#that's kind of how it goes with me and writing

[therayofsonshine]

answering for my own gg dr (as that’s the dr i’m most into atm hehe!):

1. my headphones, my lip balm and any form of sunscreen or setting spray. i like to listen to music pretty much all the time n feel good, so i need these items on me regardless of where i’m going lol

2. any ethel cain song. alike this reality, i’m a big daughter of cain in my dr too, and my fans are VERY aware of this fact haha. but in my gg dr i’m strangely - or, not so strangely cuz i go on about it and play it every live - associated with artificial love by exo! bro even non-fans know me from this song LMFAO

3. i love love to write! whether it’s lyrics for any upcoming songs or drafts for potential songs for other artists, it’s writing stories or journaling. fun fact, writing was actually the reason i’m an idol n in my current situation as a gg member. i went over for lessons after i finished school in england, and ended up in auditions lolllll. i also crochet and paint!

4. hmm.. i don’t really have any favourites. but my members n i visited busan one summer when we all had a week off. best trip ever. it was heaven and the weather didn’t disappoint either. we ate good food and rested - so i’d say even though it wasn’t a holiday, it comes very close to the ideal example for me.

5. i’m an idol!!! so i sing and dance and entertain and get to do it all with my girls. there are five of us, four born in 2001 (including me) and our maknae was born a month - though in another year - after the second youngest in 2002. i really enjoy it - sometimes it’s hard and i defo have moments of questioning my life choices, but i wouldn’t give it up for the world.

6. my youngie. ateez’s wooyoung. most of my friends are idols too - we don’t have much choice LOL, we’re so busy we don’t often see ppl outside of our work environment - but i consider woo as my closest ride-or-die friend. it helps we’re in the same company so we ALWAYS end up passing each other in the hallways or i just see him in general. i love that man he’s super funny n loves crazy hard, like wears his heart on his sleeve kind of crazy. but i would die for him end of

7. defo a night person. bro those days when schedules r SUPER early fucking SUUUCK. we’re up for like 4am - sometimes earlier - but you bet i will be in our car falling asleep. but do i wake up before we get to the shooting site??? yes i do. baddie shit. but no i am awful in the mornings gah DAMN 😭😭😭

8. i’m very similar in this reality, but i LOVE cats. hence why my entire group is literally based around the concept of felines. theyre so cute and the purring????? take me to HEAVEN! we have a few cats in our dorm room (which are cared for btw…) but you wouldn’t believe how hard i had to work to get these higher up mfs to allow us that privilege. lost A LOT of my dignity but was it worth it? 100%. love my furry friends!!

9. now. look. i have my days which i’m both, and i have my days i’m one or the other. but according to the 16 personalities quiz they had me take to put on my k profile, i’m apparently an enfj-t. so do with that what you will 🩷 . but around my crush???? ho i’m an introvert. sorry, i meant INTROVERT. i am like a little mouse i let him do all the talking LOLLLL

10. yes! i have one little sister called naciri. she was born in 2012 and surprisingly her and wooyoung’s little brother kyungmin get along well, despite their age differences. i dunno when that happened or HOW it happened… but i’m not complaining.

11. uh… i actually cannot describe this one. my fashion sense depends on the day n the mood. usually i tend to lean for baggier clothes, especially on days when it’s more humid. but honestly it’s a mix n match of many different styles and whatever feels best to me when i wake up HAH

12. hmm. i don’t know if i have one. maybe just any nostalgic childhood films? i dunno yo 😭

13. oh lawwwd. here she goes. so… yes i do have a crush. bro this is so EMBARRASSING. ok so basically when i came to korea to start training, the trainees would eventually bump into the ateez boys as the building is not as big as fuckin hybe and obviously the boys want to meet new people joining the company. but whatever. so i met yunho and bro he’s so FINEEEEEE. i literally had to bite my tongue to stop myself from blushing - he was so tall and sweet and bubbly. so i… kinda… fell for him.

we never interacted tho really. he was super busy with comebacks and schedules / tour so when i did see him i was internally like oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god. LMFAO. i genuinely love that man. but will i ever confess?? idk. wooyoung knows tho so no doubt he’ll find out eventually. pls pray for me the day that happens…

14. i’m a virgo!! earth signs on tawwp

15. any savoury korean snack. they’re super yummy and light to just settle cravings. food in korea is so sweet 😭😭😭 even the savoury food like bread is sweet. so whenever you come across something savoury… bro you savour that shit no pun intended

16. ON GOD YES. we’re always in a damn car or plane or any transportation device depending on where we’re going. for mvs we tend to travel overseas for shooting, so we became very familiar with the airport hahaha. but i scripted that earth is safe / healthy and public transport doesn’t affect the planet in anyway… so i can actually enjoy travelling. but yes, we travel a LOT.

17. i can play the piano and a little guitar. i mainly use the computer / mixing, so i haven’t had much practice but trust 🤞🏼 i will get better.

18. i have a few. obviously my members - but they’re more like family to me than friends, so i don’t really count them as they’re bordering sisters than a friendship (we passed that years agoooo). but my wooyoung is #1. that’s my soulmate. i’m super close with yeonjun of txt and theo of p1h, but chanty of lapillus and nvee of black swan too. i’m super picky with friends so it’s just a random combo of ppl 😭

19. i scripted i’m not a picky eater, so there’s nothing really i won’t eat. i’m just not particularly a fan of seafood. love meat, but seafood… doesn’t do it for me i’m afraid.

20. my name is navara lee. i was born and raised in england and ‘lee’ is a pretty popular name (both first n last) here. just so happens to be a korean last name as well… which made things a lot easier regarding pronunciation :)

21. i have less of a sweet tooth in korea than i do when i’m back home. everything in korea is sweet as fuck so i often don’t find myself wanting anything sweet - but when i’m back home???? i’m in the chocolate aisle ALL THE TIME. dude, english chocolate is just… goated

22. hmm.. vara is the main one. hence why it’s my stage name and the name i go by now. when someone calls me navara i’m like… am i in trouble? what did i do? but i do find it endearing when ppl call me my full name i wont lie :’) navi is a big one too. dunno how that’s spelt but that’s how they say it so

23. when ppl assume things without the facts to back up their claim. like? god forbid ppl make eye contact with someone else and suddenly there are dating rumours flying around?? the amount of dating scandals i’ve been in because i’m social and a yapper is INSANE. i’ve been in them with the ateez boys too. but they’re never yunho… like youse r doing after the wrong guy!!!!!

24. we have cats in our dorm but they’re not really mine. my members n i all collectively own them n picked them out together so. i dont know where to stand with that one

25. honestly… both. i’m difficult i know, i’m sorry! i just love to party but i also love to sit in and watch a film. again, depends on my mood. i’ve walked out of parties before to go home, but i’ve also walked out of my dorm to go partying. it be your own state of mind 🤷🏻‍♀️

hope u enjoyed reading!

QUESTIONS TO ANSWER AS YOUR 𝒟R 𝒮ELF ✸

ib this post from @zaddizu & heavily ib premiumbitch ★

#1. what are 3 items you can’t live without?

#2. favorite song?

#3. what are your hobbies?

#4. favorite holiday?

#5. what do you do for a living?

#6. who is someone you always hangout with?

#7. are you a night person or a morning person?

#8. favorite animal?

#9. introvert or extrovert?

#10. do you have siblings?

#11. how do you dress?

#12. favorite movie / tv show?

#13. do you have a crush / significant other?

#14. what’s your zodiac sign?

#15. what’s your favorite snack?

#16. do you travel a lot?

#17. do you play instruments?

#18. who is your best friend?

#19. least favorite food?

#20. what’s your name?

#21. do you have a sweet tooth?

#22. nicknames your family or friends call you?

#23. what is something that annoys you?

#24. do you have a pet?

#25. do you prefer going out or staying at home?

[deadprince05]

hiii👋

Can you pls wrt about cute habits of Isagi 😩😩😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏?!

Cute Relationship Habits. Blue Lock

Cute habits of characters towards you.

Characters: Isagi Yoichi, Meguru Bachira, Sae Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Ryusei Shido, Michael Kaiser, Rin Itoshi

Isagi Yoichi

• After walks, he always tries to walk you all the way to the door to make sure you're okay and safe.

• On your way home, you stop at a small convenience store where you buy cat food and feed the street cats.

• Instead of "You're beautiful," he'll say: "You're like a perfect pass—always hitting straight to the heart." And if you cook something delicious for him, he'll declare: "Better than scoring in the finals."

Meguru Bachira

• He always wakes up before you to write nice wishes and compliments on pieces of paper, and then throws them in different places: in your bag, in your clothes pocket, or discreetly puts them on the table.

• Bachira loves touch, he is very tactile. He often holds your hand or hugs you. When you're sitting on the couch, he can just come over and lie on your lap.

• Bachira loves copying everything you do. Cross your arms? He'll mirror you instantly. Yawn? He'll fake a dramatic yawn too... Then burst into that signature bubbly laughter: "See? We're totally in sync!"

Sae Itoshi

• Sae is not an obvious romantic, but many of his actions towards you are imbued with concern. When you go to bed, he covers you with a blanket, and then hugs you from behind, stroking you until you fall asleep.

• He doesn’t really like to show affection in public, but he always accompanies you to various events and tells you in interviews how wonderful you are.

• Sae hates when people invade his personal space, but you're the exception. You can fix his hair - "Are you done?" he'll ask... (but he won't pull away.) Sometimes he'll even lean down so you can reach him better. If you take his hand, he'll pretend not to notice at first but then slowly intertwine his fingers with yours.

Seishiro Nagi

• He gets along well with animals, so he often plays with street kittens, and then takes pictures of them and sends them to you with a caption stating that you look at these kittens in some way.

• Nagi hates unnecessary movements, but you are the exception. He'll lazily wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you close when you sit together—as if you're his personal support. His fingers might idly play with the hem of your clothes or a strand of your hair while he watches TV or dozes off.

• Nagi speaks to you without words: - tugs your hand when he wants to lead you somewhere - nods toward his backpack when he wants you to get his water - closes his eyes when you fix his hair, as if saying: "Keep going".

You've learned to understand his silence — and he's learned to *open up* only for you.

Reo Mikage

• Very frequent gifts. Every time Reo goes to meet you, he always brings something with him. It can be either a white chocolate bar or a gold necklace.

• Gives you various cute nicknames

• Physical touch is his love language. He'll hold your pinky when walking together if he can't hug you properly, tuck your hair behind your ear when strands fall in your face, then press a kiss to your forehead after. He'll cradle your cold hands in his to warm them - even when his own fingers are freezing.

Ryusei Shido

• He's very tall and uses it to tease you. He takes something from you and waits for you to start trying to take it away. When you reach for the stolen item, he kisses you on the lips.

• He's much more affectionate next to you, like some kind of cat you don't know what to expect from.

• Likes to bite your cheeks, or unexpectedly lick your neck.

Michael Kaiser

• His backhanded compliments sound like insults, but you've learned to decode them: "You're less annoying today" = "You look beautiful" "At least someone can tolerate me" = "I'm happy you're here" "Go to sleep or you'll look like a zombie" = "I like how you look and want you well-rested"

• Jealous... but won't admit it. He'll never say it outright, but his reactions give him away completely, If someone flirts with you, he appears right at that moment and "accidentally" positions himself between you.

• His care stings like an injection without anesthesia: sharp but effective. "You'll only have yourself to blame if you freeze" he grumbles, draping his jacket over you. If you get sick, he'll drag over medicine but growl "Don't you dare be ill before the match" (even when the match is a month away). When you're exhausted, he might permit you to sleep on his shoulder - but only if "nobody's watching."

Rin Itoshi

• Rin won't initiate hugs or hold hands first, but if you do it—his fingers will tighten slightly in response, and the faintest hint of a smile will flicker at the corner of his mouth.

• He doesn’t give flowers or cards, but if he notices you need something—it’ll magically appear in your bag or on your desk. New headphones because yours broke? Done. That book you casually mentioned weeks ago? There it is. He’ll make it happen—but never admit it.

• Rin isn't the type to openly confess his affection, but you might notice his gaze lingering on you in a crowd. If you catch him, he'll immediately look away — as if he was just studying something on the horizon.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Could you write a headcannon or Drabble about Smoke receiving from Annie in her shack? Something detailed and giving a vibe of how that goes? Maybe they aren’t married maybe he’s just falling for her? He can’t stay away?

Sorry I know you must be busy with other WIP! But I’ve been wanting to send this to you because I know you’ll do it justice!

Xoxo!

Just Before Midnight

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore had started falling for a conjure woman on the outskirts of the Delta, and it was becoming a quiet kind of madness…

She lived just past the last stretch of sugarcane, in a weathered little shack that smelled of camphor and coals, where the trees hung low and the air always felt thick with something watching. Her name was Annie. Folks called her a rootworker, a healer. Some called her dangerous. Smoke didn’t give a damn what they called her—all he knew was, he couldn’t stop coming back.

He told himself it was the tobacco blend she made for him. A dark, earthy twist she rolled up with dried cherry bark, mugwort, and a pinch of low country marijuana she claimed helped calm his nerves. Said it soothed bad dreams, stilled the shaking in his hands. He told himself that’s what brought him out tonight, just before midnight.

But he still had a full pouch in his coat pocket. He didn’t need more.

He just needed her.

The shack was dim when he arrived, smoke curling from the chimney, moonlight bleeding through the moss. He knocked twice, slow. She opened the door barefoot, her skirt clinging to the curve of her hips, a scarf wrapped carelessly over her head. Her eyes scanned him like she already knew.

“You ain’t low on nothin’ but lies,” Annie murmured, leaning on the doorframe. “What you really come here for, Elijah Moore? You gon’ tell me the truth, gangster?”

He chuckled low, flashing teeth, not something he normally did, running a hand down the front of his cotton work shirt, sleeves rolled to the forearm. He wore slacks and suspenders slung loose, his collar open to the night, a fedora hanging off one finger.

“Thought I’d get another mix,” he said, eyes trailing over her shoulder like he wasn’t staring at her mouth, “You put somethin’ new in that last batch. Had me dreamin’ sweet.”

Annie crossed her arms, one brow lifting, “Ain’t changed a damn thing.”

He licked his lips and looked away, smirking, then back again, “Maybe it’s you, then.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The night crooned outside, frogs in chorus and crickets whispering between leaves. A gust of wind stirred the altar smoke inside—thick and fragrant, curling toward the door like an invitation.

