to drink wine/ some other drink because it’s easier? Please don’t just assume they’ll have easy access to water.

PLUMBING. How do bathrooms work? Where does sewage go? (Do they have toilet paper?)

How are areas lit? Without electricity, lighting is a big issue. How much can the people in your culture see when the sun goes down?

If one does not own a home, can they rent one? Do apartment blocks exist? Do hotels and motels exist?

Transportation

Does tourism exist in your culture? How do locals feel about tourists? Why do tourists come?

Do people leave the place they live often? Will they know much (or anything) about other towns, cities, countries, etc?

How fast is each means of transportation? How far will they have to go? (How long will a letter take to send?)

For each means of transportation you must be able to answer: how common is it? How accessible is it? What is the overall view on it? When is it used, and when is it not?

How do vehicles move? (Do they have an engine? Are they pulled by an animal? Do they have oars? Are they steam-powered?)

What does each means of transportation look like? What are they made of? Where are they made?

What is required for the upkeep of each means of transportation?

How does the terrain affect travel?

Are there paths to walk or drive upon? What are they made of? How are they made? Do they require maintenance? Do they get maintenance?

How does the weather affect travel? (Especially water travel)

How is cargo protected from water damage?

Public transport! Do they have it? What is it? Where does it go, and what are its limitations? How many people can it take to a place? If someone never takes public transport anywhere, how will they act if they have to take it somewhere? How would someone who does take it act?

How are letters sent? Why is it done this way? How long does this take?

Weather and climate 

What are the seasons? (You can make them up! You can have more than 4! You can be creative! Make a season where meteors are falling all day every day, if you want! Have fun with it!)

What is the weather during each season? (Does it snow? Do leaves fall from trees in autumn?)

Generally, what is the temperature during each season?

How humid is it?

How does the weather affect clothing?

What methods do people in your culture have to manage the weather or protect themselves from it? (E.g. covering oneself in mud to avoid sunburn and mosquitoes, hibernation, etc)

This isn’t all weather, but how often do natural disasters occur? Are there are many active volcanoes? Are tsunamis common? Do flash floods occur a lot?

What is peoples view on the weather in their area? (keep in mind that oftentimes people get very sick of the weather they are used to, and find other weather more interesting.)

Education  

Who has access to an education, and who does not?

How much would an education cost? 

What is learnt in schools? What does the curriculum focus on, and what does it miss out on? What subjects are there? Can it be harmful at all? (E.g. teach misinformation)

Do University and similar education options exist?

What would a school look like? 

How strict are the rules in schools? 

Who has access to literature, and is able to learn to read? Who is not?

Are there schools for children with disabilities? Are they good? 

If someone cannot have an education, what will they do instead? What work can they do?

Who teaches children? Are they paid? How much? 

When do children leave school? (I.e. at what age?)

Does homeschooling or other education options exist? 

What emphasis is put on an education? If someone did not go to school, how would they be treated? Alternatively, if someone that people thought should not go to school (e.g. women, in some places and time periods) did, how would they be treated? 

Language

Does sign language exist? How many people know it? If those in your culture do not have hands in the same way most humans will have, try to think of other ways they could sign! (I.e. flashes of colour like a chameleon or octopus)(Note; if you intend to have sign mentioned a lot in a story, it might be best to have an idea of what some signs may look like)

Does written language exist? Who learns it? Does illiteracy negatively impact a person?

Does spoken language exist?

Does telepathic communication exist? How does it work? (Keep in mind- thoughts are not always perfect, fully formed sentences. They may not even be words at all! How does this affect telepathic communication?)

Are there any other means of communication? (E.g. text to speech, body language, expressions) what are the limits of these, and how does that affect those that communicate using it?

What is the dominant means of communication? What is the dominant language? Is there a globally used language? What is it? Why is that one the globally used language?

Are there multiple languages? How do they interact? Are they similar?

Are there linguistic differences within a single language (I.e. Auslan having multiple signs for ‘eat’ depending on where you are)? (spoiler alert: there will and probably should be)

How are people with smaller vocabulary/more difficulty talking treated? Why do they have less linguistic ability?

With knowledge of your cultures beliefs and ideas, try to think of the symbolism that your culture might use. (E.g. If someone wrote a poem about how their lover is the dirt, would that mean their lover is unimportant and to be trodden over, or does it mean their lover is the home of growth and life, the thing that supports us all? What do things in your culture symbolise, and why?) Try to think of an object/place/plant/anything culturally important that someone could use to symbolise 1) their lover 2) the family members they love 3) someone they hate 4) a close friend

How is cursing treated? Is it commonplace?

And, just for fun; how would people insult each other? Come up with an insult in your culture! (My fictional world often uses ‘unnatural’ as an insult, as they worship nature)

Class and power 

Who is ‘in charge’? (E.g. A monarch, a council of lords, a government, etc)

If the person (or people) in charge leave their position (they are overthrown, their presidency ends, they die, they step down, etc) who takes over? How is a new ruler chosen?

How does the person in power rule? What do they have control over, and what do they not? 

What gives power? (Wealth, Magical ability, strength, etc) how would someone gain power? Can they gain power?

How is/are the person/people in power viewed by both lower and upper classes?

Is there a large class divide?

How do the lower classes view the upper classes, and vice versa?

What can someone in power do to lose or gain respect? Do they know this?

What is the currency? (It could be coins and metals, but it does not have to be.) Does everyone use the currency, or just upper class peoples? Is there a currency at all? If someone is not paid with money, how else are they paid? (Land or housing, perhaps?)

How much do upper class people know about lower classes lives, and vice versa? How does this affect relationships between the two? Does the ruler know what lower class lives are like?

