#it's so obvious and yet not at the same time

[lionneee]

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

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•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

 You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door. 

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond. 

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him. 

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

 "You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time. 

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good. 

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good. 

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.” 

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you. 

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable. 

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure. 

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck. 

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside. 

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.” 

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments. 

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

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[robinsfilm]

TOUNGE TIED

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ reader ;

SYNOPSIS: hidden away in a library, you bask in seeing that pink hue on jason's cheeks ;

ANON ASKED: " Reader teasing Jason over his blushing. You can decide whether they're in an established or pre-established relationship. " ;

WORD COUNT: 0.9k ;

NOTES: took a while to get this request done, not because the writing took some time, it was just because this is my first ever time getting actual requests, so i am all over the place with this. in this work reader and jason aren't in a relationship yet. thank you anon for the request <3 cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

A SUBTLE TINGLING OF THE BELL SHIMMERED IN THE AIR. The old smell of book pages spreads through the small library. Its rusty brick outside, snuggled between two towering buildings, had caught Jason's eye during patrol a few days ago.

He contemplated asking you if you'd like to visit the little, small haven he had found. Every time the thought crossed his mind, a warm feeling spread through his body; his cheeks felt hot and his hands shaky.

Weird, but now that doesn't matter.

What matters is that somehow you both were in the doorway of the said library.

Your eyes darted around the room laid in front of you, curiosity obvious in your gaze. The library had truly had a homey, cozy feeling to it. Your hand grazed Jason's as you pointed out a decoration on the wall next to the two of you, though Jason's mind was preoccupied by the small touch of your hand on his.

Was it silly, he thought, that even a single graze had him tripping over his words?

The same warmth spreads through him now as it did then when he thought of ways to bring you here; what do I say to them? Should I label this as a date? Or is that too soon?

He remembers mentioning the small library when you piped up and suggested both of you visited the place.

“C’mon, Jaybeans! It’ll be fun. You and me.” You and me.

You took the words out of his mouth, literally. Answer, goddamn it!

“Yes!” he says, a bit too loud. You tilt your head, a smirk appearing on your face.

Oh, he wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face. With a kiss, preferably. You'd have a field day teasing him for that as well. He can’t really seem to mind; a kiss from you seems worth it.

He's forced to snap out of his daydream when he hears your melodic voice ring out in his ears.

“Earth to Jason,” you quip, not before raising a brow, “what's got you all quiet? You seem nervous.”

Goddamn you and how well you know him and his tells.

“Nothing,” he stammers as he answers, “now, let's go in.”

The warmth of the library makes both of you feel the unforgiving cold of the Gotham weather. The freezing hands hidden in pockets slowly peeking out, faces hiding under scarves poking out.

More accurately, his face pokes out from the scarf wrapped around him. Your scarf, he should add on that.

He almost stopped dead in his tracks when you turned to him and wrapped the fluffy, crocheted by hand scarf around him.

You scolded him about dressing appropriately for the weather. He should have been listening; god knows he hangs onto every word you say, but at that moment every sound was lost on him.

The saccharine-intoxicating smell of the fabric engulfed him wholly.

You eyed him a moment then, eyes squinting as if taking every detail of him, before you muttered just for him to hear.

“It looks good on you.”

Jason feels his cheeks grow hot—too hot, his palms grow sweaty. God, when did it get so hot?

The last thing he remembers seeing is your face breaking into a proud smile.

He hopes you won't ask for the scarf back, he thinks as he gathers both of your coats to set on the rack.

The book shelves fill the entire library so much that there's barely any space for the two of you. You don't seem to mind, he notes, as you drag him down the shelves, bodies close.

He runs his hand through his hair nervously, black and white steaks getting caught between his fingers. He has styled it. Did you notice, he thinks? Does he want you to notice?

Yes, he concludes, he does.

“Hm,” you hum, “I’ve been planning on reading Emma since you mentioned it.” You remembered that? He thinks as you look through the books to find your desired one.

‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’

He remembers that single quote; it rings over in his mind repeatedly.

Get it together, Jason, he scolds himself.

“It has ‘the I-am-going-to-scoop-my-heart-out-with-a-spoon level romance of Pride & Prejudice’” he muses.

“It better not be like Mansfield Park,” you puff. “Jane, I'm not mad; I’m just disappointed.”

His laugh slipped out, low and warm. You take in the sight in front of you: his laugh; his smile, his eyes smiling alongside with it; the scrunching of his nose.

It’s truly a heavenly sight.

Oh, only if you could tell him.

“You should laugh more,” you simply say. It’ll do for now; it’ll do until he gives you the okay, the okay to tell him all of it.

You'll bask in his blushes and stutters as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“What?”

“You should laugh more,” you contemplate for a second, “and blush more.”

“You—” he huffs, “just get the book.” He tries to turn his head away from you, though the red on the tip of his ears is telling you all you need to know.

You'll wait; he'll wait as well.

Because all of this is worth the wait.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[cinnasweetss]

SHE. | p.sh

check your window, he's at your window...

wc: 1k

content: this is strictly for the bitches that are sick & afraid of their own mind like ME, little to no dialogue, stalking, dub con/non con, hitting, choking, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, etc etc...

a/n: I recommend listening to "she" by tyler the creator while you read. this work was written with that song in mind, hence the name. ideas, constructive criticism, and compliments are always welcome. thanks for reading <3

It rained all day. streets slippery with rainwater and mud, the earth outside your window was the same. big, chunky, steel toed boots sinking in the ground beneath them. he should've been more careful, removed his boots before he came in. maybe then he would've spared you the horror of finding muddy footprints inside of your home. 

he was sure that would be the last time he saw you. that you'd do the most obvious thing and call the police, tell them about the footprints, the squeaking floorboards in the middle of the night, the letters. or that time you woke up unexpectedly, peeked out the window to find him there. 

had he not blinked, you probably wouldn't have known. you wouldn't have screamed either, forcing him to flee. 

had he been in his right mind, he would've stopped hanging outside your window then. had you been in your right mind, you would've made sure your blinds were shut before you slept. you would've called the police. 

instead, you made him greedy. wanting to believe you might actually feel the same way, the notes became more frequent, longer, more passionate. he'd watch you read them too, swearing he could see a smile on your face each time you read one. swearing he might actually have a chance with you. 

he knew it when you made it easier for him to get in. he knows you purposefully left your back door cracked. in fact, he watched you. watched you contemplate between locking it, leaving it unlocked, or keeping it just a tad bit open. 

endless nights of following you home, memorizing your routines and schedules, watching you sleep, watching you unknowingly undress in front of your window, even those nights when you touch yourself under your covers, writhing and squirming until you finish. 

all those nights have finally paid off. he thinks that maybe, it was fate that he left those footprints on the floor outside your bedroom. after all, you’ve finally accepted him.

so why are you screaming? 

he couldn't figure out why you weren't happy to finally see him. why you were so surprised when he told you that you two would be together soon. he didn't understand why you fought him off either. 

he watched you frantically reach for your cellphone on your dresser, and had you not been shaking so much you probably could've made the call while you had him stunned. but your mistake gave him enough time to recover. he made sure to break it before he came back for you. large hands covered by black gloves dragging you back to your mattress, forcing you on your back. 

he'll never forget the way you looked at him. eyes wide as if you've seen a ghost, body trembling yet frozen in your fear, frantically trying to make your eyes adjust so you can see the figure above you.

frozen when he reached into his pants, eager to finally be inside you after weeks of watching and waiting, after dealing with your endless teasing. you'd mumbled a plead for him to wait that fell on deaf ears, sunghoon too occupied with getting his cock free and forcing your legs open. 

"wait! w-wait! don't!"  he'd heard that one, but it was weak, barely audible even. had you really wanted him to wait or even stop, you would've screamed like you did just minutes before. you would've made it harder for him to force your hands away. 

you wouldn't have put on this skimpy little night gown either. you made it too easy for him for him to shove a hand between your legs and push the damp fabric to the side. didn't even try to hide your ecstasy when he finally got himself inside you. 

it was all he dreamed of and more. so much better than sneaking in under the guise of the night and getting off by himself after pulling your covers back. never once did he think he'd actually be on top of you, buried deep inside of your cunt instead of using your hand while you're sleeping.

much different to see you squirming, mouth hung open as you release sounds of pleasure despite your feeble attempts at trying to resist. your legs kick in the air, arms pressed to your chest as sunghoon keeps up with his ruthless thrusting. he's used to having you so easily pliant, and at his disposal. 

didn't expect you to be so coy, instinctively moving to cover your chest as if he hasn't seen everything already. he surely didn't expect you to reject his kiss just moments after, going as far as biting him.

"fuck!"

it makes him draw back, the metallic taste in his mouth making him realize you actually drew blood. it infuriates him, and his hand cocks back and comes across your face before you have time to dodge. he wraps a hand around your throat to serve as a warning, thumb and forefinger squeezing around your artery. 

it's just enough to force you into submission for the time being. enough for sunghoon to lean back in and kiss you properly this time. sloppy open mouthed kisses against your lips, leading down to your chest. he makes sure to leave marks along the way. whether its around your neck, across your chest, at your hips, your wrists— anywhere to make sure you don't forget this eventful night. 

his thrusts are rough enough to do the same, sure to leave you sore in the morning, maybe even the days following.

he only lets go of your neck when tears form at your eyes and you begin to claw at his wrists. a loud gasp fills the air, followed by a choked and frantic "stop, stop!"

had you not began to convulse beneath him and cry out sounds of pleasure in the immediate seconds following, he just might have. 

he has to swallow back a laugh when he glances between your legs to where the two of you meet. skin of your thighs and the fabric of his jeans saturated in your orgasm. all the more reason for him to believe you want this just as much as him.

he's just a few more thrusts behind you, stifling back his own groans as his hips begin to stutter, cumming inside of you without warning shortly after.

this is something he’ll truly never forget. he’ll make sure you don’t either.

just as long as you continue to keep your door open.

