#that can be read this way! And it works so well with some of what happens! It's so beautiful and poetic and cool and juicy!

[berryfairyluvr]

hihi I loved the zayne princess treatment post could you do a sylus one as well please 🥹💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

sylus and his princess (queen) treatment

pairings: bf!sylus x fem!reader

warnings: none really, maybe minor mentions of some memories

a/n: thank you for the love and the request xx hope you enjoy <3

With a high bounty on his head Sylus has many enemies. Now having you as his beloved partner in this dangerous life (and all the ones before and after) your life has taken priority over his own. Despite your stubborn tendencies, he always has eyes on you ensuring your safety.

He not so slyly suggests you stay at his place 99% of the time as an answer to any of your complaints claiming he has 'this and that' but really it’s to keep you close by.

You insist on waiting up for him after his many late night outings much to his opposition. The lamps dim lighting catching his eye through the window each time he returns to find you cutely tucked into yourself sound asleep on the plush couch. He’d chuckle quietly and scoop you into his arms carrying you bridal style down the dark hallways to the bedroom.

You often complained about the coldness of his marble flooring even in socks. He’s made sure to have his staff keep you slippers in your most visited rooms ever since.

You thought his shower was huge before? He had it expanded and added multiple shower heads. When you asked why he responded with “Time is of the essence, now we can save it by showering together sweetie.”

He loves to accommodate you, adding a vanity to his bedroom, his and hers closet, shared armory access personalized just to your liking… The list goes on.

He’s discreetly possessive with his touches but it’s usually masked by his powerful demeanor. For instance, when the two of you are out he’s often guiding you on his arm or with his large hand splayed on the small of your back. At meals and meetings his hand finds its way to rest on your thigh.

He will not stand for any sign of disrespect towards you, those who haven’t learned that are met with something violently unpleasant. (Most times completely unbeknownst to you— Sylus makes sure you’re occupied)

You yap and he listens. Earnestly. And I mean undivided and devoted attention. He is so very fond of the way you light up like a child when speaking about your life.

His attention to detail is remarkable and he shows that in your everyday life. Whether it’s picking up on your favorite scent or noting what things make you relax more than others, he provides you with them as much as possible.

That travel magazine you’d been reading hadn’t gone unnoticed and to your surprise, he’d arranged for the two of you to escape reality and venture out for a vacation.

This man can compliment, and he can compliment goooood. He has no issue expressing his gratitude and respect for you through his words and oh boy is he good with his words.

Seeing you scared or fearful wounded him enough the first few times that it now melts him into a puddle at the first sign of worry from you.

this is his *please don’t be worried/upset* look

He doesn’t mind one bit helping you bathe and dress after a long day of work. He even brushes your hair.

Your words mean everything to him, he wants to hear it. (He praises you for it in return 🤭)

For all the excursions you often clung to him like a backpack atop his bike— he decided a spare motorcycle helmet just wouldn’t do for you anymore and had one made to match his.

His date at any and every auction, he revels in getting to flaunt you around all dolled up and on his arm. Some even say his demeanor changed since you began attending these events with him..

read zayne’s version here

requests open ❤︎

[simpjaes]

Thoughts on jealous Jay? Like is he gonna give silent treatment and then fuck you senseless or talk it out calmy and be a cutie and sulk like a baby till you give him attention and needs alot of affirmation (ITS A HORRIBLE ASK I DONT KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE IT OKAY IM SO SORRY)

Oh.....oh. what if...both?

WARNING: could be considered dub con to some people, be aware of that. not proof read.

Three days.

It's been three whole days since your boyfriend last spoke to you, and your mind has been running in all sorts of directions to determine why. Three days, that's how long it took you to get it. That's how long it took you to wonder if Jay is planning to break up with you over it.

Over Sunghoon, and the way he called you mid-sex with Jay all those nights ago. He was just asking if you took notes during the last class since he skipped, that's all. You didn't even answer the call, but it's the fact that Jay glanced over at your ringing phone and saw his motherfucking name.

It was eleven at night. Why did he have any reason to call you so late? "Jay..." You make the same attempt you have been making each day, every hour, as much as you can to try and get him to respond to you.

And it's the fact that he still shows up every day like usual, like he's not mad at you. Yet, he leaves every night without a work towards you, not a goodnight kiss, not a hug, not even a "sleep well." "Are you going to break up with me?" You meekly add, noting how he doesn't even glance in your direction and, instead, sits on your couch as if you're the one invading his space. For the first time in three days, she shoots his eyes to you, narrowing them. Finally, some emotion. Yet, still...no words. No reassurance. Nothing to make you feel better, or to indicate that Sunghoon is the reason, or that he's not breaking up with you. Instead, you find yourself backing away from him as he storms up at you. Back, back, back until you're hitting the kitchen counter and unable to escape from him. He says nothing, he doesn't even kiss you, and instead you feel his hands pulling your shorts down too fast to argue. Then, you're being flipped around, further proof that he can't even stand to look at you right now. And, so, you let him. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants if it means he will finally go back to normal. You're thankful he does too. Though it hurts knowing it took him plunging into you from behind, pressing your face into the cold counter to actually open up about why he's upset. He had to treat you like you mean nothing in order to remember you matter, much, much more to him than either of you can imagine. And now, as you sit somewhat numb against his chest, he whispers the warmth back to you. Apologetic, guilty for having let his jealousy get the best of him. "Baby, I-" He pauses, knowing there's nothing he can do to erase the fact that he just fucked you without any care or gentleness. "I had it my head that you...were going t-" "It's Sunghoon, isnt it?" You blurt, looking at your boyfriend and the way he pouts and relishes in his own guilt. There's a small nod from here, a shameful one. "You ignored me for three days over Sunghoon?" Another shameful nod, proving to you just how insecure your boyfriend is and how much he probably needs you to reassure him that there's no one like him in your life.

[moons-and-runes]

Writing Goals for 2025!

💖 My main goal for the year is to finish writing at least one entire fic (but hopefully I’ll complete multiple)

🛳️ I have a oneshot idea for Benverly which isn’t really a new ship for me but I’ve never written for them before. I think I’d also like to write some Marylene stuff :)

🤔 Following on from the last Q, Ben, Bev, Mary and Marlene are characters I’ve not written before

🥸 Yes, I have a friend who I share most of my ideas with who also has some fic ideas in the works 👀

🥵…We’ll see. And if I do there’s no guarantee I would even post it lol

👻 Technically any genre is a new genre for me as I’ve never finished writing a whole story

🦄 I have a dual POV wip at the moment of Sirius and Regulus Black :)))

🐌 To finish a oneshot (3k - 10k words)

🦖 No I’m really only interested in writing IT and HP fics

🍄 None that I can think of atm but that might change as I read and watch more perhaps I’ll join a new fandom this year

🌈 Oh I’ve already done a ton of research for multiple of my wips. Things like looking up lunar cycle calendars, weather forecasts and major events from previous years as well as finding every character’s canon birthday and creating ones for those who don’t have one 😭 I have put in WORK!

✨ I’m pretty good at English overall but I guess spelling and grammar are my strongest areas. Although I do find myself wanting to look up certain grammar at times to double check I’m using it correctly.

🥕 Timeline? Plot line? Not sure how to word it but just managing to get all my separate ideas and scenes to flow into each other and form the bigger picture/full story

🫘 Currently in the works I have a reddie fic from Eddie’s pov (but with a twist), the dual pov Black brothers fic, a wolfstar au inspired by one of my favourite books and an angsty semi canon-compliant wolfstar fic

🥳 Allow myself to start making art based on my stories. I think if I do that before the fics are finished I’ll just end up settling for the art and never finishing the writing. However when I finish a fic I can then make art and also use it as the fic cover!

🎃 Yes I think it would be fun to do some holiday oneshots, especially Halloween and Christmas (or for character’s birthdays if I remember)

🐾 I’d like to say yes but I struggle so much with deadlines I just don’t see myself finishing within the short time frame 😔

✍️ Hits and Comments! I’d like to know that people are actually reading and enjoying the stuff I put out especially when I’ve worked so hard on it :) I would say kudos but since you’re only allowed to leave 1 per fic the numbers wouldn’t be as accurate to how many people are actually reading/enjoying it

👾 Not finishing wips 💀 I have so many ideas for fics and random notes in multiple places and I just need to focus on finishing the few I’ve started

🤖 Not really. I write wherever and whenever the inspiration hits. Whether at my computer, on my phone or on my iPad. And usually I’ll be in bed or at my desk

🦷 Any of the super angsty scenes I have planned (none of them are fully formed ideas yet though so I can’t share snippets or say what in particular I’m scared to write)

💥 Heheheh yes but I can’t really say bc I don’t want to spoil my current favourite wip. It involves brotherly bickering though :)

🍕 Posting schedules aren’t important to me. I’ll post whenever I want to post. However I think I’d like to have the full fic finished before I start posting it. That way there’s no chance I’ll abandon it as a wip with a cliffhanger

🛏️ Again, pretty much any trope is a new trope as someone who has never finished a piece of writing 😭

🪩 Not sure if this is specifically a writing habit but I’m super proud of the ideas I come up with and I’d like to continue developing my existing ideas as well as creating new ones

🎉 I will acknowledge that this is the first year I have set any writing goals and that I can always finish off my goals next year, just like how I’ve only completed 1/4 of my Goodreads goals so far

💌 Yes!! Although I think I need to build more of a following on here/ao3 before that happens :)

PHEW! that was a lot!! But also very fun!! I can’t wait to get more into my writing this year and hopefully 🤞 finish one (or more) of my wips

tagging: @staliamazing

Writer Goal Ask List for a New Year 🎉

These writer asks are always so fun to both ask and answer. Fanfic or original fiction writers, reblog away! These are asks based in new goals for a new year.

💖 What is your primary writing goal for this year?

🛳 Are there any new ships you want to write for? (Platonic, romantic, or anything in between.)

🤔 Are there any new characters you want to write about?

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

🥵 Any plans to write steamy or spicy content this year?

👻 Is there a new genre you'd like to write?

🦄 Is there a new POV you'd like to try writing?

🐌 What is one of your smallest writing goals?

🦖 Are there any fandoms you wrote for in the past that you'd like to return to?

🍄 Are there any fandoms you've never written for but want to try?

🌈 What research do you plan on doing for your writing?

✨What's one area of your writing that you think needs the least amount of improvement?

🥕 What's one area of your writing that you think needs the most amount of improvement?

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

🥳 How are you going to celebrate when you achieve one of your writing goals?

🎃 Do you plan on writing any seasonal fics?

🐾 Do you plan on writing for any fests or competitions?

✍️ Which stat matters most to you (if at all!): subscriptions, kudos/favorites, comments, bookmarks, word count, or hits?

👾 Do you have any "bad" writing habits you want to break?

🤖 Are you looking to change your current writing setup? (Or establish one, if you don't have one?)

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

🍕Will you be making any changes to your posting schedule (if you have one)? (Or do you want to establish a posting schedule?)

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

🪩 Do you have any "good" writing habits you want to cultivate?

🎉 How are you going to be kind to yourself if you don't meet your goals?

💌 Are you willing to take requests or prompts for writing?

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're struggling through your pregnancy, trying to stay calm as your worries about Bradley grow as quickly as the baby. Bradley wants to put his best foot forward at work, making himself available for office hours, but maybe he's made himself too accessible.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, smut, pregnancy topics, lactation kink, jealous

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley's new office was coming along nicely. Everything was standard issue Navy grade, but he started adding some touches here and there to make it look more personal. The file cabinet was covered in ultrasound photos, one column of Rosie and one of her younger sibling. 

He glanced at the wedding photo on his desk before adjusting it and wincing. You were still mad this morning that he overdid it at the Hard Deck last night, but he wished you would just let it go. It's not like he drove home drunk or anything. Nat and the guys were just excited to learn he was going to have another kid. The drinks just kept coming.

There was a knock on the door, and then Maverick poked his head inside. "You have a minute?"

"Yeah," Bradley replied, waving him inside. "It's not like I can tell you no. You're my commanding officer, Mav."

The older man chuckled, setting some folders on the desk. "I need you to keep all of the forms updated for each of the pilots. It's best if you work on it every day and then update the hard copies. You should have time to do this between visits during your office hours."

Today was the first time Bradley was holding office hours, and honestly he felt a bit like a college professor: the aviators were kind of his students, and he was responsible for making sure they were prepared to fly.

"Not sure how busy my office hours will be," Bradley muttered. He should probably send a text to remind you he'd be home a little later than usual tonight. While he didn't want to make a habit of missing dinner with his girls, this was a far cry better than being deployed. 

"You might be surprised," Maverick replied with a smile as he backed toward the door. "You've got a lot to show the others, Lieutenant Commander."

Then he was gone, and Bradley could feel the warmth rising in his cheeks. He just wanted to prove himself, but the first time someone had him up against the wall, scrambling for an answer, he wasn't sure what he was going to do. He'd only started to advertise his extra hours during today's lecture, so it would probably be another week or so until someone came to him for any sort of guidance on a Monday evening. But he would try to be ready.

He was just opening one of the folders from Maverick when there was another knock on his door. This time when he looked up, he was met with a flight suit complete with a Golden Warriors patch identical to the one he wore. That would have been enough to let him know it was Indigo, but then he met her eyes as he stood up behind his desk.

"Lieutenant Jeffries," he greeted with a smile as she strode inside. "How can I help you?"

She studied his face with a knowing look for a few seconds before breaking out into a smile of her own. "Sir, I can think of so many ways you could help me. It's not even funny."

Bradley blinked, brow furrowed as he examined her. "Well, why don't you start with an easy one? It's been a long day. And something tells me you might be regretting the late start you got at the Hard Deck last night."

Her laughter filled the room. "I could never regret finding the officer hangout before the rest of my peers from Texas. I need to keep the edge I have over Rex and Spice." When she started to close the door, Bradley frowned.

"Keep it open," he said casually, reaching out to catch it before it shut. He didn't want anyone thinking he was playing favorites, and the little pout on Indigo's lips convinced him she wanted to be his favorite aviator. But she didn't argue. She simply sat down on the edge of the couch and looked up at him.

"The easiest way you can help me is by telling me where I can improve," she said, fingers toying with the zipper at her neck. "I want to be the best you've ever seen."

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

You couldn't tell if Cat was actually annoyed with you or if she was just teasing, but you were too exhausted from a restless night to care.

"I can't believe Bradley told Jake you're pregnant before you told me yourself! I just saw you last night!"

Her gaze dipped down to your belly as you stood before her in the lab. You knew you were showing. There was no denying it now. You had a bunch of appointments coming up with Dr. Morris, and you were just going to keep getting bigger until you had to wear the maternity tent again. You knew you were already huge and that you'd probably never be your normal size ever again. And the last thing you wanted was Cat Coleman of all people scrutinizing your appearance when she always looked pristine.

Everything was made worse by Bradley's interactions with Indigo. She was everywhere on base, but now she had taken over your bar, too. You saw her this morning but managed to duck out of the way before those piercing eyes landed on you. She knew what you looked like now, and Cat's gaze lingering on your belly was doing nothing to give you a boost of confidence.

"Please make sure you're eating and drinking enough," she told you. "We don't want another repeat of Annapolis where you could barely give a presentation. Or a repeat of the day you fell at work."

You gritted your teeth. "This pregnancy doesn't even feel like my last one. Okay? I'm eating just fine. Too well, actually."

You turned on your heel, boot squeaking on the floor and headed out to collect Rose from daycare. Everything was just a reminder of your size right now. Visions of candy bars danced in your head as you told yourself you'd go home and eat a sensible dinner while Bradley held his office hours. But you already knew... you just knew Indigo would squeeze her way in there with her pretty eyes and her perky tits. And your husband seemed to be oblivious to her. At least you'd tried to convince yourself he wasn't actively looking. But you knew she found him attractive. You could smell it on her a mile away.