Do servants, butlers, etc, exist? Who has them? Are they treated well? Do they live in the house they serve?

How are staff/employees treated? How good is their pay? How much time can they have off work? 

What is the cost of living? Can many people afford it?

Law 

I’m fairly sure this one is obvious, but: what are the laws?

Are there any things that are illegal that perhaps shouldn’t be? (E.g. being queer being illegal in some areas)

Are there any things that are legal that perhaps shouldn’t be? (E.g. my own fictional world having murder be legal as long as the victim is under 10 years old.)

What is the punishment for breaking the law?

How does age impact punishment?

What is the treatment towards the law and it’s enforcers? 

Who enforces the law?

What is the view on vigilantes?

How can the law and its enforcers be unfair? (Is it less harsh on more wealthy people, is it likely to harm minorities, etc)

What is the trial process? Is there one?

Is there a death penalty?

And if there is no finite law: what rules are generally accepted, and what is the punishment for breaking them?

War and combat

are children taught how to fight from a young age? Why? 

What weapons and armour are used? What are the restrictions surrounding them? How can they hurt/protect a person? What is the upkeep required for them?

How is a war started? Who calls for a war to happen?

How does war affect the world, and those in the warring countries? 

How does war affect the economy and trading?

What combat styles are popular?

What is the view of war from the view of civilians, those fighting, and those in power?

How is the army or those who can fight organised? Do they have sufficient training?

Who fights in a war, and why? Are they or their family compensated? Is it for honour? Who doesn’t fight? Why?

Is your culture particularly prone to war? Why or why not?

How are refugees in or from your culture treated? 

Prejudice

which groups are oppressed? What is the reason for it? What do the oppressors say the reason is?

Which groups are oppressors?

Are the oppressed groups in most of our modern cultures treated badly in your culture? (E.g. people of colour, queer people, disabled people, neurodivergent people, people who follow certain religions) are there any other oppressed groups? (E.g. people with magic)

How does prejudice affect oppressed groups? Are they hurt? Killed? What micro-aggressions are present? 

How do oppressed groups fight back? Can they fight back?

How do oppressed groups try to blend in/ hide their minority identity? Can they do so?

Art 

Who does art? Is it only those with the money to do it, or does everyone have access to it? And even if everyone can do art, who does and doesn’t? 

What forms of art exist/are most popular? (Don’t be afraid to make something up! Fantasy types of art would be so cool)

What materials is art done with? 

What type of art is most widespread? How does its popularity affect the culture? (E.g. in my fantasy culture, glassblowing and stained glass are very popular art forms, so I am sure to mention it more often than, say, pottery, and to be creative with what is made of glass)

Is art present even in everyday objects like paintings on the bowls you’d eat dinner on or detailed carvings in one’s bed frame, or is it very separate from non-art items? How can it’s prevalence help build the world or descriptions of said world?

Is art used for ceremonies or religious purposes? How?

How does your culture view art? Is it seen as important? Pointless? A fun little meaningless hobby?

What is art used to convey? (Can it protest bad ruling, share one’s life experiences, depict stories, worship (the) God(s)?)

Fashion and beauty 

Do sumptuary laws exist? Why? What are they?

How is clothing washed? How often is it washed? Who washes it? Where does it dry?

Who makes clothing?

Are fabrics often dyed or painted? What colours are they dyed or painted in? What patterns are painted? What are they dyed with? (Note: this will often impact cost. If someone does not have much money, they may not have brightly dyed fabrics, depending on the accessibility of dye)

What styles of clothing are popular? What styles are more expensive, and why? 

What fabrics are used? (Cotton, linen, wool, silk, velvet, etc) are there other fabrics or clothing materials you can imagine? (E.g. the spider silk clothing from Gregor the Overlander, or the dresses made of salt in ‘The Siren’)

How many items of clothing do people often have?

Do makeup and wigs exist? What are they made from? What styles are popular? Who wears them, and when, or for what? Are they gendered?

Does plastic surgery exist? And if your culture has no plastic, can a similar procedure be done with magic?

What are the beauty standards, and why are those considered beautiful? (E.g. being fat being the beauty standard in the past as it meant one had wealth) Are there prominent figures that affect this? (E.g. celebrities, popular artists work)

How do people treat immodesty and nudity? What parts of the body cannot be shown? Do these rules differ depending on who you are? (E.g. my fantasy world allows those with magic to show more skin, as that way you can see the physical manifestations of their magic easier)

How many layers of clothing are common, and what are those layers and their purposes? (This is affected often by temperature, or a desire for volume in clothing.)

What underwear is worn? (Optional)

What do shoes look like? What types of shoes are there? How many pairs would people own?

Is clothing and beauty gendered? (It doesn’t have to be!)

How does where someone lives affect their clothing? (E.g. a person living on a farm isn’t exactly going to wear ballgowns everywhere.)

What hairstyles are popular? Why? Who are they popular with?

What perfumes/colognes/scents are popular? Why? How are such scents made?

I don’t have another place to put hygiene questions, so they’re going here. How often do people in your culture bathe and brush their teeth? What do they bathe with? (I.e. do they have baths, and warm water to fill them? Or do they have to just towel themselves off every once in a while?) do they have soap? How would someone be treated if they did not bathe, or if they did not smell pleasant?

How is class shown in accessories or clothing? 

Sex and Romance 

Does marriage, or a similar legal, religious or romantic ceremony exist? What are the traditions surrounding it?

How would someone in your culture court/flirt with another? 

What is considered romantic in your culture? (E.g. Is there a certain flower used to convey romantic love? Would a kiss on the cheek be seen as more romantic than a kiss on the lips? Would there be specific romantic pet-names for a partner?) Why is this considered romantic?