[nix-nihili]

anyway Charles and Edwin start holding hands.

it starts off innocuously enough; Edwin grabbing Charles hand to pull him into a sprint while being chased by some horror or another, the pressing need to escape making him clutch it tighter as they run.

then Charles holds his hand to correct them while they're wrestling, and Edwin lets himself be tugged around and repositioned. this time it's not in a high-stress environment and he can feel Charles' hands on his, both of their gloves discarded in the comfortableness of the office and the boxing gloves not yet slipped on.

they're warm somehow. ghosts don't have temperatures, yet Edwin can feel the soft warmth radiating off of Charles' hands, those fingers encircling his own, palm against palm.

and when Charles pulls away, Edwin realises he wants. he wants. but he cannot ask. it seems too forward.

so he starts coming up with excuses, things that can be explained away by some external factor but always end with both their hands intertwined in some way or another. it's not the same as the time they were wrestling because they don their gloves, but the agency feels too sacred to pull a stunt like that. to sully their home with edwin's blatant wanting.

but Edwin wants. and his resolve around Charles has never been that strong.

and so Edwin asks to wrestle. puts himself in all the wrong forms. suggests Charles correct him directly. and there are hands on his hands and before he knows it, he's holding on, intertwining their fingers, revelling in the feeling of it all.

he startles with the realisation that he's basically captured Charles' hand and begins to drop it with a frantic apology but finds Charles holding on even tighter until Edwin stops. the hold loosens but doesn't retract.

"you want to hold my hand," Charles says and perhaps Edwin has been too obvious.

"yes," Edwin admits, scarcely a whisper. "I find that I inexplicably do."

he expects Charles to pull away after indulging him. but he doesn't. instead, he's staring at their conjoined hands like-

like-

"okay. we can do that."

"okay?" it comes out a bit strangled.

Charles nods like he's made up his mind and one part of Edwin is cautiously celebrating while the other is utterly confused. "'course. we can hold hands, yeah? been doing it already, I reckon. all those times..." he trails off, slightly flushed, and brings their hands down to rest by their sides. "should've figured it out earlier."

but Edwin cannot understand. "you mustn't agree to this simply because I asked." ignoring that Edwin never had to ask in the first place because Charles figured it out. he always did when it came to Edwin.

"I want to as well," Charles says and it is a wonder that Edwin's world doesn't tilt on its axis right then and there. "for the both of us, yeah?"

and Edwin isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and he wants. desperately. achingly.

so he nods. and they hold hands. and it's easy because they're always standing so close. and it's wonderful because Edwin's fingers twitch and Charles is always there. and it's quietly devastating because he realises he wants more but he cannot ask for that. it is a privilege to be even given this much.

so they hold hands.

how much harm could it do?

[seat-safety-switch]

You ever seen a dog get real upset at another dog? I have, and it always perplexes me. After decades of study into dogs, here's what I think is going on. While regular humans are unknowable and vaguely enjoyable on average, a dog knows exactly what that other mutt is up to. Probably wants to steal his Snausages®.

It is for this reason that I am suspicious of my fellow junkyard denizens. There is a strange sense of competition, even when it is obvious that the other guy is not even there for the same brand you are. After all, if you give him a tip that a certain generation of Honda ECU is valuable, maybe he'll pull them all and put them on eBay when you're not looking. You can't be sure.

My rational mind (small as it is) knows that this is capitalist nonsense, a false scarcity. There are more of these ECUs left in existence than can ever possibly be demanded, even if every car pervert in the world suddenly switched to desiring this generation of Prelude. Some dude in Iowa probably has a cornfield full of them, and yet we are divided, out of fear that we might not be able to fill an entire trunk with these precious parts. And that's just the ECU: who knows what's expensive and hard-to-find in, say, this Suzuki? The Suzuki guys won't tell me, they're too suspicious of my ulterior motives. Their Snausages® are under threat at all times.

How do we break out of this loop, so that the freaks hanging out at the junkyard can at last be friends? Our bitter rivalry must come to an end if we are to confront our true enemy, the guy who decides how much road salt to use in the winter. And once he's gone, there will be low-mileage, rust-free shitboxes aplenty, ideally only with a little bit of damage on the tail lights. I got a lot of those in my basement, because some idiot once told me that they fetch a pretty penny on eBay around January.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Epilogue = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 — Epilogue (here)

Charlie’s face grimanced as she watched Alastor and Husk at your services whenever. Even Angel was comfortable around you now. Her stare shy away the moment your head turned to her direction, even though your eyes were closed, she could feel that she made eye contract with you. You gave her the same soft and gentle smile with a nod, she nodded back but her eyes lips pressed to a tight line. 

She moved when she heard the lift ding to signal its arrival, she got in and pressed her desired floor, looking out as the doors closed at the press of a button. Her eyes met yours as the doors slowly closed like time was slowed or paused, the longest wait of her life was this. You maintained your stared until your attention was called away and Charlie immediately let out a sigh of relief. 

The dear princess steadied herself, she has to do something. She was the one that brought along this hotel, she was the one that brought along all her friends, she was the one that survived that hellish experience with the exterminators. So why was it that the moment you arrived that she felt a change? Saw a change.

She knew she wasn’t enough, that there was more to do as the Princess of Hell. She lacked so much that her people hardly see her as the Princess, the heir to the throne. When she saw your commanding presence in action, she thought she could learn from you. Yet, she found herself unable to get close to you. 

She saw how Alastor was always with you, treating you in a way that was never shown before your arrival. She saw how Husk was more actively attentive without that sharp edge in his tone and words. She saw how Angel was more respectful and mindful of his words and actions, being more open and kinder like a cageless bird. She saw how Vaggie was less angry and tense, even with new guest, also having at least a small smile on her face. She also saw how much more cheerful her father, Lucifer, was after your arrival.

And Niffty was Niffty but more tamed, if one could believe it.

These were all things she wanted to do, things she was aiming to help them change. Granted, she knew it’d take some time to achieve, but that’s what the journey will teach them, that things take time to change. She just can’t understand how you brought along this change in the short amount of time you were here. She saw what you have accomplished without even trying to be impossible. A miracle.

“Dad, you got some time?” Charlie knocked on the door to Lucifer’s workshop, another renovation that you granted to her hotel along with a few other special rooms after your identity was revealed by Lucifer. “Can we talk?”

Charlie flinched as she heard stuff fall and crash behind the door, then she could make out her father stumbling to the door before it opened and Lucifer was standing there with an awkward but excited smile, “Charlie! Of course! Come in, come in.” Lucifer moved to the side to let his daughter enter and closed the door behind her, “Weird that you’re free to chat. Ah, not that I’m not happy or bu- I mean, don’t you usually have some friendship or moral class now?”

“Uh… Well, The Coll- Silver offered for a day off for me since I’ve been working too hard and everyone else agreed. Husk’s teaching everyone to be careful for themselves and others, you know, like lies and tricks?” Charlie felt like she was choking as she admitted that, it was like she was slacking off, like her purpose was being taken from her.

Lucifer sighed, bringing Charlie to sit down at a tea table and sat down himself. With a snap of his fingers, drinks and snacks appeared on the table. He pushed a cup to Charlie before sipping on one himself. His smile dropped as he noticed the obvious frown on her face. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Why are there so many changes after Silver came to the hotel?” Charlie blurted out, Lucifer blinked before getting to respond or given the chance to, Charlie continued, “Not that the changes are bad, but they are the changes I thought I can do it with time. Hell’s my home, this hotel and everyone here is my family and friends, I thought… I thought I can finally pull my weight and help… You know, do my part and be the Princess of Hell.”

“Charlie, you need to understand.” Lucifer got up and went to her, kneeling down so that he was looking up at her, “The throne was never ours.”

The princess gasped. “Then why—”

“We’re only given the title. It means nothing to anyone other than the Sinners.” Lucifer explained, “You never been to the other Rings, but there, you’d be no more than a minor significant figure. We only manage the Sinners, the souls sent to Hell after death, we’re the King and Princess of Sinners. Not of Hell.”

“Then who…”

“Charlie, you’re important to me and I know redemption and this hotel is important to you. But like I told you before, you can’t protect anything without power and authority, you can’t change anything with those as well.” Lucifer got up and opened his six wings, “We’re given this title to protect ourselves, Lilith and I, it never extended to you because you were never there in the beginning when the words were spoken. It was never agreed that our place will be taken over by an heir.”

Charlie got up, feeling like everything was being taken away from her, “So what. Am I nothing now? I can’t amount to anything?”

Lucifer held her hands in his, giving her an encouraging smile, “No. I never mean that. All these changes you’re seeing means potential and interest in rising you to be the next Queen. Teacher doesn’t throw away anyone.” He chuckled, “I had nothing when I came here, Lilith too, but Teach gave us so much. Teach is also giving you so much too. Where this hotel is built, this land was untouched the moment you were born. Until you said to move out, this land is yours.”

Charlie blinked, her heart ached as her eyes pooled up, “Then I’m not being thrown away? I’m not..”

“Never. Everything Teach may be, Teach isn’t pure evil. Otherwise,” Lucifer smiled brightly, “We’d all be dead where we stand.”

Charlie chuckled along, but then froze, “Wait, but then, that means Silver’s the real… Oh my… But you tell me all this, aren’t you in—?!”

Lucifer patted Charlie’s hands, “These are secrets meant for your ears now, Teach said when you ask then I can tell, it was time you knew. Because more challenges will be coming for you in the future.”

.

.

.

“The Princess is ready for her test. For this stage, it’s vital for her to grow. To do that, we need some friction. Between the hotel and the new Overlords.” You turned to the three kneeling Overloards behind you. “The former Vees and Alastor. Your history with each other, Vox and Alastor, would be of great help.”

Alastor, Vox and Velvette all raised their heads as they meet your attention.

“I won’t disappoint, My Sovereign.”