She stepped aside without a word, letting him in. The floor creaked under his boots. The inside of the shack was warm, close. Lit by the flame on her altar and a single oil lamp near the window. Shadows danced on the walls like they were keeping secrets.

Smoke hovered, eyes taking her in, “You always this quiet when a man comes knockin’?”

Annie turned to face him, arms loose at her sides now. Her gaze softened, but only just, “Only when I know he don’t need what he say he need.”

She stepped closer, fingers brushing the front of his suspenders, her body heat making him sweat under his clothes.

“You restless?” she asked, voice low, “Or just hard-headed?”

Smoke’s throat bobbed. He didn’t answer. He just let out a slow breath.

Annie reached up, unfastened a single button on his shirt, then another.

“You smell like gunpowder and need,” she whispered, “Ain’t nothin’ I can do for the first. But I know how to feed the second.”

He didn’t stop her.

Didn’t want to.

She eased him back onto the old blanket near her altar. The smoke from it rolled around them like a living thing, rising with the heat that sparked between their bodies. The candle flickered. The wood groaned. The world outside faded.

And then she dropped to her knees.

The air is thick in Annie’s shack, laced with incense and the slow curl of altar smoke, rising from a cracked ceramic bowl set before a cluster of bones, roots, and a half-burned red candle. The room breathes around them, the walls moan with age, and the wood under their knees creaks and shifts like it remembers old sin.

Outside, the swamp hums—cicadas whirring like tiny gears turning fate, frogs calling low and throaty, and the occasional rustle of something moving through leaves, like the woods are watching. Overhead, Spanish moss dances in the windless dark, casting shadows like fingers across the shack’s smudged windows. The smell of burnt sage and old secrets clings to everything.

Smoke sits on a worn blanket she pulled down from her cot, back against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, chest rising slow but ragged. The glow from the altar catches his skin, casting it in flickers—like fire trying to decide if it should lick or burn.

Annie kneels between his thighs, hands on his knees, her lips parted but not touching him yet. She looks up at him, and he meets her eyes…those hoodoo eyes, glinting with something old and knowing.

“You sure?” she whispers, voice honey-thick, but her fingers already tug at his waistband, “Soon as I wrap my lips ‘round this big boy…you ain’t gonna want me to stop…”

He nods, jaw tight. His throat works around a groan when her hands find him, warm and certain.

And then her mouth—

Soft, slow, sinful.

Like she’s tasting communion made flesh.

Smoke’s head hits the wall with a dull thud. “FUCK…Lord,” he exhales, then again, “Lord…”

The altar smoke billows behind her like it’s alive, coiling above her spine, dancing around the sway of her hair as she works. Her tongue moves with a conjure’s rhythm —not rushed, not hesitant, just deliberate. Reverent.

Up…down…up…down…

Smoke watches, mesmerized. Entranced by her magical mouth and those intense eyes. She didn’t use her powerful hands. She simply worked his girth and length with the strength her tight jaws and skillful tongue.

Every wet sound is amplified by the hush in the room. The slurp, the suck, the gentle growl of her throat tightening around him. It’s obscene…and holy…at once.

His hand trembles as it finds hers. Their fingers intertwine, his scarred knuckles rough against her smoother ones, grip tightening with every bob of her head.

“Annie,” he breathes, voice guttural, a warning and a prayer, “Damn, baby…”

But she doesn’t stop. She hums around him—a sound that vibrates so deep his hips jerk involuntarily, knees nearly buckling.

“Shit, baby… baby, that mouth of yours…”

The whisper of old spirits stirs behind them, almost lost in the haze, voices like wind caught in the cracks of the wood. Some say her shack is haunted. Smoke believes it in that moment. Not because of fear, but because something about this feels too powerful to be just flesh and want.

He’s sweating, chest heaving, eyes shut tight. The smoke curls around his head, mingling with the scent of her, the altar, the salt of his body. The floor groans beneath him, as if it too is straining under the weight of his pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” he rasps. “Fuck, Annie, don’t stop…”

She grips his thighs tighter, goes deeper, her rhythm now slow and messy, like she’s trying to ruin him sweet. Every moan he lets slip is filthy, laced with need and disbelief.

And when he finally comes—

It’s with a low, broken sound, like something ancient inside him cracking loose.

He clutches her hand like an anchor.

His body jerks once, twice.

He pants like a man baptized in sin.

She stays there, gentle now, slow licks to clean him, like sealing a spell. His breath is still ragged, hand still in hers.

The shack settles. The whispers go quiet. The altar candle sputters once, then stills.

Smoke finally opens his eyes and looks down at her, spent and dazed.

“You… you gon’ kill me one day, girl,” he says, voice raw.

Annie smirks, wipes the corner of her mouth with her fingers, and leans up close.

“Nah,” she whispers against his jaw.

“I’ma keep you right on the edge.”

And she does.

[dingletragedy]

if anyone was to ask me to pinpoint aaron and robert's love i'd make them watch the garage scenes before the reunion

and i'll tell you for why

the fact that robert was even in the garage in the first place!!!!!! and that aaron had been there the night before!!!!!! just so they could sit.. alone.. in the dark and think about their wedding day. pinning and longing for that kind of happiness again, the happiness they both know they can only find with each other

then there's the way that robert is almost outraged that aaron has dumped alex .. it's a strange reaction for robert to have and you can tell it catches aaron of guard. but it makes perfect sense - he is trying and trying to push aaron back to alex because needs aaron to with someone else - the alternative seems to painful in that moment

(but then aaron's like thank fuck that boring pricks gone)

and then aaron bring out the line of all lines ... I MEANT I WAS SCARED HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

but aaron's insecurities kick in because robert isn't saying all the things aaron expected him to, all the thigs he rehearsed and imagine over and over again in his head since valentines day, and he's scared. he's scared thar robert doesn't feel the same way any more. UNTIL robert quietens them with the most sure "of course i want ya, you idiot" the world has ever heard

then they are on the FLOOR and aaron grabs robert's hand and stares at them entwined as if his life depends on it with the BIGGEST HEART EYES as if it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen (it is) but it's not enough, it's not close enough, because he has to grab his other hand too and it's MAGICAL

and they talk. they really talk and aaron knowing that he can and will love seb, for the simple fact that he is robert's little boy, is poetic. how on earth could he not love something.. someone.. that is robert's????

but then robert goes over every single hurdle that could stand their way. it'd be so easy for robert to ignore everything and just kiss aaron there and then, but he loves aaron way too much to just jump straight into this. heed needs to know that aaron will be okay, because no matter how much he wants him, he wants aaron to be happy and healthy above even more

but even hearing that isn't enough because the love robert has for aaron run so so deep and therefore so does all the hurt

so the way aaron's voice breaks as he tries and fails to grab robert and stop him leaving will haunt me forever

so then robert comes out with one of the most gutwrenching lines or their whole story and says I LOST MY HUSBAND I LOST MY BEST FRIEND AND I LOST MY HOME

(do you need any more confirmation that they really were each other's everything)

and if you thought that hurt wail until robert says "i think i'd rather never have you back then lose you again" .. that is love. insane love. love like you've never seen it before. he broke hearts all over the world with that line. and aaron's. and this own.

AND if all that isn't enough for you, mr aaron dingle then does the single most ROMANTIC thing i have ever heard of in my whole entire life and sits and writes a whole list of reasons he loves robert jacob sugden (before banging his door down in the middle of the night and delivering it to him in the most beautiful way ever)

[forestgreenlesbian]

main thing that sucks about having zero friends is i have no one to discuss the wild shit tht goes on in my family with. like you can do things alone i am happy to see the world alone go to museums go to concerts go to the cinema go grocery shopping go on a trip alone alone alone but i need an outside perspective on situations sometimes & not having that without paying for a therapist is kind of insane. remember one time when i said all i really want is someone who is on my side no matter what. yeah. or even just someone that will listen and wants to hear me talk :l & that post about how people making films/writing books about the experience of being lonely and lost in your twenties never quite feeling real or relatable because they managed to make a whole movie or write a whole novel about it despite. like the very act of being able to create that and have the world see it negates the essence of being a loser who doesnt go anywhere or do anything in some sense. turns out i can't make anything interesting or beautiful out of the reality of my loneliness and realising that is sad. hope you are all having good sundays anyway

[kierongillen]

On Writing Team Books

A friend asks me about writing about team books, which reminds me I wrote an essay to a friend about it a while back, and put it in my newsletter. I figure I could put it on the tumblr for easier access. If you like this, I do stuff like this fairly often in the newsletter so sub.

I get the occasional mail from creator friends, asking me for advice on a topic. Last week, Alex Paknadel (he outed himself on twitter) asked me about writing team books, and I downloaded my brief thoughts to him. None of my thoughts are brief. Here’s an edited and slightly tidied version…

Right!

After I got the mail I wrote a list of five topics off the top of my head. I’m now going to go in and fill in some details beneath them. Fear the download.

1) Killing artists.

More than any other kind of book, the chance of breaking an artist on a team book is highest. You have a bunch of characters, which often do some stuff together. So you’re writing a 6 person team? That’s 6 people together. They’re in a fight? Maybe another 6 people against them.

So call your shots carefully when they’re together. Don’t call for shots of everyone in the same panel, unless you’re really giving it the space to land for the reader and you absolutely need it.

Worth noting sometimes you do: at least part of the team book is folks want to see a team doing the thing. That said, there’s exceptions to that…

2) Black Hole/Bad company . Probably Authority.

I usually say I learned to write team books by a teenage exposure to ABC WARRIORS: THE BLACK HOLE and BAD COMPANY VOL 2: THE BEWILDERNESS. This is classic 2000AD hypercompression - both explicit team books told in 5-6 page chunks. How did they do it?

ABC Warriors primarily does it by having a team member be the narrator in each episode, and then rotating the narrator between episodes. So you are both introduced to each character, and also (because the narrators are so different) introduced to the perspective of the character who is speaking., This also means this constant reintroduction isn’t in any way boring, because the characters are all so individually warped. You want to know what a sadistic fuck like Blackblood makes about everyone, right?

BAD COMPANY goes the other way, and has a strong single narrator in the form of Danny Franks, and uses them as the perspective we explore the rest of the cast. Some stuff is almost explicitly Franks interviewing team members.

Both speak to an underlying truth – a big chunk of team books are about moving the pieces around in new combinations, and seeing what they do.

I mention Authority, but the first run dose some key basic things of modern team story books – this almost procedural mode was especially popular in the 00s, and is something of a break of the Classic American Superteam approach. Speaking broadly, it does very cleanly some things superteams have always done - you can see where it moves from separating the group (so all team members gets a chance to do cool shit) and then bringing them together (so you get to do the big team book money shots).

But also note that when they’re together in a non-violent scene, someone - usually Jenny - takes lead, and almost everyone else shuts up. You may view this as the Authority becoming a solo book with a supporting cast rather than a true team book when the story demands - that speaks to it being a plot-first book. There’s not really much for the team to debate about - they all know what they’re going to do (kick people in the head, save the world).

TL;DR: Go breakdown some of your faves. How do their stories work?

3) Spotlight time.

That’s the main thing, and what all the above do, in various ways. If it’s a team book, characters need to be able to be on panel and do their thing. That it’s being sold as a team book implies that’s the promise to some degree. When planning an issue ensuring everyone gets to do their cool thing for a moment is not a bad perspective to take.

(This is pretty close to running an RPG group, btw. If someone’s not done something for a while, it’s probably time to give them a chance to do something.)

The alternative - especially in a one off - is to make the issue explicitly about an individual. Like the Black Hole, maybe this is just a single character in the team, and about how they work in the team. Of course, the effects do overlap - like in Bad Company, having the story be from an individual’s perspective you get to show how the other people are viewed by them, and so how cool their cool thing may be.

4) Team book vs ensemble cast.

That links to the above - like, what is the book, really?

There’s team books which aren’t really teams - they’re actually ensemble casts. WicDiv was one of them. DIE is much more of a team book - it’s a literal party (with Ash as the main narrator, ala BAD company). Watchmen has one scene when there’s a team, and they’re not called The Watchmen – it is absolutely an ensemble cast. Hickman’s X-men isn’t a team - it’s an ensemble cast (to the level where I think it’s more of a permanent event, or even a social novel). My Journey into Mystery is abstractly a solo book, but at times it became an ensemble book - and even a SERIES of team books, because Loki was always having to put teams together to do stuff. My Uncanny X-men run was primarily an Authority-mode procedural team book, with Cyclops taking the Jenny position and everyone having lots of focus time to do their cool thing (though see later on the exceptions).

The core difference between Ensemble books and Team books is that in a team book “I want to see the people together doing their thing” is part of the promise.

5) Split the Party.

You ever seen Dan Harmon write about Community? Clearly the story circle, but there’s also the sense that most episodes are about dividing the cast into smaller pairs and threes, and exploring that dynamic. This is in a lot of sitcoms, and an approach that 100% crosses over into team books.

5-9 people in a team normally means 7 of them standing around in a blob, with 1 person taking the leader role, and maybe one other takes the person to argue against the leader. Who is arguing likely varies, but it’s normally who feels most strongly about a situation. I suddenly find myself thinking like a team book is a zoom call, and most people are just standing and listening.

So you need to split that up.

Split up a 6 team into two groups of three, and you’ve got proper potential for actual drama. Each scene can be about those people, and by changing up the people you group together, you get to show different aspects of the characters. The Uncanny Run had a core team of nine, which is ludicrous… and when the book isn’t doing the widescreen mode, you’ll see I split the team into 3 groups of 3, and I get to play with all kinds of dynamics.

This is what team books do best, I think – in that you’ve got no single element which “needs” to be there (As in if opposed to you having a group cast around a a daredevil or a batman, readers are still broadly pissed off when you don’t see anything of the lead character). You get to see what emerges from all these different combinations, and then being able to bring them together to do the core TEAM beat when you need that.

Think about the subtext of “Avengers Assemble”. It implies that the Avengers were apart.

[ild-rllrcstr]

Your Call part 3

Lewis Hamilton X You / slow burn / 4K

part 1 / part 2 / part 4

Summary You were the bright intern at Mercedes when you first met Lewis Hamilton, where a shared spark grew alongside rising trust. But just as things started to shift, life pulled you away from F1 and Lewis. Years later, Lewis ran into you again on the paddock, both of you in complete different colours. Old flames reignite on the opposite sides of the competition, and the story picks up where it never truly ended.