What importance or weight is placed upon marriage, romance, sex, having kids, etc, in your culture? Is it entirely unimportant and optional, or is it seen as absolutely vital for everyone? Why is this importance or lack thereof present? How would a greater or lesser importance impact the culture and those in it? (E.g. In my fictional world, romance is seen as entirely optional and even unimportant or unlikely, and so people can be extremely close, and even do traditionally romantic things without others thinking they are anything but friends.)

How are gay, aromantic and/or asexual and polyamorous people treated in your culture? Why?

Is sex taboo in your culture? Is it more taboo for certain people? (E.g. would it be more frowned upon for a woman to speak about sex than a man? Why?)

How is pornography, sex toys, kinks and fetishes, STD’s and STI’s, sexual pleasure/ desire, and sexual discussions treated in your culture? Why are they treated this way?

Leisure

Note- it is easy, when writing fantasy, to forget that people have downtime. But in reality, people do stupid, weird things when they’re bored. People play games and goof around. Don’t forget this, as it really helps flesh out a world!

what sports exist in your culture? What is the ‘culture’ surrounding these sports? Do people get competitive over teams they like? Who plays the sport? Are there professional sports players, and if so, how do they get that status? How do people watch sports, and learn the rules?

If a child is bored with nothing to do, where will they go? Is there a library around? Is there a playground, or a relatively empty street they can kick a ball around? And the same sort of questions for all ages. Where do adults go when they’re bored? (Bars? Restaurants? Friends houses?) what about teenagers? Young adults?

What other games are there? Try to come up with at least three. 1) a game you can play without any materials, and in any place (something like rock-paper-scissors or eye-spy, but ✨fantasy version✨) 2) something you’d need the fantasy equivalent of a pack of cards and a minute or so of rules explaining. (Like Uno or blackjack, or some board games) 3) something more in-depth that takes a few hours or so. (Like DND, magic the gathering, monopoly, perhaps, etc etc)

What other hobbies can people take up? Do the people in your culture know how to sew? Are they super into taxidermy? What are very common hobbies (like watching TV or reading) and what are the less or not-at-all common ones? (Like spending 7 hours writing this godforsaken list because it’s extremely fun) How are these hobbies viewed by people who don’t do it? 

And if those in your culture don’t have hours of downtime, think about what parts of their day they might use as rest. Perhaps if a woman is forced to sew and clean all day, she’ll do it with other women so she can gossip and talk to them. No one can work all day every day without any sort of rest or fun.

Performances! Does your culture have operas? Dances that tell stories? Comedic performances? Do the performers travel, or do they stay in one place, like at a theatre? Do these performances cost money? Who will have watched one? Who watches them frequently? Who doesn’t have the time/money for them?

Do drugs and alcohol exist? What is the culture surrounding them? (Do people do them just for fun, in social situations, etc?) are there addicts, and how are they treated? What do drugs and alcohol do to the people in your culture? And if not drugs and alcohol, are there other substances one can use in place of them?

A few questions that fit nowhere else:

Do people have pets? What pets do they have? Do the pets serve a purpose (like wolves and cats to hunt, dogs to pull a sled, goats for milk etc?)? What is the general treatment towards pets?

Who takes care of very young children (below school age)? Is it a parent or an outside carer (Like a daycare)? 

Are there other holidays or special days unrelated to religion? Are birthdays celebrated? New years? How are they celebrated?

Feel free to add more!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello Miss Raven!!!

First of all, I wanna tell you I'm a great fan of your work, it helps me understand better a world that I love, so please don't stop doing it!

Secondly, I wanna know if you know of the existence of the 34 pages long essay of L*ona and your opinion on it due to the love-hate relationship you have with him.

Thank you once again for all that you do and I hope you have a really great year!!!!!

AAaaAAAAaAHHhhhHHHH, thank you for your kind words!! I've had my ups and downs with this fandom, but for the most part I've enjoyed my time here and very much intend to stick around~ Before I get to my thoughts, I'd like to give credit to @/arledrone, who I believe is the owner and author of said 34-page L*ona document! Thanks for penning this all the way back in... what, 2022?? For us to rediscover and read now in 2025 ^^

First thing's first, the document is actually quite old, so obviously there's a lot of materials missing (the Savanaclaw manga, light novel, the completed book 6, all the book 7 content, the new and relevant events/cards/voice lines/vignettes that have come out since then, etc. I'm of the belief that we don't necessarily need to look at this, as the point of the document seems to be pointing out Leona's very slow growth (and sometimes regression back to his worst traits) over the course of the content that was avaliable up until the point of the document's publication.

I won't bore you by regurgitating everything in the document; I'll just point at some things I found notable!

For the most part, I agree with the broad strokes and general interpretations of how Leona's character is presented. He's very complex and you often have to look beyond what he's initially claiming because he has ulterior motives or intentionally tries to act tough to conceal his own insecurities and vulnerabilities. (However, I did find the document a little difficult to follow in the beginning because it kind of felt like meandering with no clear topic or order of topics being established, just several paragraphs of listing Leona's traits without giving concrete examples to back them up? I guess the examples were provided eventually... still, I feel the document could have been edited and condensed a bit. The flow improved considerably when we got into summarization of the vignettes, book 2, and events.)