“I’ll do as you command, My Sovereign.”

“Everything will be as you wish, My Liege.”

Note: Okay. This is really really the final part. Say bye bye to this series everyone. I have no idea if it will continue when Season 2 is up cause of all the changes I did for this series. Thanks for sticking by this story till the end everyone.

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[euniexenoblade]

Tumblr recc'd me a post by a transandrobro about how when he was a tween and came out his own mother sat him down to watch Boys Don't Cry and it deeply traumatized him, along others in the notes sharing the mostly same experience.

Since the film was basically the "transing the lesbian tomboys away until the "biological reality" of misogyny gets them when cis men find out and abuse them" rethoric made into a whole trauma porn film, specially because the director Kimberly Peirce is an open Goldstar TERF who intentionally wanted to portray a "lesbian tragedy" based on the real story of a trans boy who was hatecrimed at the time.

Don't get me wrong, these guys are rigthful in their anger and trauma and disgust for this movie, its a horrible film! Specially because it directly shits on the legacy of a real trans victim, and it has no redeming qualities as a cinema piece. But yet I checked, and every single guy in that post has at the very same time deffended RHPS from Richard O'Brien's and the text's transmisogyny when transfems hace expreses their disgust and trauma with the film with all the same bad arguments. Why has the obvious contradiction flet so hard over their heads?

I just want yall to imagine for a minute, what If a transfem came *unpromtedly* to this space for transmasc to rigthfully express and vent their trauma and disgust with this piece of media that harmed them, and then she started saying how actually, BDC is an universal queer classic! How she has trans boy friends that enjoy the film and lift it up and feel good with its portrayal of a transmasc, and how the guys "complaining" should just get over it and don't watch it?

What would happen to an transfem person directly doing this?

It's because Boys Don't Cry reflects on them, Rocky Horror doesn't.

[binhourly]

Sanctuary

Summary: A princess bound between an indefinite pull of duty and forbidden love.

Word Count: 4107

Tags: Royalty Setting / Forbidden Love / Lightest Political Intrigue / Love Triangle / Angst / Unrequited Love.

Pairing: Royal Guard!Lee Minho x Princess!Reader

Trigger Warning: Discussion of Forced Marriage / Mild Sexual Content, Implied Intimacy / Foreseeable Infidelity / Manhandling / Self-Harm Ideation.

Songs: i. Once Upon a December by Liz Callaway ii. Skin to Skin by Amira Elfeky

NOTE: welcome! i’m still figuring out the ropes and ends of tumblr so i’m not the best at handling this website, please be patient or lend me a helping hand. with that, enjoy and leave some feedback!

MINHO STANDS in his uniform on the opposite side of the Garden Sanctuary, a level of strict authority still etched in the bends of his spine despite being far away from the court ball.

He observes you with such fine quality, each trace a long drag of a sharp knife against every curve of your skin. Usually, his training makes him skilled enough to go unnoticed, but it's as though the moon itself betrays him, hanging fatly in the sky, its reflection coming down and sitting on the rippling surface of the fountain's water, crystallising back in the royal guard's eyes.

Despite knowing the boy for so long, you occasionally forget that his constant watchful eye is simply part of his duties—a fact that remains unchanged.

Your face grows hot regardless.

"Many people seem to think me foolish for believing the world could change enough to grant me a choice in who I love," your voice is low, like it's far too ashamed to ask the question in his company. "Do you think of me in that light?"

The boy moves further inside, black boots pressing into the cherry blossom petals that continue to swirl down around him. "Perhaps," he finally speaks, his voice incredibly close now.

You sneer up at him in annoyance. He doesn't seem moved at all by the obvious tremble in your voice. "Then I'll hold you in the same way I think about everyone else: a dead, soulless, ugly being." Your words go against all sensible thinking. It's as if the torture that comes from his willingness to forget the history between you makes you lean into childish remarks.

Minho still peers over you with a tight pull to his back, never allowing one strand of his long hair to fall out of place. "And am I to believe those images you've conjured up of me are true, Princess?" There are pieces of a smug grin found in his eyes, a strange sense of pride that these emotions you harbour for him are strong enough that you've turned irritable. Albeit his stoic attitude, this is also him giving sound to his fiery jealousy after the sudden marriage proposal in the banquet hall.

"How dare you call me that!" you gasp, nails digging into your thigh. The year hasn't fully completed yet since Minho was appointed to your father's high council. Even after the weighted armour was added to his muscular body, and his presence at revels is no longer by your side drinking away the night, but to watch over your family, you still hold no doubt that he'll ever divert from the boy you love.

"Is that not what you are?" Oh, how wrong you were.

"Yes..." Your eyes gloss over with tears, but this time you mean for him to see all your suffering. "I am the kingdom's princess, but I only become one to you when you wish me away."

There's an almost fierce glimmer in your stare, a silent proclamation that you've tried and exhausted yourself from acting out this contrived narrative that was roped in your hands by the newly appointed royal guard in the first place. You're done keeping quiet for the sake of your family. You want some semi-balance of peace, not to hold all of the war that comes each time Minho stalls near the entrance of the palace to guide you into a carriage, his gloved hands holding onto yours.

The royal guard finally crouches down, kneeling on one leg, the sheathed sword by his belt jutting out behind him. "That's not far from the truth." Minho does not allow the domineering nature of his face to change despite being a mere inch away from you.

A couple of months ago, the lining of his eyes and lips would have struggled under the weight of your gaze and softened immediately at the sight of you beckoning him over.

You've become the jester to your own memories.

     "It is precisely why I am here, to offer my deepest apologies, Princess. I was so young," he says, voice quieter now, as if he's speaking more to himself than to you. "We were both so young, weren't we? Free in a way I never understood at the time. I let myself believe in things I had no right to, and I pulled you into those beliefs... I mislead you." There's something effortlessly elegant in the way you sit on the dirt ground, your gown spilled out around you in sparkling blankets of purple. Minho looks away, but he cannot, for the life of him, train that idea out of his head and thinks he'll forever live inside the torment of his own hypocrisy.

     "But we've grown, and that entails more responsibilities—duties that need to be fulfilled."

Minho looks down, undoing his crossed arms behind his back and exposing a pair of pointed shoes in his hands—you hadn't even noticed he was carrying anything this whole time. Being swayed by raging emotions makes anyone irreversibly selfish and tardy, especially when sprinting away with a dress clutched to your chest. The boy gently pulls at your ankle, allowing the material to rub against your heel.

     "Your loyalty should not go to me. I am one man against a nation that needs you, my Princess." Your brows furrow at his response. At the name. Recognising that Minho is soothing the blow of the truth by doing something sweet.

In a silent outburst, you shake your legs in his hands, kicking the material off your feet again.

"Go! I want you gone. Now!" Against the serenity of the Garden Sanctuary, your yells are the driving knife to a portrait painting, the chirping sounds of roaming critters nowhere to be heard. Just the continuous echo of your words each time the royal guard tries to capture your springing ankles before they hit him in the face.

It lasts for a few minutes before he successfully takes you by surprise and locks them closer to his body, the position having you open and perfectly snug around him. With that, you learn just how in control Minho has always been. It makes you feel a little giddy having successfully coaxed it out of him.

You breathe heavily. "I order you." Instant dread coils in your stomach at the sudden use of authority.

Something lively swims in Minho's eyes. It rips into the clouded fragments that have settled there for some time, allowing a piece of him to peek through. You almost want to riot against anyone who claims the royal guard was ever ruthless and arrogant. Maybe he was.

"I take my orders from the King." His eyes slit back into their vacant stare.

After many months of feeling him watch you—in your place at your throne while he guards the door, when you slink back into your chambers and can't help but wince at the burning residue on your backside—you can no longer foretell his actions or what he's thinking.

His hand has perched further up your ankle, the expensive fabric of your gown bunching up, showcasing it rests warmly on your bare knee now. The placement doesn't seem to reach Minho, but it's contributed densely to why you can't keep a steady flow of air pushing past your lips. "And do I have the pleasure to blame my father for your little crusade to find me?"

"No, that one is my own hanging." His voice drags, each word affixed to a thought he won't fully admit. One image in particular clings to him—the sight of you, tear-streaked and marked by the King's hand after disobeying him—owns him completely, every part of his being bound to the memory.

Quickly, he composes himself, slowly standing up, letting his hands grip the sheath of the sword, his knuckles splayed white from the sheer force of erasing the image out of his head.

"I might've become someone you deem dead and soulless, but I thought it was best to end the night with the dance you were promised. I'm a firm believer that you can still reclaim something lost. But again, it's your choice whether you want to accept it from this ugly man."

Softness rewrites the chided look on your face. Embarrassingly enough, it took no more than a minute before you agreed to it. It wasn't even a small nod. You followed him up like you were always linked to him, a shadow to a body. And perhaps that was the whole point of this strange bond—constantly accepting offers that were already his.

Minho pulls you in closer by pressing his palm into your lower back, surprising you greatly when he bends slightly, wrapping his whole arm around your torso, fingers giving your heart the same suction a corset would, before gently lifting you off the rubbled floor, the end of your dress, crumpled and stained, swinging against your ankles.

You stare at him in wonder, the moonlight failing to pale his skin. "You know, I do have legs. Quite capable ones, at that." There's a hint of amusement in your words.

His eyes flutter over the expanse of your face, the dim lighting darkening his stare into perfect black pearls. "Yes, you're right. I was given a taste of that power when I tried giving back your shoes and nearly got kicked in the face for my sincerity." Minho leans in a fraction closer, his voice dropping lower. "Still, it's part of my duty to protect the royal family, and I extend that same oath to stubborn twigs or insects."

The royal guard leads you, swearing each pull around the garden was a secret dance that awoke ash-filled ancestors, all in tune with each other. It feels so ethereal and otherworldly, like a kaleidoscope of colourful ball gowns around the gushing fountain.