Tears filled your eyes as you approached the daycare facility. If he was looking at her, you couldn't blame him. Indigo was beautiful, her body stunning even in her flight suit. Meanwhile you looked like an exhausted, lumpy, khaki-covered potato with acne and zero energy.

"Let's go home," you whispered to Rose, trying to smile at the daycare staff as you pushed her out in her stroller.

You were absolutely fine. You were totally fine. Or at least you would be. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

But all week long, you heard the same collection of call signs spilling from Bradley's lips, and Indigo's was always the first one. She was the fastest, most cunning, smartest, most decisive pilot he'd ever flown with. Any time you asked him a question about work, she was the answer. And he was late coming home almost every day.

"Hey, Sweetheart. Sorry, I had to stay in the infirmary with Spice after she strained her shoulder," he said, rushing inside on Friday night as you made dinner. "She couldn't even raise her arm to get her helmet off."

He kissed your cheek, letting his hand rest on your belly for a beat before he ended up on the floor next to Rose's play mat where she was trying her hardest to crawl to Tramp. As soon as Bradley showed up, she changed her mind and tried to get to him instead.

You pressed your lips together as you turned off the stove burner. "Did anyone else stay with you and Spice?"

"Yeah, Indigo hung out," he replied easily, brushing his fingers along Rose's hair with a smile. You swallowed hard, watching him on his hands and knees in his khaki uniform. He looked so good. Like ridiculously good. Broad shoulders and big biceps and a handsome smile.

"Why am I not surprised?" you muttered, turning away from him.

"I think they're friends," he said. "It's kind of amusing getting to experience the love and hate dynamics amongst the group. The women tend to stick together on the ground, but anything goes in the air."

Your stomach ached with hunger pangs, and the only thing you wanted to eat was ice cream. When you realized you'd eaten a frozen burrito barely an hour ago, you desperately wanted to go to bed hungry, but you started to feel guilty about the baby.

"My parents listed their house today," you announced, trying to change the subject before you started to cry.

"Did you hear that, Nugget?" Bradley scooped Rose up in his arms and carried her into the kitchen where you were plating two meals. "Your grandparents are moving here to spend more time with you. And next summer, we'll take you and your little brother or sister back to Virginia to see where ol' Goose and Carole used to live, okay?"

He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling wildly, and every negative thought started to get fuzzy around the edges. When his brown eyes met yours, you nodded toward the table, and his arm slipped around your waist.

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

Bradley came home from his office hours on Monday to find you wearing only his old UVA shirt. The soft cotton was hugging your bump and showing off your legs, and he was ready to get on his knees and beg for you.

After he put Rose in her crib for the night, he met you in bed where you were wearing your glasses, your face freshly scrubbed. He was plainly getting hard in his gym shorts the more he looked at you. It was so obvious. When you stood on your knees and coaxed him closer with your finger, he met you there.

"I hope you know how good you have it, Roo," you whispered against his lips.

He knew. He knew all about it. He let his hand slide down over your belly, keeping you in place when you tried to scoot away. Then his fingers slowly yanked up the hem of his shirt until he was touching your pussy. 

"Of course I know it, Baby Girl." He circled your clit with his middle finger before slipping it inside you. "I've got my Rosie. And my hot, pregnant wife with her perfect pussy." When you whimpered, he kissed your nose. "I've got it all."

You dragged the shirt up over your belly and chest, tossing it aside. For a beat, Bradley went completely dizzy at the sight of your tits. Then you made everything better by placing your hands on your breasts, working them until beads of milk appeared. Your head was tipped back, pussy squeezing his middle finger, and Bradley almost lost his mind.

His kisses were rough. He knew it. But you were whining Roo as he got undressed, and then you were guiding his lips to your tits. He had to have it dirty. His cock was so fucking hard, he needed to make you scream.

"Oh, fuck," he growled as his lips grazed your nipple, lapping up your milk until he thought he was going to pass out. Every inch of your body was so sweet and supple, but he wanted you babbling and begging.

Bradley meticulously cleaned you up until you were clinging onto him, then he pushed you onto your back. Without hesitation, he started fucking you. When you needed a hand over your mouth to keep from waking Rose, he was all too happy to help. When you spread your legs wider, he watched his cock glide inside your welcoming body over and over again until he felt his orgasm in his balls.

"Shit. I'm gonna cum," he groaned, waiting until you nodded against his palm to lose himself. Hips thrusting, filling you with shallow strokes, he fucked you until your pussy was dripping. He watched the mess he made dribble down your ass before catching it with his fingertips. "I swear I don't think I can keep my cock out of you long enough for you to not be pregnant ever again."

You snorted before reaching for his hand and bringing it to your lips. "After this one, I'm going right back on the pill. No more slip ups," you whispered. Bradley watched as your tongue darted out, licking his sticky cum and swallowing every drop.

"No more slip ups," he echoed, smiling at your belly. He'd never consider this a mistake. Not in a million years. A surprise? Absolutely. But not a mistake.

Bradley's phone lit up where it had been discarded on the floor when you slipped into the bathroom. He had a text from an unknown number with a Virginia area code. At first, he thought it might be his cousin Brenda letting him know she had a new phone number, but when he opened the message, his brow creased in confusion at first.

Lieutenant Commander, thanks for spending so much time with me today in your office today.

Only three people had been in his office with him earlier. One was Maverick. One was Forrest who he had to reprimand. The third was Indigo. Bradley hadn't been giving out this number, but it was readily available if anyone wanted to look through the registry in the lobby of the building where his small office was housed.

He scratched the rough stubble along his jaw, contemplating if he should respond after nine in the evening. He saved her number under her call sign and tossed his phone on the bed when you walked back in with a smile on your face. He should wait until the morning to respond if at all.

You yawned when he passed you. "I'm ready for bed, Roo."

"Give me a minute to brush my teeth, and I'm right behind you."

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

By the end of the week, your parents had two offers on the house where you were raised. They were officially downsizing to a cute bungalow a few streets over in Coronado, and you were excited. Or you wanted to be.

But every time you let your heart fill with happiness over your parents or the baby, you remembered that Indigo was texting your husband. You saw it for yourself. Right after he fucked you so good, you could barely walk, you glanced down at his phone on your bed. He had her number saved in his phone, and you wanted to cry.

You could ask him for permission to look at his phone. You could see what his reaction was. That would give you a good gauge of what exactly was going on between them. But Bradley had never once asked you to hand your phone over to him. He'd ever insinuated that there would be a reason he didn't trust you. 

Unsure what else to do, you sat in your office during your lunch break and cried. The tears were hot and miserable on your cheeks, and a headache instantly started brewing behind your eyes. It took you almost ten minutes to get yourself under control, and by then you didn't even feel like going to the cafeteria for food.

When someone knocked, you looked up at your door. Maybe it was Bradley. Maybe you could get his phone from him somehow and check it yourself. "Come in," you called, voice soft from all the tears you'd shed. Instead of your husband, Jake strolled inside. "Did you get lost? Cat's probably in the lab."

"Aww, come on, Angel," he drawled, dropping down into your extra chair. "I came all the way up here to see you."

"Oh." You were a little surprised. Everyone was so busy as the last quarter of the year was beginning, you felt like you hadn't seen much of him.

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked, already leaning forward to stand again. "Want me to grab you and the baby something to eat and bring it up here?"

"No," you told him quickly. "I'm fine. Just a little stressed." You tried to smile, but you felt like you could cry again. "Are you having a slow day?"

"Nah." He leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just had to get away from your annoying husband and his band of misfits clogging up the comms with their exercises."

"Band of misfits?" you asked with a soft laugh.

"Bunch of children," he replied with an eye roll. "Look like they just graduated from high school." His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, that probably means I look old now."

"You don't look too bad for someone older than me," you promised with a smirk. "Hey, do you know anything about any of those new pilots?"

"I know they like to hog the line in the cafeteria. One of them took the last slice of pizza yesterday, and I had to wait for a new pie to finish baking. Food should be based on seniority. I outrank all of them."

You were laughing at his smile now. "Hey, maybe I should get something to eat. And it might be nice to get out of my office for a few minutes."

"I'll walk you down." Jake stood and helped you to your feet. "Can't hang out too long though. Mav has a fire under his ass about getting Phoenix, Bob and I in the air this afternoon."

You headed to the cafeteria with Jake, getting a chance to hear his side of the wedding plans after listening to Cat for weeks. They wanted something small and simple, but he assured you there would be room for the Bradshaws on the guest list. Once you had a tray piled high with a salad, breadsticks and once slice of pizza, you took a seat while Jake headed back out to the tarmac to get back to work.

Your lunch tasted incredible. The cheese from the pizza was practically melting in your mouth. When the cafeteria started clearing out, there were only a few tables occupied, and you started stacking the plates on your tray. You could have a calm, reasonable conversation with your husband. He'd let you look at his phone, and everything would be fine.

"Okay, but what's up with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?"

Your eyes darted up from your tray to find two officers sitting a short distance away. The one facing you had a patch on her flight suit that said SPICE, and you recognized her call sign from conversations with Bradley.

"He's hot, but he's wearing a wedding band," she added.

You swore your heart stopped at her words. Then you realized that the woman with her back to you was Indigo. Her jet black hair was wound up in a tight bun that accentuated her long neck even from behind, and her laughter set your teeth on edge.

"I already told you," she said, and you had to stop breathing to make sure you heard every word. "His wife is a civvy. I saw her at the bar the only night he showed up. They have one kid, and apparently she's pregnant again. At least that's what I heard Lieutenant Trace saying."

"What does his wife look like?" Spice asked, casually taking a sip of her drink as if your world wasn't crumbling to pieces.

"It was hard to tell in the dark, but her face seemed okay. Nice-ish body, but come on..." Indigo gestured to herself. "The man's only human, and his wife is definitely older than me. That much is easy to tell. And she'll be huge again soon."

You tried to get up from your seat quickly, fighting with yourself to get out of the room, but it was too late. Both of them were standing now, still chatting as Indigo turned your way. As soon as her eyes landed on your face, you saw them widen. That pretty blue color looked terrifying as a smile of recognition spread across her lips.

Indigo absolutely knew who you were now. Her eyes dipped down to the hyphenated name pinned against your chest, and now she knew you weren't a random civilian. She knew you were an officer who worked on North Island. She knew way too much as she took in every inch of your body. And she looked really pleased by what she saw.

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

He has his sweet moments, but Roo doesn't see the bigger picture here. Next chapter will reveal if Rose is going to have a brother or a sister. Any guesses? Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[traveler-at-heart]

Speak or die?

Summary: You have a crush on your poetry professor.

Professor Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request by @jujuu23 :) Hope you like it

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

            Shall be lifted—nevermore!

Professor Romanoff closes the book, the classroom silent as she walks to the front. Her raspy voice had a way of enchanting people, and it almost felt like she had cast a spell on everyone.

“Thoughts?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. Her beautiful features are framed by a couple of strands of fiery hair, the rest of it tied in a messy bun.

A couple of people lean back on their seats, nervous about being called to participate.

“What a weirdo” Barnes says, and some of your classmates laugh.

“Thank you, for that very insightful analysis, Mr. Barnes. Any other thoughts you’d like to share with the class?”

Before he can speak again and say something even more stupid, you jump in.

“It’s about madness, caused by grief. About his beloved, who he’ll never forget but is gone. It’s the same theme in Annabel Lee and Lenore. Though I think Annabel Lee is a lot less haunting… there’s a certain serene beauty to it.”

“Very good, Miss Y/L/N. And of course, we have the references to Pallas Athena. Not uncommon for Allan Poe to mention Greek mythology. Your next assignment will be to find and discuss examples of mythology and classical literature within his work”

As everyone leaves the room, you walk next to the professor’s desk.

“I’ve enjoyed your essay. Well, both of them” she says.

“Both?” you stop, looking confused.

“It’s very obvious your boyfriend is not writing his papers” she tries to keep her composure, but finds it irritating that someone as bright as you is with Barnes of all people.

“Oh, Bucky? Yeah, I might have helped him a bit… not my boyfriend, though”

You think it’s best to leave out the fact he enrolled in this class to meet pretty girls and act like he knows about poetry.

“Well, he should still do his own homework” Natasha says, this time with a kinder tone. “And nice work today”

“Thank you” you nod, smiling as you leave the classroom. 

You hope Professor Romanoff didn’t notice the way you were blushing at her praise. 

—

Natasha glances at her cozy living room one last time. It’s a crisp autumn night, and she could still cancel her plans and stay home with a good book and a glass of wine.

But she’d never hear the end of it, would she?

The woman takes a cab to the gallery downtown, hoping the evening ends early and she can at least read a chapter or two of her novel before bed.

As she enters the crowded space, Natasha feels the need to turn around and leave. Carol’s voice stops her.

“Fancy meeting you here”

“Yelena made me do it” the redhead explains, standing next to her colleague and friend.

“Well, she’s quite the artist. You should be proud of your sister” Carol says, looking around the room until she finds the younger woman. Natasha nods her thanks and walks to her sister, smiling.

“You made it!” Yelena, who was explainig her sculpture to a man, stops mid sentence and hugs Natasha. “I thought you’d find a way to stay home and avoid being out”

“I promised I’d be here. Go. I’ll have a look around” Natasha says when another woman walks up to Yelena.

“Try the appetizers, they’re really good!” Yelena says before going up to meet a group of art dealers.

It’s a big night for the Art Department. They have been planning this exhibit for months now. Plenty of critics and art dealers would stop by, hoping to find the next big name.

Natasha walks around, eyeing the paintings and sculptures in the room. Distracted by a very abstract work, she fails to notice another person walking behind her until her back collides with a shoulder.

“Sorry” she turns, surprised at meeting your eyes and friendly smile.

“Hi, Professor Romanoff” you greet. “How are you liking the exhibit?” 

“It’s good. What are you doing here?”

“College paper business. And to support my roommate, Wanda” you point at a couple of paintings, with very dark themes and distorted faces. “She’s uh… going through her misunderstood artist phase” 

“Well, she’s certainly committed to it” Natasha says, looking at the girl who must be Wanda, dark hair and smokey eyes giving her a grunge look.

“She’s a sweetheart” you promise, knowing that’s only one side of her. You’ve seen her cry over The Dick Van Dyke show, for heaven’s sake. Though you promised you’d never tell anyone. “Want to be on the record for me?”

“How so?”

“Just tell me what you think of the exhibit. Or the department in general” you shrug your shoulders. “It’s good that other faculty members are here”

“Well, I’ve known Carol for years, back when we were both students. She’s very committed to her work and advancing the curriculum, so it’s great to see an amazing selection tonight. My sister seems to think a great deal of the success is due to Danvers”

“Your sister?”

“Yelena Belova” Natasha clarifies. At hearing that name, you blush and she immediately assumes that something happened between you two. 

The reality is, you’ve spoken about how much you love your poetry professor in front of Yelena on more than one occasion. Now you understand why she laughed so hard when you said Natasha was Aphrodite reincarnate.

That little shit.

“Yeah, I know Yel. Wanda and her hang at the dorm, I mean, we all do” you trip over your words, picking up a glass of red wine to ease your nerves.

“You sure you can handle that?” Natasha asks, appreciating the way your cheeks blush at the taste of the alcohol.

“It’s fine” you lick your lips, missing the way Natasha follows the movement with her eyes.

“Well, it’s nice to know Yelena has someone with common sense to keep her grounded” Natasha says and inspite of your internal struggle, you smile.

In that moment, Carol clinks her glass gently, getting everyone’s attention. As she speaks, you try to listen to her words -the toast should be mentioned in the article- but your mind is focused on Natasha’s parfum, and the warmth of her body as she stands next to you. Once Danvers is done, everyone claps and you take a breath, thinking it might be a good idea to get some fresh air.