OP made very similar points as myself, such as saying that Leona isn't specifically after the crown, but what the crown represents (though this conclusion is common among L*ona fans). I was pleasantly surprised to even see them proposing that how others view Leona negatively may even be self-imposed--I had suggested the same thing a few years ago, but haven't seen this idea (or this particular phrasing) gain traction. I think my favorite parts of the document were comparing and contrasting Leona's reactions to criticism (in his School Uniform vignette vs in Fairy Gala). Vil appears as a major point of contention in both and serves as an excellent obstacle to challenge the arrogant and hard-headed Leona. I've compared the two before, and I think that helps to explain why Vil and Leona so often clash. Vil's the perfect person to go toe-to-toe with Leona, call him out for his BS, and push him to "be better". Fans frequently complain about how it feels like the OB boys didn't change significantly following their books--but they have, and they are, you just have to be willing to do the work to dig it up because the main story alone is not sufficient. It's a subtle thing, 'blink and you'll miss it' moments. All the main story can do is tell you "Leona is now consistently training with his team" and, "Leona is now getting off his ass to pitch in with physical labor". Book 6 certainly did a good job of showing us his development, but a lot of it I wager is personal reflection, and that's not going to always be easy to spot of manifest in a tangible, easy-to-see way, especially given how little we interact with the guy directly. We should be more cognizant that character change can happen off-screen (ie not in the main story) and outside of the presence of Yuu, and is not automatic or done in huge leaps. I think I would have liked it if Leona's minor roles were also touched on, but I understand why they were left out. It's a lot of information to look through, and there was less value in events like Beans Day, Ghost Marriage, etc. compared to instances where he was far more proactive. I'd argue that the times where he doesn't feature as a main character serve to characterize him a lot as well (and thus have their value) though; he uses his cunning to find an "easy way" to victory (even if it ended up failing in the end), he gets competitive with Vil over something he doesn't even care about due to his deeply rooted superiority complex, etc.

That about summarizes my thoughts! Apologizes if it was short, it was tough to really comment on stuff since at that point I’d only be repeating what’s written in the document.

[jaskierx]

And this: https://bsky.app/profile/karnythia.bsky.social/post/3lfn56fss722d is why Con ONeills behaviour cosying up to fans and normalising sharing kink imagery with them is very icky to me. And I’m tired of the canyon pretending that it isn’t! I’ve gone to conventions long enough to know that this is a slippery slope into very dangerous situations. Not saying necessarily in regards to Oneill (though I do ask my self WHY he wants to interact with teenagers in that way) but it makes young people who are new to fandom believe that this is normal behaviour and then makes them vulnerable to predatory people who /have/ bad intentions!

1000% and this is definitely something i thought about when reading the article about gaiman.

for what it’s worth i am absolutely not accusing con of anything and i genuinely don’t believe he has ever harmed a fan like that

but what i am saying is that if he (or any other celebrity who has minimal boundaries and a strong following, especially if it’s mostly comprised of fans who have several marginalised characteristics) ever decided he wanted to, he’s unfortunately in an ideal position to do so

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:0 C:0.2]

(Siffrin)

“-Frin!”

(. . . Mirabelles voice. She’d be here to wake you up soon. You lay on the floor for just a little bit more. You’re tired, she can wait in town like she has every time. You don’t want to, face. . .)

“. . . Sif?”

(. . . . Wait-)

(Your eye flies open and you bolt up. No, not looping. You’re not looping you’re not looping you’re not looping, you’re fine you’re okay you’re okay. Calm down, calm down, calm down. . . You felt exhausted. Mirabelle knelt down next to you, and, you’re in the room with the orrery, laying on the floor.)

(. . . When did you get here?)

"Hey Mira!” (You say, and automatically follow up with,) “have you thought about doing a sleepover tonight?"

“. . .” (She opens her mouth to reply, o-oh, stars- you slap a hand over your mouth.)

(Smooth, idiot.)

“S-sorry. . .” (You mumble, looking away.)

“H-hey! There’s no need to be sorry, Siffrin.” (She smiles at you and offers you a hand.) “It’s, i-it’s just, habit, right?”

(You look back up at her, then away, then take her hand, stumbling to your feet.) “. . . Y-yeah. . .”

“And that’s!! Okay!!!” (She opens her arms.) “Hug?”

(You nod. She hugs you. After a second, you hug her back.)

(. . . You’re, really out?)

(Of course you’re out! What, you woke up halfway through a loop in a room that no-one else knows about? Stars you’re an idiot.)

(Yeah, yeah that was a pretty stupid thought. . . Wait.) “. . . Mira? W-why am I, here?”

(Mirabelle pulls away from the hug, worry clear on her face.) “I-I was going to ask you!! We’ve all been looking for you all morning!!”

“HUH?!?!?” (You jump up. They, what?!?!) 

“YOU SCARED US HALF!! TO!!! DEATH!!!!” (She pouted.) “And you don’t know why you’re here either?!?!”

(You shake your head.)

(Weird.)

>>>

(You’re sitting down in front of the frozen statue of the King, with Mirabelle and the Head Housemaiden talking a few feet behind you. You couldn’t see his face through his hair, or his hands. But you knew deep down he was smiling for maybe the first time in a very, very long time.)

(You don’t know why, but you wanted to look at him one last time before you leave.)

(Why did he get a chance to see it? Why didn’t you?)

(Because the Universe isn’t fair, that’s why.)

(No, the Universe has a reason. If the King wanted to see the Island, then, maybe this was the only way?)

(The two behind you are still talking, you don’t pay much attention. You were too busy looking at the flowers some people had left in front of him. Why? Why would people do that? Are the people of Vaugarde really that forgiving?)

(No, look at that one. It’s, you know, that one. That flower. It’s, it’s. . .)

(Just a flower.)

“Siffrin?”

(You jolt to attention when Mirabelle touches your back. You look at her, putting on your smile for a moment before a look from her wipes it off of you.) “. . . Y-yeah?”

“Are you alright?” (You nod.) “A-are you sure? You seemed really out of it.”