"And you? What would you do if I said you've become my greatest torture? How would you protect your princess then?"

Minho pauses, the statement crashing into him like a tidal wave. "Even in your torment... so long as you think about me, I've already done my part."

The confession catches you off guard, half-expecting the royal guard to respond curtly, the same way he dismisses you by naming you by your status. But his hunger for you was just as devouring, has always been secretly consuming. So, you allow it to swallow you whole—in the same darkness that eats mostly at your heart.

"Princess?"

The sudden urgency of your name being called in the distance diminishes the magical glow, and the idea of being caught, arm interlocked with someone other than the awaiting King, makes the frantic glances over your shoulder near the tall arch opening turn jittery, fear running deep into the small passage of yourself that believed—begrudgingly—in the role your father had carved for you.

"You need to hide," you whisper hurriedly, crawling out of his grasp. The royal guard remains in a trance, his two brown eyes drinking in every detail of your face, committing it to memory. He only snaps out of it at your frantic prodding and pushing. "Minho! Take cover behind that statue there."

After quietly ensuring that no part of him is visible to any witness, you reposition yourself, sitting on the cool stone of the fountain rather than draping yourself across the floor. All parts of your previous sadness feel inconsequential now that Minho has lowered his guard and danced with you. Now, you wait.

The arch has intricate carvings of flowers—honeysuckles, red carnations, and white lilies—all woven within the stringy pieces of the vines. It doesn't look wild, as though it gradually grew and found its home around the arch. These flowers are carefully plucked and placed, constantly attended to, ensuring every beautiful piece of the garden is enhanced. When Prince Hyunjin waltzes through and hesitates by the open gateway, you swear his long red hair could set them ablaze, orange flames haloing above him.

Hyunjin is completely unaware of the full-bodied man hiding in plain sight.

"I found you." The boy wears a small smile, uncertainty weighing down each corner. Hyunjin expects you to yell. "I understand I'm not welcome, but I want to—I don't think what your father did was in good grace, and I beg for a chance to properly introduce myself. It could help ease the nerves and the surprise a bit."

"I know who you are; that should save us this conversation." There's no interest in your eyes. His words, no matter how gentle, could never penetrate your heart. They don't make you feel anything.

Hyunjin continues regardless, his hands ruffling the ends of his blouse that tie in lovely bows. "Then not an introduction, but a moment. Although this is a marriage of convenience, I'm not a selfish fool to deny you the chance for organic love, and I won't force your hand either."

You've heard stories about this prince. The most infamous one was when he disguised himself as a civil servant. It was said that he was hired as the village healer's apprentice after rumours spread about the boy's miraculous access to expensive medicine. After months of suspicion and a tragic arrest, it was revealed that he'd been stealing from the palace's cabinets and distributing the medicine for free. Hyunjin is undoubtedly the sweetest soul, so your hatred towards him only willed you to want to be alone so you could continue under false pretences.

There's a certain stillness. You're waiting in the breaks of silence, searching for any sign that Minho is still there, watching.

Hyunjin sits beside you on the stone, avoiding your gaze. "I'll make sure no one speaks against you for taking your time. With enough power, I can also silence your father." Hyunjin shows no distaste for his sensitivity, no trace of second-hand embarrassment crossing his features. He means every word he says.

"Would you like to see what I bought you?" At a simple nod, Hyunjin pulls out something blindingly gold in the midst of the dark night, a vibrant fire emblem in the middle of it. The conclusion that it was a hair accessory only came when the prince politely asked if he could do the honour of fixing it into your locks.

"What you're wearing is a sacred piece from my lineage," he speaks, breaths away from your face, the feeling of his hand heavy above the crown of your head. "It's traditional to wear it at important ceremonies to welcome harmony and good fortune. My parents were hoping to see it on me at my own coronation, but I think it's only fitting for you to wear it at our wedding." Hyunjin reclines back, watching you with keen eagerness, disregarding the idea that you only crossed paths through allyship and Kingdom honour. "Going into unfamiliar grounds could be easier if you had a constant token of hope."

Curious and flustered, you peer down into the still puddle of water inside the fountain. Your reflection greets you among the fallen petals immediately, hair pulled up halfway with pieces cascading down around a face so undoubtedly... royal.

The awaiting king deeply sighs. "You torment me with your beauty, Princess."

The sentiment around the hair accessory has turned you attentive to what you've constantly ignored.

Hyunjin notices the change. It felt like you were scrying the black pool, face entranced and eyes wet, looking for something he can't quite put his finger on. It was like your whole future was constellated, and you were desperately trying to read between the stars, hoping just maybe a meteor shower would smudge the already promised destiny.

You were a princess birthed with a written story, similar to how being birthed from a warrior father already gave Minho the necessity to grow into a warrior son. That he never needed to learn devotion, that it came to him instinctively, like a person finding a lone drum and knowing to slap it to make a roaring sound.

Minho was who he was. And yet, the royal guard entwines his fingers around the leather hilt of his sword behind the statue, his mind so far drawn with a splitting anger that cleaved and reconstructed his sworn oath to protect the kingdom that he was ready to use it against the awaiting king.

SILENT MURMURS are being passed around behind your bedroom door. It wasn't what originally brought you out of your sleep on this quiet night, the scheduled wedding tomorrow morning attributing greatly to that, but it was the one thing louder than your anxious breathing.

The guard assigned to your care, Kim Seungmin, seems to greet the incoming person with more authority, which could only mean the unknown person was of higher rank than the other guard.

The two don't let you ponder for too long as the suspect's name is spoken all too soon. "Commander Lee, what are you doing in this wing?" Minho.

Fleeing the comfort of your bed, you flatten the side of your head against the door, eavesdropping on their conversation.

     "The King ordered closer surveillance in the awaiting Queen's room." His voice is low, smooth—but the words send a cold chill down your spine. You knew better than to take Minho's words at face value. He had always been skilled at hiding his true intentions behind a mask of loyalty, a master of keeping secrets tucked beneath the surface.

Seungmin's reply comes quickly. "There must be a mistake—"

     "Is there?" Judging from the slight edge to his controlled question, Minho wasn't searching for confirmation. It was a chilling assertion, daring Seungmin to challenge him.

     "No... of course not, Commander. I'm just respectfully asking why I wasn't told this before my shift."

A moment of silence lingered. "You seem to misunderstand your position." A soft, deliberate step echos, and then another, until a dark shadow slithers beneath the door, alarming too close to the other. You could only imagine how terrifying he must have looked—teeth grounded, jaw clenched. "Courtesy is not required here, only the demand for your obedience. If there's new orders it's in your best interest to follow without concerning yourself with the specifics. Do I make myself clear?"

     "Without questions, Commander."

     "I will stand guard here, post yourself below her window."

The hurried, precise shuffling beyond the door could only be from Seungmin, surmising that he was carrying out his Commander's orders. With the guard now gone, nothing stood between you and Minho. He would come inside at any moment—his authority granting him the right to cross the threshold.

In panic, you quickly push off the door and move to the middle of the room, watching the door creak open slowly.

Minho stands at the outer shell of the doorway, his uniform barely hiding the rise and fall of his chest. You could only assume it was the aftermath of watching you in the full glory of your sleepless state. The commander says nothing, but his eyes quickly trail up, catching the way your hair piles and pins perfectly on your head with a gold embellishment.

Shame instantly hits you. The whole night had been such a daze that you had forgotten to remove it by the time you entered your room. But it was too late; Minho's stare had already hardened, and the urge to tear it off felt fruitless.

     "What are you doing here?" you ask, the tone of your voice never really sounding as surprised as you'd hoped. Minho can practically sense the way your eyes glitter at his presence.

The commander's attention is fractioned. He knows he should answer you, even though there isn't a well-crafted one, but Minho chooses to let his eyes wander, following the way his gaze lowers, drinking in every detail of you. From the way your collarbones sit to the sheer nightgown lazily draped over your shoulders, leaving nothing to shield your body from the intensity of his stare. But you don't move to grab your robe, because you think he deserves to see you like this—completely open to him.

Minho abruptly walks into the comfort of your room, his steps unsteady, as if the space around you collapses, leaving only the unspoken truth that even when you were children, he had never reached further than the foot of your stairs.

It's almost maddening when he kneels in front of you, and you can't help but feel skeptical as you note how his eyes look almost cleansed from the service of the palace. Then, by some strange force of nature, Minho unsheathes his sword, allowing the steel to rest placidly in his open palms as he offers it to you.

     "What is this?" you ask, and perhaps out of frustration—or perhaps because he knows there's never enough time alone with you—Minho forces the sword into your hand. The new weight alarms you as the tip clinks against the floor.

     "Minho, speak! You're scaring me to my wits' end."

He grips the tip of the blade hard enough that it should tear into his skin, but his eyes—sharp, unwavering—never flinch, revealing no trace of pain. With deliberate slowness, he aligns the blade to his shoulder, adjusting it a few times when Minho senses your hesitation.

     "Your father will handpick a group of guards for your protection," he finally speaks, his voice steady but distant. "They will follow you to the new kingdom and serve you as I've done these past months."

His stare briefly flicks to meet yours, but quickly returns downward, focused on the task at hand. "I will be among them," he continues, a hint of desperation buried beneath his rigid composure. "But due to my inexperience, I will not be chosen unless you personally vouch for me."

The words feel rehearsed, as if he's reciting a script, unable to show the full depth of the vulnerability you so desperately wish for. Even now, his plea for you to choose him is masked in formality.

     "I—I can't. Minho, my father... he's a force of nature—"

     "And soon you'll be a woman. A wife. A queen. He would be a fool not to listen to you."

His tone is unshaken, a surge of power stirring you to your core. Then, he tilts his head, baring the curve of his neck to the sharpness of his own blade.

     "For you, it would not take an ambush to end me," he says, the words carrying the familiar weight of the boy you've always known. Minho lifts the sword again, allowing it to touch the other side of his neck, the cold steel grazing his skin like a self-made vow, knighting himself with a warrior's solemnity. "Only with your permission."