Warnings Mentioning of ill family member A/N Bit longer than the usuals. A lottt of conversation in this one, and I personally love writing these conversations! Hope you enjoy it!! BTW I really appreciated the comments! keep them coming, it really motivates me a lot!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The glow of telemetry screens flickered across the glass walls, casting lines of green and red across your face. You sat hunched over the desk, still in uniform, still wired in, but the race had been over for hours.

The rest of the team had left, but you couldn’t. Not yet. The numbers gave you something to hold onto. Something that didn’t shift beneath your feet.

You rubbed your temple with the back of your wrist, eyes glassy but dry. Grief didn’t always look like crying. Sometimes it looked like… silence.

The door clicked quietly open behind you.

You didn’t turn. You were too tired to mask anything.

“Didn’t think you were still here,” Lewis’s voice said, low.

You looked up just slightly, your voice flat. 

“These numbers…” “Don’t sleep.” He finished your phrase, one of your first conversations in Mercedes.

He stepped inside slowly, not in his usual commanding way. This was something gentler. Uncertain. He slowly sat down beside you, slightly turning the chair toward you.

“I… talked to Lando.”

You stiffened, eyes still on the screen. “Let me guess, he told you I’m not a monster.”

Lewis winced, but didn’t take the bait. “He told me you’re under pressure. That what happened out there wasn’t entirely your call.”

You let out a dry breath, almost a laugh. “Not entirely my call, no. But entirely my fault when it goes wrong.”

Silence again. You didn’t look at him, but you felt him watching you.

“You know, after I left Mercedes, I thought I’d be more sure of myself,” you said suddenly. “Like, after everything… I thought coming back would feel like closure.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“But it's just hard. And they ask for more and more, ‘make the bold call,’ ‘be decisive,’ ‘be the expert.’ And when it works, it’s their win. When it doesn’t…”

Lewis’s voice cut in quietly. “It’s your name on the report.”

You finally looked up at him.

“They like to doubt, and it’s tough when there’s no one to back you up.”

Lewis watched you, brows furrowed, he remebered how it was like when you were an intern.

“Lando said you’re taking a while off, he said it seems serious.” He hesitated.

“And Lando needs to start keeping his mouth shut.”

Lewis didn’t move, just sat there with you under the dim light room. The monitors cast a soft blue glow over your face, which you kept turned toward the data, though your eyes weren’t really reading anymore.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said softly. “But if you need to talk about it… I’m here.”

You shook your head once, sharp. “It’s nothing. Just… burnout, I guess.”

Lewis didn’t buy it, you could tell. You weren’t sure why you even tried.

“We both know you’re not like that, you loved the work and the challenge we’re having around here, or you wouldn’t have come back.”

That made you scoff. “You don’t know what kind of person I am anymore.”

He didn’t flinch. “Maybe not everything. But I know you cared. I know you still do. If you want to just gain big cash, you’ve got other places more comfortable and easier ways to it.”

Something in your chest ached, sharp and old and buried under four years of pretending you were made of steel.

You exhaled slowly, tired. “It’s been four years.”

Lewis’s head tilted, just slightly. He patiently waited for you to continue.

You paused. The words stuck in your throat, hot and unspoken. Your fingers dug into the edge of the desk. You weren’t going to cry. Not in front of him. 

“You're right. I didn’t leave Mercedes because of the job,” you said, voice barely a whisper. 

“My dad was sick. He… he got worse just after the internship ended.”

Lewis’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted, softer somehow, like he was trying to take the weight of your words onto himself.

“I didn’t know,” he said gently.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Your voice cracked on the last word. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, but the gesture was hollow. “Because I thought if I said it out loud, it would be real. And if I stayed, I’d fail at both, this job and being there for him.”

A long silence followed. You finally looked at him.

“I missed over half a year of life just sitting in a hospital room, pretending every hour mattered more than the last. And then he was just gone... The memorial is next week.”

Lewis didn’t speak right away. He leaned gently against the desk beside you, not too close, just there.

“That’s why you' took're taking the time off, and why you briefly left before the internship ended,” he said.

You nodded, eyes fixed on a distant point, somewhere past the screen.

“Mom’s still emotionally not well. He was a big pillar in the family. I got interested in all this thanks to him. I know he'd be proud. Like this is the thing that connected us so much.” Your voice trembled a bit, remembering all the times you watched races with him, and he was thrilled that you were working at Mercedes with THE Lewis Hamilton. 

“I didn’t even know how to pick myself up, I did a bit of data analysis here and there. Nothing clicked right. Ended up throwing myself back into this. I thought if I worked hard enough and things ran fast enough, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You know, he actually liked you a lot. The times that he asked me to send him a picture of you.” You slightly smiled at the thought of it.

“Should‘ve just asked me I would’ve love to say hi, seemed like an amazing father.”

“He was.” another silence, more at ease that now the truth was revealed.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly after a while.

“What for?”

“I didn’t mean to leave without saying goodbye. Especially to you. But I didn’t know how to explain it then. It was a lot emotionally, and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t handle the goodbye. I wasn’t ready to lose anything.”

“I wish you had,” he said. “But… I get it now.”

His voice had none of the judgment you’d been bracing for. Just something warm. Heavy with understanding. 

Lewis looked down, thumb tapping against his leg like he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t yet find the shape of it.

“I said something today I shouldn’t have,” he finally admitted. “I thought you’d changed.”

“I have,” you said. “Just not the way you think.”

He nodded. Quiet again.

“You look tired,” he said after a long pause.

You let out a short laugh. “That’s generous.” 

A few beats passed.

“I know we’re not in the same team anymore, but if you ever need… someone to talk to. Or not talk to. Just… sit and exist next to, you know where to find me, the red is probably pretty hard to miss.”

You didn’t say thank you. You just nodded, eyes a little glassier now. That was enough.

As Lewis stood up quietly to leave, he paused at the door, then turned back.

“I still remember the girl who stood her ground and corrected Darren in front of the whole team,” he said with a small smile. “She was right back then, too.”

Then he left you to your glowing screens and your quiet thoughts, but the air didn’t feel quite so suffocating anymore.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The McLaren garage buzzed as always, tools clicking, tires stacked in columns, engineers calling out updates. But when you stepped in, it was like the noise dimmed just slightly.

You arrived directly in Singapore after your day off to spend time with your family for your father’s funeral anniversary. It has been a while, but it was still mentally hard for your mom. You really took the time to make sure she was okay. You still monitored and analysed the sim data almost in real time back home, just weren’t at the HQ physically.

Lando spotted you first. “Hey. There she is.”

You offered him a small smile. “Glad to be back.”

“We survived. Barely. But we did.” he said

You gave him a mock salute. “Noted.”

You made your way to your workstation, setting your bag down. A few glances came your way, friendly but cautious. People weren’t sure how much to ask, and that was fine by you.

Your fingers brushed against your bag’s side pocket, where a folded note still sat, one you’d found tucked into a bouquet of white and pale orange roses that arrived at your hotel room three days ago.

“Thinking of him. And of you.” No name. Just the flowers and the message.

But you knew. You knew it was him. You hadn’t said anything. But the quiet gesture stayed with you like a warm hand on your back.

Then you heard the voice, low, familiar, grounding.

“Morning.”

You turned. Lewis stood just outside the garage entry, red Ferrari jacket unzipped, hands in his blue jeans pockets. His gaze met yours, steady.

“Morning,” you replied, voice quieter than intended.

A pause.

“You good?” he asked.

You nodded. “Getting there.”

You lifted the piece of note with two fingers, showing him, and whispered to him a “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiled warmly, like nothing had changed, like it was normal again. But the way his eyes lingered just half a second longer before he left? That said everything you needed to know.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The next morning, you were hunched over telemetry again, reviewing tire data with your headset on when Lando appeared at your side with a paper cup in his hand and a suspiciously smug expression.

He plopped it on your desk. “Delivery for the overachiever.”

You glanced at it. Your exact coffee order, strong, barely sweet, a bit sharp on the finish. Written in black marker on the cup:

Strong, not sweet. Like your calls, apparently.

Your heart skipped, just briefly.

Lando leaned in. “Don’t act surprised. I saw him hovering earlier. He thinks no one notices.”

You tried to hide your smile, failing miserably. “There’s no proof it’s him.”

“Sure,” Lando said, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t drive cars for a living.”

You lifted the cup, warming your hands around it. “Thanks for delivering.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m just the messenger. But hey, if a random bottle of wine shows up next race, I’m still not drinking it.”

You laughed, tension easing for the first time in days.

And later, as you passed Lewis near the media pen, you didn’t say a word. Just let your eyes meet his, and lift the cup slightly as you pass.

A flicker of a smile played on his lips. Still no words. But maybe none were needed.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The sun had dipped low behind the hills, casting long shadows over the paddock. The podium ceremony was over, the noise now fading, just a few camera crews packing up, scattered media wrapping interviews, fans starting to thin out.

You hadn’t planned to stay late, but your feet didn’t take you back to the garage. Not yet. You wandered a little too far along the edge of the hospitality area, needing the space, the silence. The chaos of race day always came with a strange comedown, and Singapore’s silence was almost haunting.

You heard the footsteps before you saw him.

Lewis.

Hair damp from the champagne, Ferrari red zipped halfway up, a medal still looped loosely around his neck. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood beside you by the low barrier, overlooking the harbour lights.

“Hell of a race,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.” A pause. 

He turned his body slightly toward you. “That coffee yesterday... I wasn’t sure you’d accept it.”

“I didn’t. Lando did.” You smiled faintly. “Then I did.”

He chuckled. “Figured.”

You let the quiet sit again, then finally asked, “I... also got the flowers.”

His jaw tensed just slightly, but he nodded. “Didn’t want to make it harder. Just... like I said, I want to let you know that I’m here.”

You swallowed. “He would be really glad.”

“Guess we would have got along. I hated that I was upset about you leaving without saying anything this whole time.”

“I thought I needed to be alone for that.”

He nodded, slowly. “But you didn’t have to be alone.”

You blinked, the emotion hitting sharper than expected.

“Now you don’t have to be alone” he said softly. 

You nodded, lips pressed tight.

He looked at you like he had more to say. Maybe a dozen things. But all he said was, “I’m glad you’re here again, even though you are not really in the colour I would’ve preferred.”

You looked up at him, you smiled a bit. “So am I.”

And in that suspended moment, with engines quiet, Singapore circuit still in the buzz of the city, it felt like five years of distance had just taken one step closer to closing.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

Lando’s car rolled into the pit box smooth as ever, and you didn’t miss the half-second glance he shot toward the screen showing live feed of the Ferrari garage.

You barely looked up from your tablet. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything... yet,” Lando said, tugging off one glove with dramatic innocence. “But since we’re all not going to talk about it. Lewis went purple in sector one, and I swear I heard you grind your teeth.”

You gave him a flat look. “It’s called stress. You should try it sometime.”

He chuckled, swinging his legs off the side of the car. “Stress or unresolved romantic tension with your former... driver… whatever he was? Because that feels more likely.”

You arched a brow. “You want to give the strategy debrief today?”

“God, no,” he said. “But I do want you to admit that this little engineering chess match between you two is weirdly hot.”

You made a point of checking his tire temps instead of responding.

Then, you both heard Lewis’s radio hit the public feed.

"That McLaren call’s just a reaction. Let 'em chase."

Lando blinked. “Wow. Bold. Did he really just…” he looked at you, mouth twitching. “Okay, now he’s definitely trying to get under your skin.”

“He’s trying to win quali.”

“You say that like they’re different things.”

You muttered something under your breath and passed the tablet off to another engineer.

Lando had disappeared into the garage, leaving you at the pit wall, arms folded tight across your chest. You weren’t even pretending to look at data anymore.

Across the paddock, Lewis was doing interviews. The camera caught him in profile, calm, smooth, composed. You could practically hear the exact tone he’d use. Measured. Sharp when needed. Charismatic without trying. He was good at this. Always had been. On and off the track.

You turned away before your thoughts could wander somewhere they shouldn’t. Again. But you didn’t get far.

“Didn’t think I’d see you sulking trackside.”

You turned sharply at the voice. Lewis. Again. Out of the shadows of the McLaren hospitality canopy, like the universe was daring you to keep pretending.

You let out a breath. “I’m not sulking.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? You looked a little... dented after that radio call.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Did you come all the way over here to gloat?”

“No,” he said, too easily. “Maybe.”

You turned your body toward him slightly. “You really want to play games right now?”

His voice softened. “No. Not really.”

Silence pulsed again, not awkward, but tight. Like something coiled between you both, asking to be addressed and avoided all at once.

He stepped in just slightly, the crowd noise fading behind him. “I wasn’t trying to rattle you. Not really.”

“You did anyway.”

“I know.”

You looked at him then, fully. “Why are you doing this, Lewis?”

He hesitated, and in that crack of silence, the mask dropped just a little.

“Because it’s the only way I know how to keep you in front of me.”

That shut you up.

He exhaled, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what we’re doing. But if pretending I’m just another car on track keeps me near whatever we were... I’ll keep pretending.”

Your chest tightened, the words hitting a place you thought you’d locked up tight five years ago. A beat.

You blinked slowly, grounding yourself before you slipped too far into him. “You didn’t have to try that hard, Lewis. I was already looking.”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but just then, your comms crackled to life again. Duty calling.

You stepped back. He didn’t stop you. But his voice followed just as you turned.

“When this season is over…” he said, low, “don’t leave just yet.”

You didn’t turn around.

You just let the corner of your mouth lift. “I wasn’t planning to.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

The bar was crowded, the kind of post-race energy that vibrated through glass and steel. McLaren engineers were already a few drinks in. Lando was somewhere near the dartboard, pretending he could play, and someone had put on a terrible remix.

You stayed at the edge of it all, sipping something cold and fizzy, still in your team colours. The noise buzzed behind your eyes, but you weren’t really in it. Not when you knew who else might be nearby.

And then, you felt it. That awareness. Like gravity shifted. You turned and there he was. Lewis. Red still clinging to him in the collar of his Ferrari team polo, eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

No one else noticed the moment stretch. But it did. He made his way over eventually, slow, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here,” he said casually, voice smooth but low. “Figured you’d vanish before midnight.”