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m. . . I-I’m okay now. Thank you.” (Your face twitches into an awkward, yet genuine, smile.)

(She smiles back and giggles. Standing up to turn back to the Head Housemaiden.) "A-as you were saying, Crafted Sadness?"

"Yes, Mirabelle, you could also call them Fused Sadness."

(Crafted Sadness? Fused sadness? Oh, you missed a lot more of the conversation than you thought.)

"That's my little theory, anyways!" (The head housemaiden says cheerily.) "So overcome with his own emotions in this house frozen in time, he spawned his own bonded sadness, and fused with it."

". . . . Is. . ." (You thought about your interactions with him, how he talked, how he, killed.) "He. . . He didn't, always, act normal. . . . Tears. . ."

(You shook your head, and looked down. You feel dizzy, so, so dizzy. Oh. . Why, why did he get, to. . .)

"A-are you sure, Head Housemaiden?" (Mirabelle asks.)

"It's just a guess, but, it's what I think." (The Head Housemaiden replies.)

(Why. . ?)

>>>

(You kept your head down as you walked away from the House of Change, as you walked through Dormont, and as you waited for the others to finish up anything they needed to do. You hold Isabeaus hand tighter, the two of you're sitting on the bench outside the library. You shuffle a bit closer.)

(It’s, over.)

(You felt it in your bones, it’s over. The birdsongs were different. The wind was different. The weather was different. It was all different. You were free, it’s over. It’s done. It’s done it’s done it’s done.)

(Isabeau puts an arm around you and pulls you a bit closer.)

(Neither of you said a word, you didn’t want to talk. You probably couldn’t talk even if you wanted to. All you needed, wanted, right now, was to breathe, and to be close. In, and out. You close your eye.)

(Odile was returning the familytale, having read it twice over. Bonnie was thanking that nice blind man for all the veggies, and Mirabelle was saying hi to her fan. Isabeau didn’t have anything to do, and you didn’t have anything you wanted to do. Before, you thought that maybe you could give everyone that perfect day. Help pick the right earrings, do the frog spell thing, go fishing. . .)

(Stupid.)

(. . . You turn and hide your face in Isabeaus' shirt.)

“Gwuh-” (he replied, despite “gwuh” not being a word. He rested a hand on your back, a hand in your hair. You wrapped your arms around him.) “. . . You'll be alright, Sif, okay?”

(You nod, and close your eye. You'll be alright. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. . .)

(You're going to Bambouche next. There, you'll finally meet Pétronille, and hope that she'd be okay with joining you all. It was a couple weeks journey, which would be fine for you all. But. . .)

(You could only imagine what she must be thinking. She told Bonbon to run, got frozen, and in a blink, she's back. It's almost half a year later, and Bonnie's disappeared. Stars, and the first thing she'd probably learn about Bonnie is that they're one of the Saviors of Vaugarde!)

(You’re starting to feel dizzy.)

(Oh relax, the hard part’s over now. You can relax, alright?)

(Right. . .)

(. . . You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, or how long you were hiding in Isabeaus' shirt. But you hear the voices of the rest of your family nearby. You breathe in, and out, then sit up to look.)

(Odile was waiting just a step away with her nose in a book, and Mirabelle was coming back from east Dormont, Bonnie in tow. Bonbon had a big, juicy carrot in their mouth. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You’re all here, happy.)

“Everyone ready to go?” (Odile snaps the book shut.) 

“SUPER READY!!”

“Y-yes!! All ready!”

“Ready as ever!”

(You open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. So you just nod your head.)

(Look at that now the researcher is giving you a look. Well done! Very natural!)

(It’s not one of suspicion, it’s one of understanding.)

“I’ll lead the way this time!” (Mirabelle says excitedly.) “T-there’s no rush now, so Siffrin can have a break from leading the charge!”

(You smile at her, a silent “thank you.”)

(And your party’s underway. Bags; packed, legs; ready, excitement; peaked. You walked to the road that led north by northwest. For the others, they were re-treading a route they had just taken to get here not a week ago. But for you? It was almost a year ago.)

(176. One hundred and seventy six loops. Odile’s low estimate for your days trapped in Dormont, it was 225. For the average it was around 280, and the worst case scenario? A full 350 days. You didn’t want to think about how many pastries you ate, how many banana peels you slipped on, how many stab wounds you suffered, how many. . .)

(You’re at the edge of the town.)

(You shuffle to a stop and glance back. The others stopped too, waiting for you. They understood.)

(You looked back, the town felt a lot smaller from here. Most of it was blocked by the surrounding trees. In the distance, poking above the canopy, you could see the favor tree. Somewhere, a child was running in circles, flowers were being tended to, and daydreams were being daydreamed.)

(You take out the coins. Two coins, two identical coins. You thought you gave yours to Loop, you saw them take it, after all. The question of why you had it had been eating at you all week, but you just took it as a sign from the Universe.)

(You take one coin, and flip it, once, twice, three times! Because you know, you just know.)

(You take the other coin and flip it a fourth, fifth, sixth time. You know you’ll see them again.)

(Looking at them again, you couldn’t tell Loops from yours anymore. You think you’re alright with that.)

(You turn, and join the rest of your party- your family. As you lock your fingers around Isabeaus' hand, you’re smiling.) “Let’s get going!” (And it wasn’t even a forced smile.)

[butcherlarry]

Weekly Fic Recs 88

This week's fic recs!

love comes quickly by TheResurrectionist @frownyalfred - Superbat, Unrated, 10648 words, wip.

Summary: Clark struggles with something his Ma might call jealousy after walking in on Bruce and Hal together after a mission. Instead of letting Clark's feelings ruin the Justice League's hard-won team cohesion, Bruce suggests an alternative arrangement: sleep together once, work the tension between them out of their systems, and then go back to normal afterward. The problem with that plan? It's not just casual, and neither of them can ever go back to normal once it's all said and done.