“Sestra, there you are” Yelena walks up to you two, a knowing smirk at your affected state. “I’d introduce you but I believe you already know each other”

“Yeah” you smile, looking anywhere but Natasha. “I’ll leave you to it, gotta talk to a couple more people. Enjoy your evening”

Yelena doesn’t move, so you’re forced to walk very close to Natasha, and the moment your eyes meet you almost forget how to breathe.

The redhead doesn’t miss the way your pupils are blown or the not so subtle way in which you glance at her lips.

She wants to reach out and grab your wrist, turn you around and devour your lips in a messy kiss. Instead, she sees you walk towards your friend.

“See? Aren’t you glad I made you come out of your cave?”

Apparently, your crush wasn’t one sided after all. 

—

The school paper. Natasha barely paid attention to it, even when it was delivered every Monday to her office, same as every faculty member at Lang University. 

This time, she is eager to open it and read your article. There it is, your name and a very long piece about the exhibit. Your prose is exquisite, and you didn’t just deliver an event summary; it’s a deep dive into the department, budget cuts and how students and professors are investing their own resources to keep the course alive.

Right under the dean’s nose. Natasha has to smile; it’s true that Howard Stark was more inclined to favor the Science department and a number of protests had gone unanswered on his side. Most of them came from tenured professors, as part time teachers and students were concerned with some sort of retaliation.

Not you, though.

Natasha is so focused on the article that she misses the knock on her door until Fury comes in.

“Romanoff” he greets. “Picking up on some light reading?”

“Something very entertaining” she turns the pages to show your article and he chuckles.

“She’s got balls” he recognises. “Heard she was talking about it with some art dealers who donate to the university. Apparently Stark is listening now”

“I’m happy to hear that”

“That’s not why I’m here, though” Fury sits down, crossing his legs. “The Foster Grant”

“What about it?” Natasha says, playing dumb. She hates to be the center of attention. “I know I got it, it’s no big deal”

“It is to the department. We don’t want to be the next on the list of budget cuts”

“Maybe we’ll just have to ask Y/N to write an article for us” she jokes, but Fury just smirks knowingly.

“Great idea! Let’s have her write something about your work and the research you’ve been doing” he slaps his knee, standing up. 

“What?”

“Well, don’t look at me like that, it was your idea, Romanoff. Better be this week so it’s on next Monday’s edition” he winks, leaving her office whistling.

As usual, Natasha is blindsided by her boss. How on Earth will she manage a conversation alone with you?

Still, Fury leaves no room for argument, and at the end of Tuesday’s class, you approach her desk.

“I was told you had an assignment for me” you say, biting your lip nervously.

“Yes, that’s right. Something about a research grant, it’s really not a big deal. Sorry that Fury put you up to it” she dismisses the thing like it’s a nuissance.

“I don’t mind at all. Just wanted to check if… when do you want to meet. And where. It would be better around Thursday so I can come prepared with questions and then write everything over the weekend. But I’ll adjust to your schedule” 

“Thursday is fine by me” Natasha nods. “My office? Last class is at 5, so maybe 6”

“Yeah, sounds good” you nod, blushing. “See you then, professor”

How will you survive this?

—

Thursday comes faster than you’d like, and you’re inspecting your wardrobe as if you’re going on a first date. 

Everythig’s too ugly. Why do you have such ugly clothes? 

Ugh, I should just cancel. 

In the end, you opt for a preppy look, with a black skirt and thights, choosing a black and white stripped sweater for the cold weather.

You run into Yelena and Wanda in the living room.

“Where are you going so fancy?” the blonde says, whistling and forcing you to twirl so she can have a 360 of your outfit. “You’re going on a date, aren’t you?”

Wanda, who actually knows about your appointment, covers her mouth to keep from laughing and you glare at her.

“Don’t”

“What? Is it someone I know?” Yelena looks between the two of you.

“Yes. It’s your sister” Wanda finally cracks. 

“It’s not a date!” you rush to say when Yelena turns to look at you. “I’m writing an article about her research”

“Mmm, right” she nods, not believing you. “She asked about you the other day, you know?”

“She did? I mean, what did she want to know?” you try to pretend it’s no big deal.

“She asked if we hooked up. I told her you’re not my type”

“Oh, please. I’m everyone’s type” you huff, picking up your bag before you run late. You still want to stop by the cafeteria.

“You’re certainly Natasha’s” Yelena mumbles, but you miss it. “Good luck on your non date with my sister”

“Not a date… although, what’s her coffee order?” 

“I’ll tell you if you admit it’s a date”

By the time you finally get Yelena to answer, you’re ten minutes late, walking around campus with two coffees and cookies. Knocking with your elbow, you hear a soft come in and figure out how to open the door. 

Juggling everything, you walk into Natasha’s office.

“Let me help you” the woman says, standing up and rushing to your side. You hand over the cup with her name. “For me?”

“Yes”

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I should be the one with a drink to offer. How did you know?” she licks her lips, appreciating the sweet flavor of the caramel macchiato. Her glasses fog from the warmth of the drink and you have to resist the urge to kiss her.

“I asked Yelena” you admit. “Glad to know she wasn’t pranking me” 

“I do have a sweet tooth”

“No worries, I won’t write anything about it” you take a notepad and your phone to record. “May I?”

“Please” Natasha settles behind her desk, appreciating that cute little frown that always appears when you’re focused. You go over your notes for a minute and then nod, ready to begin.

The hour goes by quickly, and Natasha feels proud when she notices you’ve stopped taking notes, genuinely interested and asking about everything she’s been researching for the past year and a half.

“Oh, it’s getting late. I’m so sorry for keeping you here” you apologize, looking at the time. 

“That’s ok, I’m free for the rest of the evening. I cleared my schedule just for you”

The words make your heart flutter. Of course she doesn’t mean anything by it, but how you wished she did.

“So, do you have time for a couple more questions?”

“Sure” 

For you, she has all the time in the world. Natasha could spend all night watching you put that lose strand of hair behind your ear, while you write down your thoughts. 

It’s dangerously endearing.

“I’d like to know… your favorite poem” you ask, more for yourself than for the article.

Natasha takes a deep breath, standing up and walking around her desk. She speaks as she approaches you, in that soft, tender tone that always makes your heart skip a beat.

“I loved you; even now I may confess,

Some embers of my love their fire retain;

But do not let it cause you more distress,

I do not want to sadden you again.

Hopeless and tongue-tied, yet I loved you dearly

With pangs the jealous and the timid know;

So tenderly I loved you, so sincerely,

I pray God grant another love you so”

Natasha looks into your eyes as she sits on the edge of the desk, mere inches away from you. 

In truth, you had expected her to answer with the poem’s title, not recite it to you so passionately.

“Pushkin” you sigh, looking at your hands.

“Very good” she praises, which makes you blush even harder. “It sounds better in Russian, though”

“I can imagine” you say, torn between wanting to hear it or not. You might lose your last sliver of self control if she speaks her native language.

“Is there anything else you need from me?”

You need to kiss her, discover how her lips feel against yours. Hold her hand, guide her up your skirt…

“Yes. I… mean, no, I have everything I need, professor” you snap out of your thoughts, looking flustered. “Thank you so much for making the time to speak to me”

“I always have time for my best student” she says, standing up and walking you to the door. “I’m looking forward to reading your article”

“I’ll try to live up to the expectations”

“I’m sure you will” she says gently, leaning against the threshold of the door. You look at her lips one last time before stepping back, wishing the evening could be prolonged.

Natasha watches you walk away, already missing your presence.

—

You spend the weekend reliving the interview. Thank God you kept recording when Natasha recited Pushkin, because now you have it for posterity.

The article is done, has been since you got back to your dorm. The words flowed effortlessly as you remembered everything Natasha said, and so you spent all night writing and correcting it until it was perfect. Even your editor was impressed when you sent it over.

Now, all that’s left is you, the recording and the view from your window. You listen to Natasha over and over again, hoping her presence migh somehow slip into your subconscious and then, she’ll be in your dreams as well.

As if you had summoned her, Natasha appears outside your window, walking with Yelena. As her sister walks into your building to meet with Wanda, Natasha looks up, waving at you. You remove your headphones, blushing at the fact that you were just listening to her speak on the recording.

“How’s the article coming along?”

“Signed, sealed, delivered” you smile. “I do hope you’ll like it”

“It will be the first thing I read tomorrow” she promises, saying goodbye. This time, you don’t bother to hide the fact that you’re staring as she leaves, and a little part of you feels like Juliet, watching Romeo walk away.

Forbidden love.

No, not forbidden. Unrequited.

With a sigh, you walk away and join your friends, thinking it’s better to distract yourself now that you remember Natasha Professor Romanoff is out of your reach.

Still, you can only fall asleep as you listen to her reciting that poem over and over again. And when you wake up, the resolve to see her again overcomes every fiber of your being. 

So you walk up to her office, knowing very well she’s there at break of dawn.

“Y/N” she says, looking at the paper in your hands. “Come in”

“I thought you’d like to read it. But maybe you’re busy. And you won’t like it or it’s not a big deal to you” you rant, handing it over and turning to leave. “Never mind”

“Stay” is all she says, hand reaching for your wrist. Your heart skips a beat at the contact and you nod, trying to ease your nerves. 

Natasha sits on her small sofa to read the article, and you’re too anxious so you walk around her office, examining the bookshelves. As you approach her desk, you focus on an open book, some notes scribbled along the margins.

“I love it” Natasha says, standing right behind you. You jump, so absorbed by the book that you didn’t hear her stand up and come close to you. She’s now reading over your shoulder. “It’s the Heptameron, by Marguerite de Navarre. I was working on a translation from the German edition”

You can now see the sheet of paper next to the page, Natasha’s writing looking rushed as if she fears the words will be taken by the wind. With a shaky voice, you break the sudden silence in the room, reading the story.

“A handsome young knight is madly in love with a princess

And she too is in love with him

Though she seems not to be entirely aware of it

Despite the friendship that blossoms between them or

Perhaps because of that very friendship

The young knight finds himself

So humbled and speechless

That he's totally unable to bring up the subject of his love

Till one day he asks the princess point blank

Is it better to speak or to die?”

“I found myself thinking a lot about unrequited love this weekend. And so I remembered this little thing” she says in a low voice. “What do you think is better? Speak or die?”

“I think that depends, Professor” you sigh, feeling her hand against your lower back.

“Depends… on what?” she whispers against your ear, making you shiver. “Should I speak about all the times I think of you, of how endearing and wonderful and intriguing you are to me?”

You turn around, cornered against her desk. Natasha’s hands traces a path down your arm, and takes your hand, lifting it to her lips. Your eyes follow the movement, and a sigh leaves your lips at the soft kiss she places on the back of your hand.

“Should I speak about how I wonder what it would be like to kiss you, taste you, mark you, until you’re chanting my name like a prayer?”

This time, her hand travels to your lips, pupils dilating as you allow her to invade your mouth with her finger, sucking gently until she retrieves it, pulling you by the waist.

“Should I speak, then? Or shall we keep pretending neither one of us wants this?” she whispers against your lips. You close your eyes, taking a breath to steady your heart. Her touch, her words, is all too much and you’re afraid it’s all a perfect dream, and at any moment you’ll wake up, alone and desperate for her.

“Please…” you say, leaning forward and capturing her lips in a messy, frantic kiss. Dream or reality, you’ll take Natasha in whatever way you can.

Natasha craddles your face in her hands, spreading your legs apart with her knee. You whine incoherently at her surprising strenght, your hands balled up in fists around the fabric of her pristine shirt. 

“You’re so perfect” she sighs against your lips. “So beautiful”

“Natasha” you plead, wanting to feel her against you, closer, harder. More, more, more until you’re on the brink of destruction and she’s all that exists.

“I want you. Do you want me?” she asks, and you catch the uncertainty in her tone.

“Of course I do” 

If only she could feel how wet you are, all because of her touch.

But there’s a knock on the door, and you both look at the spot, alarmed. Natasha squeezes your hand to reassure you.

“Yes?”

“Just delivering the paper, Professor”

“Leave it outside, I’ll pick it up in a minute. Thank you”

You take a moment to breathe and fix your hair, aware that your lips are swollen from all the kissing.

You kissed your professor. Natasha Romanoff kissed you.

“Are you ok?” she asks, worried about your sudden silence.

“Just wondering if I’m about to wake up from a beautiful dream” you admit, and she smiles.

“Do you dream of me?” she teases, her hand reaching for yours.

“Only when I’m awake”

Natasha smiles, kissing your fingers.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? My place. This Friday”

“Yes. I’d love to”

There’s another knock on the door, but Fury doesn’t wait for Natasha to answer. You jump away from the woman, unsure if this could get her into trouble.

Luckily, Fury is busy inspecting the paper that was dropped outside of Natasha’s office and he doesn’t pick up on anything as he looks up.

“Miss Y/L/N. You wrote an amazing article. Brilliant”

“Thank you, Doctor Fury” you say. “I should head out, my Sociology class is starting soon”

Natasha smiles at you, hoping you understand how much she wishes you could carry on.

But the promise of more lingers in her eyes and so, as you take one last look at her, you return her smile.

“I’m happy the knight spoke, Professor. See you in class” 

“See you in class, Miss Y/L/N”

[sailoryooons]

Obsidian | 1 | (myg)

☾ Summary: You’ve never been able to forget a face. Neither has Min Yoongi. And you both remember the face of the man who ruined your lives.

☾ Word Count: 7,979

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

☾ Rating: Dead Dove. Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence and death, graphic depictions of blood and dismemberment, mentions of death and previous suffering, mentions of withdrawal like symptoms and sickness, on screen murder and death, depictions of gore (people literally get exploded I’m so sorry), mentions of power and wealth disparity between glasses, general warnings associated with gang/criminal empires, recreational drinking, explicit language… I think that’s it (she says, knowing there is a ton of blood in this). 

☾ A/N: Hi, I am so nervous to be writing this series again and re-doing what I feel like I got wrong the first time. I hope you like the new and what I think is an improved version. This chapter has the bones of its predecessor, but is a lot heavier and is very different from the first chapter in the original fic. I don’t pull punches on the gore/murder here because it is very… I do it this way for a reason, I swear. This is shorter than the original, but I hope you like it nonetheless and I’m excited to share more with you. 

☾ A/N 2: Happy New Year! I hope your 2025 goes better than readers lmfao. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Tag List Requests ☾Series Masterlist ☾ Playlist ☾ Previous ☾ Next

Market Town is a writing mass of snakes. At least, that’s what it feels like when you get pushed and shoved in the street, trying to find a single flow of people going the direction you need. The press of bodies is so close you can smell the sweat of people as they pass by, feel the slick of their skin as biceps press by yours. 

It makes you want to crawl out of your skin and slither away somewhere dark and cool. 

Someone with sickly sweet perfume goes by. You scrunch your nose, blowing air harshly out your nostrils to try and dispel the scent. Perfume doesn’t do much to cover the stench of bodies and the grime-slicked streets, but it doesn’t stop from the general population pumping it on, creating a cacophony of smells.

At least it isn’t raining - the smell is worse when it rains. 

Vendors shout prices from a variety of stands - some crooked, some well-built, some nothing more than a table, some three tables long. There are carts everywhere, some in the middle of the road with the bodies of people breaking around them like water on rock, some in permanent storefronts beneath the towering wall of apartments above, others on rolling carts knocking people over as vendors hawk their wares. 

Taking a left turn, you breathe in as the crowd thins. Most of the population of Market Town exists on the single, wide street that carves through the middle of the Lower District. Alleyways offer less crowded offshoots to businesses who don’t exist on the main thoroughfare 

Metal ladders and staircases line the sides of the alleyway like intricate spider webs. You narrowly step to the left, sensing the spill of liquid from above just before it hits the pavement in a splash. Glancing upward, you see the window closing - whoever threw the liquid out the window didn’t care whether it hit you or not, and from the smell of it, it isn’t water. 