You gave him a look. “And miss Lando trying to dance horribly like that again? Not a chance.”

He huffed a laugh, eyes softening as he glanced past you to the chaos. “Looks like your team’s celebrating hard.”

You didn’t answer that directly. Just took another sip, then nodded toward the hallway. “Too loud in here, I can't hear anything. Come on.”

The lounge was quieter, dimmer lights, fewer people, just the gentle clink of glasses and low jazz hum beneath conversation. You slid into a booth tucked in the corner. He sat across from you, for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Lando’s protective of you,” he suddenly said, almost offhand.

You raised a brow. “He should be. I’m the reason he doesn’t pit himself into the wall.”

Lewis smirked, but there was something else in his eyes. “Still. He looks at me like I’m about to break something important.”

You looked down at your drink. “You might be.”

That made him pause. “You think I’m here to mess with you?”

You met his eyes now. Steady. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re here for, Lewis.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Maybe I don’t either. I just know that I’ve been waiting five years to be across from you again, and now that I am… I don’t really want to leave.”

The words hung there between you, electric and terrifying. You swallowed.

Before you could respond, the bartender passed, dropping off a drink you didn’t order. You looked up, confused.

“From the gentleman,” the bartender nodded toward Lewis.

You stared at the glass. He smiled, a little smug. “Didn't know if you would take it from me directly.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Still works on you, though.”

“Do you miss it?” After a pause, he asked.

You glanced at him. “What?”

“Being on the same side.”

You took a slow breath, eyes on the water just beyond the edge of the dock. “I miss not having to pretend I don’t care when you race.”

He turned to face you fully. The air changed.

“I miss knowing what you’re thinking,” he said.

You swallowed. “I think about it, you know. What would’ve happened if I didn’t leave. If I just… told you.”

He stepped closer. His voice dropped. “I think about what would’ve happened if you stayed.”

Your pulse kicked up. His hand brushed your arm, just once, but deliberate. You didn’t move away.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, low. “Still do.”

You smirked, breath catching. “You’re not exactly a peacekeeper yourself.”

And then he did it, reached up, fingers brushing your jaw, barely there but enough to make your heart slam. Your eyes met. You could feel it, the kiss, the pull, the almost.

Then your phone buzzed.

Lando : 'Pls tell me you’re not out there making out with a Ferrari driver. I feel like I’m too young for that trauma. Also if you're not back in 10 I’m drinking your champagne, and maybe telling the garage you smiled at Lewis. again.'

You let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. Lewis arched a brow.

“Lando?” he asked.

You tilted the screen so he could see. “Your biggest fan.”

He chuckled softly. “Reckon he’d be more supportive.”

“He is,” you murmured. “In his own unhinged way.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to keep doing this alone,” he said, quieter. “Whatever’s weighing on you.”

You met his eyes. That same pull, that gravity, five years hadn’t dulled it.

“I know,” you said, slightly nodding.

He didn’t push. Didn’t reach for you again.

And that was the hardest part.

“Come back in when you’re ready,” he murmured. “Or I’ll come get you.”

You watched him walk away, just far enough to not feel him, but not far enough to forget.

You slipped back through the crowd like muscle memory, trying not to look toward the red in the corner of the room.

You felt it anyway. That awareness. That pull.

Lando spotted you first, lifting his drink in triumph like he’d just won another race.

“Ah, the forbidden lover returns!”

You groaned. “Lando…”

“What? You were gone for twenty minutes and came back looking like you’ve seen God or got kissed by him. Did he kiss you?” He squinted dramatically like a high school girl waiting for the gossips. “No, don’t tell me. Let me suffer in suspense.”

You rolled your eyes but stole a sip from his glass anyway, fruity and way too strong.

“You’re lucky you’re winning lately,” you muttered.

“I’m always lucky,” he said smugly. “But tonight? That’s not my doing. That look in those eyes? That’s Italian regret, darling.”

Your head whipped around before you could stop it. Lewis was across the room, in conversation, but his eyes met yours instantly. And even in a sea of people, noise, and glittering celebration, you felt it.

That connection. Still taut. Still real.

“You know he’s been watching you all night, right?” Lando said casually, taking the glass back. “You’re not exactly subtle either. The whole garage’s been placing bets.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “Not real ones. Just pride-based. I’m losing though. I bet on you making the first move. Come on, don’t let me down.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

You rolled your eyes but stayed for a while before made your way toward the back of the room where the bar was quieter. The air was cooler. A few of the Red Bull engineers had claimed a table, but none of them stopped you. You needed a moment to breathe.

And then suddenly, he was beside you again. Lewis.

Not saying anything. Just handing you a glass.

“Didn’t think you’d come back in,” he said.

You took the glass. “Didn’t think you’d still be waiting.”

“Didn’t say I was waiting.” A beat. “But I was.”

This time, the pause between you didn’t stretch awkwardly. It held. Soft and electric.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked.

That surprised you. “You hate this music.”

He leaned in, voice low.

“I hate pretending I don’t want to be near you more.”

Your chest tightened.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said quietly.

“Then maybe it’s time we stopped thinking,” he murmured.

And this time, when your arms brushed, he didn’t pull back.

Neither did you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡⋆⭒˚.⋆ ₊˚⊹☆ ⋆˙⟡

[prettyboykatsuki]

love that your thought process for fujoneet pairing is just “who experiences the most psychological torture by being attracted to this wet rat?”

additionally, i think her and barou are another great pairing because she’s coming up with the most depraved, deeply perverted concepts and he’s like… why can’t making love in the dark with some low r&b be enough anymore?

KLDJSJKLFDSKJF.

i am Not Immune to the jock x nerd trope ever but i think there's something so special about those men wanting to fuck a girl who writes gay porn of them like it actually does move me greatly

ALSO ANON THIS ASK....

no real cws but like. typical silly maid roleplay where barou is called master but its not serious.

sorry the thought of like. fujoneet reader and barou actually having sex is making me feel crazy. because unlike rin who acts out of sexual frustration, barou holds it in and courts her properly after he learns to accept his affection and all of this takes a while. so its like a huge slow burn.

and their first time is probably very vanilla since barou is Very Vanilla. but because fujoneet reader is so Meek and it takes . so much bravery for her to say a single thing about what she wants i think barou actually ends up breaking his own rules about it for her because he simply cannot bring himself to turn her down seriously after she mustered up all of her effort to even bring it up in the first place.

and its stuff barou would probably never do otherwise because hes just not that guy. but how the FUCK is he gonna say no when her lip is literally trembling as she asks????

i think in this universe the first kinky thing they every do is like. maid roleplay. reader wants to dress up like a maid and serve her master or something and barou is hearing fifty billion thousand alarm bells ringing in his mind. and he really does think about saying no

but reader is like. pouting and weepy and scared and hes like FUCK. okay fine we can do it one time okay JUST ONCE. and reader crawls into his lap and is like thank you and barou is using all of his strength and might to not be horny because he is A GENTLEMAN FOR FUCKSAKE!!!

so they get to doing the roleplay and reader chooses most of the clothes out and tells barou he doesnt need to do much. the entire time he's just like. in distress but he does it for her. dresses up in like a suit or whatever

and reader chooses like. the sluttiest little maid costume ever. and barou literally like nearly chokes because HELLO???? its like a microkini really and then a maid dress and its just . so perverted. its so much for him he's literally like ????????????????????? with questions

i actually do think reader does most of the heavy lifting. barou is just not that guy man he doesn't know what the fuck to do. but reader is like... oh good morning master... crawls on her knees. her voice is shaking but barou can . also feel her genuine like... lust and excitement to do this for him. to him. and it's honestly kind of blowing his mind

because its just so downright perverted . but its so sincere. like the way reader is acting and gets all worked up is so genuine that he just . doesn't know what to do.

barou in general doesn't usually let your mouth near his cock unless you beg but fujoneet reader is so eager and so desperate and so wanting and barou Never sees her this excited over anything so he just . lets her do what she wants. he's only really half participating and it feels like reader is more in it by herself.

her hands are shaking when she undoes his belt and takes out his cock. and barou is just like trying to be sane when she's stroking him with her pretty satin gloves. she's never put anything in her mouth in her whole life so she goes down on him with these clumsy kitten licks and apologizes if she's not very good. promises to do better.

i genuinely think barou loses his mind. like the look on her face is so irredeemably horny he almost feels guilty for even looking. and she's squeezing her thighs together and moaning a little unconsciously and he can feel his dick swell. he genuinely feels like a fucking degenarate for how horny he feels and for how out of control he feels and how crazy its making him.

she tries to deep throat him but really only has his cock in her cheek for a while and can't go very far. and once she gags barou pulls her off of him

he like. gets into the master role. KIND OF. pulls her up and says she doesn't need to do that when she's being clumsy. and reader is like i promise ill practice master and barou is just about to blow a fuse. and he's hanging onto a thread and pulls her into his lap and she's like... uhm if you're dissatisfied master i can try to service you another way. i prepared myself for you in the bath.

and again barou is just hearing the death bell toll. he almost doesn't believe till he slips a hand in her underwear and lo and behold she's wet and stretched. and he's like next time let me do it for you and she's like yes master and barou is so beyond cooked.

by this point barou is seriously out of his mind i think. like just beyond cooked over it. so when reader like squirms in his lap to sink down on his cock his final threads of general self restraint shred into a million pieces. and barou just tells her to hold onto him before bouncing her on his cock like there is no tomorrow.

its crazy. its honestly probably the most intense fuck they've ever had up until then and barou is just grunting and trying to slow down but the way reader is moaning is so fucking obscene and she's also the most wet she's ever been and barou in his head is just over and over being like really? really? perverted stuff like this is really what you get off to? seriously? and its not like he's trying to insult her but he's so stunned by how aroused he is and how eagerly reader wants it.

they fuck like crazy. like the sex is so so so fucking crazy. barou has both hands on her ass and is moving her whole weight up and down over his cock and has his whole mouth latched around her tits and is being So Merciless. its the only time barou seriously breaks his own rules.

[nhmkhnh]

HEY EMO GIRL! 

PAIRINGS: DOM!VI X SUB!FEM!READER

PREFACE: so pretty don't be coy, come on fuck me emo girl!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ʕ·ᴥ·　ʔ hellooo chat i’m back. and yes, i did swear not to write smut… soooo i’m just posting my pre-written drafts instead hahaaaa loophole fully activated 😌 enjoyyy!! 

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) 

TAGS: emo!vi ;; punk/goth!vi ;; obssesive!vi ;; strap-on sex ;; choking kink ;; overstimulation ;; praise / degradation ;; strap riding (v.receiving) ;; sloppy oral (r.receiving) ;; marking kink ;; face fucking (r.receiving) ;; dirty talk central. 

navigation. 

1. she only smiles for you.

vi’s resting bitch face is legendary. deadpan. hood up. music blaring. nobody dares to talk to her on campus—except you. and every time you do? that hard shell cracks. she smirks, lip ring catching the light, voice dropping an octave just for you.

“look at you, baby. givin’ me a reason to pretend i’m okay.”

she only ever softens when you're around, and everyone notices. she's your big, tatted, emotionally unavailable emotional support goth gf. you’re her peace.

2. you're the only one allowed in her bed.

vi’s mattress is on the floor, black sheets, posters peeling off the wall. no one’s allowed in her room. ever. except you.

she doesn't say it out loud, but when you curl up next to her in one of her oversized band tees, she turns the volume down on her playlist, tugs you into her arms, and mutters against your skin:

“you fit better than the drugs did.”

sometimes she doesn’t even touch you sexually—she just wants to hold you, nose in your hair, hand tucked under your sleep shirt like she’s scared you’ll disappear.

3. jealousy hits like a punch.

she swears she’s chill. she’s not. one time you laughed a little too long with someone else and vi was already pulling you aside, jaw tight, voice low and rough in your ear:

“you think he gets you? think he knows what you sound like when you beg?”

she never raises her voice. but when she gets jealous? she gets mean. possessive. her voice goes soft and cruel. she’ll pin you to the wall and make you look her in the eyes while she reminds you who you belong to.

4. she likes it when you cry.

not in a sadistic way. but in a "you trust me that much?" kind of way. the first time you cried in front of her, thinking she’d judge you, she just kissed your wet cheeks and whispered,

“good girl. let it out.”

and then she cradled you like you were glass and she was built to protect broken things. her love is quiet, aching. she doesn’t know how to say “i love you,” so she shows it—in bruises, in touches, in staying awake until you fall asleep first.

5. she calls you her sweet thing (but only in private).

out in public, you’re “babe,” “you,” or just a grunt and a head tilt. but behind closed doors? when her hands are under your shirt and your thighs are shaking around her head?

“sweet thing.”

drawled slow like syrup, lips against your thigh, and every time you hear it you whimper.

she loves how soft you are. how gentle. she needs it—needs you. her hands are rough, her past is darker than she’ll ever say, but with you? she slows down. she becomes something almost tender.

6. she gets off on making you ask.

vi never initiates. she doesn’t have to. she’ll just sit there in her tank top, tattoos out, thighs spread lazily on the couch, and wait. wait for you to squirm. to crawl into her lap.

“you want something, baby?”

she makes you say it. every time. and when you finally break and beg for her to touch you, she grins. real slow. like she knew you’d fold eventually.

“that’s what i thought. c’mere.”

7. she’ll ruin her reputation for you.

everyone thinks she’s cold. detached. probably mean. but then they see her kneeling behind you at a party to tie your shoe. carrying your bag. sitting next to you in class, drawing little hearts in your notebook while glaring at anyone who stares too long.

she’d set the world on fire for you—but she’d rather light your cigarettes and kiss your fingertips. you’re her secret softness. and if anyone even looks at you the wrong way? they’re done.

8. when she snaps, she snaps.

you push her sometimes—accidentally. you're a brat without meaning to be. and when you act like you're not hers? when you flirt or tease or pull away?

she loses it. quietly.

pulls you into the nearest room, slams the door, and suddenly she’s got your hands pinned above your head, her voice a low snarl:

“wanna be cute? be cute for me. only me.”

she’ll ruin you slowly—kiss by kiss, bite by bite, fingers under your skirt while you whimper her name. and when you're trembling and spent, she’ll press her forehead to yours and whisper:

“say you’re mine again. louder this time, baby.”..