I love me a good jealous Clark fic, so I was very excited to read this. And Bruce??? Denying his feelings towards Clark?? And thinking a one night stand will get Clark's feelings toward Bruce out of his system?? So much emotional shenanigans are going to happen, I'm so excited :D

Caring for Cattle by Rgfellows - Superbat, General, 8783 words, complete.

Summary: “Do you have much experience caring for cows?” Batman asked. Clark stared. He tried to process the question. He kept staring. Batman offered nothing further to elaborate. “Cows?” He finally asked. Batman gave a small sigh from his nose. He was as close to fidgeting as Clark had ever seen him. “Yes. Cows." Clark learns more about his very secretive friend thanks to a very unexpected set of circumstances

I read the title and knew I had to read this fic. Super cute!!! So happy to read about Clark going back to his farm roots to bond with Bruce.

skythrush by pomeloquat @pomeloquat - Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne, Teen, 5292 words, complete.

Summary: While protecting his city from the animals that seek to destroy it, Bruce makes the acquaintance of a little bird.

Ok, if you know me, you KNOW that I love birds, I love birding, and I love taking pictures of birds. When I read this I was SO HAPPY to read about Clark being associated with Eastern bluebirds. I have always thought this and as SO HAPPY to read about it this fic too! Do yourself a favor and go Google them RIGHT NOW and you'll see why Bruce thought of Clark as a bluebird. Actually, don't bother, here is a link. DO YOU SEE NOW???

I have also been reading Absolute Batman and Superman as those comics have been released on the DC app and have been enjoying the heck out of them. So happy to be reading fics about those characters too!

precious things by TheResurrectionist - Pennywaynes, Unrated, 1556 words, complete.

Summary: Alfred was aware that Thomas would, inevitably, enjoy such a thing. Forcing him to dig half-moons into the Carpathian Elm, as if the hardwood tables and desks in the other rooms weren’t suitable. No, Thomas had insisted upon the antique, old-world desk with a softer, delicate finish. The one Alfred barely dared to look at in between cleanings.

PENNYWAYNES!!!!!! Love me some Pennywaynes. Also love me some Thomas (or Martha) trying to make Alfred lose his composure while being fucked within an inch of his life.

Jason and His Boys series by elluv_asun - Batfam, Teen, 17155 words, series not complete but the fics are :D

Series Summary: All stories about Jason interacting with his crew. They're not all boys, but they are all His Boys, thank you for understanding How to be a Leader: For Dummies Summary: Jason's been trying to recruit a good crew for awhile. Visiting the library finally helps him figure it out - he needs to inspire loyalty through loyalty. Gain trust through vulnerability. If he follows the rules of strong leadership he's been researching, he'll get a solid crew for sure. The only thing is… it works too well? Now it seems like they … like him?

Breaking News! Brucie Wayne Getting Cozy With Crime? Summary: Prompt: Bruce Wayne publicly adopts the crime lord Red Hood. The city is confused, but now that they're looking closer, the guy actually doesn't seem that bad...Or maybe he is. Bonus: A shot of him without his helmet or a personal conversation between the two leaks Story told through a multitude of perspectives. Bruce Wayne accidentally publicly adopts the Red Hood while the other kids are out of town.

Both these fics were so much fun to read! I loved Jason building positive relationships with his goons and caring for their well being. And the second fic where Brucie interacts with Red Hood was excellent! It was fun to read about Bruce rebuilding his relationship with Jason through his Brucie persona and Jason being thrown for a loop about it!

oh, lover (i'll cover you) series by handfulofteeth (s0norus) @etiolatedmutant - Poolverine, Explicit, 48947 words, series not complete but the fics are :D

guess Summary: Three months have crept by right under his nose. The air outside crisped and then froze over, the leaves bled orange and yellow before finally snapping off their branches and allowing thick snow to pile up in their stead, and Logan is so fucking fond of Wade it makes him wanna throw up. Logan stops talking. He’s mid-scold, tossing his soiled paper towel onto the counter and about to reach for another one when his eyes land on Wade. He’s got his pajamas halfway down his thighs, clearly trying to avoid sticking his fingers all over the gooey fabric, and whatever, that on its own isn’t a big deal. What is a big deal, a huge, massive fucking deal, is what Wade’s wearing underneath his pajamas. Panties.

happiness (like a bullet in the back) summary: What do you get when you cross a supercentenarian mutant alcoholic with anger issues and a chronic case of emotional constipation, with the world's single most irritating Canadian mercenary with a face like a rotten potato? Answer: domestic fucking bliss. OR Five times Logan Howlett is stupidly soft for Wade Wilson, and one time he isn't.

black irises in the the sunshine Summary: Really, when did Logan get so whipped for this loudmouthed little shit? Sometime between being yoinked out of his original universe by the scruff of his neck and realizing he was ill-advisedly in love again, he reckons, but even he’s willing to admit those events are separated by an infinitesimal gap. He falls hard, and he falls fast, and Wade Wilson was (is) no exception. OR Wade catches Logan engaging in some good ol' fashioned depravity and Logan has a lot of Big Feelings about bottoming.

This was a fabulous series to read! I enjoyed the first and third fics, mainly because I enjoy reading about Logan discovering new kinks about himself, trying to hide them from Wade, Wade discovering them, and then fun times (and feelings) are had by all. The second fic was a lovely fic looking at the domestic side of their relationship. I love reading about them caring for each other when they are both dealing with Bad Days.

Humble My Heart by CaptainDoofus - Poolverine, Mature, 3570 words, wip.