Multiple flickers of energy radiate somewhere in the hundred something windows of apartments. You ignore it as you walk down the street, hands tucked into your pocket and eyes forward. You sense them like lights on a heat map, each one different, some brighter than others. 

Head down, you push onward, keeping to yourself and moving swiftly. Market Town isn’t always dangerous - you’re not close enough to Gwishin territory to worry about your affiliation being a problem - but it’s not exactly safe either. 

You take another turn, skirting the back of an apartment building. Here, the dumpsters are overflowing into the street and cats hiss at you as you pass by. You hiss back, flashing your teeth to make them scurry off. You don’t have to radiate for them to know you’re a danger to them - a lot of people are not above catching and cooking the cats in Market Town, especially during winter.

Cutting down an alley, you come to a dead end with a chain link fence. You climb it easily, the wire bending beneath your feet as you do. Scaling and hopping over the other side, you land with a splash. You grimace, not wanting to know what your jeans are wet with as you jog to the mouth of the alleyway and back into the main street of Market Town. 

The crowd isn’t as compact here. Sun beats down, just past its zenith as it crawls toward early afternoon. You head right toward Namjoon’s massive stall, a crooked structure with rusty nails that leans dangerously close to Margot’s fruit stand. 

No matter how many times Margot has asked Namjoon to fix the leaning stand, he never does, despite the fact that Namjoon can fix almost anything in the city. He likes electronics, though, which is why you approach him as he leans over a tiny watch, goggles on with a soldering tool in hand. 

On the other side of Namjoon is Len’s stand. The old man is vacant from it for the time being, leaving his crystals and tarot cards to the empty wind. His stand is just a simple piece of plywood supported by cinder blocks with an always-wet and stained purple tapestry across the top. He suddenly appears, as though your presence has manifested him.

“The world is ending,” Len warns you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“Hi, Len,” you greet, making Namjoon look up at the sound of your voice. “Thank you for the warning.” 

Len warns you of a variety of different things whenever you visit. His gnarled finger points to you, hands liver spotted and shaking when he makes his predictions. You don’t know of any Radiants that are able to predict the future, but you know Len is Radiant. You can feel the pulse of his energy underneath his skin, stronger than most people in Market Town. He wears no jewels, but there’s a single, opal tucked into the pocket of his shirt. 

Just like there’s a rose quartz hidden in Namjoon’s shoe. He doesn’t know you know, of course. Namjoon doesn’t know much about you, but he does know that he should keep his jewels to himself. People like to murder and steal jewels all over the city, but particularly in Market Town where they can vanish into thick crowds and get away with it.

“I have your repair for you,” Namjoon says, lifting up his goggles and putting down his soldering tool. “A fascinating piece of technology. Kind of dangerous though, no?” 

“For some people, maybe.” You cross your arms over your chest as he ducks under his table, sliding open multiple drawers as he tries to find the object he fixed for you. “Not me.” 

It is dangerous to you, actually. Using it nearly incapacitates you, but he doesn’t need to know that. Namjoon doesn’t know you’re a Radiant. He’s too light on the Jewel Caste to tell, and most Radiants can’t sense other Radiants without detecting the jewels they wear anyway. 

Namjoon lets out a soft ah ha and sits up in his chair, placing a bracelet on the table. It’s nondescript and silver with a single, circular charm on it. Namjoon slides it over to you, leaning over it to assess it again. His eyes are glittering as he runs a finger over it. 

“I fixed the soldering on the inside of the charm. It was damaged due to a melted wire. Fascinating how small the tech in this thing is. It emits high pitched frequencies, right?” 

“Mhmm.” You pick up the bracelet, easily clasping it on your wrist. “How much?” 

“No cost. It was a fun little device to look at. Aren’t these illegal?”

“You can’t not charge me. I told you to stop giving people their shit for free.”

His cheeks turn cherry as he scratches the back of his neck. “Fine, what about five nil?” You toss the coins on the table. “It’s a mini shatterwave, right? The high-pitched frequency scatters the frequency of Radiants?” 

You give him an annoyed look. “Yes.” 

“Who made it? It’s a fascinating device.” 

Instead of answering Namjoon’s question, you toss another five nil on the table. “For silence,” you tell him firmly. 

He wants to ask another question. You can see it in his face. Namjoon is always asking you questions about the things you bring to him. It isn’t his job to ask questions, especially as freely as he asks them, which is all you need to know that places like Market Town are not where Namjoon was raised. 

Nothing Namjoon does is that of someone low born. He’s too polite, gives too many handouts, and lets his curiosity get the best of him. You’re fond of him as much as someone of your position is allowed to be - maybe even a little more. Namjoon is a danger to himself, no matter how often you keep steering him back in the right direction. 

“You!” Len leans over Namjoon’s table, his glassy green eyes wide, pupils dilated. His hair is white as salt and sticks up in multiple directions, looking as though he may have been electrocuted and never recovered. He points one knobby finger at you. “The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

“That sounds lovely, Len.” 

You predict the next words. You’ve heard him say prepare for the end dozens of times. Instead, he says, “Obsidian.” 

You blink in surprise. That has yet to be a response in your little game of prophecy, and you open your mouth to indulge and ask him what he means when something tingles at the back of your neck. 

You pause and glance to the side where Margot is dealing with a customer arguing about the price of squash. A soft breeze rustles the canvas topper to Margot’s stand, carrying the scent of tangerine with it. Something is buzzing at the back of your neck, and your gaze slowly drifts from Margot to a man passing by the cart. 

This is someone who blends in. His clothes are plain: his pants are ripped at the knees and scuffed at the bottom, his white t-shirt clinging to his chest in places where he’s sweating through. He has a floral shirt pulled over the tee, open and fluttering in the balmy breezy of the market.

Nothing about him is remarkable, except that he’s beautiful. Perhaps not at first glance… No, that's not right. It feels like you have to blink several times to perceive him, like there’s something about him interfering with your vision the first time you look at him, but when you really look, it’s like piercing through a veil to see the truth. 

He has a round face, glowing and pale like the moon. Inky hair that is a little bit dirty, a few wavy pieces falling over cat-sharp eyes. He smirks as he walks, and though he isn’t looking at you, he seems smug about something. You’re not sure what, but as he passes you, you feel that tingle again. 

Your eyes dart to all of the places you look for jewels first. Hands, ears, neck, and wrists. Nothing, there’s no jewel on him. You can’t sense a frequency on him, which means he doesn’t have jewels, but it’s definitely a Radiant-adjacent sensation. He’s on the caste, but you don’t know where.

Most Radiants feel like a dull buzz when they get close to you. If they have jewels, it’s more like an itch that you want to - no, need to scratch. Jewels pull in Radiants like flowers attract bees. It is an instinct for a Radiant to want to use a jewel, which is part of what makes being a Radiant so dangerous. Jewels always have the potential to corrupt the user, especially the darker the jewel. 

When the strange man gets a few yards away, the sensation begins to fade. You start to turn away but he tosses something up and the air and catches it. You narrow your eyes and he does it again. It’s a tangerine. You watch him toss and catch the object a few times, the skin of the fruit supple, the sunlight glinting off its ripe skin. It’s definitely one of Margot’s - he has the only ripe fruit in all of Market Town, thanks to his hidden jewels. 

Which means this stranger stole it. 

It puzzles you. He hadn’t walked directly by Margot’s cart. From the moment you turned around, he had kept a wide berth, walking a few yards away. And yet the tangerine is in his hand, ripe and round, the perfect shade of orange. 

Something about him makes you step toward him. A breeze comes down the street, lifting the ends of your shirt and carrying the smell of sizzling meat and grease, accompanied by the sweet fruit from Margot’s cart. Sound fades to the background, your focus on the man so singular that everything else becomes secondary. 

The man keeps walking, tossing the fruit up into the air and catching it easily. He starts to round the corner of a block, but pauses, turning to look over his shoulder. He looks right at you, cat-eyes zeroing in with uncanny precision. 

It’s like the world fades away to leave the two of you in an impenetrable bubble. You see no one else but him and those feline eyes, his head cocking to the side as he drinks you in. It makes you nervous the way he looks at you, like he sees you just as clearly as you see him. 

You don’t like that, used to the shadows and being unseen. 

He grins once and winks before turning and vanishing down the alleyway, fruit in hand. 

Sound comes back to you, the spell broken. You snap your head toward Len’s cart, where he is breathing heavily, hands clutching his table while he looks at you, eyes wild. Namjoon tries to gently pry Len’s hands from the table, but the man tears away from him, pointing a finger at you. 

“The world will end in midnight and obsidian.” 

-

Cool air breathes against the back of your neck as you walk to work. A flock of crows startle in an alleyway as you pass them, squawking angrily and hopping away from the dead carcass of something - or someone - until you’re gone and passed, no longer a threat. 

The lane of pockmarked pavement between the left and right sides of the street is totally devoid of cars. No one in the Lower District drives vehicles. They can’t afford them, so the Armory leaves all of the roads to disrepair, letting the pavement cave in and crack with time.

You keep your eye on the other side of the street as you walk. It’s lined with clubs and bars and gambling dens that belong to the Jiangshi, the ghoulish symbol of the organization painted on doors and signs. They aren’t an enemy of the Yong organization - no one technically is an enemy on paper - but you keep your wits about you regardless, never trusting anyone that doesn’t bear the green dragon of the Park family. 

The sun is sinking toward its final goodbye, rays of gold light cut in half by the towering buildings of the Civ District just a few miles away. It’s a beautiful sight, a shot straight down to the lower elevation of the giant buildings turned burnish gold by the sunset. 

Even from a distance, the commercial district of the city is imposing, its steel teeth biting upward at a colored sky. You wonder what it must be like to live in that world. To work or live in one of the Civ towers. You imagine you’d have your own little office with a desk and a private window to look out at the world. So high up near the clouds, a god of civilization. 

You’d been a god once. It hadn’t worked out so well. 

A group of Yong members pour out of the door of the Jade Dragon and onto the sidewalk. It draws your attention away from the shining, ever-golden Civ District to the flickering neon sign above a banged-up metal door. It looks like the lock is busted again and you make a note to tell Burro. Not that he’ll get it fixed. It’s not worth the nil to fix anything in the Jade Dragon, including the mangrove rat infestation brought in with one of the liquor shipments from the Salt District.

Inside the bar is no better. Sticky floors, wobbling tables with chipped wood and scratched lacquer coating, a single bar with broken stools pulled up to the edge. There are a few holoscreens flickering above the colorful bottles that line the bar, sometimes interrupted by Jungkook’s tattooed hand reaching for bottles.  

The Jade Dragon is rarely busy. It’s a new acquisition fronted by the Yong organization, though the building isn’t new and neither is the bar. It had been closed for almost fifteen years, a rotted hole of a used-to-be-bar until Jimin opened it up again. He doesn’t intend for it to be a popular place to drink as much as he needs it for Yong operations, but he fixed it up a bit. 

As you round the bar to throw your shit in the office, a mangrove rat scurries by your feet, making you screech and jump. Jungkook lifts his head, round eyes sweeping back and forth for danger, hands cocked and fists half-clenched. He catches sight of the rat scurrying into one of the holes in the side of the wall and scowls before nodding in greeting.

So maybe Jimin hadn’t fixed up the bar that much. 

Entering the manager’s office, you’re just as pleased as you are displeased to discover that Burro isn’t in the bar at all. You suspect your manager is down the block wasted in the Green Garter and throwing nil at women dancing on the bar tops.

After leaving your belongings in the manager's office - might as well be your office -  you start helping Jungkook maintain the system behind the bar, which is mostly cleaning vigorously at all times to fight the grime that seems to inch up on the place every hour and finding things to do to pass time.

Working with Jungkook is your favorite. He’s a quiet kid with a guarded expression and soft eyes. You don’t ask him much about how he got here or why. Jimin seems to show him the same reverence as when he first found you, so it’s safe to assume that Jungkook is a stray, and most of all useful.

Useful is important to Jimin. He doesn’t bring people into the Yong fold unless they’re of some use to him, no matter how much it might seem like he’s doing them a favor. There are no such things as favors in this world, and you know that better than anyone. 

Even without jewels, Jungkook is a threat. He’s tall and broad, his arms thick and strong enough to lift kegs one-armed over his shoulder. You’ve seen him go from quiet and unassuming behind the bar to throwing a jeweled Radiant across the street. 

Jungkook’s energy vibrates somewhere on the light colors, maybe opal or selenite. It’s hard to tell because he never wears jewels - you’ve never even seen him use jewels. You don’t know if he ever has, just that he has the potential to, his frequency buzzing somewhere on the light end of the Jewel Caste. 

“Where’s Burro?” you ask Jungkook, tossing glasses into the dishwasher and slamming the front shut with your hip. 

“Who knows. Haven’t seen him since I got here.”

“Was the bar just… empty when you came in?”

“Yep.”

Gritting your teeth, you remain silent. Jungkook already knows you hate the manager - so does Jimin. There isn’t a customer who frequents the Jade Dragon who doesn’t know your distaste for the drunkard idiot who runs this place under Jimin’s banner, except perhaps the drunken idiot himself. 

How Burro manages to carry fluorite is beyond you. He shouldn’t even be able to radiate with the colors on the light end of the Jewel Caste, much less the mid colors. You suspect it’s the only reason Jimin lets him pretend to manage the bar at all. That, and because Burro’s father is someone important to the Yong organizational structure. 

Not like you. You’re a nobody among nobodies right beside Jungkook, two Radiants who don’t carry jewels working in a shitty bar and serving the Radiants who wear their jewels proudly.

The Radiants of the Yong organization don’t know that, naturally.

As far as a majority of them are aware, you and Jungkook are two Nulls - people who can’t radiate with any of the gems on the Jewel Caste. Only a few of the elite members at the top are sensitive enough to frequency to pick up that either of you register on the Radiant-scale, and those members of the Yong organization don’t come to places like the Green Dragon. 

A group of lower level members swing through the door. They’re already drunk on low grain wash, an alcohol that’s so unfiltered it makes some people go blind. You smell it on them as they stumble over to the bar, laughing about some Jiangshi they fucked over at the card table across the street. 

You eye them as Jungkook nudges you out of the way to deal with them, his instinct to put himself between you and any group of men. It’s sweet. Jungkook hasn’t the slightest idea that you could kill the group of five without blinking, even without jewels. 

Fingering the charm on your bracelet, you let Jungkook take their order and start pulling out cups. You wander over to the corner under the guise of cleaning bottles, eyeing the group. You recognize three of them as regulars. 

Loro isn’t so bad, but he has a habit of chatting your ear off. He sits down closest to you, focused on telling the others a story, his crooked teeth visible every time he opens his mouth. He has a crooked nose, beak-like and prone to honking when he laughs at his own jokes. He waves his hand for effect as he tells his story, red spinel rings catching the light. 

Chanda sits next to him, his total opposite. In the year she’s been coming to the Jade Dragon, you don’t think you’ve heard Chanda speak. She ignores Loro’s story telling, staring straight forward, her jade eyes unfocused. You know she’s not as unaware as she seems, the pulse of her rubies reaching you from where she sits. 

Among the familiar faces, it’s Daniil you don’t like. He stands a head taller than Jungkook but is just as wide. His flint eyes glare at Jungkook as he slams down the cup he just emptied in a few gulps, asking for another. Jungkook is already filling it with wash before Daniil can finish the question, which pleases Daniil, his crooked smile slashing across his face. You see the flash of sapphire in his teeth, drilled in and hard to steal, a common practice among brutes belonging to the families that make up the Armory. 