❢ smut headcanons.

1. she fingers you with her rings on (on purpose).

she knows what she’s doing. that thick silver ring with the skull? yeah, that one’s intentional. she’ll press it just right against your gummy walls while two fingers curl inside you.

“feel that, baby? that’s me. you’re gonna think about this ring every time you sit down.”

you do. you really do. sometimes you still throb just seeing her hands.

2. her strap game is feral.

her strap is always black, thick, and veiny—like her attitude. she’s got multiple sizes, but for you? she brings out the one that makes your voice crack.

she’ll push in slow, watch your face crumble, and then smirk.

“so fucking pretty when you split for me. you’re taking it, yeah? you’re not gonna quit on me now.”

she doesn’t stop until you’re limp, soaked, and drooling into the pillow.

3. she lives to make you cry.

not out of pain. out of overstimulation. she’ll eat you out until your thighs are twitching, then go again. and again.

you’ll push her head away and she’ll just grab your wrist, pin it to the sheets, and moan into your pussy.

“one more for me, sweet thing. one more. be good.”

you come so hard you forget your name.

4. she gets soaked when you beg.

vi is a sucker for hearing you whimper. especially when you're desperate. her favorite?

“please, vi. please fuck me. please, i need it.”

she’ll literally grunt, grab you by the throat, and shove her strap in so hard your back arches off the bed.

“that’s my fucking girl.”

5. she puts you in her lap to ride her strap.

tank top on. dog tags swinging. tongue pressed to her cheek as she watches you struggle to take all of it.

she won’t move—you do the work.

“come on, baby. you wanna act like you’re so needy? prove it. bounce on it like a good girl.”

she holds your hips down and grinds up until you're sobbing into her neck.

6. she chokes you gently… then not so gently.

her hands are so big. and when you’re bratty? she wraps one hand around your throat, pushes your back into the mattress, and stares down at you with her lip ring between her teeth.

“say sorry.”

you do. but she keeps squeezing. just a little.

“say it like you mean it.”

you come while gasping for her.

7. she marks you on purpose.

vi’s teeth are sharp. and her possessiveness gets worse during sex. she’ll bite down on your shoulder hard enough to bruise while railing you from behind.

“you’re mine. all mine. i don’t want anyone else even looking at you.”

you wear turtlenecks for a week after.

8. she jerks off while watching you suck her strap.

on nights when she’s feeling particularly mean? she’ll sit back, spread wide, strap on, black briefs pushed down, and watch you crawl between her thighs.

you suck it like it’s her real cock, moaning and gagging while she fists her own hair and moans your name.

“look at that pretty mouth. fuck. you were made to choke on me, huh?”

she doesn’t stop until your mascara’s ruined and you’re a breathless, drooly mess.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Welcome to Beast's Party

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

In a guest room at the castle, an unusual mix of princes and one official were holding a meeting.

Clavis: "I want to throw a party to thank Emma for always working so hard."

Clavis: "The reason I called you all here is to invite you to help me plan that party."

Keith: "I think it's a great idea! I'm in—let's get started right away!"

Sariel: "I didn't expect such a reasonable suggestion from you. I'm in as well."

Kagari: "If we're throwing a party, we can't forget a mountain of dorayaki. It's a tradition in Kogyoku."

Keith: "Kagari, you know you shouldn't lie, right?"

Clavis: "Thank you, everyone, for expressing your agreement in your own unique ways."

Clavis: "But a plain, ordinary party wouldn't be any fun, so I've come up with the perfect entertainment."

Keith: "Can I take it back and think it over?"

Sariel: "This discussion is over."

Kagari: "I've never been on the performing side before, so let's hear it."

Clavis: "Thanks again for your three very unique responses. Now, back to the topic at hand."

Clavis: "We'll write a romance story together and perform it as a play!"

Clavis: "If anyone refuses, the party will consist solely of weird-colored dishes, and traps will be set up throughout the castle."

Keith: "You really moved straight into the threats there, Clavis."

Sariel: "I can sense a long history of rejected ideas behind this."

Kagari: "Is it because the princess likes reading romance stories?"

Clavis: "Exactly. Both writing the story and performing it are all for Emma."

Clavis: "This is probably a billion times more sensible than my usual proposals."

Sariel: "Not something to brag about, but you're not wrong."

Sariel: "Prince Keith, Prince Kagari, what do you think?"

Keith: "I was a little wary at first, but after hearing the plan, I think it's brilliant."

Kagari: "I'm in too. I've never done this before, but leave it to me. So, what kind of story will it be?"

Kagari: "How about a tale of a dorayaki seller and a samurai? A bloody feud between red bean paste lovers and smooth bean paste lovers."

Sariel: "I'd love to hear how that turns into a romance."

Clavis: "Unique, but a bit too niche."

Clavis: "How about this: A prince is turned into a clay figurine by an evil witch. He goes on a journey and falls in love with a woman he meets. Then, when they share a true love's kiss, she also turns into a clay figurine, and they live happily ever after."

Keith: "Everyone defines happiness differently, but wouldn't this just make Emma cry?"

Sariel: "Rejected. That ending is straight-up horror."

Kagari: "I think it's interesting, though—a love story between clay figurines."

Keith: "They're human! Don't let him mislead you!"

Clavis: "It seems the world isn't ready for it yet. I'll save it for my next life."

Clavis: "Keith, let's hear what kind of story you'd come up with."

Keith: "Alright."

Keith: "How about this: A fairy falls in love with a prince, makes a deal with a witch to trade her voice for a human form, and sets off to confess her feelings."

Keith: "But halfway through, her true identity as a fairy is discovered. She makes another deal with the witch—this time giving up her ears to turn back time to before she was discovered."

Sariel: "This fairy is taking on way too much loss. I'd be seriously worried she's the kind who easily falls for scams."

Kagari: "Keith, are you into tragic love stories?"

Keith: "Not usually, but maybe this time I am."

Clavis: "That one would make Emma cry, too. Next—Sariel."

Sariel: "A prince and a princess from enemy nations fall in love, but are torn apart by war only to be reunited in their next life. How's that?"

Clavis: "Bittersweet, but it ends on a happy note. Annoyingly enough, it's not bad."

Kagari: "Clavis, we're supposed to act out the play ourselves, right?"

Clavis: "Of course. I told you—we'll write a romance story and perform it as a play with this group."

Kagari: "So four guys are going to throw their whole bodies into acting out a love story?"

Clavis: "…………."

Keith: "……………"

Sariel: "………….."

Keith: "This is starting to sound like a punishment game—for both the actors and the audience."

Sariel: "Even imagining it makes my stomach churn."

Clavis: "I can already picture the forced smile on Emma's face. No, this might actually damage my mental state."

Kagari: "In that case, why don't we use that for the play instead?"

Moments later...

Clavis: "Puppets. That's a great idea—this way, even with just four of us, we can still put on a romance play."

Sariel: "Still, how did you manage to prepare such intricate puppets in less than a day?"

Kagari: "I made them."

Sariel: "You made them? I must say, I'm impressed by your craftsmanship."

Kagari: "Feel free to keep the praise coming."

Kagari: "This actually takes me back. When I was a kid, I used to make these for fun."

Keith: "Whoa, they move so delicately—like they're actually alive. I could watch this forever."

Kagari: "Seriously, don't hold back on the praise."

Kagari: "Clavis, do you have the script ready?"

Clavis: "Of course. I pieced it together from all the story ideas you suggested."

Keith: "Wait, seriously? That was fast."

Clavis: "I used to write stories for my younger brothers. This was nothing."

Keith: "I used to read stories to my little sister, but I was never good at writing them. You're amazing, Clavis."

Sariel: "Oh? The roles are already assigned, too. How efficient."

Clavis: "Everyone got your puppets? Then let's begin the rehearsal!"

[The Rehearsal Begins]

Cast:

A noble lady on the brink of ruin – Kagari

A pleasure-loving prince – Clavis

The prince's trusted retainer – Sariel

The noble lady's personal butler – Keith

Prince: "It's been a long journey. I'm finally about to see the legendary treasure with my own eyes. Just you wait!" Prince: "Huh? I sense someone nearby. Who's there?" Noblewoman: "Oh my, what a handsome gentleman. Is this love at first sight? May I ask your name?" Loyal Butler: "Milady, this is the 101st time you've fallen in love at first sight. Please show some restraint." Prince: "What perfect timing. Could this meeting have been fate?" Prince: "Do you know of the legendary treasure—the winged clay figurine? I came here to obtain it." Noblewoman: "It's in our barn." Prince: "I love you. Let's get married right now." Noblewoman: "Yes! I've finally escaped ruin!" Prince's Retainer: "Prince! I've found you!" Prince: "Oops, I've been found. I thought I had sneaked out of the castle unnoticed." Prince's Retainer: "Enough! A wicked prince like you must DIE!!" Prince: "Ugh…"

Keith: "Okay, maybe let's pause for a second."

Kagari: "The prince just got stabbed by his retainer."

Keith: "There's way too much going on right from the start. My brain can't keep up. What did we just watch?"

Sariel: "This is suspense disguised as a love story. Emma's going to cry."

Clavis: "Because of your terrifyingly convincing performance."

Sariel: "It was strange from the get-go. It felt like the prince was written specifically for you, Prince Clavis."

Clavis: "Because he was."

Clavis: "Kagari's completely flat delivery really highlighted the contrast with the prince's energy. Well done."

Kagari: "My performance was top-tier. Leave the noble lady role to me."

Keith: "Oh, so the retainer stabbed the prince because he was actually an assassin? Yeah, it is a suspense story."

Sariel: "The noblewoman's butler is actually the prince's half-brother. This isn't a romance anymore, is it?"

Clavis: "But aren't you just a little curious about how it ends?"

Keith: "W-Well, yeah. I guess with so much to comment on, it's kind of intriguing."

Kagari: "Who knows? Maybe the princess is actually into this kind of plot."

Sariel: "That's possible. She does love immersing herself in stories regardless of the genre."

Kagari: "Clavis, let's run it from the top. This time, I want to check how the puppets move."

Clavis: "Of course. You and I have the most scenes together, after all—let's take our time and polish it to perfection."

Clavis: "I'm sure the quality of the performance will move Emma to tears."

Kagari: "I want to see that."

Clavis: "Then we'll keep practicing until it's flawless!"

Sariel & Keith: "…………"

Sariel: "There's a lot I want to say about the script, but I don't want to kill his momentum."

Keith: "Yeah. Seeing them so fired up kind of makes me want to try even harder, too."

Keith: "After all, we all want to make Emma smile."

Sariel: "Just this once, I'll turn a blind eye to how ridiculous the plot is and join the rehearsal."

Keith: "You're pretty soft on Clavis, Sariel."

Sariel: "A leftover habit from when I used to be his tutor, perhaps."

→ Silvio, Azel, Yves, Leon's side

[dakusan]

Hii Daku 🤍 i wonder how will vampire!skz react if oc says that she’s unhappy with him? Or she wants to go abroad alone and live there etc.? (I’m a hoe for angst 🙊)

-🪼

OF COURSE I GOT YOU, JELLYFISH ANON 🪼 — your taste? exquisite. your craving for angst? delectable. i see you. i respect you. and i raise you: possessive vampire heartbreak.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

VAMPIRE!SKZ — when you say you’re unhappy with them / want to leave

🩸 Bang Chan He goes very still. Too still. That Abnormal vampire stillness that means he’s thinking ten layers deep. He won’t say anything at first — just nods. Like he's letting you go. But later that night, when he thinks you're asleep, he's pacing the rooftop, whispering to himself, to the stars, to god—if there is one that listens to monsters. He’ll support your choice, but his soul will burn for it. He’ll set up a whole security team to trail you in secret. And when the inevitable danger finds you, he’s already there—cloak soaked, fangs bared, whispering, “Was it freedom you wanted, or a reason to see if I’d still come?”

🩸 Lee Know He takes it… badly. The coldest reaction by far. He’ll say, “Go, then.” But his hands are trembling, and his voice is far too calm. Lee Know doesn’t beg. He doesn’t ask. But he watches. Like a predator that’s been leashed. He won’t follow you. Not at first. He wants to see if you’ll miss him. But if you disappear too long, if you get hurt… He will burn cities to get you back. And he won’t be soft about it.

🩸 Changbin Oh, he cracks. “You’re unhappy?” — his voice breaks when he says it. He’ll blame himself, spiral, ask what he did wrong. If you tell him you want to go abroad alone, his first instinct is to protest—loudly. Not because he doesn’t respect you. But because it hurts. He needs to know he still matters to you. He’ll cry. Rage. Apologize. Try to bargain. “Let me visit. Let me protect you. Let me be there, even if it’s just in shadows.” He’ll never cage you—but he’ll tear his own wings off trying not to follow.

🩸 Hyunjin He’s quiet. Too quiet. He looks at you like a painting he’s been forced to unframe. “Do you not love me anymore?” he asks. Hyunjin doesn’t say much. But the grief bleeds through everything. He leaves you love notes for weeks after. Paintings. Voice memos. A poem tucked into your coat pocket. He’ll let you leave. But every time you look in the mirror, you'll swear you see him—watching. Longing. Waiting for the day your soul comes home.

🩸 Han He gets panicked. His brain moves faster than his mouth. “Wait—wait, why? Where? When? Can I come?” When you say you want to go alone, it’s like a knife. Han tries to laugh it off. Joke. “You’ll miss me after five minutes. You always miss me.” But when you really do leave, he shuts down. Radio silence. The most unbearable kind—because his love is loud, and when it’s gone, the silence screams. One day, he just shows up in your apartment across the world. Not to stop you. Just to be near. Just in case you ever say: come with me.

🩸 Felix He holds you. Even as his heart breaks. He asks if he can at least hold you once more before you go. “Just tell me,” he whispers, ���will I still be your safe place? Even if I’m far?” Felix will let you go. He’ll cry. But he’ll never make you feel guilty for needing space. And when you text him months later — “I miss you” — his reply comes instantly: I never stopped waiting.

🩸 Seungmin His walls go up fast. “If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.” But beneath that sharp tone is devastation. He stops sleeping. Stops feeding. His control cracks in private. Seungmin is rational, yes — but he’s a soulmate vampire. He feels everything, deeply. If you leave, you take half his gravity with you. He writes you emails he never sends. Imagines a hundred versions of himself that were good enough for you to stay. And when you do come back? He won’t say “I missed you.” He’ll say, “Took you long enough.”