You feel the truth in the way he kneels now. You know that the only love a commander understands is forged in war. Never gentle—always a violent and sacrificial offering, trusting you with the one thing he's never entrusted to anyone—his vulnerability, hidden beneath armour.

In a flash, the sword is discarded on the floor where your knees meet the cold stone. You throw an arm around him, pulling the only man that has ever mattered into your embrace, because Minho would never dare to make the first move.

Your silk gown, which was gifted by your mother to wear on your first night with Hyunjin, crumbles and gathers above your waist as a result of Minho positioning himself between your legs. His fingers burn your skin as they trail down to haul your knees closer to him, tenderly palming your lower half in slow but aggravating movements. You consider the proximity isn't close enough, that you need more than his chest pressed flat against yours, and think that if there were a way to bring him closer, you would steal it in a heartbeat.

Minho weaves his hands into your hair, bunching a fistful with a sharp tug to the side, eliciting a lewd sound that slips past your lips. He meets the sound with a stare that's nothing short of sinful, a smile playing on his lips more wicked than anything you've ever seen—like a portrait of Hades himself. He leans in, his mouth washing over your neck with open-mouthed kisses, working the plushness of his lips and tongue to distract you from the sudden, violent yank as he rips the gold accessory from your hair—the one gifted by the prince he so clearly despises—and hurls it to the side, as though ridding you of everything poisonous.

[ttjisung]

back 2 u 𝜗𝜚

p. jisung x fem!reader smau

in which jisung does his best to avoid you, his ex, until he realizes his mistake far too latecw: suggestive themes, bad angst, cheating, swearing

i'm not going back, back, back, back, back

masterlist

previous next

chapter iii. (wc: .8k)

If you had to use one word to describe meeting Park Jisung it would be easy. Everything with him felt easy. 

You had been a shy girl growing up, finding it hard to get along with your peers due to your timid nature. By some lucky fortune, you were paired up with Huang Renjun in your freshman year science class. It had been an elective, meaning you were able to share a class with him although being two years your senior. You had seen him here and there, yet never talked to him for obvious reasons. You were reserved and he looked like he was one second away from yelling at whoever dared interact with him. You thought so, at least, until he handed you a candy your second day of school. He grinned at you with no malice in his eyes, and that’s when you realized it was worth crawling out of your own shell to talk to him. 

It took you both around a year to decide you were each other’s best friends. Even during your junior year when you met Yangyang and Dejun, you still never felt as though they could replace Renjun - nobody could. Renjun continued to prove you wrong, introducing you to Park Jisung in your last year of high school. He had graduated at that point, alongside Yangyang and Dejun who you only met after they had left, and the thought of being alone again made you miserable, until Renjun offered to introduce you to his younger friend who was in the same year as you. He had warned you that the taller male was shy, and you simply giggled, joking about how you obviously were as well. 

Renjun was, of course, right. Jisung was incredibly shy, yet for some reason it comforted you - knowing you wouldn’t have to worry about being judged or made fun of. Although your relationship resembled that of two timid middle schoolers who obviously had crushes on each other, you found his company to be endearing. 

It was no surprise to any of your mutual friends when Jisung asked you out. The scene was straight out of a cheesy rom com - he bought you your favorite flowers, drove you to a pretty hill (the steering wheel of his car was slippery and drenched with sweat), and surprised you with a cute picnic. After stumbling on his words for a solid five minutes, he finally asked you the question you were dying to hear. 

“C-can I be your boyfriend, Y/nie?”

You obviously said yes, moved to tears by his romantic gestures. After that, everything felt right. Hanging out with your friends all the while holding his hand and whispering little secrets to him. Eating lunch every day together near your favorite pink leafed tree. It was everything you had dreamed of. He was perfect. 

“Did you think I just wouldn’t find out, Y/n?” Your whole body shook as tears wracked up. “Ji, please. Just listen to me. I don’t know who lied to you but that’s what this is… It’s all lies-” “How come I have evidence then? I was here all alone last night waiting for today so we could hang out, and this whole time you were out kissing random men.” Jisung had never been this bold, or confrontational. Had it been any other situation, you would’ve felt proud for how stable he was defending himself. Of course, this wasn’t the case. 

Before you could answer, Jisung quickly paced into his room. You chased after him the fastest you could, yet were met by a slammed door on your face. “Please baby. Open the door.” His voice came out muffled in response, “Don’t call me that. You… You disgust me, Y/n.” You cried harder.

Eventually he opened the door, a box full of framed photos, clothes, and random trinkets you had gotten for him residing in it. With a force you had never seen him use before, he roughly shoved the box into your arm, grabbing the other and pushing you towards the exit of the apartment. He was too entranced in the situation to realize you were clawing at his arm, begging for him to let go - his hold on you a bit too strong that it worried you. Nonetheless, it was short lived as he made quick work to open the door, pushing you out. 

“I’m serious Y/n. Don’t talk to me anymore. Or anybody… I’m telling Renjun.” “No! No… Jisung please, you’re going to ruin everything when you don’t even know-", "I’m the one that ruined things? Just get out.” Your efforts were in vain as once again, the door was slammed on your face, leaving you in both shock and tears. 

That would be the last time you’d see him in a while.

a/n: haiiii... this is a context chapter sorry guys ik they can get boring... but dw i already have the next one finished so it will be updated soon. very soon. :3

[blazeeblake]

Unsettling

Inspired by this post. I wrote this late at night, zoning out on cold medicine while attempting to recover from a booster shot, so I can’t vouch for the quality 😅:

Dinner had been going great as far as Buck could tell. He and Tommy were still in the figuring it out stage of things, but a meal with Chim and Maddie felt like a step in the right direction; at least, up until the moment his sister unsuspectingly guided the conversation into a minefield.

“So, Tommy,” she began between bites of salad, “I have to say, I was really surprised when my brother told me about your date — not so much in terms of the pronouns of it all, but because the way he told it, you were way more focused on Eddie when you two met.”

Tommy shrugged, pushing around the remainders of his own plate, “Course correction’s a skill you hone when you’re tangling with baby gays— not that I’m sure Eddie even counts in that department. At this rate he’s essentially embryonic. Like, indefinitely.” Maddie cocked her head to the side, whatever follow up she may have had fading away into a loaded silence that descended over the room.

“H-huh,” Chimney chuckled unevenly, “well, uh, I don’t want to speak for anyone that’s not here but I’m pretty sure—“

“Wait,” Buck interrupted, brows knitting together, “You were trying to date Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy replied, as if it was painfully obvious, “At least, until I realized where things stood with him, and then I—

“Course corrected?” Buck finished, “With me. Your second choice.”

“Oh, like I’m not your second choice. Seriously, Evan, don’t be dramatic.”

“Maddie, honey,” Chimney broke in, rising out of his seat, “why don’t we go get dessert ready?”

“Ready?” Maddie repeated, eyes darting between her brother and his date, “It’s already—“

“What are you talking about?” Buck pressed, far too preoccupied with his burgeoning confusion to notice Chimney coaxing his quietly protesting sister out of the room.

Tommy rolled his eyes, pointedly setting his fork down, “Oh come on. Eddie’s on a special level of oblivious— and I mean, no surprise there, Catholicism builds its closets nice and sturdy— but you can’t expect me to believe you’re just as clueless, Mr. Trying to get my attention by pulling another boy’s pigtails.”

“Wha— No,” Buck sputtered, his breath hitching strangely and tripping him up, “Th-that wasn’t about Eddie. He’s not even— and even if he was, we’re not… I mean, we wouldn’t.”

“Right, because you’re scared it would burst the little bubble you two live in where you can have your cake and call it normal friendship,” Tommy concluded, his tone once again gratingly matter of fact, “Face it. A relationship with Eddie is heavy lifting from any angle, so we both opted out for each other, no harm, no foul.” Buck blinked, momentarily stunned into silence as his mind tried and failed to construct a solid counter to the conclusion Tommy had all but thrown in his face. All of it made sense, perhaps more sense than the raw foundations of yet another relationship built on someone else’s initiative and his own need to reach for any degree of being wanted, no matter how scant. The truth of it all stung and made his heart beat faster than he could stand, but at the same time there was something freeing in all that chaos.

“He’s not,” Buck managed softly.

“Gay?” Tommy replied, “Right, and Elton John just needs to meet the right girl.”

Buck shook his head, “No, I mean, he’s not heavy lifting or whatever you said. If you think that, you don’t know him at all— a-and maybe you don’t know me either if you think I’d feel that way.”

“Ev—“

“It’s Buck. And if all of this was settling then I guess you were right the first time: I’m not ready.” Tommy eyed him for a beat before sighing and pushing his chair back from the table.

“At least you’re consistent,” he said as he stood and began making his way to the front door, “A little slow on the draw but still miles more self aware than your buddy. I’d say good luck pulling him out of Narnia, but I’m not gonna hold my breath.” Buck didn’t respond, instead opting to drop his gaze to the floor and let his racing thoughts drown out his surroundings until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m guessing you heard all that?” He asked.

“Sorry,” Maddie said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, “The acoustics down here are pretty unforgiving, privacy-wise.

“Sorry I ruined dinner,” he muttered.

“Technically,” Maddie reasoned, “I started it, so—-“

“I vote we blame no Buckley or Hans ,” Chimney said, dropping into the seat Tommy had vacated, “and we call this a win because screw that guy. I’m all for second chances but that dude’s practically on his fourth and he just keeps blowing it.”

“What am i supposed to do now?” Buck asked, turning to look up at his sister.

Maddie offered him a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s like I said before: whatever you need to do, you’ll do it in your own time.”

“Right, but what if I screw it all up? He’s going through so much right now already and I don’t want to be one more thing he has to deal with.”