Daniil doesn’t deserve sapphire. Jewels are powerful things, especially the darker they are on the Jewel Caste. Even the most practiced Radiants can’t wield dark colors well or with precision, and Daniil is far from skilled or efficient. Seeing him with a sapphire irks you, the gem in his tooth calling to you every time enters the bar. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The other two men with him, you don’t recognize. You can sense the shorter one radiating at jasper and the taller one at peridot, making them the least powerful Radiants in the room. It’s always like that around Daniil, Radiants on the lighter side of the Caste following around in his shadow, making him feel big and powerful. 

Daniil is never around anyone who has a darker color. 

“Stupid fucking Jiangshi don’t know how to play cards,” Daniil laughs, throwing back another glass of wash. He doesn’t look like he needs more, eyes red and posture swaying with drink. Being a Radiant will burn away at the alcohol faster, but it seems he’s had plenty. “No wonder those stupid fucks are losing territory to the Kaiju.” 

The mention of the Kaiju organization strikes a nerve. You remain reactionless on the surface, but you feel yourself inwardly flinch. No matter how many times you hear them mentioned, you can’t get rid of that internal cringe, that instinct to react. 

What Daniil says about the Kaiju eating up more Jiangshi territory is true, but it has nothing to do with the way people under the black and white banner of the Salib family play cards. Kim Juwon, the head of the Kaiju organization, is entirely the reason for his family’s growth and prosperity. You can think of no one more ruthless and singularly focused on city domination than Kim Juwon.

Except his son, perhaps. 

The Kim family had been wealthy before the Armory was even a thought. They’d long been one of the most powerful Radiant families in Diade, and the most resistant to the construction of the Armory to balance the radical powers in the city. Of the five families making up the city’s governing body, they are by far the strongest, especially since the collapse of the Haechi organization over a dozen years ago. 

Jimin’s family are powerful as well, the leaders of the Yong organization. The Parks aren’t as strong as the Kims in jewel distribution, but they’re nearly as wealthy. Wealth matters just as much as having strong Radiants under your control, opening up access to exert their influence over the city by purchasing high grade jewels and businesses. 

The Jade Dragon is not one of those businesses used to impress the powers that be in the city. It is a place for you to sit and watch the Salib family across the street, and serve as a lowkey meeting space when Jimin feels like using it, which is almost never. 

And, you suppose, to entertain the lowest level of the Yong organization's goons, some of which are now loudly yelling at Jungkook who’s reminded them to pay their tab. 

“The fuck you mean pay the tab?” Daniil asks, slurring over his words. “We don’t have a tab.”

Jungkook is unfettered. “You do, and it’s unpaid for the last month. Mr. Park has reminded me to collect your payment at your earliest convenience.” 

“Where the fuck is Burro? We don’t have a tab, you fucking Null.”

Sighing, you throw down the rag in your hand. A pulse of energy ripples from Daniil. Jungkook glares at the man, his eyes darkening. You know he feels Daniil’s power too, and if the Radiants sitting at the bar weren’t piss drunk or useless, they might notice that Jungkook can feel their energy surging as they get annoyed with him. 

“Sit down,” you snap at Daniil, walking behind Jungkook and glaring at the others. “I’ll get Burro.” 

The door swings open at the front, causing everyone to swivel. At first, you think it might be Burro finally arriving to manage the bar. Instead, you see a man dressed in the black and white of the Jiangshi. The markings on his arms confirm it, skin covered in the monstrous creature the organization is named after. If his enraged expression didn’t put you on edge, the hidden sapphires on him would, the jewels throbbing as he seethes, staring at the group in front of you. 

Trepidation tingles on your skin. You reach out and grab Jungkook by the arm, tugging him lightly. He lets you move him, taking a few steps back to stand next to you and not behind you like you originally intended. He doesn’t seem to understand the danger of an angry Radiant with sapphires. 

“Ay,” Daniil grunts. “Come to piss your money away at more card games?” 

Ah. 

“Call Jimin,” you mutter to Jungkook, shoving him toward the backroom.

“You call Jimin. I’m not leaving you alone.” 

“I will be fine, kid. Do what I say.” 

Jungkook looks like he wants to argue, but the Jiangshi man takes a firm step into the room, jabbing a finger at the group of Yong sitting at the bar. “You cheated.” 

“He’s wearing sapphire,” you whisper to Jungkook, nudging him. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, turning quickly. “I’ll call Jimin.”

As Jungkook vanishes into the back, a ripple of energy goes through the room. The group of Yong members stand up, all of them swaying with drink/ They begin to radiate, the jewels on their persons making you itch. You shiver under the feeling, fingers twitching as you circle the edge of the bar to put some distance between you and them.

You don’t know who the Jiangshi man is. You’ve never seen him among the few of his organization that come into the Jade Dragon. He seems to be sound of mind, unlike the Yong members, and despite being outnumbered, the Jiangshi man carries one of the darkest jewels on the Caste, capable of destructive, severe psychic attacks, and shadow manipulation if he’s strong enough. 

Daniil uses sapphire too, but you know based on observation he only knows how to use it for brute force, incapable of developing his skillset to the finer uses of the jewel. And he’s piss drunk, wavering as he stares down at his opponent as though he can intimidate him, his sapphire power flickering in comparison to the Jianghi’s pulsing.

“We didn’t do anything,” Loro practically whines. “You’re just useless at cards. Why don’t you go back to your side of the street, ghoul.” 

“I want the money you stole from me.”

The stranger takes a few more steps into the bar and you feel him take a deep breath. You react faster than any of the other Radiants in the bar, dropping to the floor as a blast of energy erupts from him. Wood cracks and furniture goes flying, blown out in every direction. You hear the shriek and shatter of glass as someone tumbles over the top of the bar behind you. 

You turn to see Loro groaning on the floor, covered in glass and alcohol. His arm is at an odd angle as he attempts to roll and remove the weight from it. As someone who uses a red jewel, you know he’ll be fine. Radiants who use red jewels can heal faster as well as move faster, but not only is Loro’s reaction time affected by how drunk he is, his spinel jewel is significantly lighter on the Jewel Caste in comparison to sapphire. 

More energy slams into the bar, making it rattle and splinter. You’re not in the Jiangshi’s line of sight, so whatever wave of destruction is pouring from him misses you. Chanda lets out a feral scream, hot anger licking through the room like flame. Like Loro, her jewel sits on the red spectrum, her ruby making her stronger and faster but also feral in battle, a warlord in her own right. 

It doesn’t matter, though. Ruby is still a medium color on the Jewel Caste, too light to take on a sapphire Radiant in their right mind. She joins Loro in being tossed over the counter, landing half on top of him and making him yell out as his wounded arm snaps again. You grimace. 

You don’t dare look around the corner, ducking further and covering your head when something takes a chunk out of the bar just above you. Water sprays you, the handle of a soda gun hitting your shoulder as it goes flying. Liquid pools around your feet alongside glass and wood chips. 

“Fuckers,” you hiss. “Stop destroying my bar!” 

It isn’t technically your bar, but you’re the only one who cares enough to oversee it. Now, you let it get torn apart as the Jiangshii and Daniil go at it, their sapphire energy slamming into everything around you. You feel their jewels throw with power, begging you to take them, to rip them off the men’s bodies and make them your own.

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

There’s a guttural yell followed by something wet spraying over the bar. It hits your skin, warm. You don’t need to look to know it’s blood, frowning as the room falls into utter silence.

There’s only one sapphire signature pulsing in the bar now a few yards away from you - not Daniil, you surmise. You don’t sense either of the stranger’s that had been with Daniil in his friends, their light colors stomped out on the first blast of energy from the Jiangshi. 

Heavy boots thud against concrete, moving in your direction. Fuck. Sapphire energy makes the air quiver as he moves closer, rounding the bar in front of you. You uncover your head and look up. The Jiangshi is covered in blood and the fleshy remains of someone - you don’t know who. His pupils are dilated, hungry, wild as the power of his jewels race through him, making him feel like a god. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

The man lifts a hand and you feel the energy shiver around him for his killing blow. You click the charm on your bracelet and the world shatters. 

A high-pitched screech erupts in the Jade Dragon. The man yells, dropping to his knees, hands clapped over his ears. It won’t help him drown out the sound of the high-frequency screaming coming from your bracelet, interrupting his ability to radiate. 

You feel nausea roll through your stomach and your world spins. The noise is unbearable, your eyes watering and your blood screaming. It feels like you’re being torn apart, your natural frequency being shredded as the bracelet continues to scream.

Your vision is blurry but you reach for a broken shard of glass. It cuts into your palm, the sting far outweighed by the pain of your wailing bracelet. The Jiangshi man tries to reach for you, the veins in his neck bulging, eyes wide and blood red as his frequency scatters, energy frantic and unsure where to go. 

Pain is the one thing most Radiants can’t stand. The world is handed to them on a silver platter, wealth and opportunities given to them simply because they can access a power that most people in the world can’t. They cannot fathom a world full of suffering and agony, because they’ve never had to endure to survive. 

It is their greatest weakness and your biggest strength. 

Gripping the shard of glass tight, you drive it through the man’s neck. It’s messy, the artery exploding under the sharp edge of the weapon. You cringe, letting it go as the blood floods his neck. He gurgles, wavering under the onslaught of the sound coming from your bracelet as he tries to grip the piece of glass and remove it. 

He doesn’t, choking until he loses the strength to remain on his knees, falling backwards and collapsing onto the floor. You watch, shivering as your mind nearly splits at the sound before his fingers twitch a final time. Only then do you press the charm on your bracelet again.

Silence sweeps over the bar. You fall backward, panting and dizzy from the sound. Your entire body shakes. It feels like a knife has carved its way through your skull, rendering you useless and half alive. Everything hurts, the pain throbbing with every breath you take. 

But you work is not done.

You nearly vomit when you roll over. The after effects of having a shatterwave used on you are worse than a hangover or drug withdrawal. Your hands are clammy and slippery with blood when you manage to get on all fours, nearly falling with the fresh wave of pain that slams you.

The sapphires on the Jiangshi’s body call to you like a drug. You feel their pulse, a siren song that you cannot resist as you crawl toward him, hands sliding against the wet concrete. Alcohol mixes with blood, turning the ground pink as you near him. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Hands shaking, you defile the Jiangshi’s body by ripping his shirt open to reveal the necklace hanging against his sweaty, bloody body, a single pendant with a sapphire set into a cushion of smaller, false sapphires. It is soaked in blood but it doesn’t matter. A jewel is a jewel, and by law, any jewel on his body is yours to take now, so you yank it, popping the chain as you do.  

Power fills you. It immediately overcomes you, knocking you sideways as the world vanishes and there’s nothing but sapphire. Blood rushes through you faster, stronger. A tremor of elation and terror goes through you, leaving you twitching and panting against the dead body of the man whose sapphire you just stole. 

Gritting your teeth, you tamp down on the power. It takes all of your effort, breathing in deeply through your nose and out with your mouth. You taste iron and salt, blood blooming in your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t even feel it, the power of the sapphire masking your pain. 

Stomach roiling, you slip and stumble up to your feet. Darkness pulses at the edge of your vision, the room tilting as you lose your balance and stumble against the bartop. Glass bites into your hands, sinking deep into your palm as you fight the sapphire for control as it threatens to overwhelm you and eat you up from the inside out. 

Finally, you gain control. The trembling starts to peter out and the sickness starts to fade as you acclimate to the sapphire, finally calm after a terrifying moment of raging storm. 

Placated, you turn to face the two remaining members of the Jade Dragon twitching on the floor as they try to recover from the shatterwave. They’re both staring at you, eyes bulging both as a result of having suffered from the shatterwave and at seeing you hold and resonate with sapphire without immediately being scored with power. 

They can’t know. 

Chanda tries to react as you sigh. You feel her gather the energy of her rubies but you’re already acting, radiating with the sapphire and striking out toward her with a sharp and precise blow. You don’t even lift your hand to do it, feeling the shape and the size of your slice of energy as it cuts through the air and hits them both.

It is far messier than you intend. You’d wanted a clean slice through them both - efficient, easy to deal with, not gruesome. But you haven’t used jewels in years, and the blow lands on them like an explosive, blasting the two of them backward the same way the Jiangshi killed Daniil. 

You blanch as parts of them both go flying. It’s gory and wet, the perfect picture of what an untrained Radiant can do with a dark jewel. You’re not untrained but you’re certainly out of practice, splattering the two of them the same way a child might paint on a canvas. 

Gore decorates the room, bits of organs and bone covering the walls with blood. A lot of blood. 

It gets the job done, despite not being what you wanted. With extreme effort, you turn around and chuck the sapphire back toward the dead Jiangshi. You immediately feel the need to crawl after it, your skin itching, nervous system turning in on itself as it craves the energy. 

Take me. Use me. Take me. Use me. 

Fighting nausea, you lean on the bar, pulling the bottom of your shirt up to wipe your face. Your fingers are slick with blood, bits of glass embedded in your skin. Small annoyances, in comparison to the way the sapphire screams at you to pick it back up, calls to you, begs you, sings to you-

“What the fuck?” Jungkook’s voice makes you look up at him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching you with wide eyes. 

You have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Under the influence of sapphire, you’d become totally unaware of him, which shames you to no end. You used to be better - needed to be better. Had your old master known you’d barely managed to use sapphire and forgotten about Jungkook, you’d have been punished with being stripped of your jewels and shut in a room for a week with them just out of reach, just enough to make you go through withdrawal while they were right there. 

Jungkook takes a step away from you and you see it. The fear, the trepidation. You shake your head, itching at your arm - the need to itch isn’t real, but the withdrawal from the sapphire is already there, gnawing at you. 

“Not gonna kill you,” your words are a little slurred. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

“You’re a Radiant.”

“You are too.”

He opens and closes his mouth. He hadn’t expected that. “You can use sapphire,” he points out, as though that makes you worse, somehow. Maybe it does. 

“Yeah, well. Shut your mouth about it. Don’t tell Jimin you know.”

“Jimin knows?”

“‘Course he does.” You push off the bar. “Tell him you don’t know what happened out here because of the shatterwave. He’ll know it was me.” 

“I…” Jungkook hesitates. “Alright.” He surveys the bodies - lack there of - face paling. “What now?” 

Outside, a car door shuts. Almost no one drives a car down to this part of the Lower District, and only one person would be doing it directly to the door of the Jade Dragon. 

You turn to Jungkook, pointing at the backroom. “Go in the office,” you whisper. “Tell him the shatterwave kept you incapacitated. Whatever you do, do not tell him you know I can radiate, Jungkook.” 

As Jungkook vanishes to the back, you step in front of the swinging door, breaking the line of vision from the front just as the entrance opens. Jimin steps into the bar, the air turning heavy with his emerald energy as he does. 

Park Jimin looks out of place. He always looks out of place in the dingy light and crooked setting of the Jade Dragon, but now with furniture fractured and strewn across the room, painted in blood and various bits of sinew, the contrast is severe.

Jimin is dressed in a crisp, white suit, not a spec of dirt or dust on him. His blonde hair is slicked back and pristine as his attire. Emerald earrings glitter in his hair, matching the emerald brooch in the shape of a dragon on his suit pocket and the emerald rings on four of his fingers. 

He is the epitome of Armory families, his jewels on display without fear of someone taking them, flexing his wealth and access to the fingest gems in his city. He’s also painfully beautiful, with full lips that usually require cosmetic alteration to achieve and high, rounded cheekbones. His eyes are sharp and intense with unending darkness, a siren gaze, some say. 

Jimin embodies the Yong organization perfectly: regal, proud and elegant as the dragon. Just as deadly. 

Taking a single step into the bar, Jimin’s gaze sweeps the room, taking in the carnage before landing on you standing in the middle of it. You do and say nothing, waiting under the pressure of his emerald aura. The emerald screams at you less than the sapphire, more of an annoyance than it is a demand to take it. 