🩸 Jeongin He begs you not to go. Flat out. “I can fix it. I will fix it. Don’t go alone.” He’s still young—for a vampire—and it shows in how raw his fear is. If you leave, he won’t eat. He won’t rest. He throws himself into danger just to feel something. But when you return, no matter how long it’s been? He runs to you. Wraps his arms around you like he never wants to let go again. “You’re my home,” he says, crying into your hair. “Don’t ever forget.”

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🪼 anon, you angel of angst — thank you for this meal 😭 Truly, thank you for such a vivid question. The pain? Delicious. You’re always welcome in my inbox

[pichichuu]

Random Headcanons that Live in my Head Rent Free

gojo version

mdni!

biggest switch in the series i won't take arguments. I'm partial to writing him as more of a sub but he can def top you when the mood strikes. he's a true switch, and tops/bottoms about 50/50 with other switches. if you're more dom or sub though, he'll adjust to match your preferences.

king of pretty moans. heavenly. did you know he whimpers too?? oh yeah. beautiful. he's vocal too, but a bit shy at first. he gets louder/more talkative as sex goes on and as he grows to trust you more.

gets so sloppy when he's about to cum. he just can't control those slender hips when you're milking him so good. when he fucks you in missionary, his hips stagger so much and rut randomly into you, his head ducked towards your stomach as sweat drips from his hair onto your pretty stomach.

loves cumming on your stomach and tits. he throbs just thinking about you covered in him. will draw hearts in it and make you clean his fingers with your sweet mouth. will want you to clean his cock too.

likes to rub it into your skin like lotion lmao even if you just shower it off afterwards.

LOVES it when you steal his shirts, but he also likes stealing your hoodies, no matter how (or if) they fit him. he gets possessive seeing you in just his shirt and your panties and likes to fuck you in them, but they also ignite a sweet, domestic part of him that reminds him just how much he loves you. he steals your hoodies because of that same feeling.

so good at fingering. so good. have you seen his hands? it's not his favorite thing to do in bed, who is he to deny your pleasure? especially when you're asking so nicely...

has the stamina of a teenager. if he had it his way, you'd fuck twice every day, sometimes multiple rounds in each. he likes making home videos for when you aren't home. you always make him cum so hard; it's ruined porn for him.

also a phone sex fan. this man is obsessed with you tbh. just hearing the promise in your voice when you talk about the things you want to do with him has him fisting his cock and coming undone on his stomach. his broken moans and calls of your name tumble through the phone in a sweet melody that makes your pussy throb around nothing, making you miss him even more.

secretly wants to try some kind of food play. don't ask me how i know.

likes being tied up sometimes when you're topping, not really into tying you up but will put his blindfold on you. it feeds into his possessiveness and he loves seeing your cute little surprised reactions when he does something unexpected.

gets pussydrunk so easily. talks out of his dick too. rambles so much when he's close to cumming about how good you feel, how tight you're squeezing him, how he wants to make you a mama, how hot you are, how rock hard he is.

[borkunlimited]

Where the Vernal Wind Blows (Sylus x Reader) - Ch. 1

Lost in the Kazdelian desert, Sylus was close to accepting his fate of meeting his end in a desolate region until he met a certain banshee who finds amusement in his misfortune. In which Sylus believes your first meeting should have been the last then you and him keep meeting again and again until- -He ended up replacing the role of your previous guard. A Banshee! Reader x Vampire! Sylus Fic Tags: Sylus x Reader, AU, Crossover, Mentions of War, Blood, Violence, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers Chapter Summary: Lost in the desert, he had lost all hope until the wind carried the scent of spring. Author's Note: My excuse for starting this series is I want to write banter and this has been sitting for awhile in my laptop, staring at me. AO3 Ch. 1

1: Of Spring and Blossoms from a Distant Valley

Vampire.  

Red-eyed bastard. 

Sarkaz abomination. 

Foreigner. 

Sylus.

He had been called countless names on his long journey but years, years before he even set foot in Columbia, in Kjerag, or any countries in Terra, Sylus only knew himself by one name.

He was just one of the many fleeting Sarkaz faces, forgettable, and among the dredges of this averse environment he called his home, he had named himself after an ancient Sarkaz word he had picked up. 

Stayrus.

Even then, he only knew how to pronounce it by sound, the letters that formed his name are unfamiliar, unknown.

Kazdel was the only land he knew, hostile, his country beyond repair, where every day is a job, a job is a reward and the reward is used to keep his belly full, repeat and the cycle goes on. 

Every Sarkaz had already accepted this is their fate or so he thought.

This is the start of everything. 

The beginning of when he started counting how many years he had been walking in Terra using the fingers in his hands, the toes in his feet and the tally continued on his head.

The desert stretched as far as the eyes can see, a region in Kazdel untouched by the recent civil war that concluded when the Civilight Eterna crowned another Sarkaz king.

His kind is not particularly fond of harsh sunlight so he continues his journey in this desert during night where it is cooler but even then the cold air barely helped, not when the dry heat had baked itself on the sandy earth around him.

It is hot, his supply short, and he is, without a doubt-

-Lost.

(Everyone back in the Scar Market would be having a laugh when they found out he died here of all places.)

The usual markers were buried beneath the sand after the intense sandstorm halfway through his travel and he was convinced he had been walking in circles for several days. 

He had been very close to accepting his fate until his eyes landed on a figure ahead of him, a person holding the reins of their camel walking at almost a leisurely pace, without a care to the world.

(It was faint yet the desert wind carried to him the scent of spring and blossoms reaching out to the sun.)

Hope.

Maybe he will still get to see another day.

So, just like every normal Sarkaz, he decided to cautiously follow the person.

Slowly because the last thing he wants is to be mistaken for a wild beast.

Closer. A few more steps until the person turned around briefly, noticing his presence. He is sure the other traveller has met his gaze beneath the cloak they are wearing because suddenly, they began to walk faster and he cursed under his breath. 

It was a natural reaction, he supposed.

He quickened his pace, his eyes trained at the person ahead of him. His instincts tell him to not lose sight of his only hope of getting out of this wasteland.

To him, you are his ticket to the nearest town.

To you, he is certainly someone sent by another someone to claim the bounty on your head posted in the Scar Market.

Why did you agree to take a position in the Royal Court? 

Because the Great Banshee convinced you so? 

Because you wanted to explore the ruins of the Kazdelian desert and map out Kazdel without going through several red tapes? 

Because Her Highness managed to persuade you even when you just returned from your decade long trip overseas?

You turned around again just to check if you managed to put a good distance from the other lone traveller only for you to realize that by the gods, they look ridiculously taller and broader as they begin to close the distance between the two of you.

It is hard to tell if they are Sarkaz just like you or not but you are not taking your chances.

“HALT,” you yelled, casting your Arts on the person behind you and your words had made them completely immobilized, obeying your command.

What the-

His eyes narrowed slightly at you and it did not take him seconds to piece together that his fellow traveller is also a Sarkaz and there is only one tribe within their kind who is capable of doing this-

-A banshee . 

A banshee who is certainly scurrying away from him.

Oh, he is not letting you go anywhere.

Your legs went limp, your knees hitting the ground and you held the reins of your camel for support, glaring at the person. 

They are not a banshee just like you, that one you can finally confirm and you have spent enough immersion at the capital to know what kind of Sarkaz you are facing right now.

Of all people you have to meet in this desolate place, it just has to be a Sarkaz vampire.

Does this vampire even know how painful their Arts is? 

You doubt but both of you are at an impasse and it looks they clearly are after something that doesn’t involve you dead.

Yet.

"What do you want?", you shouted at them from your spot and you grimaced when the camel seemed so nonchalant, licking your face and the wings growing on the top of your head in the process.

This is so ridiculous. And humiliating.

"I want your help.”

“Does my help involve me getting interrogated and my body being dumped somewhere in the desert?"

“What kind of monster do you think I am? I am honestly insulted.”

“You were following me around,” you countered back, pausing for a moment to study them or now that you have a better view, him. 

He doesn’t look harmless at all and his demeanor reminded you of the general, Her Highness’ twin brother.

Dangerous.

Right. 

That's the correct term. 

You do not want to mess with this man but you assured yourself that there is no one to blame but him. Who goes around following people like that?

“I was going to ask for your help.”

“Last time I decided to be nice, I almost lost my head to a mercenary.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now.”

“If you are lying, you wouldn’t even know you are dead,” you warned him. 

You are well-aware he could also kill you just as easily but he hasn’t made a move so it means he is actually being honest or he needs something from you before taking your head.

“I am not stupid enough to lie on your face, especially with you freezing me like a statue,” he retorted. He does not want to provoke you any further, not wanting to see what else you are capable of casting just by speaking alone.

“Let me go and I’ll undo the hex,” you snapped back your demand and he nodded. It is getting too annoying being under your hex and unable to do anything but just stand there.

“Not until you promise not to run.”

“Fine!”

“Good. On the count of three, then,” he said, his voice steady.

“One.”

His heartbeat pounded hard against his chest.

“Two.”

Your breath hitched.

“Three.”

Both of you simultaneously released the hold of your Arts against each other and your legs were wobbly at first, blood finally pumping back on them. 

Your first instinct is to run away but you don’t want to risk this stranger to turn you into a puddle of blood when you do and you will not have enough time to cast your Arts to tell him to perish so you just decided to pick up the compass you have dropped on the desert floor, waiting for him to approach.

Now that he is closer, you realize the full extent of his height. 

He is tall as the general or perhaps a few inches more.

“You said you needed my help,” you said, dusting off the sand from your compass, checking if the sand snuck its way in.

A short, dark veil covered your eyes, your clothes screamed you are important but what caught his interest were the pins on your coat.

The insignia of the Kazdel Royal Court.

You are an official.

What kind of idiot wears one in public? How careless.

“And I do need your help,” he answered, and he smirked, his eyes still trained on the pin, “Seems like your taste in clothing needs improvement, though. Wearing that here? Not the smartest move.”

Did this jerk just ask for help and insult you in the same sentence? The sheer audacity of this man.

"These are meant to tell people like you that I am working for Her Highness," you poked his chest (Oh, they’re quite firm) then crossed your arms.

He raised his brow slightly. 

You are working for Her Highness? For Theresa? The Sarkaz King? 

Well, that's good to hear and good for you but he can hardly care, not when Her Highness is technically not the one feeding him right now but himself. 

This is just another one of those peaceful times in Kazdel before another civil war starts or when another country thinks they are a threat. 

Again. 

For the nth time.

“Working for Her Highness, you say?”, he mocked you, leaning closer, “And I thought such lines of work are supposed to be discreet. Guess not.”

“Did you just really come here to insult me? Are you done? Can you be on your way?”, you rolled your eyes and you were about to turn around when his hand shot up, holding your wrist.

Alright, he might have gotten carried away making fun of you.

“Wait. I wasn’t lying when I said I need your help. I’ve been here for days and finding my way out has been-”

You snorted.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

You turned your face on the side but there is no mistaking it, he doesn’t need to see your eyes because your lips twitching are enough for him to know you are wearing a shit-eating grin upon piecing together his predicament.

“You’re clearly finding this amusing,” he snapped at you but letting go of your wrist regardless, “Care to share the joke?”

(‘Run! Why are you not running?!’, the logical side of you screams but you decided not to because you are too young to die and you still have dreams and aspirations.)

“I am going to a town a few miles from here,” you answered, changing the subject, “Is that where you are going as well?”

“Anywhere is better than here,” he grumbled, setting aside his irritation. 

For now.

“You shouldn’t be reliant on the markers around here,” you pointed out, your eyes fleeting back at the device on your hand, “I am just saying.”

He let out a scoff at your statement but he is well-aware that you are right and he isn’t going to admit in the face of a stranger whose full face he can’t even see.

“Oh, now you’re giving me unsolicited advice. How thoughtful of you,” he replied, his irritation resurfacing and he tried to look at anything, the device at your hand, the wings on top of your head fluttering slightly, at your neck where your perfume is the strongest-

"I don't know, I figured that's how every scholar should be. Sharing knowledge and whatnot but maybe it is just me," you shrugged, giving him a snide look with that infuriating grin on your face before glancing back at the device you are holding.

You are clearly enjoying poking fun at him, he just knows it.

It is taking much of his self-restraint to snap back at you upon hearing your response and he had half a mind to wipe off that shit-eating grin off your face but he reminded himself that he needs your help that if he needs to bear with your insults to get out of this desert then so be it.

"Sure, because every time I get lost in a desert, I always expect some smartass know-it-all scholar to come and share their wisdom," he shot back.

“Maybe take it as a sign.”

“A sign of what?”

“To carry a compass next time.”

You bursted out laughing when you saw his frown deepen and you look forward to telling this incident to your sisters when you return back to the Convallis, your home.

Your feet ache with the amount of walking but this journey isn’t so bad after all even with multiple mercenaries jumping at you on every corner.

“Real funny,” he said dryly, crossing his arms, “You think you’re so hilarious, don't you?”

“Everyone I meet says I am a very pleasant person,” you answered, your smug attitude in full force. Are all officials at the Royal Court like this? A smartass? Or are you a special case?

“Pleasantly annoying,” he muttered under his breath and he knows, he just knows that this is going to be a long trek back to civilization.

The back and forth lasted for hours with silence in between. Silence because you only shut up when you spot another traveller from a distance and choose to go low instead of engaging in combat.

Your sarcastic remarks.

Your shit eating grins.

Your obnoxious attitude.

There are times he is very close to ditching you for another group of travellers but decided against it because despite all of that, you never really made any moves to hurt him and gods know that those other travellers are lost as well. 

Besides, he would rather be travelling with someone who can cast Arts just by speaking them.

It was on the second day of your journey together that both of you finally reached your destination. The town was bustling and for someone like him who hates the crowd, he is actually grateful for once to see people and also-

-He doesn’t have to deal with your shit-eating grins anymore and you poking him with every chance you get.

“I don’t accept any coin for my assistance but a nice dessert would do,” you said then your triumphant smirk turned into a frown when you see him turning around.

Look at this smartass asking for a reward. 

He had endured your irritating attitude for two whole days. 

Two days. 

Two very, very long days and now you had this audacity to ask for such? 

Where are you getting this confidence? Or are all of you scholars so full of yourselves?