“I mean, maybe him going through things is the silver lining, you know? He’s figuring out his future and there’s room for you to work out where—not if— you fit in all of that. Because, for what it’s worth, I can’t picture a scenario where you two don’t figure it out. I can’t promise it’ll go the way you want it to, but I think you owe it to each other to talk.”

Chimney nodded, “As a daily witness to you guys being… well, you, I second that. And who knows? Maybe it all does work out. You communicate instead of fighting in a supermarket or shoving each other on a basketball court, and before you know it, you’re up close and personal with that glorious mustache of his.”

“Oh, Howie,” Maddie scoffed, “that mustache is definitely just a phase. One that maybe proves my point, but a phase nonetheless.”

“You bite your tongue. It’s beautiful and here to stay.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is there something you need to tell Eddie? Or, his facial hair?”

For the second time that evening, Buck let the conversation fade into the background of his thoughts; or rather, the one thought that all the rest had melded into.

He loved Eddie—was in love with Eddie— and as terrifying as it was, the truth of it loomed too large to be reburied or ignored. He didn’t know if time and talking were the remedies his family made them out to be, but if there was any chance at all in them, he was stubborn enough to find out. The way he saw it, he’d practically been holding his breath all this time without knowing anyway, so what was a little while longer if it meant Eddie at the finish line? Unlike a certain helicopter pilot, Buck had the stamina not to settle.

[distant--shadow]

(we're rated E baybee, check the tags for content)

Imogen swallows.

“You keep y’self busy.”

“Pardon?”

It had admittedly sounded like an instruction.

“Sorry, I mean ya do a lot with your time. I see you outside gettin’ your hands dirty or weavin’ on the bench and the like.” Hands-on and filthy things; things that do not require a well-educated mind, things that need not be spent on by a Lady’s time - especially when she has so many willing women under her employ. She hasn’t seen the Lady tooling leather, but she can be sure of her hands. Especially now. Imogen still feels the cool absence of her press at the base of her spine, thinks how the décor of the room would be perfect if only the armchair had a hand-knitted blanket draped over its tall back to warm her own.

“And what else would you have me do? Read books and write letters? I would be transcribing stories already written, and I am not as efficient as a printing press.”

“No, not at all. It’s jus’ peculiar- that’s all. I’m used’ta hearin’ about how fine folk spend their time at parties and makin’ appearances  and keepin’ their hands clean-” a drip of soup escapes from Imogen's mouth between all of her babbling, evidencing her own class, as she wipes it away with the back of her gloved hand before it can make its way to stain the frilled collar of the Lord’s shirt-

The Lady watches her movements.

“You’re rather peculiar yourself.”

The Lady’s eyes hold hers challengingly; the air left expecting and pregnant, a smirk tugging at the wide corners of her mouth. Imogen clears her throat, her last spoon of soup now wishing to detour into her lungs when her motor functions are thrown into question.

She feels a cold sweat at her brow, at that place where the Lady’s hand had held occupancy at the base of her spine, the salt-water that will evaporate into damning steam from the fire.

“Your dress. Your occupation.” The Lady continues after she is satisfied with the still-born she birthed to the air. “You must hear as much of the same - yet tell me - does it feel peculiar to you to do so?”

It’s arguably evasive, but a conversation none the less.

“No, m’lady. It feels right.”

“Well then, we must trust our desires on these things, must we not? After all, I don’t see them causing any harm.”

Imogen shifts in her seat - squirms - if she’s honest, her fingertips digging into the upholstery of the arms of the chair.

The draw Imogen feels to delving into the Lady’s mind is physical - not only in the obvious hunger for answers to the subliminalities she speaks and the aura of questionable calm that surrounds her presence like a fog of lullabies and lavender-

With each time they share space it becomes more and more a battle breaking from internal, as though Imogen’s brain is swelling within the confines of its skull

it wants out.

[yuujiheart]

I wonder why people are saying sukuna chose uraume in the end, I mean if that's the case then why sukuna said this..

If uraume is what he"chose" then why does he wish to try a new path???... Didn't think I need to spell it out loud but sukuna took uraume and left to join the cycle of birth and death aka reincarnation....

Where they both will live a new and separate life .. And if not for yuji that wouldn't have been possible because it's only after coexisting with yuji was he able to understand others.. He himself admitted that yuuji is the reason he changed..

I mean he has been with uraume for so long and still didn't tell them about them being a twin.. Not to forget this panel where uraume was surprised when sukuna said these words means he never was like this in the past.. The words being highlighted also point to that.

In this panel he literally admits that he never wanted to change even though he could have. He had the chance not one but two...

And this reminded me of some posts referring to these choices as that North South thing... And it makes sense that he rejected both paths that is uraume and that miko girl( North) but chose to remain in the past that's to curse others ( South)..

Now I am not against any ship or anything because like gege said he chose not to add any romantic element in jjk so I see no point fighting over ships. But if sukuna being soft and gentle is what clarifies as love then yutamaki and all other ships are canon too.

And pls stop undermining yuji's effort.. He didn't go through all that pain for people to say sukuna only accepted because he lost. yuuji literally rattled him and made him question his own ideology. Gege hasn't shown it yet but it is obvious the way yuuji knows him no one else does.....

And the same goes for sukuna.. Yuuji actually freed him and It is evident from the way sukuna called himself a curse after he took a pause for the first time showing us how deeply being rejected and neglected had affected him..

[scr11bles]

the masses wanted it and now you receive! part two to my little ghost and fucked up hybrid!reader is here!!!

here's part one!

a/n: reader is a german shepard hybrid! and will now be presented as fem! i hope thats okay!!!

cw: little bit of violence but idk if i'd even be considered that

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"I'll take her."

Did you hear him right? You think that's what you heard the man say... How odd, he had only gotten not even a look at your battered form, not even seen how you fight, and yet he's going to take you. You slowly turn once more to peer over your shoulder at the man on the other side of the bars; Ghost- you heard the workers call him.

With narrowed eyes you know what's about to happen, it happens every time you're chosen for a job and must be transferred. Gas starts to come up from holes in your cell, making your vision grow hazy and slowly start to fall asleep.

Ghost watches from the other side of your cell, watching in discomfort as your gassed to sleep, your now lifeless body being manhandled by the workers that entered your cell the second you were down. Ghost shifts in his spot as he sees your wrists and ankles chained together in pair with a muzzle around your mouth that sits over your lower face and wraps around tightly to the back of your head.

"Is this necessary..?"

Ghost speaks up and glares at one of the workers bringing you to your feet and dragging you out the doors of the facility and towards the chopper. The worker that he got a hold of nods his head and makes a gesture for Ghost to follow him as they walk to the chopper.

"Yes sir- she's... Not always privy to being assigned to a new handler- this is just for insurance that she won't lash out."

Ghost just grunts in response, this was going to be a pain in his ass. You were going to be a pain in his ass. The Lieutenant watches as you're forcefully shoved into a cage in the back of the chopper, his dark eyes beneath his mask narrowing as you're locked in and your chains are secured to the hull of the chopper. With one last glance at the facility, Ghost climbs into the back of the chopper, choosing to take one of the seats near where you're caged.

When the chopper lifts off the tarmac, Ghost notices you flinch as you sit with your knees to your chest- the same position you were in back in your old cell. Trauma response? Maybe. Ghost thinks to himself as his eyes glaze over you, noticing every nick, bruise, and scar on your body that's obvious. After a few boring seconds of silence the Lieutenant finally speaks up, addressing you for the first time.

"My name's-"

"Simon."

Ghost all but flinches as the sound of your voice, the man steeling himself instantly. The hell did he jump for? You're just some mutt. Though, his eyes darken and narrow into sharp slits beneath his mask when he realizes you said his name; not his callsign or last name, his first name.

"Workers liked to chat about things on the down low away from us. Wrong thing to do around creatures with enhanced hearing."

To practically prove your point, one of your ears flick atop your head before flattening back down against your skull. Ghost honestly didn't know how to feel; he wanted to throttle the blabber mouths that even dared utter his name, while also basking in the sound of your voice. It was muffled from the muzzle around your mouth, but despite that Ghost notices the pitch is strained and scratchy as you speak in a quiet whisper that's barely audible above the whirring of the chopper's blades, while also holding some semblance of softness under all the grit and gore of your very being.

"Right. It should just be Ghost to you though, I don't really do familiarity."

Ghost hears your sigh and simply stares at you, giving you an expectant look conveyed through just his dark eyes. When you catch on to what he wants you give him your name, muttering it into the air quietly so that Ghost almost doesn't catch it. The Lieutenant registers your name, grumbling it out with his gravelly voice and accent before nodding stiffly and looking you up and down, staring at your tail wrapped around your thigh and ears atop your head.

"The hell are you anyways?"

The man before you questions. Probably not the best tone of voice in his approach, but Ghost didn't think you wanted to be babied, you don't look the type to him. Your eyes slowly trail up to Ghost's, simply keeping eye contact with the man before you murmur your species, German Shepard.

Ghost hums, breaking eye contact with you and looking down at his boots for a fleeting second before looking out one of the small circular windows in the chopper. Guess that was typical, it's the average breed of hybrid that enlisted into the forces.

Simon always did like German Shepards...

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

hi guys i'm alive!!! college got a little rough and i've started working out so.. my hands are full and all that. hope you guys are staying safe and i love you all :3

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

12. Jelly does come in both ways

Note: pretty long chap soo….enjoy the fluff!

Ever since the topic of dating came up, Ningning, ever the instigator, had been joking around during one of their late-night practice sessions. They were cooling down, lying on the floor of the practice room, and Y/n had just stepped out to grab some water.

And a little birdie has chirped that Y/n got set up to a blind date.

“You know,” Ningning had said, shooting a glance at Winter, “if Y/n’s going on a date, maybe you should’ve set him up with someone, unnie. I mean, you are the same in age.”

Winter, sitting cross-legged, froze mid-stretch. “W-What? Why me?”