“Well,” Jimin announces, his voice soft as silk. “This is going to be expensive.”

“Just buy more shitty furniture. It wasn’t pretty before.” 

He gives you a warning glare before walking further into the room, picking his way through the carnage. “Your handy work?”

“Not at first.” 

“I see, let me rephrase the question - what’s yours?” 

“Behind the bar.” 

“Hmm.” 

The sound of his boots clicking feels like he’s loading a gun, each step a bullet sliding into place as he decides whether or not he’s going to fire it. You watch as he drifts toward the bar, stopping when he gets to the dead Jiangshi first. He hums as though he’s impressed, eyes following the blood trail until he gets to the pièce de résistance behind you.

“Explain.”

“They saw.” 

“So you exploded them?”

You wince. “I’m not used to sapphire.” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in deeply and letting it out. You can feel his emerald energy like a waterfall, all roaring power but contained. “You have fucked up.”

“No,” you correct. “I am not the manager of this bar.” 

Jimin considers this and then shrugs. “Well you’re not wrong. Where is that jackass?”

“Probably face deep in tits.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, jeweled fingers tapping his elbow. Then he points at the dead Jiangshi. “Said Daniil and the others cheated him out of cards. He decided killing them wasn’t enough, so I used a shatterwave.” 

“Ah.” He flickers his eyes toward the entrance where you hear the door open behind you. “Ah, Agust, I forgot we had an appointment. As you can see, I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.” 

Strange, crackling energy radiates behind you. Frowning, you look over your shoulder and freeze. 

Standing in the doorway is the man from Market Town that stole a tangerine from Margot’s fruit cart. He’s dressed in the same scuffed and ripped jeans and white t-shirt under a floral shirt. His cat eyes are glittering when they settle on you, his mouth curving wickedly.

I see you, this smile seems to say, making you squirm.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” the tangerine thief - Agust - answers. “It was a bit dull in here.” His dark eyes trail to where Loro and Chanda paint the wall. “That work of art is particularly interesting.” 

“Yes, we’re certainly good at redecorating.” Jimin’s gaze is hard when he looks at you before he turns back to Agust and softens. “Do you mind rescheduling our appointment? It seems I need to get some things in order.” 

Agust looks at Jimin directly in the eyes, like an equal. There is no air of superiority between the two of them, making you wonder where exactly this smug man falls on the spectrum of city authority. Jimin also doesn’t hide the fact that the mess belongs to you. Interesting, considering he’s so adamant on hiding your Radiant. 

Each face of the Armory is familiar to you: the Parks, the Viboras, the Salibs, the Achilleos and the Kims. This man belongs to none of them and yet he has an appointment with Jimin, who is one of the highest running members of the Yong organization.

The respect that Jimin shows the tangerine thief leads to a few possibilities of who he could be. Under the rule of the Armory, there are other smaller and less organized gangs. Circles are not particularly powerful and still concede to the Armory, but they range from loose bands of idiots and thieves to highly organized factions. There are dozens of Circles in the city, but only a few are powerful enough to earn respect, especially from Jimin.

Chewing your lip, your mind runs through a list of possible Circles this man could rank high enough in to matter. White Fang has always worked with the Yong’s well. Their members can sometimes be found hanging out in the Jade Dragon with tight, if not overly polite smiles while they conduct business. While White Fang answers to all of the families of the Armory as is law, they are particularly fond of the Park family. 

But no, you’ve never seen him with White Fang, so it can’t be them.

There is little chance that the tangerine thief belongs to the Midnight Sun. As the largest and most powerful Circle, they are only allied to the Kim family. Though it’s technically illegal for any Circle to declare allyship to only a single governing body, the Kim family sits at the top of the food chain, and being protected by Juwon and his son Seokjin have its strengths.  

You shove the thought of Kim Seokjin away violently.

“Of course.” Agust finally says, eyes flickering from Jimin to you, dark and knowing. “Just give me a call whenever. I’m eager to do business with the Yong organization.” 

Turning to leave, you watch Agust with predatory stillness. You still can’t get a read on him for where he belongs on the Jewel Caste and that doesn’t sit well with you. He opens the door and exits, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a wink like before and then he’s gone.

For some reason, Len’s warning from earlier comes back to you: The world will end in midnight and obsidian.

THE JEWEL CASTE

*IN ORDER FROM TOP TO BOTTOM THEN LEFT TO RIGHT OF POWER.

Lights

Opal → Selenite → Diamond Rose Quartz → Morganite → Kunzite

Mids

Jade → Peridot → Flourite Jasper → Spinel →Ruby

Darks

Turquoise → Azurite → SapphireTourmaline → Jet → Onyx

Corrosives

Emerald→Garnet →Midnight →Obsidian

JEWEL ATTRIBUTES

*A non-exhaustive list of skills associated with specific gem colors.

White Gems: Useful for basic tasks like illumination, minor telekinesis, or small barriers and warding etc. Pink Gems: Generate light-based energy, minor protection, some elemental influence, and weak energy attacks. Green Gems: Medium protection and warding, decent energy attacks, influence healing, and elemental control. Red Gems: Destructive energy and weapons/fighting mastery, manipulation over emotions and give superior senses.  Blue: Powers include destructive energy, shadow manipulation, and mental influence. Black Gems: Capable of bending reality, manipulating snatches of time, strong mental influence, creation and destruction of energy.

TAG LIST: @astroodledream @myynameisbuckyy @idkjustlovingbts @hobibbb @codeinebelle @rinkud @wobblewobble822 @itsjaneeettt @veronawrites @agustamygdala7 @itsmina29

PLEASE DOUBLE CHECK YOU HAVE YOUR TAGGING ON. MOST OF YOU DO NOT HAVE TAGS TURNED ON AND I CANNOT TAG YOU. IF YOUR TAG IS NOT HERE, IT'S BECAUSE YOUR TAG DID NOT WORK.

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i two i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jack Howl - New Year's Attire Voice Lines

Due to event restrictions, Groovy related lines are locked until the event has been cleared. I will update once these are unlocked. Login line has been captured.

Happy New Year! Wishing you all the best. ...Don't read too much into it, I was just sayin' that to be polite!

Summon: Don't slack off just 'cause we're starting a new year. It's really easy to fall into bad habits, so.

Groovification: --LOCKED--

Home: Is this the right way to wear this thing?

Home Transition 1: I've been studying up on eastern culture ever since I got this job. I mean, I can't just look the part and not know anything about it.

Home Transition 2: How many times do I gotta hear the guys from my dorm joke about how the shop's staff are all unapproachable...? They better be ready for what's comin' for them once I'm done with this job.

Home Transition 3: Malleus-senpai is able to stock the shelves and set-up displays in a snap with his magic. There's a lot I can learn from him.

Home Transition - Login: Welcome! ...Hey, don't laugh at me like that. I already know I don't look like I'm cut out for all this customer service stuff.

Home Transition - Groovy: --LOCKED--

Home Tap 1: What gives me hang-ups while I work here is whenever someone asks me about some brand or another. Why're people askin' me about those things? Does it look like I know anything about 'em?

Home Tap 2: Not only can he get the job done well, but he's able to practice TAKOAGE properly, too... Jamil-senpai really makes no wasteful movements. I gotta try to make time for everything, too.

Home Tap 3: Just watchin' the way Floyd-senpai deal with customers makes me doubt everything I know about customer service. How is no one complaining about the way he's goin' about it?

Home Tap 4: Tch, the product displays are a complete disaster 'cause of all the unruly customers. You're tellin' me that Sam-san has to deal with these kinds of guys all the time?

Home Tap 5: This outfit's kinda difficult to wear. Walkin' around in it's one thing, but whenever I try to run, my feet get caught on the hem.

Home Tap - Groovy: --LOCKED--

Duo: [JACK]: Floyd-senpai, don't slack off now! [FLOYD]: You're too stuffy, Uni-chan～

Requested by @farfalla049.

[grimaldiapologist]

Writing on a blog dedicated, at least in spirit, to our dissociative identity disorder, this is something that fascinates me. For context - living with the poster child disorder of "that's not even real" and "you're just faking it to get out of jail" and "you're just histrionic with bpd I know this because I took a psych class once in uni", that some fucking airheads still make their paycheck "criticising" in the psychology field (and teaching), the fear of being declared a faker, an attention seeker, a liar, a self-centered and stage-obsessed criminal-until-proven-otherwise came as a free package with the diagnosis. Just the suspicion of the diagnosis was enough for all of those labels. From whom? Everyone.

The first time I dared to open my mouth to my psychiatric nurse, she was putting me against the wall for lying and omitting, because in her view, I was doing too well with no explanation. In reality, at that point, I'd spent some months after becoming aware of the system getting to know them and reading up on how to get the basics of communication together, and working through the first chapters of Coping With Trauma-Related Dissociation, which helped us understand what we needed to do with one another in order to stabilise and feel safer in our everyday life. Things were actually going wonderfully, I wasn't lying, but I was omitting, yes. I was omitting, because even though at that point I knew nothing about DID beyond what I was learning from resources and my friend/now partner, who'd been in the community for a long time and gave us crucial peer support in terms of figuring our situation out, I knew extremely well the stigma associated with "split personality", and our first and primary instinct has always been to hide and cover the existence of the system.

But she was forcing it, so I told her. I was asking for help, yes, but with the context of doing so well - we were winning, and we wanted to keep winning.

She promptly told us we weren't allowed to leave, and started to set us up for involuntary inpatient stay. Exactly what we'd been afraid of the most: that "the psychiatric system" would imprison us and kill us, kill the parts of us who were vulnerable, with cocktails of medication in padded rooms and straitjackets and whatnot that we'd seen in the movies. (And, to a degree, during our actual inpatient stay years before.)

The resident psychiatrist did a quick evaluation of us and released us after, clearly annoyed at the nurse for overreacting and putting us in the extremely triggered and traumatised state that we were in, but it did permanent damage.

Very soon after, we discovered the online "discourse" on the validity of DID, and the "fake claiming" communities. This is all we inherited, first thing, with our diagnosis - which we did get after the above clusterfuck, within a year, with the aid of a specialising therapist and years of notes from our history, or so I assume. I can't remember, it's been years, and I have DID. The point is, even the DID community itself demands that you will never show a bright side to your disorder.

You either suffer all of the time, always, you hate yourself, you hate your other selves, you want to die, and you're forever a mess and you're in eternal war against yourself, or you're faking.

We are not this way and have never been. Prior to discovering the system, we were poorly. To spare the details, at 29 when we were diagnosed, we hadn't worked a day in our lives, dropped out of school at 12, and spent about a decade locked indoors with suicidal spirals being the expected main event of every three days or so. But our main strength has been our us, the family that we have, and the care that we've shown each other all along. Even if we can't love ourselves, we can love each other, and after learning communication - learning to listen, learning to talk - we've been doing phenomenally. Our condition has changed from treatment-resistant and debilitating to actually, we no longer need SSRI medication at all, after being on it for our whole lives. And luckily, this is enough proof for us, but not the world.

No, we're now in that funny place where our partially treated trauma/dissociative disorder looks like too much fun to the world. We're fine and we love each other. We indulge in dressup, we have our own silly little blogs and journals each with their own specific equipment like fancy ink pens and wares of stickers and decor, we have galleries of fake Instagram pictures of ourselves, we use PluralKit on Discord and talk to ourselves like we own the chat - among friends, anyway, or just between ourselves in our private one. All of this means we're fake, fake, fake, fake. God forbid a man has fun. God forbid a woman takes an afternoon to herself to give herself a makeover and go on a date. God forbid a guy just wants to feel comfortable and laugh and express himself, or have a chat with his closest friends.

We're not in enough pain all of the time to be "true" DID anymore. If we were "true" DID then we'd still be in the untreated, pre-diagnosed state. This is a stagnant disorder of identities that may never experience growth or true humanity. All I am allowed to be is a filthy, incapable hikikomori afraid of the world, because anything else is fucking weird to people.

I'm sorry, but. None of your fucking business. I've spent 33 years of my life split squarely on a tightrope over the chasms of "I don't want to die" and "I want to kill myself now". I'm 33 fucking years old and I've earned my goddamn license to feel good, actually. I'm allowed to be fucking weird because I'm developmentally disabled. I will never not be the way that I am, and I also have no intentions to ever be anything but the way that I am, I'm just aiming to be better at it.

This now means that I'm not actually allowed to talk about my disorder... basically anywhere but here and in therapy. No matter where I go, people treat me like a criminal. People who don't have DID tell me I'm faking for clout and larping (LARPing is great by the way and you should absolutely try it out instead of using it as a weird slur online) and they're the champions of true sufferers who are there to nobly remind me that REAL people with DID are actually so in pain all of the time and dying unrecognised while freaks like me... post on Tumblr for attention or whatever I don't fucking know I'm still disabled and in chronic pain and I can't do shit with myself regardless of our overall improvement - and people with DID tell me what I have isn't real DID and I'm "anti-recovery" or whatever because I don't subscribe to their specific dogma of recovery (which, for the record, every single microcosm of the recovery community has their own version of, and they all hate each other for it). The latest edition of how this fucked us over was our choice to write frankly about the positive sides of how the often negatively portrayed coping mechanisms of DID can be turned to work for recovery, and how things like substitute beliefs (believing things that are factually untrue such as 'I am an actual dragon trapped in a human suit' when you're not) can be used not to distance one from reality to escape but help one adapt into it (because I am a dragon in a human suit, a dentist cannot scare me), and had the whole conversation just without warning or any sort of notice deleted from the community. Mods never replied to my request on clarity on what the fuck they were doing and why, and I haven't been back in the community since, either.

And it's hilarious. The whole fucking thing is hilarious. You're faking it if you've recovered too much, because a true sufferer of a severe mental health condition would never recover, but if you don't recover enough, you're anti-recovery, and therefore also faking. There's a slim venue of acceptable suffering in an eternal still-shot in the middle, but you're not actually allowed to exist beyond it or past it in any capacity.

The only true DID case is a non-person who is incapable of growth and change, for a disorder that is all about identity, which by definition is all about growth and change.

I'm so tired of it. Sorry, freaks, I'm gonna freak the way that I freak from now on. I'm too well-adjusted these days to be your perfectly martyred poster patient.

ive found that partially treated mental illness can sometimes look to uninvolved onlookers like faked mental illness.

[elizaleclerc]

it was all by design 🌟

"what if i told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: hunter!reader starts to realize their feelings for xavier, but he's felt this way the whole time...

song: mastermind by taylor swift

word count: 2.1k

author's note: my first l&ds fic everyone cheer! / mostly fluff / workplace romance (i mean this is canon) / im new to this game don't judge / cheeky makeout sesh / he falls first and hard / sarcastic smug xavier (he's a freak) / sweet talk - nothing too spicy / barely proof read oops

It was simple day at the arcade. You and Xavier decided to take the day off from missions and relax with some fun at the colorful arcade machines. You had won more stuffed plushies than you could feasibly carry in your arms, so Xavier held one in his hand delicately, as if he knew how much those little stuffed creatures meant to you.

“Well I better call it a day, I don’t think I can carry any more of these little guys.” You chuckled as your arms began to grow sore, even with the stuffed creatures’ light weight.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be resting your muscles and instead here you are.” He gestured towards your arms filled with plushes. You laughed to yourself, refusing to admit he was right.

The two of you walked back to your car and you dumped all of the plushes in the backseat. As you looked at all of the adorable creatures, a realization hit you. You had no more room at your desk in the office for all of these plushes to fit.

“What are you thinking about? Or are you just admiring your growing collection?” Xavier spoke from beside me. I turned to look at him for a few moments. The Xavier during missions was so different yet the same as the Xavier outside of work. You had come to know him as a close friend, and even shared some flirtatious moments. Most of the time, you pushed those moments aside and decided to see him only as a coworker. But flirtatious fantasies sometimes danced through your mind.