“A nice dessert for a smartass,” he responded, turning back to look at you before he continued to walk away towards the crowd, slowly disappearing from your view.

How ungrateful.

“I hope you get lost next time!”, you yelled at his direction then added for good measure because you cannot just have him have the last word, the last insult, “Idiot!”

Oh, he heard you alright but he smirked, finding amusement that you just couldn’t resist taking a jab at him even when he already left.

Such a smartass for a scholar.

He wouldn’t get lost next time, he knows it and as he went further, further away from you, his smirk was still present on his way when he recalled that frown on your face when it dawned on you that you are not getting any reward from him.

May you and him never cross paths again.

Good riddance.

────────────────────

That experience was a perfect story to tell during the calm evenings when he travels with other mercenaries.

Months have passed by since then but oddly enough, every time he remembers that frown, he always finds himself chuckling. It was just so satisfying seeing you so disappointed that your ‘assistance’ was not rewarded.

“Are you certain she was a banshee?”, his companion asked him, a fellow Sarkaz who is stoking the fire with a stick. The flame crackled slightly, the scent of roasted meat wafting in the cold night air.

Oh, he is more than certain. You are the entire package deal. 

Veil. 

Oral Arts. 

The lingering scent of spring.

Literate.

“More than certain,” he answered, the lights casting shadows on his face, “That banshee had a smart mouth and a pain in the ass.”

His temporary allies looked at each other, exchanging a mix of fascination and amusement. 

It was only seldom that people like them get to cross paths with high officials from the Kazdel Royal Court or even get a close glimpse of Her Highness and her twin brother.

“Looks like he has the privilege to meet Her Highness’ emissary to the Convallis”, Hoederer,” his second companion spoke to the Sarkaz stoking the fire and Hoederer nodded.

An emissary?  

You are a diplomat? No wonder you have such an inflated ego but he wouldn’t call meeting you a ‘privilege’, not when he did not feel honored being in your presence.

“Well that emissary had a nerve to demand for a reward for helping me and oh, she didn’t ask for a coin,” Stayrus shook his head, chuckling when he remembered your frown, “No, she asked for a nice dessert.”

His three companions bursted out laughing. 

Now that is quite a tale to tell after being hired to fight alongside the Military Commission against stragglers who still continue to assault the borders of Kazdel even when the neighboring countries had decided to cease fighting after Her Highness was crowned as the new Sarkaz King.

“She had a high price on her head back at the market, you know,” his third companion spoke, focused on peeling potatoes, “Heard she’s very loyal to Her Highness.”

“Loyal enough to demand rewards for simply helping a poor soul like myself,” the vampire replied dryly.

Loyalty.

Maybe that’s why you were in the middle of the desert instead of being at the Royal Court together with the other politicians. You are so loyal you are willing to traverse desolate lands for reasons unknown.

“How much is on her head anyways?”

Hoederer laughed, “Oh, I wouldn’t dare claim that if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“Her Highness wouldn’t be too happy if that banshee meets her end, Stayrus,” the potato peeler answered instead.

He can already sense that among the three mercenaries, potato peeler is either a loyalist or a fan of Her Highness, always holding the Sarkaz King on a high pedestal even though she just saw her from a distance.

“Right, can’t mess with Kazdel’s beloved ruler now, can we?”, he replied, stirring the stew.

The soldiers from the Military Commission might beat him up with his words but he couldn’t care less and it helped that their own camp is a few distance away from the soldiers’ tents where every now and then, they can catch loud laughter and exchange.

It was surreal, as if all of them did not almost meet their ends on the blades of the Victorian drifters earlier.

“Does everyone here have a job lined up after this?”

It was a quiet voice and the four of them turned towards the young Sarkaz girl standing a good distance away from them, her hood obscuring her features except her horns and the light from the campfire barely reached her dark boots while she waited for their response.

He had seen this kid running around back and forth between the tents of the Military Commission officers and he glanced at his three companions before deciding to speak up first.

“And who’s asking?”

“Me.”

“Why? Looking to hire?”

“200 oriron shards for each who would join,” she replied and Stayrus raised his brow, slightly interested. 

Those are valuable metals, priced high in the market. Either this kid hoarded them somehow by hanging around the furnaces, working as a mercenary in a young age, or-

-she is answering to someone higher up back at the Military Commission. 

A messenger.

Still, the kid’s loaded.

“Are you going to start a kid’s militia?”, Hoederer laughed in amusement.

“No,” the kid grumbled, slightly bristling that a bunch of grown-ups were poking fun at her, “Do you want in or not?”

“Who’s hiring?”, Stayrus replied instead, his gaze flickering at the tents of the Military Commission officers nearby.

“You speak for them?” the kid tilted her head towards his other companions. Potato peeler was about to protest but his second companion beat her to it, slapping her head and Hoederer just chuckled.

“I guess I do,” he shrugged and his eyes narrowed at the kid. It doesn’t matter if she is a kid or not. That little offer is too generous. “So, who’s doing the hiring?”

“Follow me,” the girl replied, waiting for him to move and he gave his companions a nod before trailing behind the little Sarkaz. 

How amusing but then again, all mercenaries start at a young age and it is a common sight at this point, fighting alongside children barely in their teens.

Sarkaz children taking up swords instead of pencils then sent to the battlefield. 

He was like that too. 

At least, that’s what he can recollect from the fragments of memories he is unsure if it is even his.

The trek was quick and he made sure to blend against his surroundings despite the soldiers being too focused on eating their meal or were already fast asleep but by the looks of it, it is clear as day that they are given ample rations to be able to rest so easily.

(Maybe it isn’t so bad answering to a higher up if it means having three square meals a day.)

“I’m back,” the girl called out to someone inside the tent, lifting the flap.

“Ascalon, if you brought another mercenary here-”

Oh.

Oh, he would recognize that voice everywhere, the scent of spring and warm sunlight of a distant paradise.

His gaze landed at you in the middle of the tent, your face still partially covered by your veil and the pin on your chest glimmered against the silvery glow of your Arts around you and the lamp. 

Your hand paused mid-air, holding a pen that he assumed to write those floating symbols.

Of all the people in this goddamn shithole, it had to be you. Why does it have to be you?

"Well, look who it is. If it isn't my favorite smartass scholar."

He started and Ascalon, the young guard assigned to you by the general, was quick to react, her hand immediately reaching for the hilt of her blade but you were faster, striding towards her and making sure her blade stays inside.

“Ascalon, it’s fine,” you assured her. 

It was expected, you supposed, for her to be wary of anyone who would recognize you and you only let go of her hand when her grip on the blade’s hilt loosened.

She is as overprotective as the general and maybe even more and even when you dote on her, this is the third mercenary she brought here on your tent for your approval after finding out you will resume your expedition to the Kazdelian desert alone (Just like you always do) after the drifters have been suppressed.

You don’t know if you will applaud her at the fact she knows the limits of her abilities, that she knows when to have reinforcements when needed or be annoyed because she is just so persistent on bringing people along but you relented anyways, as long as you get to choose who would be your temporary companions.

Hundreds of mercenaries camped a few feet away and she just had to bring the Sarkaz vampire who has no sense of direction.

“Glad to see you not lost in the desert this time,” you commented and you have to stifle a snicker when you see that twitch of annoyance on the corner of his lips.

“Is this the man who did not even thank you?”, Ascalon asked.

"Did you miss me so much that you had to share our little adventure with your little guard?", he smirked, stepping further into the tent and glancing at the young Sarkaz before taking in his surroundings.

Perfect. Now you have a protective little puppy following you around this time and his eyes moved from her to his surroundings.

Everything is sparse, great for a traveller who is always on the go and he has to hide his fascination with the symbols floating around you.

Incantations.

He remembered that is the term you and your kind used to describe the Kazdelian characters weaved with your bone pen or when casting your Arts using your voice alone.

Your Arts is beautiful. 

Unlike his.

“She was so pissed when-”, Ascalon started but you gave her a warning glance and she mumbled a soft apology.

You wouldn’t give this vampire the satisfaction that you may or may have not ranted about your ‘little adventure’ as he put it to your sisters. 

To Ascalon. 

To Her Highness’ twin brother, the general.

To Her Highness herself-

Actually, when you think about it, you basically laid all of your dissatisfaction to almost everyone around you. 

It was just so irritating and when you thought you had finally moved on, here he is, standing right in front of you.

“No, when I think about it,” you shook your head and you gave him that signature shit-eating grin, “I don’t even know who this man is. Who are you again? Did we meet somewhere?”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he took a step forward, his hand reaching out to grab your chin to force you to look at him and you raised your hand for Ascalon to stay put when you saw in the corner of your eye that she was about to pull out her blade, “Are you really playing the forgetful scholar now? Did all the time spent in your books wipe your memory, Miss Banshee? Or do you enjoy playing stupid?”

“I have a perfectly good memory, Mister Vampire.”

“Do you? Then why don’t you remind me of how you so graciously helped me out, only for you to ask for a dessert in return?”

“Helped you out, you say? You must be mistaking me for someone else, mercenary,” you replied but oh, it is so fun to annoy him and you can see the subtle cracks of his patience. 

Initially, you are worried back then he will turn you into a puddle of blood but compared to the other Sarkaz vampires you have met, this one has self-restraint. 

All bark, no bite.

You did not break your gaze at him, even when he can never see past the veil you are wearing and Ascalon’s eyes shifted back and forth between the two of you, ready to slash at the vampire upon your order.

Oh but you have something more amusing in mind.

You are absolutely frustrating. 

He doesn’t know if he is supposed to strangle you or kiss you (Why is that option even on the table? He blames the perfume you are wearing.) but he knows he would do anything to wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. 

How is it you managed to make everyone annoyed in some way? 

Is this a requirement to become an emissary to Her Highness?

“Do you really want to play this game?”, he asked, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.

Actually, you do and it isn’t so bad returning to the desert now with this particular mercenary.

You gave him a smirk then you uttered, “BEGONE."

He lets go of your chin and takes a step back upon hearing just that word alone, as if carrying out an order, a command. 

Did you just use your Arts on him? 

(You certainly did. Again.)

Did you really have to cast a hex on him every chance you get? 

(Of course you do and he can’t wait to let you have a taste of your medicine with his own Arts. Again.)

“Very funny, Miss Banshee,” he gritted his teeth, chuckling, “Very. Very . Funny.”

Pens and paper scattered on the floor as you held on the makeshift table when your legs suddenly gave out and the floating Kazdelian characters around you dissipated. 

Ascalon was quick to your side, torn between trying to help you stand or make her attack towards the Sarkaz vampire who is also at the mercy of your curse.

You laughed.

Even when the blood that is supposed to be pumping on your legs is gone, you laughed.

“You’re hired,” you said, slightly breathless but thoroughly amused at this little show.

“Hired?”, both Ascalon and him said at the same time.

“Pay him and his friends half of what you promised upfront, Ascalon,” you added, and you twirled your bone pen on your fingers, muttering something under your breath and the heavy burden on his shoulders from your hex was gone in an instant.

“How generous,” he commented, rolling his eyes but he returned the favor, releasing the hold of his Arts on you and you chuckled softly, the blood on your legs returning.

“Oh, me? The general would be paying for this. Right, Ascalon?”

“Actually, the general said-”

“Alright, please give my thanks to Theresis. OUT. ”

He was certain that it was another hex but thankfully, not directed to him but to Ascalon, who reluctantly turned around and ushered him outside of your tent.

You really do have a way of getting people to obey you without even trying, don’t you?

He gave you one last glance over his shoulder, throwing you one last smirk before he disappeared from your sight and it was when you know he is out of hearing range that you let out a sigh of relief.

Long week. 

It has been a long week from dealing with Theresis’ subtle overbearing attitude about your safety to meeting that annoying vampire prick again but you would choose Stayrus (Yes, that’s his name if you remember correctly and you are always right. What an odd codename for a mercenary.) over the Sanguinarch, the vampiric prince of the Crimson Court, for company any day.

You know Theresis is going to lose hair over hiring mercenaries but you would rather do that than get soldiers from the Military Commission when they are already shorthanded.

Staryrus, Stayrus, Stayrus.

An ancient Sarkaz word. 

That vampire prick is perhaps as old as you and you lazily wrote the letters that formed his codename using your bone pen in the air. 

It is unnerving how he resembles the Sanguinarch’s older brother, one of the former Sarkaz kings before the Sanguinarch decided his brother’s vision of Kazdel’s future is too pacifist, unbecoming of the nation.

Silver hair and crimson eyes. Almost as tall as that former Sarkaz king too or maybe the pictures of the dead king exaggerate. 

How uncanny.

It isn’t a well-kept secret that most of the vampires in the Crimson Court do not hold you or your sisters in their good graces after your kind has left the capital for the valley but this one, he is one of the few vampires who seemed to follow his own will, his own freedom.

You are not one to believe in fate but you crossing paths with him is perhaps a sign you should not take for granted.

Certainly, an auspicious one.

────────────────────

Author's Note: I like writing about two people going at each other's throats with abilities technically at par with each other. Thank you for reading and see you in the next chapter! AO3 Ch. 1

[dioslesbianwife]

hihi! Can I request Part 5 gang with a female reader with a Stand that kinda acts like the abilities of Clan Malkavian from Vampire the Masquerade? Like, she'd be able to predict the future, at the expense of that power driving her crazy? And like, most of the time she'd be really wacky and silly, and just say the strangest stuff, but sometimes she gets super self-destructive, and rarely she just predicts what's going to happen or knows things she shouldn't with frightening clarity? A mix of fun moments and that sweet sweet ANGST

If you can't or have other priorities that's all good, I just really like your writing and thought this would be interesting to see! :)

hiii, totally and ty for the kind words <3 i hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting ❤️❤️

Bucciarati

Bruno is one of the only ones who really understands how to ground you.

He's unnerved the first time you look him in the eyes and say something like "Don't open the zipper on the 3rd train car, or Narancia will scream."

When it comes true exactly, he just silently accepts that this is your burden.

Keeps a notebook of your ramblings. Even the silly ones.

He's there for you during the bad moments- the spirals, the self-harm urges, the heavy silence after a "vision."

“You’re not broken,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re just seeing more of the world than the rest of us.”

Giorno

Fascinated by your abilities- and a little scared, too.

At first, he tries to rationalize everything. But when you predict someone's death with tears in your eyes and then collapse, he realizes how real it is.