Karina, sensing an opportunity to join in the fun, smirked. “Well, you are always bickering with him. Opposites attract, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Giselle added with a sly grin, “and you two spend so much time together. You must know his type by now.”

Winter’s face flushed. “That’s ridiculous! We just childhood friends. That’s it.”

Ningning snickered. “Sure, unnie. Whatever you say.”

The teasing didn’t stop there. The other girls kept dropping little comments and giggles every time Y/n and Winter interacted. Winter, despite trying her best to ignore it, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something every time they mentioned the date.

It wasn’t jealousy—definitely not—but she was... annoyed. That’s all it was. She didn’t even know the girl Y/n was meeting, yet something about the situation irked her.

And that’s how Winter found herself leading the charge to spy on Y/n’s date.

-

When Y/n agreed to go on a blind date, he had no idea he’d also be starring in a spy movie—except, instead of highly trained professionals following him, it was four idiots wearing oversized sunglasses and ridiculous disguises.

Winter, Giselle, Ningning, and Karina sat huddled in the corner of a small café, pretending to read menus they had no intention of ordering from. It was Winter’s idea, of course, to “just check in” on Y/n’s date. She swore it was for his own good, not because of any weird feelings she might or might not be experiencing.

She watched from behind her menu as Y/n walked into the café, looking more put together than usual—buttoned-up shirt, hair neatly styled, even a bit of cologne. Winter’s stomach did a weird little flip, and she cursed herself for noticing.

“There he is,” Ningning whispered, her voice barely containing her amusement. “Our boy’s looking sharp.”

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Giselle asked, eyes darting to the entrance.

Winter didn’t respond, but her grip tightened on the menu. This was stupid. Why was she even here? She had better things to do with her day off than spy on Y/n’s date.

But then again, if she wasn’t here, who knew what kind of person Y/n might be meeting? What if she wasn’t nice? What if Y/n got catfished?

“Oh! There she is,” Karina whispered, nudging Winter.

The girl who entered was undeniably pretty—stylish, confident, and exactly the kind of person you’d expect Y/n to go on a date with. Winter’s stomach twisted again. She wasn’t sure why.

As the girl approached Y/n and they started talking, Winter kept stealing glances, trying not to look too obvious. The conversation seemed to be going well, and Y/n even laughed at something the girl said.

Winter’s frown deepened. “He laughs like that with everyone,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Ningning asked, peeking over her sunglasses.

“Nothing,” Winter snapped, sinking lower into her seat.

Karina, sensing Winter’s mood, leaned in. “You know, you’re the one who insisted we do this.”

“I know,” Winter grumbled. “I just didn’t think he’d... I don’t know.”

“Look at him,” Giselle whispered, nodding toward Y/n. “He’s practically glowing.”

Winter glared at her. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure,” Ningning said with a wink. “Whatever you say, unnie.”

-

As the date went on, the girls’ presence became harder to ignore. At first, they tried to be subtle—occasionally walking by the table, pretending to stretch, or “accidentally” dropping things nearby. But when Ningning knocked over a stack of napkins for the third time, Y/n shot them a look that screamed “I know you’re watching.”

“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” Winter whispered, clutching her iced coffee. “He’s going to catch on.”

“He already has,” Karina said, barely containing her laughter. “Look, he’s staring right at us.”

Y/n’s eyes were practically drilling holes into their table, but Winter refused to meet his gaze.

“Abort mission?” Giselle suggested, trying to stifle a giggle.

“No way,” Ningning whispered. “We’ve come too far.”

Winter, against her better judgment, found herself agreeing. She couldn’t back out now. Not when she’d already gotten this far.

-

Eventually, Y/n’s date couldn’t help but notice the commotion. The girl looked over at the corner where aespa was failing miserably at being inconspicuous and raised an eyebrow.

“Uh... Y/n?” she asked, pointing. “Are those... your friends?”

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah... unfortunately.”

Winter, realising they’d been caught, stood up from the table, dragging the others with her. She marched over to Y/n’s table, her face burning with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, avoiding Y/n’s gaze. “We didn’t mean to... interrupt.”

Y/n leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Really? Because it looks like you’ve been spying on me for the past hour.”

Winter winced. “Okay, maybe we were. But it was Ningning’s idea!” she quickly deflected, throwing the youngest under the bus.

“Hey!” Ningning protested, though she didn’t seem too offended. “I was just curious! You know, making sure everything was going smoothly.”

Y/n’s date laughed, clearly more amused than upset. “It’s fine. Honestly, I think it’s cute that you guys are so close.”

Winter’s cheeks flushed. Cute? Was that how it looked? She wasn’t trying to be cute. She was just... concerned. That was it. Just concerned.

Y/n sighed, looking between his date and the girls. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I should’ve known you guys wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“We just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting catfished!” Ningning defended with a grin. “Plus, you’re our manager. We have to look out for you.”

Y/n shot her an exasperated look. “Right. Sure.”

As the date came to an end, Winter couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief. Y/n’s date had been nice, sure, but she hadn’t been that nice. Not like Winter had been worried or anything... but still.

-

The girls continued to tease Y/n as they left the café, all of them walking back together. Ningning kept making little comments about how Y/n was “glowing,” while Karina and Giselle chuckled at his flustered expression.

Winter, on the other hand, stayed quiet, her thoughts swirling. She wasn’t sure why she felt the way she did, but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had settled in her chest.

“Well,” Y/n finally said, sighing as they reached the dorm, “I guess that’s the last time I agree to a blind date…and also see her.”

“Aw, come on,” Ningning teased. “Don’t give up yet. There’s still hope!”

Y/n rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Sure, if you guys don’t tag along next time.”

Winter smirked slightly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “No promises.”

-

It all started innocently enough, just a casual conversation about plans for the weekend. The girls had a break coming up, and for once, it seemed like everyone had something to do. Except for Y/n.

"So, what’s everyone doing this weekend?" Ningning asked as they sat around the practice room, cooling down from their dance session.

Karina stretched, glancing over at the others. "I’m thinking of going back to visit my family."

Giselle yawned. "I’m planning to catch up on sleep. A lot of sleep."

Winter, who had been unusually quiet, glanced at her phone before looking up with a slightly nervous smile. "Uh, I... actually have a date."

The room went silent.

Y/n, who had been casually sipping his water, almost choked. “Wait, what?”

Karina and Giselle exchanged quick looks, trying not to grin too widely, while Ningning's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ohhhh, a date, huh?" she teased, leaning toward Winter. "And you didn’t think to tell us earlier?"

Winter’s cheeks flushed. "It’s not a big deal. Just someone I met through a friend."

Y/n could feel the odd, unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest. His grip on the water bottle tightened. “A date,” he repeated, as if confirming it to himself.

Minjeong was going on a date.

For some reason, that didn’t sit right with him. Not that he had any say in what Winter did with her free time, of course, but something about it made him... uneasy.

“Who is he?” Y/n blurted out, trying to keep his voice casual but failing miserably.

Winter raised an eyebrow at his tone. “Just a guy. Why, are you jealous or something?”

The question hung in the air, half a joke but with a hint of challenge in Winter’s eyes.

Giselle, sensing the shift, smirked. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

“I’m not jealous,” Y/n said a little too quickly, his heart racing. “I just... you know, I want to make sure he’s not some random guy. You have to be careful.”

“Dejavu….” Karina muttered while glancing at the other 2 girls, who had the same idea.

Winter crossed her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll be fine, Y/n. You don’t have to worry.”

Ningning, loving every second of the exchange, leaned over to Karina and whispered loudly, “I think we’ve found our next couple to tease.”

Karina chuckled, nodding. “Definitely.”

Y/n, now flustered, tried to shake off the growing irritation gnawing at him. He knew the girls were teasing, but the thought of Winter going on a date was seriously messing with his head. Why did he care so much?

But then, there was that look Winter had when she teased him. That sparkle in her eyes, the small smile playing on her lips. It made his chest tighten in a way that was completely unfamiliar.

-

Y/n paced nervously in front of the large windows overlooking the city from the café’s second floor. He told himself, “This is purely for safety reasons. Nothing more.” His hands were shoved into his pockets, but his mind was racing a mile a minute. Winter was on a date. With some guy. And he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that gnawed at him.

"Why do I care so much?" he muttered to himself, watching the small table near the window where Winter sat with her date. She seemed relaxed, laughing at something the guy said.

He tried to play it cool when Winter first mentioned the date, but now that it was happening, he couldn’t help but worry. The fact that the guy recognised Winter as a member of aespa only added to his anxiety.

He glanced over again, eyes narrowing slightly. The guy didn’t look suspicious, but then again, Y/n had seen this type of situation play out before. A fan pretending to be a casual date, using it as an opportunity to get closer to idols—Winter in this case.

Y/n's phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Ningning.

Ningning:

You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.

Y/n sighed. He was caught. Of course, she would know. She always knew. He typed back quickly.

Y/n:

I’m just making sure she’s safe.

Ningning:

Sure you are. 🙄 You do realise Mindoogie can take care of herself, right? Stop being jealous and come back before she notices..

Y/n groaned. Jealous? He wasn’t jealous. He was… concerned. And besides, Ningning wasn’t helping by pointing out what he already refused to admit. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and continued to observe from his spot, only for Giselle to join in with another text.

Giselle:

I heard you’re spying on Winter’s date. Get a grip, dude. 😂

Y/n:

You guys spied me last time, anyway. Why can’t I TT

Ningning:

Just because

Clearly, Ningning had told the others. Y/n clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to reply. Giselle’s playful jab wasn’t going to change his mind. He was here for a good reason. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

-

Downstairs, Winter took a sip of her coffee, her eyes flickering toward the window. She was having a decent time, but there was something off. Her date had been nice enough, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more interested in her career than in her as a person. He kept bringing up aespa, talking about their music, their recent performances, and fan events.

At first, she appreciated that he knew her work, but after the fourth mention of the group, it was getting a little weird. She shifted in her seat, wondering if she should just call it a night.