You envisioned his desk at the office. Completely barren; no pictures, no decorations. A piece of furniture completely devoid of any color or personality. You grabbed one of your plushes. This one was a particularly round tomato plush. “Here,” you started, “this won’t fit on my desk, so you can have it.”

Xavier took the plush in his hand and examined it for a moment, “What am I supposed to do with it?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I dunno, it’s up to you.”

~

For some unknown reason, after the day at the arcade you spent the entire next day thinking about Xavier. During random moments of the day, memories between the two of you kept flashing back into your mind. You would be folding laundry and suddenly think back to his arms brushing against yours like they did during a mission in the forest. You both had heard and felt fluctuations and were on guard. He held your wrist in a swift movement to keep you close. You snapped out of it and finished folding your clothes.

Another memory flashed while you were cleaning dishes. It was a particularly risky mission, and Xavier’s Evol was dwindling. His life was at risk, but he was still willing to put himself in the face of danger in order to keep you safe. When you tried to resonate with him, at first he hesitated. He wouldn’t dare you spend any of your energy or power on him. But in the end, your decision to resonate saved his life. You both thought you’d end up losing the other that day, and the silent air of the aftermath sat heavy. You held each other close, your heavy breathing mixing together.

After your days off were over, and you thought you had finally gotten over yourself, you walked into the office prepared for whatever mission Jenna was going to send you on. But then, you saw Xavier across the room. He was standing talking to another hunter, and you just about lost your mind. He was standing with his arms crossed, clad in his hunter uniform, his head cocked slightly as he listened to whatever his coworker was jabbering about. God, he looked amazing, you thought. Why were you thinking of him in this way all of the sudden?

You had gone over every small interaction, every side conversation, every slight touch that the two of you had ever shared. Was there really something between the two of you, or had you actually gone mad this time. You walked over to your desk, placing one of your newest plushes on the shelf to complete your set.

Your eyes glanced over at Xavier’s desk, not expecting anything to have changed. You did a double take when you noticed something new. A small tomato plush sat next to his computer. That wasn’t the only thing either. A square photo was stuck to the hang wall that every worker had.

Trying to be inconspicuous, you squinted at the photo. It was one the two of you had taken before one of your most recent missions. You were both dressed in your uniforms, and he had his arm around your shoulder as you held bunny ears behind his head. He was smiling, and you were sticking your tongue out. It was the only photo the two of you had ever taken together.

Your head was reeling. This couldn’t be real. You were convinced you were trapped in some Protocore induced dream. “Do you like the new decorations?” Your body jolted as Xavier spoke next to you. You turned to see a smug smile on his face, his arms still crossed.

You were too shocked to speak, but finally decided to say something as Xavier waited for an answer. “Yeah, yeah…it’s nice.” Your voice sounded more exasperated than you’d like. Xavier seemed to read you like a book. Did he know the realizations that you were having?

“Are you alright?” He asked with a slight smile. He didn’t actually seem too concerned.

“Yeah- no, yeah, I’m fine.” You stumbled over your words, refusing to make eye contact with him. You saw a slight twitch in his bicep as he adjusted his stance by his desk. Your entire face went hot. “I think Jenna wanted me to look at something in the Archive room, I’ll um…be right back.” You hurried through your excuse to leave the main office.

Your breath had quickened, but you found solace in the empty archive room. Only tech workers were really needed back here to retrieve old files on specific Protocores or important history of Linkon. Thankfully the room was empty, the only sound being your heavy breathing. You sat yourself on one of the empty counters, the space usually used for examining documents. You put your head in your hands, get it together.

You heard the handle of the door slide open, and your heart sank. In walked Xavier, still appearing smug and moving like he rehearsed all of this. “Are you following me now?” You huffed, just needing some time alone to sort through your thoughts.

“Are you done lying to me?” He retorted, moving closer to you, now standing only a few feet away.

“What are you talking about?” You scoffed in a hushed laugh.

“You’re clearly not fine. What’s going on?” He still held that dumb smile on his face, and your brows furrowed.

“Are you actually concerned for me? Because you’re smiling. Do you know you’re smiling right now?” You asked in a rushed tone; you’ve never seen him behave this way.

He let out a deep sigh, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "Do I have to explain everything to you?" He took a step closer, his body now towering over you as you sat perched on the counter. He leaned down, his hands planted firmly on either side of your legs. Your faces were mere inches apart, and the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “Do I have to explain why your face flushes when I get close like this?”

Gently, he reaches out and places his warm hand on your knee, caressing it with gentle strokes. With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to trace a path up your thigh, his fingertips leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Gradually, his touch becomes more confident and sure, sending waves of desire rippling through your body. “Do I have to explain how your breath quickens when I do this?”

He leans in, his breath warm on your neck as he speaks in a soft whisper only meant for you. You can feel the heat radiating from his lips, and the gentle brush of his words sends shivers down your spine. His breath carries the scent of mint and musk, enveloping you in a cloud of desire. The closeness between you is palpable, and every nerve in your body is electrified by his presence. “Or can you put the pieces together yourself?”

“Xavier…” Is all you can think to say. Your breathing was quickening, and your face was flushed.

He sighed, his lips just barely grazing the start of your jaw, “I’ve waited and waited for you to finally feel what I’ve felt for so long.” You take your hands and slightly push his chest away.

You analyze his face and his brows furrow ever so slightly. “You mean- you’ve felt this way about me all this time and never told me?” You brought one of your hands up to the side of his face, your thumb lightly tracing around his cheek.

“Of course, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew you didn’t feel the same way- if you would never feel this way…” He starts, and before he can continue, you speak up.

“But now you know…”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, “Exactly.” He brings a hand up to your jaw and slowly moves it to the back of your neck. “Can I kiss you now?” Your eyes felt dazed as you gazed down at his lips. He brushed a thumb over the bottom of your lip, waiting. “Please, your eyes are saying yes but I need to hear it from your mouth.”

You nodded, snapping out of the haze you were in. “Yes, yes, please.” As soon as the last word was uttered Xavier brought his lips onto yours. He started slow, his soft lips moving in rhythm with yours. He was still leaning on his hands, but he moved them to wrap around your lower back. You never thought he would feel this good on your lips. You let out a slight whimper, and that sent Xavier spiraling. Like a man starved, he quickened his pace and kissed you as if he’d never get the chance again.

“Wait- we can’t do this here.” You took a moment in between kisses to center yourself and remember you were at work.

“Ugh, I don’t care,” Xavier breathed out and went back to kissing you again. Once his lips found yours for the second time you didn’t care anymore either. You wanted this feeling, this burning desire for him to last forever.

You smiled into the next kiss, “Okay,” You moved your hands into his hair, your fingers tugging on the strands slightly. He moaned lightly into your kiss, causing your back to arch.

You almost missed the door handle opening again, and you immediately pushed Xavier off of you. He stumbled back, partially in shock until he realized why. Andrew walked in, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from walking in on the two of you. “Um- Jenna is looking for you. The mission assignments are about to be handed out.” He cleared his throat and walked out of the room.

Your own face was flush pink, and once Andrew left the room you put your head in your hands. “Oh my god.”

“Okay, you were right. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that here.” Xavier laughed to himself. You had no choice but to laugh, really.

You hopped off of the counter, your legs feeling weak. You couldn’t even think about going on a mission right now, nonetheless with Xavier. “Well,” You straightened out your uniform, “I guess we should head back.”

“Yeah,” Xavier chuckled to himself, “until next time.”

Your face flushed at his words, because you knew there would be a next time.

[nonbinoclard]

>>> TUNES TO LOSE YOUR MIND TO <<<

KEEP IN MIND: This is a living playlist! Songs may be added and removed at times to further curate the vibe I'm going for. I'll try to keep this post updated, but you can just check out the link for an up-to-date track list.

(EDIT: Song discussions are not finished! I have a lot more to say. I'll reblog when I've updated.)

This is set in a sort of nebulous time between Harry's life right before Martinaise and the night before he lost his memory. I wanted this playlist to feel erratic-- full of manic energy one second, then slow and bleak the next, dreamy, unreal, then right back to ridiculous.

(In no particular order. Shuffle for full emotional whiplash effect.)

I Don't Like My Mind - Mitski

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room [...] And then I get sick and throw up and there's another memory that gets stuck / Inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk / And it may be a few years, but you can bet it's there, waiting still

The days before cleaning out the rooms... also, eating an entire cake and throwing it all up again feels very harry-esque... Overindulgence

A whole cake, so please don't take / Take this job from me

End Of The World - Hether

I mean, I could just post the entire set of lyrics as evidence, tbh. Struggling to find meaning and purpose in his life in the wake of heartbreak (5 year old heartbreak, but who's counting anyway)

I wake up in the morning and I wonder / Why everything's the same as it was I can't understand / No I can't understand / How life goes on the way it does

Cane Shuga - Glass Animals

Baby, don't go / I'll stop breathing coke / No more bloody nose / No more John Does Burn through my love / Just like your drugs / I've had quite enough / Or lack thereof

This is about the last moments of Harry and Dora's relationship to me. The chorus (a kind of circular, endless, self-aggrandizing internal monologue likely fueled by stimulants, implied in the song) continuing after the second verse kind of reflects the solution for Lonesome Long Way Home.

"11 Voyager Road. You no longer live there. Those times are gone, and so are those people. Why did you come here? Why are you still here? And where’s the dealer? You have to get back to work. That’s all you have now."

Hot Venom - Miniature Tigers

Hot venom is mixing with my blood / I can feel it on my fingers and taste it on her tongue / It feels so good to fall in love with you

I've heard a lot of people say this song is about heroin addiction, which is thematically appropriate for this playlist, but also. Harry's unhealthy obsession with Dora/Dolores Dei. Adoration (and hatred) so strong it's killing him.

Her venom makes me strong / Stronger than I am on my own / Before too long, I'll wake up to it gone / Wondering how I ever was happy [...] You can't go back now; that's not how this works / And as long as she's gone, I can never be happy

Who Is She ? - I Monster

This is just straight up about Harry's recurring dream to me. Just. Gestures at the lyrics.

Oh, who is she? / A misty memory / A haunting face / Is she a lost embrace? Am I in love with just a theme? / Or is Ayesha just a dream?

I feel like it falls in line really well with the idea that Harry's mind has been affected by the Pale-- a lack of memory, or maybe mixed memories, in a misty haze beyond the boundaries of reality. (and maybe Dolores Dei has started haunting him via Pale? Like some theories I've read.)

Somewhere across the sea of time / A love immortal such as mine Will come to me / Eternally

I Don't Miss You at All - FINNEAS

Dummy - Portugal. The Man

F the World - The Northern Boys

You Stupid Bitch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV Show)

These shards are a metaphor for my soul Won't stop the self-pity 'cause I'm on a roll

This song perfectly captures the inherent melodrama of a mental downward spiral imo. Catastrophic and all-encompassing. This is what I think it sounds like in there (Harry's head).

You ruined everything / You stupid bitch / You ruined everything / You stupid, stupid bitch / You're just a lying little bitch who ruins things / And wants the world to burn / Bitch / You're a stupid bitch / And lose some weight

Oleander - Mother Mother

Intermission - Scissor Sisters

Skit #2 - Kanye West

Self explanatory. He's got no money. He's got no clothes. He has no car and he has no hoes.

We broke, broke broke phi broke We ain't got it Broke, broke, broke phi broke We ain't got it Don't spend no money, ain't got no clothes Ain't got no cars, ain't got no hoes

Nobody - Mitski

My God, I'm so lonely, so I open the window To hear sounds of people, to hear sounds of people

This one is more about the feeling of the song itself rather than the lyrics specifically; I love the upbeat tempo that continues through the song (trying to remain steady, continue working), how the beat is simple at first then builds into a kaleidoscope of sound by the end of the track (overwhelmed by the world), then ending in a distorted loop (trapped in a cycle). This song has always felt really authentic to my own experience with mental spirals. The themes of loneliness tie it all into a nice bow.

I'm A Broken Heart - the bird and the bee

Not Allowed - TV Girl

Party Time - The Northern Boys

Comfortably Numb - Scissor Sisters

(Do The) Act Like You Never Met Me - TV Girl

Novocaine For The Soul - Eels

Basket Case - Green Day

Do you have the time / to listen to me whine About nothing and everything all at once? I am one of those melodramatic fools / Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it

I just think this one fits him well during Martinaise... just shaken up and unloading trauma onto unsuspecting strangers like a can of soda (bad analogy lol), depending on the dialogue you choose.

I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams She says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down I went to a whore, she said my life's a bore So quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps / Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up / I think I'm cracking up Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?

Also it's just a little pathetic, which just... it fits. Sorry Harry.

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

[choccy-milky]

I dont know why I had this vision of clora riding a scooter, like a cute light blue one with italy vibes, like a vespa, and sebastian panicking behind her LMAO

I SEE THE VISION AS WELL...idk how shes on a vespa tho since they werent invented yet so lets just assume theres time-turner shenanigans going on LMAO

but also anon this request was so funny to me because the SAME day you sent me it, i also got this one on twitter:

TRULY THE DUALITY OF MAN IS AT PLAY HERE!!! LMAOO debauchery vs wholesomeness...and it made me laugh so much

(and for anyone curious yes i WILL also be honouring the other request......eventually👀)

@jstfndmthngs splitting your ask into 2 again bc its a CHONKER but I LOVED READING IT🥹🥹 "how much they love each other to the abnormal level that i envy" LMAOO THATS FANFICTION FOR YOU, BABY!!😍 also YESS interacting with my readers in the comments was my fav parts of writing a lot of the time, and im SOOO grateful to the ppl who commented bc without them the story would have turned out DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. like, i know there are some people who write the entirety of their fanfic and then upload it in chunks, but if i had done that/written my story in a vacuum and hadnt incorporated any of my readers ideas/suggestions it would have been SOOOO much worse honestly LMAO. like, not even necessarily putting their requests or ideas in my fic, but even sometimes just reading a comment that would say something like "i cant wait to see how clora/seb reacts to..." would make me think...oh. i was never planning on even showing their reaction to that. but now that they say that, good point, i definitely need to include that LOL. so yeah even just little stuff like that was SUPER important to my writing process and my story and helped me keep in mind what people wanted to see/things i may have missed or glossed over if i'd been writing by myself, but i also just loved getting comments in general bc i loved reading them and they were so motivating🥹 BUT THANK U SO MUCH IM GLAD U LIKED MY STORY/SEB & CLORA SO MUCH, AND TY FOR SHARING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME!!🥹💖💖 im lowkey the same way... i cant read any other fics rn bc im still too attached to seb/clora BAHAHA so i still need to give it some time before i delve into other HL fics (i even downloaded a program that will let me replace names so that i can replace the mc's name with clora's LMFAOOOO THATS HOW MENTALLY ILL I AM ABOUT THEM!!😭😭DONT COME FOR ME🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🚓)

omg...i already love unlocking kinks in people but for it to be specifically seb x clora is even more of an honour BAHAHA omg i love that....but i get it too. clora is submissive and breedable af😍LMAOO (im sorry💀that wasnt me just now that was seb blame him)

@acrenna MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND ALSO LATE HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! this is so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭im happy my story was able to get you out of your reading slump!! (and hopefully will continue to, with my oneshot im slowly but surely working on😩) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN I APPRECIATE YOU SM🥹🥹💖

@misskkfritz you actually arent the first to say this and i also saw a pinterest comment on my art say this........FELLAS DO I NEED TO WATCH GILMORE GIRLS NOW🤔🤔🤔

[valiasims]

WIP#41

Hey everyone!