You once giggled and called him “King of Worms” and he STILL doesn’t know what that means.

Uses Gold Experience to try and help you ground yourself- breathwork, heartbeat regulation, even small life forms to keep you centered.

He listens closely when you’re having one of your "clarity moments"- you scare him sometimes, but he never looks away.

Mista

At first he’s like: “Haha, you're weird! I like weird!”

The first time you go still and say “Mista, don’t go into the alley tonight. The bullet won’t miss,” he freezes.

When he survives a hit because of your warning, he believes everything you say after.

Treats you like a little psychic gremlin bestie. Jokes with you during your silly moods:

"What's the future, spooky girl?"

"A sandwich. But not for you.”

During your darkest days, he brings you food, blankets, and sits with you in total silence while you rock or cry. He doesn’t always know what to say- but he’s there.

He lets you rest your head on his shoulder and says “Don’t worry… no one’s gonna let the future take you from us.”

Abbacchio

This man is SO suspicious of you at first.

He HATES how you act like a child and then suddenly go full cryptic oracle.

“You’re playing a game, aren’t you? Just a freak with a cracked Stand- ”

Then you whisper something only he knows, about someone from his past, and he goes absolutely silent.

Starts watching you more carefully after that. Quietly shifts from annoyance to concern.

He doesn’t coddle you when you spiral, but he grounds you by holding your hand firmly and reminding you what year it is, what your name is, etc.

Begrudgingly admits one night, “You scare me. But you’ve saved us more times than I can count.”

Fugo

Internally panicking 24/7 around you.

Your weirdness makes him twitch. You said his blood smells like fruit once and he still doesn’t know how to process that.

You once stopped mid-sentence during lunch and said, “The dog in the pink sweater’s gonna die next Thursday,” like what??

Despite this, he studies your Stand like a madman, hoping to understand the neurological effect on your brain.

Your pain affects him deeply. When you’re self-destructive, he’s terrified for you but does not yell. He’ll instead sit beside you, hands shaking, trying to coax you back to yourself with logic and soft reassurances.

He worries one day you’ll predict your own death. That’s what terrifies him most.

Trish

She’s overwhelmed by you at first, and not in a good way.

You said something about her dad before she even knew who he was and she was like “WHO TF ARE YOU?!”

But as she warms up to the gang, she gets softer with you too.

She starts painting your nails while you babble nonsense, and you’ll say something cryptic like “Your favorite color will be blue again when you meet your soulmate.”

When you fall into a pit of despair, she lies beside you, painting your hand and whispering affirmations. She uses gentle distractions to keep you grounded.

“Don’t let your Stand turn you into a ghost. You’re still here. Still real.”

Narancia

“HAHA you said the pasta is trying to kill me!!”

“It is, Narancia. There’s poison in it.”

“Wait what- ?”

He doesn’t realize you’re suffering behind the humor until you break down in front of him one night and say you wish your Stand would just shut up for once.

He tries to be more attentive after that. Starts memorizing which of your ramblings are real warnings.

Gets defensive on your behalf when others call you crazy.

“She ain’t crazy! Her brain just… sees too much.”

Brings you silly gifts to make you smile again, like sunglasses for your Stand or a shiny rock he found.

[sokkastyles]

To be honest, the most controversial character for me in Avatar is Mai. I'm not even referring to her relationship with Zuko, but basically her position on the show. And in the comics, it gets even worse. It's like she doesn't really have any character or arc, and she's just doing what the plot needs (Like betray Azula, because the princess must eventually lose all she loved ones for her downfall.) Therefore, most of her actions and words seem illogical to me. She loves Zuko at the same time, but it's not bad for her to hunt him as a traitor? She supports the war and the imperialism of the Fire Nation, calls Zuko a traitor to the motherland, but when Ozai is overthrown and Zuko replaces him on the throne with a completely different policy, she is just fine. I mean, when did she change her mind? One minute she supports the status quo and doesn't mind Zuko communicating with Ozai and advises him to accept things as they are, then in the comics she resents the fact that Zuko asks his father for advice. What's in her head anyway? The same goes for her relationship with her parents, who are cold, but at the same time she covers up for her father, who is plotting. It's as if the scriptwriters never tried to look at things from May's point of view and build some kind of logical chain for the development of her character, rather than just using her as a plot tool. I think I would like Mai a lot more if I understood her at least a little.

Yeah, Mai's biggest problem as a character is that she's mostly used as a plot device. She does what the plot needs her to do. All the writing in the comics is like this, but Mai is written like this in the show, too. I remember when I first watched the show, when Mai showed up at the Boiling Rock, I initially thought she would save Zuko before she started yelling at him. Her anger at him for pulling the standard hero "breakup to save her" is so inexplicable. Like I get that you feel rejected, but people's lives are at stake here, Mai. And then her betrayal of Azula a moment later is equally inexplicable. I get what they were trying to do, but it's just not built up enough. She comes across as a misogynistic caricature of a crazy emotional girlfriend because her actions are over the top and do not make sense. The other day I saw a post saying her arc is "subtle" and that's why people don't get it, and no. None of her actions are subtle. She screams and yells and throws things and reacts to everything with dramatic biting sarcasm. Her betrayal of Azula is a grand gesture that was clearly supposed to be the climax of her arc, it's just not built up enough and we have no idea what Mai herself feels about anything that isn't Zuko, and even then, we know very little of how she feels about him. How did their love develop from when we saw her blush at him as a child to when they were on that ship in book three? How DID Mai feel about having to be part of capturing him? How did Zuko feel? I've said this before, but there should have been some tension there, some conflicting feelings, especially once Zuko betrays himself to go back home and gets to be Mai's boyfriend. Since that isn't explored, it makes his relationship with Mai feel like a lie, and another facet of Zuko being someone he isn't, and Mai just another person who would never love the real Zuko instead of the idea of who he should be. Just because she doesn't want to see him die doesn't mean she really understands him, or his cause, as you mentioned. But as I have said many times before, what really hammers that home for me is that when she comes back, she assumes they are still dating, and tells Zuko to never break up with her again. Like, I get that it is supposed to be a joke, but that's the problem. Mai Strong Female Characters her way back into Zuko's life because the writers thought it would be funny and cool and sexy. Look how funny and cool and sexy she is! She's pointing fingers in Zuko's face! We wrote a Strong Female Character!

But there was no thought given to Mai's actual motivations. And worse, they had an abuse victim for whom this is supposed to be his triumphant moment of independence from his abusers be in a relationship with someone who was a part of the life he chose to leave behind and told him that breaking up with her wasn't his choice and acted like that was okay. Again, I know it's all a joke, but it's an ugly one.

I don't think she's controversial, though. We've seen this type of writing for female characters before, as my reference to the Strong Female Character implies. She's cool, she's badass! She loves the hero despite him not doing anything to prove his worth, but to make up for how awfully he treats her, she treats him awful right back! She has to do over-the-top things constantly because otherwise the narrative will forget about her completely. She's edgy in whatever way will appeal to the audience the writers are trying to appeal to - in this case weaboo hot topic preteens.

[soldierspidey]

Character: Bob Reynolds (MCU)

Type of request: Imagine, lots of fluff, idk if that end bit also counts as smut????

The very basic idea that I have is; Bob gets home after a long day of work and he can’t seem to find the reader. He goes to their room, and he realises the reader is in the bathroom. Bob gets into bed, and the reader takes quite a while in the loo. The reader eventually joins him in bed and Bob sees that the reader is quite teary-eyed and her voice is wobbly. When he asks what’s wrong the reader can’t keep herself together and starts crying. The reader confesses to have been very dysphoric, especially in recent months. Bob comforts her (and perhaps, just maybe, potentially; with the consent of the reader he feels her up a little 🤫🤫 Nothing too extreme, just in a reassuring way, if that makes sense??). Anyhoo, that’s my cutesy little idea

through her tears

bob reynolds x mtf!reader

comfort/fluff/ ever so slightly suggestive end

A/N ; it’s funny to me how I branded myself as a "male reader only," and my first fic on here is for mtf girlies x) anyhoo! had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoy it spence!!!! (also, i’m sorry if dysphoria depiction isn’t quite accurate. It is for me, and I used my own experiences with it to write this!)

TW : gender disphoria, mental health struggles, kind of suggestive towards the end ??, emotional distress, crying.

1.3k words

Bob had spent the entire day outside the watchtower. It was one of the rare days when he’d feel well enough to go outside and grab groceries for the team. It was a small thing, but for Bob, it was huge. Sometimes he felt useless, barely doing anything while his mates saved the world from extraterrestrial attacks, but there was always someone to make him feel better, to make him feel seen, and that person was his girlfriend.

The two started dating not so long ago, meeting in a bookshop where they reached for the same books, turning him into an awkward mess as he hadn’t planned to talk to anyone. This quickly evolved into something beyond their love for the same author.

She now lives with the Thunderbolts* and Bob in the watchtower, and they quickly accepted her, a quiet, nice girl who was a perfect match for Bob. Yelena loved her.

He came home a little later than usual, getting lost in a bookshop and fumbling with his wallet when paying came. His arms full of grocery bags, he quickly went to put them on the kitchen counter, where he knew John would later find them and put the respective items in their respective places. He walked up to their shared room, expecting to find her there reading or scrolling through her phone, but when he opened the door, she was nowhere to be seen. Bob frowned slightly, a confused look on his face.

His back ached from the day out and carrying all those bags, but somehow, her absence hit harder than any back pain.

He called her name, a questioning tone in his voice, to which she answered quickly that she was in the bathroom, which made the slight tension in his shoulders relax, at least he knew where she was.

This new found relaxed state allowed him to throw himself on the bed, the box spring making a familiar creaking sound. He let out a deep sigh, the ache in his back slowly fading away as he was finally in an horizontal position.

He doesn’t know how long he waited, five, ten, perhaps fifteen minutes, his face buried into the pillow breathing in the comforting and familiar scent of his girlfriend's shampoo.

A few moments later, Y/n finally entered the bedroom, an oversized jumper that might as well have belonged to Bob covering her frame, she quickly got into bed next to her boyfriend, which gave her some space after being sprawled on the mattress like a starfish. He looked up at her, and then at the bathroom from which she'd just arrive, and saw a towel covering the mirror. She rapidly hid herself under the blanket, even if it wasn’t necessary in the current warmth of the room.

His gaze softened with love as he wrapped his arms around her.

“How was your day ?” She asked, but her voice was wobbly, a lump forming in her throat as soon as she spoke, biting her inner cheeks to keep herself from crying.

“It was alright, I bought books..” He said the last part of his sentence in more of a whispery tone, he searched her eyes, wanting to understand the cause of the shakiness in her voice. However as soon as his gaze met hers, a sense of deep protectiveness took over him. Her eyes were red rimmed, her cheeks wet.

He sat up, looking at her.

“What’s going on ?” He asked, his hands still resting on her waist as she sat up slightly, bringing her knees to her chest before completely breaking down, the gates that previously held her tears breaking and letting out a wave of sobs that she tried to wipe away, but it was too much.

Bob’s eyes widened, not instantly knowing how to react, it had happened before, but never this sudden. He pulled her enough to bring her into a hug, one his hand tracing soothing circles on her back while the other gently reached her hair.

“Hey…it’s okay, it's okay…” He started, his voice soft, his touch tender. Y/n didn’t say a word for five good minutes, the only sound coming from her being her sobs. Then she managed to form a sentence along the line of :

“I’m sorry you have to put up with me..” The tremor in her voice is still present and making it hard for her to speak.

“Why are you saying this..” He asked, his brows knitting together, his voice still soft but filled with incomprehension.

“I’m not a real girl Bob, I-” she started but Bob cut her mid sentence,

“You’re pretty much the realest girl I’ve ever met, unless you tell me you’re a hologram…Love, you are a real girl..” He murmured, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head.

“I can’t even look at myself in a mirror without wanting to rip my skin off,” She sniffled, her voice breaking again as she continued sobbing, taking multiple inhales as Bob looked at her, a half-concerned, half-sad look on his face.

“This is so wrong, I feel like it's not even my body..” She spoke as she kept on crying.

She was Bob's everything, and seeing her in such a state only made him want to kiss her gender dysphoria away, but he let her talk.

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore…I’m scared that one day…” She took a deep breath, trying to talk clearly through the tears. “...I’m scared that one day you’ll leave me because you’ll find another girl...”

His brows furrowed.

“Let me stop you right here, my love..” he started, cupping her cheeks with his warm hands, “I would NEVER leave you for another girl.. okay ..? You are genuinely the most amazing girl I could’ve even wished for.” He continued, wiping her tears away with his thumb, his eyes full of love and admiration for his girlfriend.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with trust, love and something maybe even deeper. Her hands found his on her cheeks, her sobs not stopping nonetheless.

“You’re so beautiful..” he whispered, his eyes searching hers, kissing her softly, his hands slowly sliding down from her cheeks to her shoulders. Her own hands landed on Bob's toned chest.

“Sometimes I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” Bob smiled, this adorable, almost boyish smile that always made Y/n’s heart flutter.

“You’re so cheesy”, she said, a small laugh escaping her throat through her, now softer, sobs.

He looked at her again, with the kindest type of love and care seeping through his gaze as he continued hugging her.

“You deserve all the cheesiness and all the love in the world” He responded, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead, before peppering her face in small lovey-dovey kisses.

“Can I do anything to help…” Bob asked, his hands falling back to her shoulders. She shrugged, her mouth opening slightly before closing it and reopening it as if she hesitated.

“Just…just keep on touching me…it's…it's grounding” She answered, her head pressing into Bob's collarbone, and he started caressing her shoulder gently as soon as she finished her sentence. His hands started roaming slightly as he kept on pressing small kisses into her hair, he reached her waist, hovering slightly above it before continuing his soft touches, making her squirm slightly, her waist being a sensitive spot.

“Still okay ?” He asked, resting his hands on her hips.

“Mhm” she hummed, tears still flowed but her sobs had subsided, now replaced by an ever so slightly ragged breathing.

“I love you Y/n…and you're the most precious person in the world to me..” He said, kissing her cheek.

“I love you too Bob…thank you…” She responded, looking up at him with earnest eyes. Her breathing steadied slightly after a while, and maybe, just maybe she felt a little bit more like herself that day.

@sparkyspens :3

masterlist | rules for requesting