"You must get so many fan gifts, huh?" her date asked with an awkward chuckle. "It must be wild."

Winter forced a smile. "Yeah, it’s part of the job."

She didn’t want to seem rude, but she couldn’t help but wish she were somewhere else. The conversation felt more like an interview than a date. “This was a bad idea,” she thought.

Suddenly, she glanced out the window again and spotted something—or rather, someone—familiar. Her eyes widened as she realised…

Y/n was standing a few feet away, trying (and failing) to blend in with the people passing by.

"Wait a second..." she muttered under her breath.

Her date noticed her distracted expression and turned to follow her gaze. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it’s just—" Winter’s mind raced. Why on earth was Y/n spying on her date? Was he seriously that worried about her? She could handle herself just fine.

-

Y/n had just stepped back from the window, deciding it was time to leave, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Idiot?"

He froze. Slowly, he turned around to see Winter standing there, arms crossed, a mixture of amusement and frustration on her face.

"Uh... Hey," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Fancy seeing you here."

Winter raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "What are you doing here?"

Y/n tried to come up with a believable excuse but knew there was no way out of this one. "Hahhh…. I was just... making sure everything was okay. You know, safety first and all that."

"Safety?" Winter echoed, her voice laced with disbelief. "You’re spying on my date, aren’t you?"

"Spying is a strong word," Y/n mumbled, clearly caught. “And you did it last time with the others…”

Winter couldn’t help but laugh. The situation was ridiculous, and as much as she wanted to be annoyed, seeing Y/n flustered like this was amusing. "You know I can take care of myself, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Y/n said quickly, but his eyes flickered with something else—something Winter hadn’t noticed before. "I just... I didn’t want anything bad to happen."

Winter softened at his words. She knew Y/n was protective, but this was a new level of concern. "You don’t have to worry about me all the time, Y/n," she said gently. "I can handle it."

"I know," he sighed, finally admitting defeat. "I just couldn’t help it. The guy knew you were in aespa, and I thought maybe he was... I don’t know, taking advantage of that."

Winter smiled, a genuine one this time. "He’s just a fan, but I could tell it wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t have to follow me."

Y/n nodded, feeling a bit silly now. "Yeah, sorry. I’ll back off next time."

Winter chuckled softly. "No need. It’s kind of... sweet. In a really weird way.

Before Y/n could respond, Winter’s phone buzzed. She glanced down and rolled her eyes. "It’s Ningning. They’re all laughing at us, aren’t they?"

"Damn right they are," Y/n muttered.

Winter shook her head and sighed. "Come on, let’s get out of here. This date wasn’t exactly what I thought it’d be anyway."

"Really?" Y/n asked, surprised. "You’re cutting it short?"

"Yeah," Winter shrugged. "He was more into aespa than into me."

“I bet his bias wasn’t you.”

“Oh shush, idiot”

Y/n smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "So... what now?"

"How about we grab some real food?" Winter suggested. "I’m starving."

"Sounds good," Y/n grinned, already feeling better as they left the café together. Winter had handled everything just fine, but maybe, just maybe, Y/n didn’t mind being there for her—even if it meant being caught in the act.

[psychotrenny]

Very embarrassing to see MLs who are too historically ignorant to even counter Anti-Civs properly. Like what those people want is both incredibly stupid and evil but like as awful and ignorant as their understanding of "hunter-gatherer" societies is like you'll see people attempt to "debunk" them in a way that reveals even greater ignorance. Like deliberate Population control measures- contraceptive, abortion, infanticide etc.- widespread in many societies around the world with a comparable non-agrarian economic base is like hardly esoteric knowledge (in many cases the existance of these practices was rhetorically exploited by European Christians to justify assimilation and genocide). Indeed, if disease and infant mortality alone was sufficient to "stabilise" human populations under those conditions then do you really think we would have gotten anywhere under the even more unhealthy conditions of early agriculture?

We can like acknowledge the various ways that past human societies adapted to their conditions without acting like it's good or desirable to return to them; the past wasn't all muck and suffering but at the same time Industrialisation offers an unprecedent capacity to improve human life on a mass scale so it would be stupid to pass up. This isn't even getting into the obvious physical impossibility of a global reversion to a pre-industrial or pre-agrarian way of life regardless of how desirable you think it may be. Like Anti-Civs are like the absolute bottom of the barrel and yet some suppossed "Dialetcial Materialists" are too ignorant to even oppose them correctly. Incredibly humilating

[freakinator]

I'm so interested, but I don't know where to start watching UU. I'm so confused. Could you please advise me how to watch it properly?

honestly the best advice i can give you is to just search unstable universe and click on any of the playlists (i recommend diya's since it tends to be the most up-to-date one), if you wanna watch just one pov then feel free to do so but be warned youd be missing a part of the experience by doing so mainly through missing context/part of the story for certain scenes (although tbf that pretty much goes for any lets play but if you dont mind that aspect then go right ahead)

a few warnings before you get started tho:

its a huge time investestment, all but the first 4 episodes are more than 3 hours long with most of them either halfway through or nearing 4 hours

some vids are uploaded later than they actually take place on the timeline, i have a guide here if you wanna know at least from what i can tell the actual order is

theres a few supplementary materials (can be found in the extras part of the sheet i linked, not complete yet cause theres some vids i havent linked yet and im still on the lookout for more since some vids get added retroactively in addition to the ones uploaded explicitly for uu), you dont need to watch them to enjoy the story but theyre a cool bonus

if you wanna watch only one pov heres a guide on each of the povs specialties before doing so

general:

they all shift in style as the eps go on, nothing jarring but if you dont like more scripted storylines you may find the later eps a bit lacking

plot themes get used and reused a lot, for example spoke often goes on quests to destroy important landmarks, parrot often goes on scavenger hunts/get imprisoned/some combination of the two, and wemmbu often does things related to civilizations/kingdoms/factions

certain editing styles also get copied from each other, parrot and wemmbu in particular like to do this with each other

themes and styles can also switch around sometimes which can affect future eps on some level

certain exploits and mechanics dont work as intended so dont bother replicating how certain mechanics work according to actual mc cause chances are youll be disappointed by the results (unless youre into that sorta thing i suppose lol)

the main povs tend to stick to the same set of ppl, most likely due to scheduling reasons, so dont expect a whole lot of crossover casting (tho obv there would still be some esp if theyve got a pre-established role already)

spoke:

redacts some important events from his eps but may recount them later on depending on how the story plays out tho not in detail

not a lot of pvp in his pov and when there is chances are hes trying to run away or someone else is handling it (mainly mapicc)

doesnt upload nearly as consistently as the other two, consequently his shift in style is more obvious comparatively but so is his character development

thematically his eps tend to be about personal growth of some kind

lorewise his eps tend to focus more on server meta, for example his pov is the only one where there is clear confirmation of the server being unstable codewise, his pov is the only one where just how large of a problem duping on the server is can actually be seen and felt, and so far his pov is the only one that shows who ash is and what his goals are. basically if spoke introduces some kind of threat in his ep, chances are it'll be a threat to the server meta and youd have to think of the bigger picture in order to grasp how dangerous they actually are

his pov is also the only one you get the full picture of what a soggy little rat he actually is since in both parrot and wemmbus povs spoke is seen as a serverwide threat, directly for parrot and theoretically for wemmbu

if you like ls s4 zam and/or ls s2 spoke then youll most likely like him as well lol

has a small reoccuring cast and tends to stick to one person when going on quests while also taking note of another one

you will feel the ghost of jamatoP haunting this kid wherever he goes even if he never directly references him

parrot:

tends to get dragged along plot points, not in the sense that he doesnt have agency cause he very much does but more like he takes it upon himself to clean up other ppls messes if that makes sense

tries not to get into pvp but he still does get into them quite often, usually tries to run away but when he doesnt/cant he doesnt really have the best fighting techniques

his character development tends toward introspection which leads to a lot of "quiet" and assumptive character development, you gotta use a lot of psychological analysis when watching a parrot episode basically

thematically his eps tend to be about the willingness to get in danger in pursuit of something (whether it be for something greater, knowledge, or the safety of the other players on the server whether it be their life or memories) vs the predictable and stagnant comfort of safety

lorewise the threats he faces are ones that focuses on the actual players themselves, if one is introduced on his episode then chances are that they specifically target and affect players. an interesting example of this is zam, seen as a threat but never actually treated like an actual problem to be solved unlike the other threats he faces and it just so happens that zam is in a really interesting place antagonism-wise when it comes to wemmbu but is otherwise not a huge threat to unaffiliated players not even parrot who he apparently has beef with

has a large reoccuring cast who come in and out of his life, each of whom are important the same way cogs are important to a machine (applies to parrot himself as well). wifies sticks by him no matter what tho

wemmbu:

literally only one episode of his so far does not heavily feature or center around zam and its the one that takes place before they meet, if you do not like seeing/hearing about zam every 10 minutes or so do not watch wemmbus eps or you Will get pissed off

gets into fights quite often and is the best at pvp among the three main povs but isnt the best in terms of the server at large (hes somewhere more along the lines of average)

his character development is. rocky. and cyclical. be prepared to see him spiral and get better and spiral again over and over again basically lol

thematically his eps tend to be about princezam. i wish i was joking. but besides that, theyre also about retaliatory safety, morality, and sacrificing everything just to try and accomplish a singular goal

lorewise he causes a lot of ripple effects that affect the other two povs to a level that neither of them have ever affected him like for example him terrorizing spoke and parrot is what drove them to their current paths (anti-exploit exploiter for spoke and player protector for parrot)

has. A reoccuring cast. most of them are enemies and/or dont matter to him a whole lot personally tho... that doesnt mean he doesnt have friendly relations or allies of any kind, just that the only two you Really need to take note of are eggchan and princezam

i think thats p much all i can say about uu in terms of how to get into it but if youve got any questions of some kind feel free to ask :D