Summary: Wade Wilson, an overnight janitor at a military research facility, develops a mutual fascination with the captured wolf-man being held there. Or: Poolverine "The Shape of Water" AU.

I read "The Shape of Water" AU and came running. I fucking loved that movie and I can't wait to read where this fic goes!

Stay, Stay, Stay by Curupia @curupia - Poolverine, Teen, 3985 words, complete.

Summary: Wade took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, reaching for the doorknob. Fuck. Okay. Time to face the music. He opened the door to their bedroom, expecting to find a passed-out Logan sprawled on the couch, maybe a bottle (or seven) of booze scattered around the floor. He figured he’d sneak past quietly and get breakfast started, wake Logan up with the promise of bacon and a truce. They’d mumble some apologies, have earth-shattering make up sex, and everything would be back to normal. What he did not expect was an empty apartment. Well shit. ________ Logan and Wade have a fight and Logan storms out. Wade starts to panic that maybe this time, he isn't coming back. (Happy ending, I promise)

While I do love sappy and fluffy Poolverine fics, not everything about their relationship is sunshine and roses. This fic takes a look at the bumps that happen along the way.

sex pollen and scrambled eggs by LukeQatwalker @hondafuckingodyssey - Poolverine, Explicit, 4992 words, complete.

Summary: Logan gets back into the car and tosses the bag with the lube in it into Wade's lap, thanking god for self checkout machines, because he's pretty sure that's going to go down as the worst retail experience of his god damned life. He adjusts his dick, which is still rock hard and bordering painful, from where he had it tucked up in his waist band. Jesus, he hopes nobody recognized him, buying lube with a hard on, with just a ball cap and a jacket thrown over the wolverine costume. "Ok, so the plan is, we get back to the hotel, whatever happens happens, this stuff works its way out of our system in a few hours, and we can just pretend it never happened, right?" Logan asks. *** The boys get hit with the sex pollen on a mission!

I am a sucker for a good sex pollen fic, no I will not apologize (Very excited about the potential of a follow up chapter).

Happy reading!

[smoshtwtdrama]

FOR TODAY'S TOPIC(6) UPDATE!—

"my point was if you write something horny about real life people, criticism is natural" — Jaycee AKA TREVRASHA said after our conversation for a clearance between them and lilacfoxes

"Though I may not know what stories have gone through, I'll listen both sides and gather enough to understand what went on" — smoshtwtdrama

Few hours ago I have blocked Jaycee's main Tumblr and after that their new account found me and have reached me out. At first they replied to my TOPIC (6) talking about how this is a "bootleg mean girl" thing so I reached out to them.

I message them first with kindness and asked; "may I know why you're doing this? The whole "oh they're a bad person I'm gonna screenshot our conversations and let others hurt them back!" Thing?'

They've responded back sharing a kind tone as well before explaining; "I don't think lilac is a bad person, if you're asking why I posted the DM, wouldn't you? Who DMs someone to call them out of their name. -- especially after publicly putting on a front as if they're the one being attacked."

Smoshtwtdrama: "but why would you start first? If I remember correctly"

Jaycee: "because I followed them, I came across their Tumblr post on my feed. The post was essentially venting about people posting screenshots of their AO3 fic (the damangela one). I commented on the post (someone could argue that I shouldn't have commented in the first place but I truly wasn't being negative) and said something along the lines of "you posted porn about real people, of course some think it's weird." -- these past two days are the most I've even used Tumblr so I wasn't even expecting a response. But they responded saying most people had an issue with the damangela pairing, not rpf. I tried to make it clear that I didn't have any issue with rpf and I wasn't even judging them for rpf smut, I was saying that people weren't discrediting them as a writer, they were weirded out by the concept of two smosh members having sex. Whether or not they hate Damien has nothing to do with me, I personally enjoy him."

Smoshtwtdrama: "I see.. but in my point of view nobody should be posting about anybody if they could just communicate and understand through DMs, why must it start on long arguments on twitter? Several smosh authors are now terrified to receive hatred or become a laughing stock because of your posts."

Jaycee: "they posted me first on this app. i made the first tweet, basically repeating the same sentiment i had in my comment. i didn’t use lilac’s name or anything, because it wasn’t directed towards them. the interaction we had inspired me, yes, but they aren’t the only people who’ve created rpf smut (not even just smoshfandom but generally). they somehow saw the tweet, which had only 8 likes, and proceeded to screenshot it and post to their blog/acc. lilac posted me first, claiming that a nameless, if-the-shoe-fits kinda tweet was bullying them. i, in return, screenshotted the post made about me and posted it on twitter. i joked that i’ve now ‘made it’ and am famous because the situation was funny. people in the comments were laughing with me, not at lilac, but of course lilac is somehow the victim"

Smoshtwtdrama: "oh I see, but in lilac's point of view everything she read felt like it was pointed to her.. now I understand" I said because I'm starting to connect the dots between each other's posts

Jaycee: "and last thing i’ll say is i’m the literal last person smosh writers have to worry about. i wasn’t posting lilac to make fun of their writing. as i said, it didn’t even stem from a ‘fuck ur writing’ place. my point was if you write something horny about real life people, criticism is natural."

The conversation ends there with a simple "thank you for letting me know" I've asked Jaycee if they're willing to let me post our conversation to clear the air and they said yes.

But for the audience out there, this isn't something to side on of who's wrong or fault, it was a clear misinterpretation, if not then a wrongful communication. We don't have to post what we said if we can just communicated through messaging.

I understand both sides, nobody is wrong. And nobody should take sides.

What's your thoughts on this? Let me know!

|| THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY'S TOPIC!