Happy New Year for all of you! I hope you have a great year ahead of you and that all your wishes come true in 2025! It was a year ago when I first thought about making cc and starting this hobby. It was in January last year when I started working on my first cc set and I was so excited! There were a lot of obstacles I had to face but I've learned a lot through this year and our little community has grown and we're reached many milestones I didn't think I'd reach. We're over 9000 followers on Patreon and I am beyond grateful that you seem to be interested in what I do. We've also reached 300 patrons at the end of the year and I'm so thankful for you as well, who support my work, thank you so much! I appreciate every comment you leave, cannot thank enough!

After my emotional message I'll leave a few thoughts about the current wip photo as well to show you how the set is coming along. First of all, I'm not making bedroom items this month because I won't have enough time because I'm visiting my family in January. So the bedroom will come next month!

 Some of you suggested I should separate the top part of the window (the arch) so it can be used above the doors and the windows can be used by themselves. At first I was gonna make two versions of the windows, one with the top part, one without but I planned another top design so it would have been a lot of objects. I decided to separate them which was a little bit of a hassle because I already designed them in the frame but it works better this way. They can be varied more, for example the small windows can be used by themselves in bathrooms.

These windows are slightly wider then 1 and 2 grids because I found it two small and didn't like their size so I used 1.25 for the single window and 2.25 for the double. This makes them easily snap together without using free placement (ALT) but WITH using half-tile placement (turning on with F5). I think it's a good compromise.

Oh, sorry if this is too long but I have a lot to say. :D I mentioned there is two widths: the single and the double, also there are 3 heights, you can see them on the first picture. All of them come in the 2 width sizes. The small top parts are the arched and the criss-cross designed window. Those come also in these 2 widths.

I think that's all I wanted to say. :D I'm sorry for the long rambling, I promise this isn't as complicated as I've described and once you have them in your game you'll see how you can use them. Let me tell you, this set is making my head ache. :D There could be so many sizes, shapes and I don't want to make excessive amount of windows but enough to offer variations for different scenarios. It's a little overwhelming. I hope you will find these useful though! Despite working on them for so long and getting a little bored of them after the 10th similar looking window I like them in game so I hope you will too! But I'm looking forward to make something cute and cluttery next.

If you read all this, congratulations! You can see how these windows are living in my head right now! But I think I'm finally done with them and I only need to finish the doors!

[7seas-of-ryy]

Crestfallen - Part 4

Author’s Note: I'm hoping to make the next part longer, hoping I'll have more time tonight to write. Thank you all for taking the time to read my work! Your likes, comments, reblogs, and follows truly mean the world to me!

Overall Summary: Although you were born in the Day Court, you've been living in the Night Court for a century. You're close with the inner circle but what will happen when a new healer is brought into the picture?

Part 4 Summary: After your body and soul have gone through so much, how likely is it you'll survive?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: talks of injuries

"The combination of these plants can lead to some serious complications." Madja informed Rhys and Az.

All of the color drained from the spymaster's face.

"I believe the venom in the cut was from her mission. I would have found it sooner if I had done her check up." Madja muttered, ashamed.

"This is not your fault. It is mine for not seeing Clara for who she actually is sooner." Az responded.

"Now is not the time to take blame. Y/N needs us. What can we do now?" Rhys added.

Madja looked over you, taking a second to think.

"Well, the powder probably just sped up the venom which caused it to attack her powers quickly. It is like an infection, I will treat her with some medicine for that. But I believe there is a power inside of her that she is not aware of." Madja explained, "it might be the reason she is still alive right now."

Azriel walked closer to you, kneeling next to the bed. He laid his right hand over yours and used his left to push some hair off of your face.

"What about the complications you mentioned earlier?" Rhys asked.

"I have never seen the combination of Spitfire Aconite, Vamire, and Aldirin used where it didn't immediately kill the fae once it entered their system. Those three plants combined are deadly, perhaps the mystery inside of her is what saved her. I am not sure yet, I will treat her infection for now and we will figure out the rest as we go." Madja spoke definitively.

She began rummaging through her things to find the medicines. She pulled out some liquids, a salve, and bandages. Dropping some of the mixes in your mouth, she could tell your fever was already dropping.

"We need to flip her onto her stomach so I can access her cut." The healer told them.

"I'll do it." Az jumped up.

He gently rolled you over and went to take the salve from Madja who gave him a look.

"Please." Azriel begged, needing to help you in any way he could.

She nodded at him and gave him the necessary equipment. She pulled Rhys with her out of the room, leaving you in the shadowsinger's hands.

He coated your cut with the cream and bandaged it snugly. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he sat and watched over you.

Rhys and Madja made their way down to the rest of the group.

"I will go figure out some treatments we can try. In the meantime, I think you need to deal with Clara." Madja spoke up to the High Lord.

He gave her a nod, a steely look already in his eyes thinking about what she did to you. Entering the living area, he sent out a surge of his power so everyone felt it. He walked straight to Clara but she refused to make eye contact with the male.

"I gave you a chance here at the Night Court, to be a part of something bigger and this is how you repay me? You have caused damage to my friend that I do not know can be undone." He growled out.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Mor whispered, afraid of his answer.

"We don't know if we will be able to help Y/N. Clara here used a deadly combination of herbs on her but I'm sure she didn't expect Y/N to be so strong. Isn't that right?" He demanded.

"Wh...What? No I...I just...it wasn't supposed to kill her. It was j...just supposed to heighten her symptoms so I could then fix her. I swear. I didn't think it would do any true h...harm." She stuttered out, realizing the extent of her actions.

"Hmm so you're not a killer? Just stupid." Rhys spit out, "Nesta. Cassian. I trust you two can take care of her while I try to find a fix for Y/N?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Cassian spoke, his voice rumbling.

Nesta didn't verbally respond, just held the icy gaze she had on Clara.

"What? You can't do that!!" The female began to plead, terrified to be punished at the hands of those two.

Before anyone could respond, Nesta and Cassian winnowed away with her. Mor looked to Rhys, they shared a sorrowful look. Feeling like they betrayed you, they knew they needed to make it right. But first, they would have to help you survive.

-----

All of the venom, plants, herbs, antidots, and serums that were inside you weren't enough to knock you out fully.

You were awake through it all, fighting with everything you had inside your mind. You had felt Rhys enter your mind, tried to control your light for him but it was so strong.

Once Azriel's shadows entered protecting Rhys, you knew you had to fight harder. But you could feel everything. You could feel Madja unweaving the venom from your very soul. It was not only the worst pain physically but it made you feel so vulnerable and weak as well.

You felt another energy inside of you, something you never felt before. You tried to explore it, but the venom was controlling it and you didn't have enough strength anymore.

With Rhys and Az in your mind and Madja deep in your soul, you had never felt so bare before.

Once they finished and the venom was completely removed, you needed to rest. Knowing you couldn't fight it anymore, you succumbed to sleep.

------

After a while, you woke up. Well, your mind was awake but your body wasn't. Your power seemed to be back in your control, at least it wasn't attacking you from the inside out anymore.

You felt like you could hear something calling out deep inside of you. You couldn't ignore it, it was as if you were hypnotized, following the sound.

There was nothing physically there, at least you couldn't see anything but you could certainly feel it. It was power, antsy to get out. You reached your hand toward it and it was as if it noticed you there finally. It latched onto you and energy shot through you.

It was a feeling you had never experienced before, consuming every cell in your body. You could feel it working its way through you, waking up your physical form.

Suddenly you sat straight up in bed, gasping, no longer trapped in your mind.

"You're awake!" Azriel spoke, his eyes wide in shock.

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[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Starting about a week ago, I made several polls and asked you guys to choose a line/phrase. Your choices are now weaved within 5 stories to start off 2025! One a day for the next five days. Enjoy! Read below or on ao3

Summary:

Four times Buck misunderstands what Tommy is saying, the boys find out they're not super kinky, and one time they get it right.

Day One: This is Suspicious

Tommy was a deep sleeper when he was at home. Mostly because he couldn't be one at work, so he made up for it by practically being dead to the world when he was in his own bed.

Which is why it was weird to him that something had him sitting upright in bed, his heart pounding.

He checked the time. It was half past one.

Evan had taken some overtime at work and wouldn't be home for a couple more hours.

The air hadn't kicked on, but that never woke him anyway.

There had to be some-

All thoughts drained from his mind when he heard a noise coming from the living room.

Burglary.

It had to be.

There was another noise, and Tommy swore he could hear a man grumbling. Sounded like he was near the kitchen.

He hurried to get up, grabbing the bat he kept underneath his side of the bed and readying himself for whatever fight he was about to get into.

He left his phone on the nightstand. He knew the police would never get there in time anyway. He was going to have to deal with this on his own.

Using the training he'd learned many, many years ago in the army, he quietly opened his door and crept down the hallway.

Sure enough, there was a figure in the kitchen. Dressed in all black, he appeared to be making a knot in a rope with his gloved hands.

Tommy got the bat ready to strike, continuing closer to this masked man. He got within a foot of him when the man turned and gasped, stumbling backwards.

“Wait, wait!” The intruder yelled, “Don't hit me, Tommy!”

And wait a minute... Tommy knew that voice. That was-

“Evan?” Tommy exclaimed, bat held tight. “What the hell are you doing?!”

Buck pulled up his mask just enough to show his face. “Roleplay!”

“Role- What? How's this roleplay?!”

“What were you thinking?!” Buck argued, pulling his ski mask the rest of the way off. “You were about to kill me!”

“I'm thinking this is suspicious, Evan,” Tommy answered, exasperated, “and weird! Why are you breaking into our own house? I could have killed you!”

“Okay, c- can we not have the bat still ready to strike please?”

Tommy sighed, then put the bat down, leaning it against the wall. “Evan, I just... What were you doing?”

“You said you wanted this!” Buck whined, tossing the mask onto the counter.

“I said I wanted you to break into our home in the middle of the night and scare the hell out of me? Babe, listen to yourself.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “It was last week. Middle of the night, you rolled over and said, 'yeah, rob me, tie me up.'”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I confirmed it with you!” Buck pulled out his phone, bringing up his and Tommy's text messages. “The next day at work, I texted you and asked if you really wanted to do what you mentioned the night before and you answered 'of course I do' with a wink emoji.”

“I thought you were talking about the painting class we'd talked about doing together!”

“Why the hell would you add a wink emoji to that?!”

“Because next week is a nude portrait and sometimes I'm immature, Evan!”

Buck groaned, putting his hands on his hips. “So you don't want to be robbed?”

“Absolutely not. Honey, you know the things I say in my sleep are meaningless.”

“Well, yeah,” Buck pouted, fiddling with the rope in his hand, “usually. But most of the time nothing you say is coherent, so part of me thought you were maybe still awake.”

Tommy walked over to Buck, bringing his hand to Buck's chin and lifting his head so they were eye to eye. “It was very sweet of you to do this for me,” he assured him, “no matter how insane it might be.”

Buck's pout deepened, but he allowed himself to be wrapped up in Tommy's arms. “So you, uh, really didn't want this at all?” he asked, face burrowed into Tommy's neck.

“No, I didn't want to be robbed by you, Evan.”

There was a beat of silence, then, “Even the tied up part?”

Tommy stepped back, staring down at the rope in Evan's hand. “Well, I never said that.” His fingers felt over the material, smooth and tight and perfect to wrap around their headboard. “It'd be kind of a waste to not use this, wouldn't it?”

Buck smiled. “A total waste.”

Tommy tugged on the rope, beginning to lead Buck down the hall. “No point in that. Follow me, stranger.”

“Oh,” Buck stopped suddenly, eyes bright and wide. “Sh- should I grab the ski mask?”

Tommy shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

[artbyhoneycutt]

Other than the lie you just admitted to telling, where is the lie you told? Glad you asked! It’s the central claim that you just reiterated, that George Lucas “was trying to screw her out of credit for the film in the most divorced way possible.”

The reasons Lucas had for re-editing his films are as follows: he wanted to refine the technology for the prequels. And he also wanted to complete his vision for the original films. And he wanted to clean up the original film negatives for preservation. And yes, he probably also saw a commercial opportunity to make money from the 20th anniversary rerelease. None of these were the only reason for making changes to the films. That they were all at play at the same time is the result of Lucas seeing an opportunity where he could achieve multiple artistic, technological, and business goals with one project: finishing his films.

This is why the changes he made to A New Hope were things he was dissatisfied with all the way back when he was making the film in 1977. Things like unsatisfactory special effects, and scenes they couldn’t complete like the introduction to Mos Eisley as a proper city, or the Jabba scene.

This is beside the point, but guess who was disappointed they had to cut the Jabba scene from the theatrical release? Marcia Lucas.

From a Rolling Stone interview George Lucas did in August 1977: “THX was about 70% of what I wanted it to be. I don’t think you ever get to the point where it is 100%. Graffiti was about 50% of what I wanted it to be but I realized that the other 50% would have been there, if I just had a little more time and a little more money. Star Wars is about 25% of what I wanted it to be. It’s really down there quite a bit. It’s still a good movie, but it fell so short of what I wanted it to be. And everyone said, ‘Well, Jesus, George, you wanted the moon for Chrissake, or you wanted to land on Pluto and you landed on Mars.’”

— https://www.rollingstone.com/feature/george-lucas-the-wizard-of-star-wars-2-232011/

And you can see by watching A New Hope with your own eyes that while Lucas did make extensive changes to some scenes, he actually paid careful attention to preserving the shot-to-shot cuts that Marcia had made when she originally edited the Death Star battle. That sequence was the main contribution Marcia made to the film before she left the project in November 1976 to edit New York New York for Martin Scorsese. She came back to Star Wars in May 1977 to do some minor touch-ups to the final cut that was otherwise entirely overseen by George, Richard Chew, and Paul Hirsch. All of this is thoroughly documented publicly available information that you can read about further in J.W. Rinzler’s “Making of Star Wars” books and Dale Pollock’s “Skywalking: The Life and Films of George Lucas.”

Compare this meticulous attention to the original momentary editing on the Death Star battle to the much more extensive re-editing of the The Phantom Menace — a film that Marcia Lucas had no involvement. The opening flag parade before the podrace and second lap are greatly extended, the puppet Yoda is replaced entirely with a computer-animated Yoda, and the entire picture was given a new color grade on the Blu-ray. And in Attack of the Clones, the Coruscant chase and escape of Count Dooku were significantly re-cut.

Again, neither of these films were edited by Marcia, and yet their revisions are far more extensive than any sequence in the original trilogy that she worked on. And to be clear, on both the original trilogy and prequel trilogy, it is entirely George Lucas’ prerogative to do what he did, because they are his films that he created and (at the time) owned.

Your claim that George Lucas was only re-editing his films to erase the contributions of Marcia Lucas precludes all of these objective truths about what his motivations and artistic process are actually like, and I think that these falsehoods represent a fundamental problem with how you understand film history and film as an art form. And I think it would be better for yourself to re-examine your ignorance about this, and better for culture as a whole if others who currently think like you do would do the same re-examination unto themselves.

the internet consensus these days is that the george lucas hate of the last few decades was overblown which is kinda true but george still deserves all the shit for ‘fixing’ (aka removing and digitally redoing) the groundbreaking special effects work that won that team Oscars in 1978. 

because of this, you literally cannot buy a restored copy of the original theatrical release with the oscar-winning effects intact, and it’s because george always had beef with the original effects artists and wanted to discredit their work. it’s really sad because his revisions of history worked! one of those effect supervisors who got an Oscar, Robert Blalack, died this year and was honored in memorium at the 2022 Oscars. but the effects they showed to honor him (the death star sequence) actually weren’t his original work at all, but digital effects redone by george in 1997. george lucas was always too comfortable to discredit others work and legacy on the basis that it was his sole creative vision that others were merely working on. it was shitty to artists and shitty for the culture. Disney is a different type of evil toward creativity but george did more than his fair share of playing dirty too and that shouldn’t be forgotten