[nothing0fnothing]

A lot of people don't understand that likeability is a massive decider in how we acsess the world, and how that disproportionately affects survivors of childhood abuse.

If we're likeable we get perks. We might get upgraded on our flight. We could get a little freebie here and there. Humans are social creatures. People like us, and in turn want to do nice things in hopes we will like them back. That's super cool. Win for humanity. Nice people deserve nice things. Everyone deserves a free latte or a slightly nicer hotel room as a treat.

But we don't just deal with this kind of social exchange for flights and lattes. Buying a car is a social interaction. Job interviews are social interactions. Doctors appointments are social interactions. Stop and searches or traffic stops are social interactions. If you're likeable, you will probably get a car for a fair price or a job you're qualified for. You will find it easier to get your doctor to listen to you or you might be able to charm your way out of a ticket. If you're not likeable, those things become harder for you.

So.. what? Karma. Good vibes. What goes around comes around. Be nice to people and they'll be nice to you, duh.

But likeability has very little to do with being nice. For most people, being likeable isn't in their control. If you're ugly or fat, if you're not white, if you're lower class, if you're disabled or neurodivergent, suddenly whether you're liked or not has very little to do with how you treat other people, it's about how they perceive you. It's painful when you just want people to like you, it's dangerous when you need them to.

This is why abusers attack their victims likeability.

Gaslighting. Smear campaigning. Public shaming. Isolating the victim till all their friends and family wonder why she suddenly thinks she's too good for them. It all puts a victim in a place where they fear they won't be believed not because they're not credible, but because they're no longer likeable. They're both social currencies, but when you need help and support, likeability always spends better.

Remember Depp v Heard? What was all that revenge porn and outright lying all about? It was about making Amber Heard; the young and beautiful, self educated multilingual, long time human rights champion and loving mother, unlikeable. It was all utter bullshit, but it worked. People were making memes out of her rape testimony. They swarmed her with hate outside the courthouse. They followed her home and posted feces through her letter box. His attorney joked publicly about all the ways she intentionally triggered Amber's PTSD moments before she was to face the world in the most public domestic abuse trial in history, and the public laughed with her. Depp, with the help of his high profile colleagues and incredibly expensive spin doc- I mean lawyers, made Amber unlikeable, and when people decided she was unlikeable they decided she must also be uncredible.

Abusive parents also have the power to make their victims unlikeable. They do this by consistently traumatising them into socially disparaged behaviour, while projecting to the world a picture of the perfect family dealing with a "problem child".

We have a picture in our heads of battered children as withdrawn, quiet little angels, sadly suffering in silence just waiting for someone to notice the pain in their eyes and save them. In real life, this is rarely the case. Most children who have experienced early life abuse are reactive and disruptive. They are defensive and quick to anger. They are loud or sarcastic and they don't respect authority. In short, they are mirrors of the environment that they deal with at home. Due to this, behavioural interventions outside of the home does very little to help, the root of the issue isn't being fixed. So they get reputations as difficult little shits.

These kids go out and interact with the world like the hurt and traumatised people that they are, and the people that are supposed to be their safety net by reporting any suspicions of abuse to CPS, simply don't. Why? Because we find the child less likable than their parents. So when the child says "help me, my home life is horrible", we compare our impression of them to our impression of their parents, and usually without even realising why, we don't take them seriously.

Paris Hilton is an adult survivor of childhood abuse and torture at the troubled teen wilderness programme. Now an adult she uses her platform to speak up, but on that platform she's also told some harrowing stories of how her reputation as a vapid, self serving mean girl/wild child once kept her silent. She wouldn't be believed and her pain would only be mocked or shamed if she spoke out sooner. It's only after years of rebuilding that reputation into one that better reflects who she is as an adult, people are ready to believe her now. Why? Because she wasn't likable then, but she is now.

The thing is, most of us don't grow up into beautiful, wealthy superstars who age like fine wine and are universally loved by every sane person on the planet. Some of us are traumatised as children, who grow into traumatised teens who grow into traumatised adults. Being a traumatised adult is better than being a traumatised teen in a lot of ways. Having the power to simply not speak to the people who abused us for all our formative years is a big one. Not needing the signature of those abusers to acsess things like shelter, sustenance, support and medical care is another. It's not all bad being an adult survivor. It's not easy either though.

Like, I'm only half joking when I say having a stable family you can rely on into your adulthood is a privilege. Most of us don't have that because the smear campaigns didn't just Thanos snap out of existence the moment we turned 18. Out extended families often still see us as the bratty, entitled, violent little shits our abusive parents have been telling them we are since we were walking. On top of that all those authority issues and behavioural issues and PTSD symptoms we had as kids are still there, because nobody believed us when we asked for help so we just never got it.

It has nothing to do with who we are as people, but we just give off "bad vibes." It makes us susceptible to revictimisation and it means when people see the resting bitch face or the anxious fidgeting or the deadpan tone of speaking, their natural human judgement meter decides they don't like us. So we don't get upgraded on the plane and we don't get free lattes and yeah we pay more for things like cars and services because the natural drive people have to give each other favors doesn't really work for us. So some of us don't get perks but that's okay, they're perks because not everyone gets them. It's not a big deal.

Accessing the world shouldn't be a perk of being untraumatised. But when we lose out on job opportunities because our interviewer finds a non traumatised person more likeable than us, it feels like it is. When we don't have a saftey net of familial support so it takes us longer to recover when we're down on our luck or just down in the dumps, it feels like it is. And when we are less likely to be believed when we are reporting either current or historic abuse, it feels like it is. And when we struggle to acsess medical care because our doctors associate typical behaviour of traumatised people with attention or drug seeking, it feels like it is.